#i was so nervous posting my first fic

[emily-mooon]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016), Titanic (1997) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler Characters: Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Joyce Byers, Argyle (Stranger Things), Karen Wheeler, Ted Wheeler (Stranger Things), Holly Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Vickie (Stranger Things), Robin Buckley, Murray Bauman, Eddie Munson, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Tommy Hagan Additional Tags: RMS Titanic, Titanic AU, 1910s, Strangers to Lovers, Period-Typical Sexism, Period Typical Classism on a Boat, star-crossed lovers, Falling in Love on a Boat in Two Days, Mike Wheeler is a Little Shit, Vickie Does Not Get Paid Enough to Deal With Him, While Jancy Gets a Dramatic Love Story, Byler/Miwi Gets a Wholesome Tale of First Love, Steve Harrington is a Little Bit of an Asshole, Four Person POV, POV is in the Third Person, No Beta We Sink Like The Titanic, Nancy Wheeler is Rose, Jonathan Byers is Jack, Robin Buckley is Disguised as a Man, Title from a The Church song, Content Waring: Attempted Suicide, Murray Bauman is Like Molly Brown, Background Relationships, Jopper, Rovickie, stancy, My First Fanfic, Argyle/Eden - Freeform Summary:

While sailing across the ocean on Titanic, an engaged Nancy Wheeler meets the poor photographer Jonathan Byers. At the same time, Her younger brother Mike, a boy who dreams of chivalric knights and swashbuckling pirates, meets the aspiring artist brother of Jonathan, Will.

Within a few days, the Wheeler siblings lives are changed as the Byers brothers show them that there is more to life than what's expected of them.

OR

A Jancy and Byler/Miwi Titanic AU.

______________________________________________________________

Remember how I said that this was going to be posted on Monday?

Well I decided to post it early since it’s already complete and because if I don't, I will end up going back to it multiple times. 

Instead, I’ll try to finish and post chapter 2 for the 10th. I want to at least post an interaction between the main ships before I go on a little hiatus to prepare the rest of the chapters and finish schoolwork. 

I hope you enjoy!

[buggachat]

Open My Eyes

AO3, 1/15 chapters, post season 5 finale, angst (with a happy ending), Adrien discovers the truth

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was. (Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.) (But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.) “And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?” (Adrien has some things to find out.)

Hey guys, deciding to force myself to finally start uploading my post-season 5 finale fic! It's already complete and will be updated Mondays and Thursdays.

Basically, it's lots of Adrien angst and reveals dealing with the fallout of the season 5 finale. It was a lot of fun to write.

[stunie]

it’s so easy to forget that you can literally write whatever you want

[chidorrrita]

・❥・in the morning picking flowers (in my head I was giving them to you)

: ̗̀➛ astarion x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ wc: 600+

Though his piercing ruby gaze and sinful smirk that promises so much more may fool passerbyers and drunken tavern patrons, you see through him for what he truly is. A scared man trying desperately to prove his worth in any way possible. You see his lips quiver in fear every time he catches someone’s eye before quickly slipping into his persona. Your heart pangs to see a man like him degrade himself, so when he’s looming over your neck starving you don’t hesitate to offer yourself up. 

He thinks you’re an idiot. That your mother must have dropped you on your head as a child. No person in their right mind would let a vampire feed on them if they didn’t have a thing for it. He’s sure this isn’t sexual for you so what do you have to gain from offering yourself up like a lamb to the slaughter. The thought gnaws at his mind until he feels his fangs break through the thin skin on your neck and that sweet delectable blood hit his tongue. All thoughts of doubt go flying out the window. The first sentient creature’s blood he’s drinken since his turning and he thinks he can’t ever go back to feeding on boars and squirrels anymore. It is the finest wine he has ever sipped, it is a royal banquet filled with the most lavish foods of Faerun, it is the first breath he takes in a cool crisp morning. Utterly refreshing and desperately needed.

He laps at your wound like a feral dog would when presented with a well grilled steak. He feels your blood traverse through his dead veins igniting every single cell in his body. Your blood rushes to his heart and he thinks he might faint. It starts to contract horribly and then suddenly expands and he only realizes after a few moments that his heart is beating. How could he have forgotten what it felt like to have a beating heart. Chasing the illusion of being mortal once more, he eagerly slurps up your life's essence.

You watch as the warmth leaves your body and flush his paper skin with a soft coral shade leaving you feeling like ice against him as if you are the vampire in this situation. And though your vision is starting to blur and your limbs are as heavy as lead, you let him take his fill. It would be crueler still to rip away from him when all he has had is a taste. But sweet suckles turn into ravenous gulps and it takes all your strength to whisper in Astarion’s ear to stop.

Through his drunken stupor he hears your plea break through his ecstasy and he now notices how limp you’ve become. He licks at your wound savoring the last beads of crimson that seep out of the twin marks. You look up through hazy eyes at his impending form over your heaving one. Blushing cheeks, eyes even a brighter shade of vermillion, and for a few seconds, a beating heart.  

“This is a gift you know. I won’t forget it.” And you believe him. He turns to mist in your mind as sweet sleep takes over your drained body. You dream of your life before the Nautiloid, of prancing around in your mother’s garden as a child. How the grass tickled your toes and the sun kissed your cheeks. You imagine gathering daisy’s and weaving them into a crown as carefully as your toddler hands could let you and gifting it to Astarion. His cheeks turn the same shade as your blood and you spend the rest of the day basking in the sun’s embrace and making flower crowns.

[pizzaqueen]

Oh, look! It’s another first kiss ficlet 🙈 approx 450 words / shameless fluff

The cassette clicks softly as it turns over, blank tape gently hissing before the next song comes in with a blast of drums and guitar; Eddie looks at Steve sitting beside him on the floor at the foot of Eddie’s bed. Steve has his eyes closed, head dipping side to side not quite in time with the music, not like he lacks rhythm—the fingers drumming on his knee are keeping perfect time—but like he’s lost in the song.

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize Steve’s softly humming, but when he does he smiles. He shifts his weight onto one side, propping an elbow on his bed, and just looks at Steve. The dusk light sloping through the window catches on the long sweep of his eyelashes, renders the shape of him in bright gold.

Steve’s eye cracks open and he looks at Eddie. “What?”

“Nothing.” Eddie looks at Steve a moment longer, then he slides his elbow off the mattress, turns so he’s facing the same way as Steve again. He lets his head rest back against his bed, closes his eyes. “This is such a fucking good song.”

“Yeah.”

“I really wanna kiss you, right now, man.” Eddie keeps his eyes closed a moment longer, heart beating time with the music, before he opens them and chances a look at Steve.

Steve’s brows are raised, but they slowly settle the longer he looks at Eddie. His eyes dip and he presses his lips together, tongue between them.

Eddie doesn’t move, not even when Steve does, leaning his weight on one hand on the floor between them, bringing him closer to Eddie. It’s not until Steve tilts his chin up, pressing his mouth softly to Eddie’s, that Eddie moves. He pushes forward, deepening the kiss, part of him not daring to believe this is real, but most of him slowly sinking into it.

Steve angles Eddie’s face with a hand cupped to his jaw, and Eddie threads his fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling gently, and Steve moans into the kiss. Or maybe it’s Eddie. Maybe it’s both of them.

When they part, Steve blinks, running a hand over the back of his neck, turning away with a small smile. His teeth peek out, stark white against the pink of his lips, and he huffs softly.

Eddie drinks some of his beer, the cold metal of the can a shock against his lips after the warmth of Steve’s mouth. He smiles, catches Steve’s eye, then smiles wider when Steve smiles back.

An easy silence settles over them and they sit there side by side, legs tangled together as they listen to the music and share their secret smiles.

[like-the-rest-of-la]

Happy Little Accidents

The last thing Eddie Diaz expects to come out of his trip to Buckley’s Plant Nursery & Landscaping with his son, is to develop an honest to god schoolgirl crush on the guy who owns the place (and not notice that that is what’s happening for an embarrassingly long time).  

The plan is simple. Get in, have Christopher pick out a couple of succulents or whatever he needs for his school project, and get out without infesting any of the gorgeous plants in the shop with his bad plant karma. 

But then, the first thing he’s greeted with is a hunk of a man, carrying two heavy packs of soil on his broad shoulders. Eddie swears he can see a drop of sweat running down the man’s face in slow motion. His t-shirt looks like it’s one strategic muscle flex away from bursting at the seams and Eddie—Eddie feels nervous all of the sudden. And he’s gaping like a fish. 

“Hey,” Hunk-man says as he hoists the soil on the counter next to him with a grunt, “What can I help you with?”

At least Eddie has enough self-awareness to close his mouth.

Or: the one where Buck owns a plant nursery and Eddie stumbles through his crush (and has no game during all of it)—oh and also, there are a lot of Bob Ross references.

Read on Ao3

(With a banner by the wonderful @theladyyavilee thank you so so so much <3)

[stark-stiel]

I watched venom 3 twice and I couldn’t stop thinking about them so have this little sketch that i might render if i end up feeling it 🤗

[deliasmilkshake]

Underneath the Stardust

Samebody!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Waiter/tress!Reader

Basically you work as a server/waiter/waitress at this cheap 'Stardust Motel' (Totally inspired by this post) which is located in a small town where more people have been going missing as of late and how you slowly discover the truth behind it while a certain animatronic toys around with you.

I personally don't think any content warning is needed for this chapter, unless anyone notices one?

I guess just take into account that Sun & Moon are a bit.. sassy? rough? (a tiny bit inspired by the HW2 DCA) but I hope you guys do realize the small actions they do which shows that they do care for the reader! They're just a bit... funny about it ibasbakisubhiusabg

| Words: 2,246 | Chapters: 1/?

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Another day to go to work at your horrendous job. You really had no choice. You were kicked out of your last job and evicted from your cheap apartment. This was the only place in this godforsaken town that had a job opening that accepted you.

As for your new home, your friend Michael was kind enough to let you move in with him. You appreciate that a lot from him, and to be honest… you might like him just a teensy bit? But even you're not so sure if you have a crush on him or if you just like how kind he's been to you during this whole mess. It's not a feeling you've been able to process or have been wanting to, actually.

You're busier trying to relieve the debts you have and making your life stable.

With that thought, you sigh as you finally reach your job at the oh-so-marvelous 'Stardust Motel'. Good thing the work is within walking distance from Michael's house because you do NOT have the money to afford gas, much less a car.

Michael always suggests accompanying you ever since the cases of missing people have increased around town lately, but you insist that you can take care of yourself. Deep down, you just don't want to be more of a burden to him than you already feel you are.

Here you work a double shift. One from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. and the next starting from 5 p.m. and ending at 1 a.m. At this point, the motel feels like your second home. You do have breaks, and luckily, there isn't much going on around in this small town. but it's still exhausting nonetheless.

Your job is being a server for the small restaurant right next to but connected with the motel. However, since there isn't much activity, they also have you work as a housekeeper and do some small maintenance here and there. This place sucks, but alas, it's the only one that would accept someone as lowly as you.

"You're late." Bob begrudgingly tells you. He's the only chef of the restaurant and the second boss.

You look down at your phone and see that it is 5:05 p.m. You slump down and put your phone away in your pocket as you approach the kitchen.

"Sorry, Bob, I'll make sure to arrive at exactly 5:00 p.m. next time."

"It'd be better if you arrived 15 minutes earlier than that."

Another deep breath in and out. "Yes, Bob." As if they don't push you enough already. And as you're about to put on your apron, Bob interrupts you,

"Say, a light bulb burned out; go fix it. Second floor, at the very end."

Geez, not even a please? "I'll go fix it."

And so you walk out through the door on the side that leads to the motel. There, you are greeted by the receptionist.

"Bad day, huh?" Vanessa asks while typing something on her computer. "When isn't it a bad day for you~?" she teases but you're not really in the mood for any of this.

You bury your hands in your face with a groan. "Bob told me to go fix the light bulb." Your voice sounds muffled as your face is still hidden by your palms.

"Well you better hurry. The sun is about to go down." She points at the light bulb on top of the desk and continues working.

Your hands twitch slightly from her last sentence.

"Sun…"

Oh yeah, the housekeeper and guard of the motel. He's an animatronic who can be… How should you describe him? At times he's nice, and at others he can be a bit of a condescending jerk.

You shake your head. You take the light bulb from the desk and redirect yourself towards the stairs, walking towards the second floor where you head towards the very end, spotting the last light bulb hanging lifelessly.

As you approach, you look up and realize,

"Shoot… I forgot the ladder … AUGH!!" You groan loudly as you turn around to retrieve the goddamn ladder. When suddenly-

"BOO!"

"AH!"

"HAHAHA!" You hear that familiar laugh as you fall onto the ground, landing on your butt.

"SUN!" You yell out furiously. "Don't scare me like that! Do you want to give me a heart attack!?"

Sun's laugher slowly dies down to a mischievous smile and tilts his head. "Hmmm…" He hums in thought as he looks to the side.

"Don't think about it!" With that, you get up and shake off your pants from any dirt on the floor.

Once you're standing, you feel a hand lay on your head and pat you. "How has your evening been, friend?"

"Bad!" You cross your arms and pout as you look up at him.

"I didn't mean to scare you so badly!" He chuckles as he leans down to meet you face to face- maybe even just a bit too close. You plant a hand on his faceplate and push him back gently. "Too close, buddy."

He raises his hands and then looks behind you towards the light bulb. He points at it as you slightly turn your head to where he's pointing. "Did you really think you could reach that without a ladder?"

Your eye twitches; he just called you a shorty. It's not your fault he's insanely tall. "For your information! I simply forgot the ladder!"

"Surprise, surprise," he says with a taunting grin.

"How about you step aside and let me get the ladder?"

"No~" He replies, still holding his cheeky grin.

"Well then! I'll just go- aaAAAH!" As you were about to walk past him, he grabs you by the waist and starts to walk back towards the end of the hall, where the light bulb hangs.

"Sun! Let go!" you shout, and he does! He lets go right there and then, causing you to fall to your butt… Again!

"OW! BUT NOT LIKE THAT!" You rub your bum gently from the pain and get back up. Once you do, Sun puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around, and before you can process it, he's picking you up once more. But this time, you get it.

"Oh- you were going to be my ladder…" He rolls his eyes seemingly unimpressed that you only just now understood his intentions.

"Chop chop, friend~!" He exclaims behind you. You huff at him before you quickly replace the lightbulb.

"Done!"

Sun places you down and claps his hands. "Good job, friend, for doing allll the hard work around here~!" It seems like Sun isn't in a great mood today either because he's being bitchier than usual.

"What's got you in a bad mood today?" You place your hand on your hip as you question him.

"You see-" but before Sun can answer, you hear Vanessa shout your name from the first floor.

"Your friend is here!" she yells. "Michael!" you say enthusiastically as you rush downstairs. "Michael…" Sun says unenthusiastically as he rolls his eyes and sluggishly goes down the stairs.

You rush toward the front desk where you see your friend holding what appears to be… your lunchbox! "Did I forget it at home?!"

Michael chuckles at that and nods. "You did. But thankfully our home is near, so I brought it over for you."

"Surprise, surprise," Sun interrupts as he walks over to where you all are. "Our sunshine's forgetful like that, aren't they?" He crosses his arms and leans on the desk.

"You're lucky to have someone bring you lunch; I wish someone brought me lunch." Vanessa says as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Michael scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "It's just what… good friends do, no?" Aww, what a dear.

You take your lunchbox from his hands and give him a gentle smile as you whisper, "Thank you, Michael." You hear a slight scratch on the desk behind you screech.

"HEY! You jerk! Don't ruin my desk like that!" Vanessa shouts at Sun and slaps his hand away as he straightens up quickly.

"Sorry, Vanessa!" He pretends to let out a long yawn. "I was just getting bored out of my mechanical mind watching this poor scene play out!" He grips his hands together.

"Not my fault you're jealous that no one brings you lunch!" Sun's eye twitches at your remark, and with that, he leans toward you and gives you a death glare for a moment before snatching your lunchbox.

"My lunchbox! SUN! Give it back!" Sun ignores you with a laugh as he runs away. You run but stop to turn around and face Michael.

"Thank you for bringing it to me!" You give him a wave of your hand "I'll catch you later tonight!" Michael nods with a smile and gently waves back at you, and with that, you continue running forward.

"They're so oblivious" He whispers softly. "That goddamn bot scratched my desk-" Vanessa rambles as she checks the scratch marks Sun made and Michael simply lets out a nervous chuckle at Vanessa's remarks.

────────────

You finally reach the basement where Sun ran into. You try switching the lights on, but no matter how many times you try, the basement stays dark.

You sigh as you reach into your pockets and take out your phone to use its flashlight.

"…Give me my lunchbox back, you menaces!" No reply, and after a few seconds, you feel a strand of your hair being slightly pulled.

You look up at the top of the shelf behind you and point your phone toward the one who did it. The one who stole your food.

"Moon." You huff at him "Get back down." You threaten.

He grins and slightly chuckles as he holds your lunchbox up with one hand and rests his face on the other.

"Magic word~?" he asks. "Now!" "Wrong answer." he replies menancingly.

Augh- He's really making you say it, isn't he? "…… Please?" you finally give in.

"I couldn't hear~ Louder." Goddammit.

"P-Please! Pretty please!" Sometimes you feel as if you're just a toy that they enjoy teasing and playing with. Much to your relief, Moon hops down onto the floor with a satisfied laugh.

He straightens up, but as he does, he picks you up with one arm.

"Let us feed you~" Pardon? "What? NO! No! Why?!" you struggle in his arm as you try to reach for his other hand, where he still holds your lunchbox. Curse his arms for being so long.

"Funny, funny~" he chuckles as he wiggles the lunchbox you're trying so hard to reach.

…. He finds this funny, huh? Will he find this amusing then?

You reach toward the back of his head, grab his nightcap, and pull it back as hard as you can. "!!!" His eyes open wide, he stumbles back from the harsh tug while you grin.

"Hahaha! Funny, funny~" you mock him, using his own words against him. He stabilizes himself and his smile only widens with ill intent.

He places your lunchbox on the shelf and inmediately tugs on your hair harshly, causing your head to lean back in his arms. "OW!"

So this is how he wants to play? You tug on his nightcap again. "HA!"

He responds by tugging your hair in return. "Naughty!" He growls but you retort by tugging on his lips. "You're naughtier!" He tugs on your lips back, "Is that so~?" He leans his face closer to yours-

"Get a room, you two." Vanessa interrupts as she manages to turn the lights on.

You feel Moon lower his hand, and his other arm tightens around you as he transforms back into Sun, a process that always appeared painful. But once it's done, Sun gently places you on the ground as he holds his head with one hand, seemingly in post-transformation pain.

"Vanessa , you could have warned us," Sun tells her begrudgingly.

"Next time, go to some other motel." She glances in your direction. "And you." You tilt your head. "Bob wants to know why you're taking so damn long. His words, not mine."

Shit! You definitely took way longer fixing that light bulb than you should have.

"Ah! I'll be returning quickly then! Sun!" You turn around to ask him for your lunchbox, but he's already handing it out to you. ".... Thank you," you softly tell him as you take the lunchbox from his hands without a fight and run toward the restaurant.

And now it's just Vanessa and Sun.

"You really like ruining other people's fun, don't you?" Sun glares at Vanessa.

"Just like you ruined mine last night. It's payback for that and for ruining my desk with your little jealousy tantrum." she hisses back at him, then turns to walk away from the basement without another word and toward the main desk, leaving Sun alone in the basement glaring at her.

"Party pooper." He exclaims with a huff as he crosses his arms. And they were having so much fun toying around with their darling starlight.

────────────

"What took you so damn long?!" Augh. Bob's mad mad. "Sorry... I just got a bit distracted." you say as you put on your apron, not daring yourself to look at his face.

"Then stop lazing around and go tend those customers." He growls at you and returns to his cooking. You sigh and walk towards the table with your notebook out, ready to start your second shift.

[killmongerkink]

am i currently writing a terry fic? yes.

will it ever see the light of day? maybe.

[quick-catton]

happy valentine's day! 🩷✨

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

Title: Four Walls

Tags: Slow burn, domesticity friends to lovers, smut, pining, post sias/pre am era

Summary: Disillusioned with LA and on the heels of a breakup, Alex goes to stay with Miles in London.

[momotonescreaming]

This just a short Scott Clarke/Wayne Munson thing inspired by the writings of @unclewaynemunson and @flowercrowngods because this little ship has me in a choke hold. (2.2k)

“So, how was the date Pops?” Eddie asks, before Wayne even has a chance to close the front door. He’s lounging on the couch in an old pair of sweats and a - slightly too big for him - Hawkins High Swim Team hoodie, arm outstretched with remote in hand so he can turn down the volume of whatever show he was watching. Waiting for Wayne to come home, no doubt. Like a stray cat waiting for scraps to be thrown his way.

Wayne just sighed, making sure the door locked behind him as he stepped into the trailer. “You know it ain’t like that.”

He threw his keys next to Eddie’s on the small side table next to the door - the wobbly one that they balanced out with a wad of cardboard crammed under one leg - and removed his jacket to hang on the peg that hung above it.

Wayne didn’t say anything, and neither did Eddie, still laying on the couch and looking at him with a glint in his eye. He wasn’t going to let this go - Wayne knew exactly what his nephew looked like when he set his mind on something. Only normally it was a new DnD campaign, lyrics he was working on, that puppet song he was determined to learn to play - not his Uncle’s love life.

Sighing again, he took his time slowly toeing off his boots, pushing them to line the walls with Eddie’s sneakers.

“It weren’t a date, Eddie.” Wayne adds, breaking the silence under Eddie’s heavy gaze.

“But you’d like it to be.”

Neither Eddie or Wayne say anything. They both know the answer to that question is yes. He wasn’t trying to hide it from Eddie, but he wasn’t planning on shouting it from the rooftops either. They were just too good at picking apart each other’s moods, seeing past expressions, and pulling at words left unsaid. They were family and knew each other like no one else. So Eddie knew Wayne was growing mighty fond of his new friend Scott Clarke - the same way he knew when Eddie finally made a boyfriend of Steve Harrington - all without ever saying those words.

The Munson men were smitten.

He made his way to the kitchen, now socked feet cool on the linoleum floor as he opened the fridge. Wayne welcomed the brief shock of cold fridge air as he pulled out a couple of beers. As he returned to the living room, Eddie was uprighting himself into a sitting position - one leg tucked underneath him on the couch, the other brushing the floor. Wayne handed him one of the beers as he passed, before settling into his own armchair.

“So,” Eddie started, dragging out the sound. “How was your not-date?”

Wayne gave him a look before responding, cracking open his beer. “It was fine.”

It was a lot more than just fine, spending time with Scott, but Wayne wasn’t going to give Eddie the satisfaction of caving that early. They always did this song and dance, Eddie asking him about his time spent with Scott, not so subtly gathering information and prying for details.

“Come on Wayne!” Eddie exclaimed, gesturing with his beer bottle. “You gotta give me more than that.”

“I don’t ‘gotta’ give you anything,” Wayne replied, taking a sip of his thankfully cold beer.

“Wayne,” Eddie whined, melting down further into the couch cushions - absent mindedly making sure his beer bottle remained upright. “You’re no fun.”

“I just ain’t gossiping about a perfectly normal evenin’.”

“Can you tell me what you did at least?” Eddie said, only sort of begging and taking a swig of his own beer. “Set the scene. Walk me through it. Let your poor worried nephew know where you were all night.”

Wayne gave Eddie a look. He had heard Eddie call it his Dad Look once when Wayne was out of the room and he thought he was too far away to hear it. Wayne ended up standing outside the door, eyes misty, pretending it didn’t mean as much as it did. He may not be his father but Eddie was his boy.

They had leaned into it more, ever since the hospital, ever since they almost lost each other. He’d call Eddie Son, and in return Eddie would smile and call him Pops. They hadn’t talked about the dad thing yet. Wayne didn’t want to push, to take too much. He was willing to wait and take Eddie’s lead.

“You ain’t guilt tripping me when we both already know I’m home safe.”

“What if I guilt tripped you by mentioning how I’m a poor gay kid needing an older gay man as a role model to help me grow and develop and shit?” Eddie said with a shit eating grin. “Would that help you spill the beans?”

“Considerin’ you got a boyfriend all on your own,” Wayne started, gesturing to Steve’s hoodie that Eddie was wearing. The sleeves were starting to fray where Eddie had picked at the threads, but Steve liked it on Eddie too much to complain. “I’d say you’re doin’ just fine.”

"Well, what if I said I wanted to bond with my uncle whom I love so much?” Eddie said, a layer of sincerity coating his words as he leaned on the arm of the couch and looked over at his uncle with those wide eyes of his. Wayne looked back at Eddie, his gaze softening.

“Then I’d say me and Scott went bowling,” Wayne said, knowing he was going to give in to Eddie eventually.

As much as Eddie loved to joke and tease and play up the dramatics, he could tell this meant a lot to his boy. Knowing their trailer was a safe space where he could talk about boys - and he would encourage Wayne to talk about boys in kind. Knowing that they loved each other, and knowing that they wanted the other to be happy.

And Wayne is happy. His boy is alive, his boy is happy, and he’s met someone he likes spending time with.  And if all they ever are is friends - then he’ll be content with that. It’s safer to not want things too much when you’re a man like Wayne. When you’re poor. When you’re old. When you’re gay.

You take what you’re given and want for nothing.

Eddie didn’t subscribe to that train of thought. He was passion, and ambition, and wanting. He kept calling himself a coward but Wayne thought he was the bravest boy Wayne had ever met. He could list the reasons until the cows came home. Being himself in a world where that wasn’t encouraged. Standing up for the freaks and geeks at his own personal risk. Failing senior year twice and still going back because he was determined to graduate. Having a steady boyfriend in a small hateful town like Hawkins.

And then there was spring break. The week that almost took his boy from him.

But it was also the week that bought him back.

He wasn’t thankful for spring break, how could he, when Eddie was almost strung up for a murder he didn’t commit. When Wayne had to come home to his front door open and a broken cheerleader laying there on the floor.

But he had to look on the positive side of things or he’d go mad. He knew that about himself now. So he got to thinking. Eddie was home, he was safe, he was more sure of himself in a way he hadn’t been before. And Wayne had met Scott Clarke. As friends- or something adjacent. Not as parent and teacher.

Scott saw the news and saw a man in need of comfort, a companion. Not a man who’s son was a Satan worshipping murder. Not some trailer trash Hick with bad luck. So when the men from the plant looked at him with pity, when housewives gossiped as he passed them in the supermarket, when those fancy suit types took over his trailer while his neighbours looked through their windows - Scott asked Wayne how he was holding up. Offered him kind words and a warm presence. A casserole.

Eddie would say it was like him and Steve. Going through something traumatic together and coming out closer than you could have imagined otherwise. (Steve would say he’d like to think they’d be this close even without the week from Hell. They’d make it.)

Wayne was content to have a friend, after it all. Scott had held him when he cried, had hugged him when he heard Eddie was alive and safe, and then neither men were content to leave the other’s company now that they had it. They’d meet up for a coffee one morning, or a beer in the evening, and Wayne never complained that it messed up his sleep schedule working nights. Scott would invite him and Eddie over for a home made dinner (nothing fancy, he’d claim) and Wayne would politely decline until the desire to see the other man again won out.

And now they went out and did one of the only things there is to do in Hawkins - they went bowling. And Wayne wasn’t too shabby at it, if he said so himself. (Eddie would say he was fucking amazing at it, but that might have been because the boy was absolutely terrible.)

“You and Scott, huh?” Eddie teased, waggling his eyebrows and pursing his lips in a barely contained smile. “Already on a first name basis?”

Wayne looked at him with a half-hearted glare. “You don’t go bowling with a man, then turn around and call him ‘Mr Clarke’, Eddie.”

It was nice, bowling with Scott. They finally had an evening where Wayne didn’t have a shift at the plant, and Scott didn’t have any urgent papers to grade or after school activities to supervise. It had taken some scheduling, but both men were determined to make it work. (Wayne tried not to read into that too much, Scott making time for him).

Wayne had shown up too early (perhaps too nervous, perhaps too eager) and had resigned himself to lighting up a cigarette while he waited - awkwardly leaning against the worn paint of his truck while he waited for the other man. Only to shortly find Scott pulling into the parking lot - also awkwardly early. He tried not to read into that either.

“I don’t know, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie singsonged. “Seems awful familiar.”

“You’re just saying that because he was your teacher,” Wayne retorted, tone light.

Eddie relented. “Yeah probably. I called him Scott in class once you know?”

Wayne hummed in acknowledgement.

“It felt so weird, but it got a laugh from the class, which was the goal.” Eddie said. “He retaliated and called me Edward for the rest of the lesson. I thought it was funny.”

Eddie looked over at him, head tilted, eyes thoughtful. Peering through Wayne’s uncomfortable silence. He spoke, quieter this time. “It would be alright if you did like him, you know.”

Wayne dipped his head, taking a sip of his beer to avoid talking. It wasn’t always easy talking about these things. Even with Eddie, in the privacy of their own trailer. The weight of his words hanging over his head if he even thought about admitting liking men the way he did. He doesn’t want to risk anything going wrong. Not when he’s got Eddie. Not when he almost lost Eddie.

It was one thing to feel his stomach flutter, his heart clench when he saw him - it was another to admit out loud that Scott had him feeling all kinds of giddy. It was like he was a teen again, waiting for his crush to lock eyes with him across the classroom. Eager and nervous and keeping it all locked up inside.

So Wayne looked at Eddie, voice quiet. “Thank you, son”

If Eddie noticed that Wayne carefully didn’t admit to anything, he didn’t say a word.

“I Just want you to be happy, Wayne.” Eddie said, propping his chin in his hand.

“I know.” Wayne replies, fondly looking over at Eddie. “Who knew my boy was such a romantic under all that bluster.”

“What can I say,” Eddie says with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “Steve brings it out in me. He bought me a bouquet of roses one time and it was like, the romantic floodgates opened.”

Wayne snorted into his beer bottle, watching as Eddie waved his hands around as he talked.

“Seriously!” Eddie exclaimed. “He’s a total romantic and keeps like, reserving new movies that come through the store he thinks I’ll like, just for me. He made me a whole candlelit dinner once, suit and everything - because we can’t exactly go out to Enzo’s for it you know? Picnic’s by the lake and shit. And I thought that stuff was all cliché, and fads and crap - but now that I have Steve? I dream of kissing him under the moonlight and listen to his favourite bands just so I can surprise him.”

“I just love him a whole lot Wayne. I want that for you too.” Eddie said as put down his beer and flopped down onto the couch once more, hair falling into his face. “Like, if I can wind up with Steve Harrington, then you can win over my Middle School science teacher. With your southern charm and sick bowling skills.”

Wayne stuck one foot out and gently kicked at the side of the couch - jostling Eddie, who giggled. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Pops.”

[ra-archives]

And thats why Wild isn't allowed to walk around Skyloft on his own anymore.

Lu-tober day 23-24-25 (Cause my internet hates me lmao)

No prompt, just video :)

This was supposed to come out yesterday but then my interned died thE SECOND I was done. Literally, in the middle of rendering and my music stops working, I get confused, look around, see my internets down. Wasn't even up back in the morning D:

[sammunmak]

uhm i forgot to post these yesterday for sammun-mak sunday but whatever we can extend it to sammun-mak monday. hooray!

this is basically just an au where some time after tdph sammun-mak gets adopted by sam & max and geek builds her a robot body. she can still use her psychic powers which can lead to some shenanigans. but the most important part is that she’s happy under snm’s care :]

(important note that the big joint goes wherever her outer elbow/knee would be. and she uses she/her pronouns in this au ok thanks)

[etandthekeet]

This college au has given me life. I just had to draw their party outfits. Especially with the way scarab’s was described.

This is from the fic Social butterfly, anxious beetle. It’s so sweet so far

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.