#part two of a two-parter

[velnica]

Singing Along Ch 6 - I wish I may, I wish I might

Fandom: FFXIV

Ship: Sanson/Guydelot

Tags: Modern AU/University, Falling in Love, Meet Cute

Rating: Explicit (later chapters)

Inviting Guydelot over for Starlight had been done on a whim, and Sanson could never have anticipated the ease in which his roommate slipped into his life. His family, of course, was not helping matters in the slightest.

“Would you like me to come with you to the aged care?” Guydelot asked as he returned to the living room.

Sanson’s first reaction was to say no; the part of him that desperately wanted to flee rearing its head once more. But the other, more rational part of his head butted in just in time, reminding him that he did invite Guydelot here in the first place, and he shouldn’t push the man away just because his head—and heart—was a tangled mess. He tried to keep his voice neutral.

“Sure, unless mum needs help setting up the dodo?”

She checked her watch. “I was going to wait until your uncle comes; he shouldn’t be too far away now. But, if you’d like to offer, I wouldn’t say no either.”

The Elezen held his chin like he was thinking, though his grin confirmed it was all an act. “Tough choice, beautiful lady or her equally cute son?” Yvaine giggled while Sanson rolled his eyes, a tell-tale pink tinge colouring his cheeks. “Forgive me, my lady, but alas another important task calls and pulls me away from your beautiful visage,” Guydelot claimed exaggeratedly as he bowed to the woman. Sanson sighed. Beholden to his whims indeed.

Perhaps he was already part of those whims.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[vaguely-concerned]

Visual Language Things in Improbable Cause/The Die Is Cast that are driving me INSANE

the stuff they do with light and shadow in these episodes is just. someone went 'I know artists who use subtlety and they're all cowards' and they were so right for that

are you telling me... that this man is caught between light and dark in this moment and hasn't yet decided which side his soul is going to come down on in the end. hm. interesting. (especially cool that when the shadows of his face are lit up in the runabout at the end, that's when you see the damage underneath. he's partially made that choice and he's illuminated, but not by a comforting light yet, those are danger colours. odo and garak bonding on a day trip to hell; the episode)

I think this shot is ultimately my touchpoint for the visual language set up in this episode -- julian bashir standing there in 'wherever you have to go, come home to this afterwards' light as garak walks into the shadows (and towards tain). where does the light in his life come from currently? we may have a clue before us folks

(This one is literally just because his expression here makes my chest feel weird and aching. oof. I feel like this is one of the rare times he lets himself be really openly soft because he must know there's a decent chance he's not coming back)

aaaand what's the very first thing that greets him once he 'returns to the light' so to speak? :) little bit of a moral and emotional horror show in the middle there admittedly but thanks to odo he did come home and no one like. died or anything. well. many many people died but that honestly wasn't his fault or responsibility. we'll call it a victory

some really cool odo shots too in this ep. I love you constable this was so fucking extra for no reason

fun little detail: when the defiant starts shaking upon taking fire, Julian immediately puts his hand on Garak's shoulder -- the same way and on the same side as Garak did to Tain minutes before, when Odo had to fucking. knock him out to make him let go. (again: odo I love you. a direct and decisive thinker above all)

[dragoncarrion]

oh my fucking god i drew this last year and completely forgot to post it erm. here you have it now

[turtleblogatlast]

We were robbed of a Hueso Jr. episode because good god I need he and Leo to interact.

I can just imagine an episode where a very busy Hueso has no choice but to ask Leo to babysit, and Leo’s like heck yeah I’d rock at that.

And of course Hueso is constantly like oh god what if something goes wrong that’s PEPINO he left with his CHILD.

So continuously throughout the episode he imagines the worst case scenarios for what could possibly be happening.

Every time Hueso imagines another catastrophic scenario the scene cuts back to Leo and Hueso Jr just calmly watching a movie or playing a game or something else equally as innocuous.

Eventually the worry gets to Hueso so much that he cuts his business short and races back home to see -

A peacefully sleeping Hueso Jr smiling as he lays snuggled up next to a shockingly quiet Leonardo.

He’s pleasantly surprised, and agrees to ask for Leo again next time he needs a babysitter.

Or, as it seems he may need to, when Hueso Jr. wants Leo to visit.

[varpusvaras]

Breha wanted to have a soulmate.

Her parents were soulmates. They both had a mark of the Hand of Skies, the constellation visible during the winters of Aldera, on their left shoulders. Her mother had originally had the right hand of the constellation, while her father had had the left hand, and the mark had completed itself for both of them after they had met each other for the first time. It had been an early match, and her parents had grown up together since they had been ten years old. For as long as Breha remembered, she had looked at their love and connection, and indulged herself in the warmth and familiarity they shared with each other, dreaming of having the same for herself.

Her parents hoped for her to have a soulmate, too.

"Being a Queen is an important task", her mother always said. "Sometimes, it can be very lonely, too. I have gotten over so many moments of doubt with your father on my side."

She didn't talk about the other reason to her, but Breha knew about it anyway. She knew enough other Royals, other Nobles, of people born into influental families all across the Galaxy.

She knew what happened to those who didn't have a soulmate.

A soulmate was a part of you. A soulmate was someone who no one would ever take away from you. A soulmate was someone who would stay at your side.

A soulmate meant protection.

Breha didn't fully believe that her parents would make her marry someone she did not truly want to, but the fear was still there, and it gnawed on her, stronger and stronger, with every passing year. Alderaan was an affluent world, after all. Old, rich, and located in the Core. Many would be vying for the hand of the future Queen, if it was free for the taking.

Her parents had both gotten their marks at nine years old. Most people on Alderaan got their marks before their tenth birthday.

Breha's twelfth birthday had come and gone, and her thirteenth was fastly approaching, and there was nothing.

She didn't dare to speak about her growing nervousness to her parents. It felt like she would be insulting them, by insinuating that she thought that they would force her into something she did not want. She couldn't just keep it all inside, either, as it continued to bother her more and more.

In the end, she went to her grandmother.

"Sometimes it just takes time", her grandmother said, stroking Breha's back as Breha sniffled against her collar. "Sometimes the Galaxy and the Force has to look at things a little deeper, and to take a lot of things to consideration, things that you and me, or no one else, for that matter, has no idea about. It has to look at so many options before making the decision, so that the decision is the right one."

It did make Breha feel a little better. Maybe she had hope. Maybe she or whoever it was, at the other side, was just a little difficult to match with. Breha didn't think of herself as particularly difficult or complex, but maybe the Force knew something tha she didn't.

So she kept her hopes up, and she waited.

--- ---

She got her mark a week before her birthday.

She had noticed it immediately after waking up, and she had jumped out of her bed and ran to her parents to show it, without even bothering to change out of her nightgown before going.

Not that they cared, as they were just as happy as Breha herself.

The mark was a small flower, on the inside of her left wrist, with seven rounded petals that turned to sharp points at the last second. Breha thought it looked a lot like a star, if one had been turned into a flower.

Her grandmother agreed when Breha showed the mark to her.

"It's a forest star", she told her, "they grow in very deep forests, where sunlight comes through the trees only in small dots, and all the colors are dark and the ground is always glistening with water."

She turned Breha's hand a little to see the mark better, as it was sitting off center, on the right side of Breha's forearm. She was quiet for a moment as she looked at it, clearly contemplating her next words.

"What is most notable of them", she said, finally, "is that they always grow in group of threes."

She ran her fingers over the mark once more, and then gave Breha's hand a little pat.

"It's a beautiful mark", she told Breha, smiling. "With a mark like that, you're going to have a wonderful soulmate, I already know it."

Breha believed her. She had been right about the mark. She would be right about her soulmate as well.

--- ---

Breha met Bail Prestor when she was just shy of seventeen, after she had finally gotten her feet properly back under herself. She noticed him immediately, and joined him and his father to a debate between few other noblemen of Alderaan, that had been invited to the Palace.

She took his side against one of them, and when Bail turned to look at her and smiled, a little unsure but genuine still, Breha felt like something had bloomed underneath her skin.

When she looked down, there was another flower on her arm, on the opposite side of her original one.

She lifted her eyes back to Bail, to see him looking at her now with surprise in his eyes and equal amount of surprise in the smile he still had on his face.

Breha smiled back at him, brightly, with joy and relief.

--- ---

"I will do my best", Bail promised her that night, "no matter what, I will be the soulmate you deserve."

Breha believed him.

"Thank you", she said. "I will do so as well, for you."

She was there for Bail just as much as Bail was for her, after all.

--- ---

"I must admit", Bail said one day, when they were walking through the gardens on a late afternoon. "I am still a little surprised about the mark."

"How so?" Breha asked. She had the feeling that Bail wasn't talking about being the soulmate of the Princess.

"My mother looked up the flower when I got my mark", he said. "She told me that they grow in threes. I expected you two have two flowers, or something similar, I think."

That was right. Breha glanced at their hands. They had both received each other's mark, so they had fullfilled the mark for each other, but the flowers sat apart from each other on their skins, leaving a gap between them.

A gap, just wide enough, that a third flower could fit in between, linking their flowers to each other.

"That would've made sense", Breha admitted. "My grandmother told me the same. We have fullfilled each other's marks, though. I think that is the most important thing."

"It is", Bail said. "It just makes me think..."

He looked down on their hands, and then up at the sky, right past the mountaintops.

"If there is someone out there, with a single flower on their hand", he murmured, reaching for Breha's hand as he spoke.

Breha laced their fingers together, and thought.

All marks had a meaning. A point of connection. Like her parents, with each one side of a whole constellation, two hands made of stars, always meant to be holding each other.

Wouldn't it mean something, too, for her and Bail to have flowers that always grew in threes?

Breha looked up at the sky as well, and she wondered.

--- ---

Years went by. Breha married Bail. She became the Queen.

There were two flowers on each of their arms, apart from each other, with just enough space for a third one in between them.

--- ---

Being a Queen was sometimes lonely work.

What her father had not told her, was that being a Senator was sometimes just as lonely.

During the longest days, Breha would look down on her hand, to the two flowers on her skin, her own and Bail's, and she would draw strength from seeing the proof of the connection she and Bail had, even when the void of space was in between them.

She knew Bail did the same, and Breha was happy that she had been able to give him that connection, that lasted over time and distance.

She looked at her mark for a long time, when the word of the war starting reached Alderaan.

--- ---

Bail was calling her in the middle of her Court.

Usually, when he had something to tell her during their work hours, Bail would send her a message and ask her to call him, or call Visaiya, if it was something more urgent. It wasn't like him to call her like this, without sending a word out first.

She looked up at her Ministers, and gave a signal.

"My deepest apologies", she said, standing up. "I am afraid that I have to take an incoming call right away from the Viceroy."

There were no objections. The war had forced them to raise their means of security on both Alderaan and Coruscant, especially since Bail had not confined himself to only inside the Senate and the House. Anything sudden regarding him was treated with utmost gravity.

She stepped outside the Courtroom into the foyer to answer.

"Are you alright?" She asked, instantly, when the call connected and Bail's image appeared. "What's going on?"

Bail didn't look injured or even angry or crestfallen or anything of the sort that she had kind of expected.

Instead, he looked almost flustered when he looked at her, his eyes wide open, like something entirely unexpected had happened.

"I am alright", Bail answered, and then drew in a deep breath. "Something has happened, and I needed to tell you about it right away."

Before Breha could ask more, Bail pulled up his sleeve, and turned his hand around to show her.

There, on the inside of his arm, right at his left wrist, were three flowers.

It was just like Breha had imagined it. The third flower, right in the middle of the other two, interlocked its petals precisely with the flowers on both sides of it, and so linked them all together, with no space left between them anymore.

Breha lifted her eyes to Bail, who was looking at her, like he was just waiting for her to say something.

Breha had just one thing to say to him.

"Who?" She asked.

"I don't know", Bail answered.

It was not what she had expected him to say at all.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I was just returning to my office", Bail said. "I had to wait a little since there had been some sort of incident, and the troopers needed a little more time to clear things up, and then I just felt it. And there it is, now."

Breha looked at the mark again.

Three flowers, right next to each other, interlocked.

There was a rule in giving and receiving another part of the mark, and fullfilling it.

There needed to be a point of connection in order for it to happen. It wouldn't happen simply for being in the same space with the other. There needed to be a moment of true attention, intentionally given and received, for the connection to happen.

That meant that Breha had more to ask.

"Who did you talk to?" She asked. "When it happened?"

She hadn't even needed to ask. Bail had already arrived back to the point himself.

"Oh", he said, then thought for a moment. "I think I need to have a word with the Commander of the Guard."

Breha knew from the moment Bail said those words, that many things were about to change irrevocably.

She looked Bail in the eyes, and she knew that he knew it too.

[mari-lair]

chose, for tomorrow's comic!

EDIT: Sorry bonnie, i know you won the poll but i was slapped a whole ART and A SCENE of angsty Siffrin so i am in the mood to kick the lil creature down

[metalhoops]

Steve and Eddie: Alternative ‘First’ meeting part 2.

Read Part 1 Here

Eddie Munson never expected Steve to be his friend. He kept waiting for the former king to realise how different their two worlds were. When that day came, he hoped Steve could look back on his time spent with the strange Metalhead with affection.

Several months had passed since the two had their first encounter in the woods outside the trailer park, and he hadn’t scared Steve away yet. Eddie found the boy following at his side every other day when he wasn’t at work. He was loyal as a golden retriever and strangely, almost as happy. When he and Steve run into each other for the first time since Steve’s graduation, one thing was clear: Steve wasn’t happy. 

Now, most days, he appeared more happy than not. Yet, he was still distant. There were things he was keeping close to his chest, but Eddie didn’t feel like he was close enough to push. 

Eddie kept waiting for the moment he’d chase Steve away. He talked the guy’s ear off about Hellfire, now that the school year was back in full swing. They’d both agreed to keep Steve’s flock of wayward children in the dark about their friendship, lest they think Steve was using Eddie to keep an eye on them, ever the babysitter. Steve listened attentively. 

He invited Steve around to watch obscure B-grade, horror schlockfests. There was no way he enjoyed it, but Steve stayed. He jumped at all the right times and laughed at all the wrong ones, just like Eddie. Steve was too good to be true. One day, something had to give. 

When they drove together, Eddie played the music too loud and performed air guitar solos at stoplights. He’d even gone so far as to serenade Steve with KISS songs as the guy helped him put together a dinner that wasn’t from a microwave container. 

He’d expected Steve to roll his eyes and call him a nerd, which admittedly he did. However, right after, he’d equipped himself with a wooden spoon and performed an equally cheesy rendition of a Bob Seger song. 

Hell, once his parents were out of town and they’d stayed the night at Steve’s he’d shown Eddie his best impression of Tom Cruise in Risky Business, complete with high socks, a poorly buttoned button-down, and too-short, shorts. Eddie was so gone for Steve Harrington, and it was horrible because he knew something was going to go wrong.

He was sick of waiting for it to happen. The two had been friends for months, and Eddie was sick of holding his breath, with each passing day knowing that the hurt would be all the greater as his attachment to Steve grew. 

Steve’s parents were out of town, which always made for a more relaxed Steve. He’d invited Eddie to stay the night at his place for the first time. Eddie realised what had to happen next as Steve invited him to crash with him in his bed. 

This was the thing that would finally scare Steve away. This was the thing that would get Steve to finally give up his reformed jock status and call him a freak. He couldn’t share a bed with Steve without him knowing, it wasn’t fair. 

“I kinda like taking the side next to the door. You mind taking the window side?” Steve asked so casually it made Eddie’s heart ache. 

He found it hard to swallow as he bit the bullet and told Steve the thing he’d been dancing around for months. 

“I’m gay, Steve.” He wished he’d been more eloquent, but he hadn’t. He spoke to the shitty plaid wallpaper, his words running together. 

When he finally looked, he found Steve sitting on the bed, his wide eyes looking equal parts alarmed and confused. He wasn’t cursing at Eddie or chasing the guy out of his house, so far, it was going better than he’d expected. 

“Uh... thanks for telling me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you steal my side of the bed,” Steve finally replied. Eddie was goddamn floored. 

“You heard me, right?” Eddie repeated. There was no way in hell this wasn’t the thing that chased Steve away. 

“Roger Dodger. Loud and clear. You don’t like boobs,” Steve paraphrased as he wriggled under the covers. Eddie let out a sound between a snort and a sob because, holy shit, Steve didn’t care. He was also an absolute idiot, but that was expected.

“And you’re still cool with me sleeping with you?” Eddie asked. 

“I don’t like to sleep alone much, anymore,” Steve spoke with a vague shrug of his shoulders. There it was again, the uneasy sense he got that Steve wasn’t telling him something important. 

Eddie didn’t pry, because Steve hadn’t pushed when he’d just goddamn come out to him. Eddie slipped beneath the covers, closest to the window and lay beside Steve until the man fell asleep. Eddie couldn’t sleep, his head still reeling. 

After an hour, he felt Steve twitch at his side and mumble something incoherent. Eddie stayed still, thinking the moment would pass, quick and painless as a sun shower. Instead, Steve started to thrash. Eddie sat up in bed, flicked on the lights, and gazed down at the former king’s pinched brows. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who’d stalked the halls of Hawkins High, looking seemingly untouchable from Eddie’s ranks amongst the outcasts and common folk. 

“Stevie?” Eddie breathed, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him. 

The other man’s body stilled beneath his hand, and his face remained contorted. In his sleep, he crept closer to Eddie, curling his body around him. He had no idea what the hell to do. Steve hating to sleep alone made more sense. 

“It’s okay, Harrington. I got you. You’re okay,” Eddie mumbled, taking a risk and leaning down to card his hands through the man’s hair. 

Eddie sat there for another half-hour, muttering quiet nothings until he stilled and slept peacefully. 

When morning finally came and the two found themselves dancing around each other in the Harrington’s oversized kitchen, Eddie decided to broach the subject. Steve kept setting off alarm bells in his head, and he had no idea how to quiet them on his own. 

“Steve, I know I’m a shitty listener because I love to hear the sound of my own voice, but you know, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here, right?” 

Steve stepped back from the kitchen cabinet to get a better look at Eddie, his face the picture of conflict. He kept looking as though he were seconds from telling Eddie something before going dead quiet. Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t think I’m entirely straight.” 

That hadn’t been what he was fishing for, but holy shit. 

To make matters worse, Steve was sending him all the right goddamn cues. His eyes flickered to Eddie’s lips, then back to his face. He chewed on his bottom lip and ran his fingers through his carefully styled hair. Screw it. 

Eddie crossed the space between them and smash their lips together, pushing Steve’s back against the cabinet. It was a car crash kind of desperation. Limbs and lips everywhere. Steve ended up on the countertop, his legs wrapped around Eddie’s hips, hands in his hair. Eddie’s head was a chorus of holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. 

Eddie Munson never expected Steve to be his friend, but the one thing he’d never expected to ruin their friendship was a kiss. 

Tags

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[goldendoodlerlockerlove]

This is one of the funniest moments in the show and no one can convince me otherwise.

[hannahssimblr]

“Jude! God, c’mere.” Michelle thrusts me into the centre of the group, where someone has propped a card against a vase on the counter. I ensure to arrange my features carefully into some sort of surprised expression. 

“Oh, what? This for me?”

“Yes,” they cry. It’s a handmade card that says ‘you’re dead to us’ on the front. “Aw, Jesus, thanks!” I say, and they laugh and watch me while I open it and start reading some messages scrawled on the inside. There are so many of them, many even squeezed into the tiniest corners, or sideways along the edge.

‘Good luck on your big adventure!’ some say. Others share a memory, wish me luck, express jealousy at my escape. I close it. 

“I’ll read this late when you’re not all gawking at me,” I tell them, which gets a good laugh despite the lack of comedy, and as I look around at their faces, their sad, sentimental smiles and I wish the night was over already, and I was already gone. I feel exposed, like a man under a spotlight without something to say. Would they like me to entertain them? To read their messages and get emotional in the middle of my kitchen?

I catch Jen’s eye. She’s behind the others, by the patio door, dressed in a very funereal black, and an expression to match. While chatter resumes around me, I jerk my head towards the garden, and without words, she understands. She slips through the door and out into the night. 

Jen and I wordlessly follow the path that winds down from the house to the pergola at the back of the garden. We sit on a bamboo settee shielded by trees from the road, where the occasional car passes. The breeze lifts pieces of her hair that frame her face. 

She is staring towards the kitchen, its yellow light pouring out into the garden when she breaks the silence. 

“What a weird party.” 

I exhale a laugh through my nose. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even come.”

She purses her lips. “I’m not totally sure why I did.”

“Maybe you had something you wanted to say.”

“Maybe. Though I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear it.” She looks at me then, her brown eyes dark in the failing light as they study mine. “It surprised me to see Evie here.”

“Me too. I didn’t think she’d come.”

“On her own, too.”

I shrug. “Shane and Claire were busy. They were going to their debs.”

“Ah, the debs.” She picks lint from her black mesh top and laughs humourlessly. “Bet you’re sorry you’ll miss ours. I know how excited you were to suit up for it.”

Even the concept of wearing a suit makes me uncomfortable, as though an invisible tie is pulled too tightly at my throat. “You’re going, I presume.”

“Yeah, with Michelle. The two of us are kind of like the dateless losers in the year. Feels about right to end it all this way.”

“I didn’t think Michelle would be interested in all that stupid stuff, if I’m honest.”

“I think that’s what you assumed. If you’d asked her, she might have told you something different.”

“Hm,” I say. “More evidence of being a kind of shit boyfriend, isn’t it?”

An infinitesimal smile nudges at her lips. “I always said you were better apart. She really brought out the worst in you.”

“It felt that way, to be honest. When I was with her, I really didn’t like myself, or I wasn’t completely myself around her.”

“Well, then. Hopefully, one day you’ll find someone who lets you be yourself. It’s what everyone wants for themselves.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I kind of thought you’d found that with Evie.”

I sigh, suddenly irritated, while she draws into herself, hands tucked under her arms. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know the right thing to say about her.”

“I kind of wish you wouldn’t say anything to me about her, because, like…”

“It isn’t my business, and all that,” she finishes, and with a nod, she turns her face toward the bushes flanking the garden with their spiky black leaves silhouetted against the deep blue sky.

My voice trembles. “Jen, I don’t want to be angry with you right now, like, I don’t want to go off and start this new part of my life when I feel this way, but the things you said to Evie at the festival, I just… It’s like, no matter how much I think it over, I can’t come up with a reason you would say those things to her.”

She tugs the sleeve of her top between her teeth, just shaking her head. I lift my hands from my lap to look at them. They are quivering, so I clench them into fists as I continue.

“You should have been there on that second night, Jen, and seen the way she was crying. The things you said got into her head, you know what I mean? You can’t just make shit up and tell it to someone like it’s a fact. I know you love to gossip and tell stories, but this is what happens when you go too far. It has real consequences. Like, a real impact on people.”

“Yeah.”

“You told her I was staying.”

Again, she agrees, eyes still fixed on the garden. 

“Jen.”

She swallows, hard. 

“How come you said that? It’s not like I ever told you I was going to do that, is it?”

She mumbles something incoherent. 

“What? Come on, just talk to me.”

“I assumed you would.”

“You assumed? Why would you assume?”

I realise that speaking is difficult for her, as she is holding back her tears. I should feel more sympathetic towards her, but I’m righteous. With a steadiness I know is shrinking her, I stare into her face.

“Maybe it was both that I assumed and I hoped. Like, a mixture of the two.”

“Go on.”

“You seemed happy this summer, at certain moments. It was just… like,” a laboured swallow, “you’d come home late after being with her, and you were just… Happy, and talking all about her and going on and on about the funny things she said to you.”

“So?”

“So, like, I thought you’d end up going out with her in the end, and that you felt so strongly about her that you’d stay in Dublin to be with her. I don’t know, it didn’t seem that crazy an idea. You were acting like you were in love or something.” Now, she looks at me, her eyes hurt, but still searching for confirmation. Perhaps, if she were especially astute, she might have seen somewhere on my face the flash of emotion that jolted through me. I convince myself she hasn’t seen a thing and clench my jaw. 

“I think that was a fairly stupid assumption to make.”

“I don’t. You’ve always done things because pretty girls wanted you to. It’s like your life is based around chasing whatever feeling it is that you get when one of them likes you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s not,” I insist. “Look at me now, huh? I’m leaving her for Germany.”

“Fine,” she whispers. “I just thought you’d stay. That’s all.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Do you?”

She exhales, frustrated, and throws her hands upon her lap. “Yes, I know it. Look at me, here, at your going away party. It’d be pretty fucking mental if I didn’t know it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve acknowledged it.”

“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

“Before that, Jen.”

She fixes the full, passionate force of her stare at me as tears fill her eyes. “Because I don’t want you to go, do I? Because I thought if I didn’t look at it, then it’d all just go away.”

I feel a surge of emotion. My throat tightens as though clenched by a fist. “Well… It doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” as the first tears spill onto her cheeks, she wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I just didn’t want things to end. I thought if you stayed for her, then I wouldn’t have to lose you, and nothing would change.”

“They have to, though. That’s how life goes. Everything changes and everything ends, and we all just get older and things move on.”

She whimpers. “But you’re moving on without me.”

I reach out and stroke her knee with my thumb over the loose threads of the hole in her jeans. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’ll just live your life, and I’ll live mine, and-”

“We’ll be apart. How can I go without seeing you all the time? You’ve always just been there, and now I’ll have to get used to you being so far away, and never seeing you, and you’re, like, one of the few friends I even have, and you-”

“No, come on. You’ll make new friends in college.”

“I don’t want new friends. I don’t want to meet new people and have to explain these little things about me, and my backstory and what I like to watch on TV and order at the takeaway, and what sorts of jokes make me laugh. You already know it all, and you’ll know them better than anyone else ever will, because you were there when I decided I liked them.”

“Jenny, we’ll still talk, and we’ll visit each other-”

“There’s no point pretending it’ll be the same, because it won’t. You’re going to say you’ll stay in touch with me and we’ll be best friends forever, but that won’t happen. You’ll find people who are better, and just forget.”

“Never.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[amielot]

I manually check this account every day to see if there are any horse girl au updates. I love them so much. They are good.

AUUUgh!! thankyouuuuuu! <3<3<3<3

Guess what, the next comic is gonna be another two-parter, and it will be coming out soon :3

[unkownbee]

Eliza: Stop doing that.

Alexander: Stop doing what?

Eliza: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

Eliza: Can you name a single city in Oklahoma?

Alexander: Oklahoma City, bitch!

('Tis a joke. Ham would never swear at his lovely wife)

Alexander: Where did you get that tomato soup?

Eliza: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

(When Eliza's too tired to put effort into cooking actual food)

Alexander: So you like cats?

Eliza: Yeah.

Alexander: Tries to impress her by slowly pushing a glass off the table.

Alexander: You got a date yet Eliza?

Eliza: No.

Alexander: Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

Eliza: You’d be stupid to lay a hand on me.

Alexander: Oh, you’d be surprised how much stupid shit I do.

(She's mad at him because he swore in front of baby Philip and Angie)

Alexander: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Eliza meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

(I don't know if they would actually do this, but I like to believe they would <3)

Alexander: Snow got me feeling some type of way.

Eliza: That's hypothermia.

Alexander: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

(Eliza is very much concerned and trying to get him to go inside and sit in front of the fire)

Eliza: The first time I saw you, you stole my heart.

Alexander: But I'm a kleptomaniac, so that doesn't mean anything.

(Oh, it means everything <3)

Eliza: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Alexander: Okay.

Eliza: And make out during the scary parts.

Alexander: Th-

Alexander: The scary parts.

Alexander: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

(Yes, Alexander. She didn't stutter. The scary parts. Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl)

Alexander: I’m so tired.

Eliza: Did you get to bed late?

Alexander: No.

Eliza: Did you do something strenuous?

Alexander: No.

Eliza: Then why are you tired?

Alexander: I’m alive.

Eliza: Sounds exhausting.

(Eliza is right. Being alive is super exhausting 😔)

Alexander: Can I have 2 straws with that milkshake?

Eliza: Aww-

Alexander: With 2 straws, I can drink it double as fast!

(No, because he would definitely do this. You can't prove otherwise)

Alexander: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

Eliza: That's great, Alexander. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 10 years and have 4 children.

(Ham just got back from drinking with his friends. He's drunk 😁)

Alexander, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Eliza, confused: I mean, this is our house, so yeah.

Eliza: Alex, could we go shopping? All the snacks are gone.

Alexander: I AM LITERALLY RIGHT HERE?!

Alexander comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Eliza’s bedroom.

Eliza: Babe, are you.. coming to bed?

Alexander: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend.

Alexander: Lies on the ground and falls asleep.

Eliza: ...

Eliza: We're literally married, though???

(Again, Ham is drunk 😁👍)

Eliza: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Alexander: It was autocorrect.

Eliza: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me"?

Alexander: Yes.

(Yeah, that happens sometimes. Totally 👍)

Eliza: Alexander, can I speak to you for a minute? In private.

Alexander: Ooh, someone's in trouble. It's me. I don't know why I did that.

(Again, Ham swore in front of the kids)

Eliza: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives.

Alexander: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day.

Eliza: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

(And that's on those rare occasions that he actually does sleep)

Eliza: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Alexander: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Eliza: ...

Eliza: You mean ring bearER, right?

Alexander: ...

Eliza: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

(He totally is. As he should 😌✨)

Eliza: And have you learnt anything this Christmas, Alexander?

Alexander: …Not really.

Eliza: Nothing?

Alexander: Tell you one thing I have learnt—Christmas; ultimately, commercial holiday. Who's the real winner at Christmas? Amazon. they have drones now! Tiny little dystopian slaves delivering iPads and headphones. I ordered a toaster; It was on the doorstep five hours later! Do we need that? It was 4.99! For a toaster! I mean, someone's being exploited there.

(And that, kids, is the true meaning of Christmas. Exploiting people into buying stuff that they don't really need under the guise of it being worth it. That also fits for Black Friday, actually-)

Alexander: Alright, so the vampire's gravestone is—

Eliza: Cenotaph.

Alexander: What?

Eliza: It's only a gravestone if it marks the location of a body. A monument honouring someone whose body isn't present is a cenotaph.

Alexander: I'm... not sure that's how it works if the body gets up and walks away on its own.

Eliza: There's a precedent for gravestones being reclassified as cenotaphs if the body is later removed and reinterred elsewhere. There's no rule that says the body itself can't do the removing.

Alexander: Okay, but the body is very much coming back. That's kind of what we're here to accomplish.

Eliza: So it's a temporary cenotaph.

Alexander: And naturally our greatest concern here is avoiding semantic ambiguity.

Eliza: Semantic ambiguity is how vampires get you.

(I just thought this one was silly. I liked it)

Alexander: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Eliza: Steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to her knees and sob while apologizing profusely.

Alexander: That one. I want that one.

Eliza: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Alexander: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

[friendly-alien-fucker]

A Fire Which You Can't Put Out (1/?)

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of blood, roughhousing turns into gentle meaningful sex, non-conish, Yautja in heat, angst, this post is an emotional trainwreck, Mating season isn't as easy as it sounds, may not be canonically accurate

Pairing: Yautja x gender neutral! reader

_______________________________

"Love" you called out, standing waiting outside their door. "Please, let me in."

There was quiet as your pleas were ignored once again. They didn't usually act this way.

Usually, they left their door unlocked so you could get in whenever you wanted. They knew how much you liked their giant bed, how you loved to go over the rough textures of their trophies with your hand and arrange them by size and species. So your worry was understandable when they locked themself up, not responding to any of your calls, no matter how desperate they got.

You shook your head. They hadn't even told you when they'd come home.

In fact, you only noticed once you'd made food for the two of you and went to bring theirs into their room and the door wouldn't open. You'd heard a whimper then. Painful, like a wounded animal, and not at all like your mate. And yet the low growl that followed seconds after told you that it was.

You'd tried prying their door open, guessing the access code, tried convincing them to come out on their own with sweet promises of love and comfort, but nothing worked. They simply stayed quiet. And your worry grew.

Defeated, you finally backed away from their door after the tenth attempt to get them to answer. Perhaps they simply needed some alone time. You sighed.

"It's late, I should go to bed now. If...if there's any way I can help you, please... let me know." you waited a few seconds, hoping for any indication that they had heard you, or that they were still alive, anything. But as none came, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned around "...I love you."

And after you left, the ship went quiet once again.

You had begun going about your business as usual, cleaning and showering and making yourself dinner. And with each task the strings of your heart tried pulling you to their room again, your brain yelling at you- just to check up on them. Just to see if they need me now. Just for a second.

But you tried to forget your pain and went to bed without them in your arms, almost letting a tear escape your eye as you put the blanket over you. Usually, you never had to use it. Their body was so warm that it was almost completely decorative. But now, you were so so cold.

You put it over your body completely, curling up fetal position and tried to even your breath. Maybe you'd wake up and see that they had joined you while you slept. The thought brought a little peace to your aching heart, and you closed your eyes. But the second you entered a dreaming state, you suddenly heard a loud crash.

Eyes still closed, you almost fell as you instinctively bolted out of bed. You felt your way around, moving along the familiar walls until you reached the hall your mate's room was located in.

And as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw that it wasn't so dark after all. The light in their room was on and, most importantly, their door was open.

Without thinking, you ran towards it, almost tripping over something in the dark, but catching yourself before you hit the ground. You looked behind you in confusion. There should be nothing in this hall for you to trip over, so why?

But as a hand weakly grabbed at your ankle, realization hit you, and you instantly turned around to embrace the towering body that was laying on the floor.

"thank God, you're here!" you let your body drop on theirs and threw your arms around their neck. "Why are you on the ground? Are you alright? Do you need something, anything? Did you hurt yourself?"

But your worried babbling got cut off by the sudden sound of whining. Their voice distorted and shaking as they kept reverting to their own language, moaning a mixture of "please" and "can't wait"

It was such a strange sound, you almost couldn't believe it was coming from your mate. But as they continued and you could feel the vibrating of their chest below you, there was no way to deny it. You leaned back to get a better look and what you saw disturbed you deeply.

Their eyes, they were fixated on you completely. And they were oh so very.... desperate. Like they were asking for something, something only you could give them. Almost like a puppy, but way less innocent.

Like they were in pain, but as you trailed your hands gently over their body, you couldn't find a single scratch on them. You furrowed your brows as you felt them shiver against your fingertips.

Their chest heaved shakily against your body and their breath formed a slight fog in the air. It made you realize just how cold it was here. Had they lowered the temperature? But Yautja disliked the cold, didn't they?

You felt along their neck to discover their body didn't seem phased by the cold at all, instead it was practically burning. They leaned into your touch, purring louder than you knew they were capable of.

Their hips slowly but roughly grinded up against yours and you put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from reacting. Something was very wrong here. You tried to push yourself up from their lap, wanting to search up on this behavior, try to find a way to help them, but they dug their fingernails into the flesh of your thighs to keep you in place, not flinching when you hissed in pain.

"y-you're hurting me" you breathed out, but they held you tighter, blood forming at your new wounds. "Let me go, you're hurting me!" you yelled now, only stopping as you got cut off by their own plea for release.

"you're - you're hurting me" they croaked weakly, imitating you before letting their hands drop from your body and to the ground with a loud thud.

You shuffled away from them to run your fingers over your legs and the sensitive wounds that were now coloring your pants a deep red. They...had never hurt you before. You looked up to find not regret or fear in their eyes but determination.

Like suddenly you were prey, bound and gagged in front of a predator ten times your strength, with no means to fight or escape. Like your fate was already sealed. And with a poorly repressed whimper, you became eerily aware of the small skulls decorating their hips.

You're going to join them soon the voice in your head commented drily this is what you get for mating a monster

You almost slapped yourself as soon as the thought entered your mind. They weren't a monster, you knew this better than anyone. You had braided flowers into their dreadlocks not too long ago, watched them try to make a flower crown with their big hands and being impossibly proud when they finished making one- you'd seen them weep over their fallen comrades, saw them swell with pride at their brother's younglings.

But as their hands shot forward, gentle hands now nothing but big razor sharp claws to you, and they took hold of your arms before you could even realize what was happening, it became harder and harder to convince yourself. And the cold of the ship's floor pressed against your back as they towered above you was making you all the more aware of your situation.

It was quiet for a few seconds. But not the kind of quiet you had come to find comfort in, the kind of quiet the dark emptiness of space offered, the eternal peace that the stars brought with them- but the quiet in which you were being suffocated by your own breathing. By your heartbeat. By the sweat running down your temple and mixing together with your tears on the ground.

It was a sort of tension you had only known of a battlefield, right before someone strikes. The few seconds between life and death, the moment history is written, the moment fate picks up her golden feather. And the more seconds passed, the surer you were that you needed to act if you were to survive this.

Consciously shoving your fear together with your common sense into the back of your mind and allowing instict to take complete hold of you, you lurched forward. Your canines were meant for tearing meat, but you'd always fancied yourself a vegan. Still, the green seeping from your mouth made sure you'd never forget your true nature.

It was a moment of complete loss of self. Followed quickly by deep, frantic fear. Of them, of yourself, of the taste on your tongue.

They roared above you, pupils shooting big enough that you could see your shaking reflection in them. They clutched you tighter, shoving you into them as their mandibles secured themselves at the spot between your neck and your shoulder.

And before you could scream for forgiveness, glowing green was replaced with metallic red. It was almost poetic how your blood mixed together. How you somehow chose the same place to leave your marks. Only that yours were a crude attempt at survival while theirs was-

What were they doing?

Their fangs were still buried in your pulsing flesh, soaking in the wet heat of your bruised body, but you could hear the low rumbling of their voice still. "Please" it was difficult to hear if it was a question or a demand, either way it sounded too sweet for the way they were behaving. Too innocent, too kind, too much like your mate.

"Please- I'm scared - I'm scaring you" they strung together sentences, and your hand moved to draw circles on their back in an ironic display of human stupidity. Always loving, always giving, always soft. Soft is what they loved about you, soft is what they swore they weren't. Soft is what they were right now. With their teeth rammed into your neck.

"I need thi- you"

They purred rythmically with every word, their hips rutting slowly against your inner thigh

"You, you, you"

and you slowly began feeling less like prey and more like devine medicine, like a cure-it-all. But in this position you were nevertheless still terrified.

One of your legs carefully wrapped itself around their outer thigh, helping you in pulling yourself up. And surprisingly, they actually let you.

Their grip faltered ever so slightly and their mandibles released from your flesh with a goosebump-inducing squelching sound. You let out a low groan and bit your tongue trying to ignore the pain, instead focusing on dealing with the issue at hand.

Your mate was in front of you, eyeing you like their last meal and waiting for another opportunity to pounce. An opportunity you were not going to give them.

"Can... C-can you lay down?" You ask with a shake in your voice, gaze looking for any sudden movements, yet none came. They moved not an inch, eyes still focused on you and you could practically see their control slipping away slowly.

Swallowing, you repeat yourself with a lot more (albeit fake) confidence. Something which seemed to work.

"My love, please- will you lay down for me?"

You almost let out a laugh of relief when they did as you said. But you kept yourself from cheering just yet.

Your legs wobbled slightly as you moved to sit on their lap once again. It was hard to put your full weight on them, they were like a furnace, burning your skin with every touch. But this was more important than your comfort, or your fear- you'd sworn to stay by their side no matter how dangerous it'd get.

Tracing your hands over their stomach and up to their chest, you reminded yourself of this. Memories of your first time getting to know them grounded you. Their patience with a species far more primitive than theirs, their courage to choose peace over violence whilst coming from a race that worshipped death and the bringers of it.

Their purring started slowly reminding you more of your own heartbeat. This was not a monster. This was not a monster.

Your eyes, which had involuntarily closed now opened, looking down at your mate with more rationality. Their upper body was bare and littered with fresh scratch wounds that you hadn't noticed before.

Their lower body was bare as well, with only a small cloth covering what was in between. Something which it was not doing well, since the outline of their erection was just as visible as the natural lubrication running down their thighs.

It had been obvious before, but with them laying underneath you now, begging for release, for salvation... Why they'd barely eaten the past weeks, why they'd forfeited their training, why they suddenly avoided touching you, you realized now with horror-

They had been preparing for mating season.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you whispered, leaning down to put a kiss to their shaking form, your fear dissipating and replacing itself with love and understanding.

Their claws reached up to your hips to hold you gently, painfully gently, like they were trying their best not to crush you in their embrace. Your mouth moved up to their face to place a kiss between their eyes, which they closed in response, leaving them completely vulnerable.

It was a strange form of power you felt in that moment. The power of being a warm meal in front of a starving man, but you didn't let yourself delight in in too long. Your hands trailed over their torso, down to where their throbbing member strained against their abs, and took it into your hands.

You jumped when they grunted underneath you, their lubrication becoming stronger as you rythmically stroked them. The rutting of their hips breaking that rythm, almost throwing you off them with how brutal it was.

Oh, you tried hard to keep yourself from tearing up, they must be in so much pain.

In any other scenario you would've found the sight erotic, but there was nothing erotic about it now.

You knew the risks of mating an alien, knew there was a difference in anatomy. They had been so self conscious about it once they trusted you enough to see them unsheathed, and it completely shattered your views on their species.

Overly confident, arrogant, beastly- those were the words most humans would use to describe them. And though you always tried to be open and understanding, even you had your biases.

Yet growing out of those wasn't hard once you'd met them. They were everything you didn't expect. Intelligent, helpful, kind and so adorably sweet against your tongue.

Their eyes that told you they wanted to devour you whole then averted, timidly glancing between the ground and your body. Their hands trembling as you guided them to lay above your chest, letting them know that the heartbeat they were feeling was for them, only.

[thegreenhordes]

Field Guide to Encounters with The Glow, Part 3: Type 3 Infected AKA Mimics (Stages 1-3) Mimics are a fairly new addition to the unfortunately growing archive of infected types and their stages. There is hope more mutations won't occur, but given the wild nature of the Mimic, that hope is slim at best. Type 3 infected are known for a few things: 1. They are about as intelligent as your average predator, their knowledge consolidated primarily in their hunting skill. Otherwise, they are mentally on the level of animals. Fluttershy has requested to be given a docile subject, with the intention of learning if her talent works with Mimics the same way it does other creatures. Request is still pending approval. 2. Mimics are in constant pain, the strain of moving on broken, deformed legs causes a great deal of pain and stress. This often results in heightened aggression, especially in stage 3 where aggressive behavior increases exponentially over time. That is, unless 3. Taming, when done properly and patiently, is possible. Mimics need to be kept fed and- preferably- full, in order for them to be tamed. A tamed Mimic is a safe Mimic, allowing for you to pass by them without fear. However, even a tamed mimic will turn on you if exposed to too much light. This is likely a mix of fear and pain response, as light burns them. How to avoid Wild Mimics: . Try to travel during the day, when most infected tend to be dormant or less active. Avoid very dark areas that are hard to see in, primarily abandoned homes and buildings. Second stage Mimics will seek out any empty structure they can in the night and will 'nest' there, coming out into the building's moon-cast shadow to stand watch and hunt, they stay this way through stage 3, possibly indefinitely if they don't progress to 4-A or 4-B. . If you must travel at night, keep your eyes and ears peeled. Most Mimics have pustules growing close enough to the surface that you can spot a faint green glow from around fifteen feet away. Mimics don't immediately attack, as they prefer to lure and ambush prey, but if they know that You know the ruse, a Mimic will give chase. If you see one, keep to areas with moderate lighting and move slowly away. . Absolutely do NOT travel during New Moons, the New Moon that occurred over the last month has revealed Mimics will wander freely- if slowly- when there is no moonlight to impede them. Princess Luna, who has moved herself from Canterlot to Ponyville, has placed several lights through town to create pseudo-barriers against the beasts. . Keep light on you at all times. If you keep your distance, shining a light on a Mimic will deter them from drawing closer and may make them flee. . If you hear a voice, but don't see anyone, assume a Mimic is nearby and remain on guard. A stage 1-3 Mimic's lure can be identified through asking oneself these questions: Is it repeating itself? Is the voice Monotone or expressive? Are there other infected nearby (Growlers, Watchers)? Would they respond coherently if I talk back? If your answers are Yes, Monotone, Yes, and No, then you are dealing with a Mimic. How to Identify a Mimic is nearby: . Low, almost imperceptible repetitive vocalizing. (Example: "Hi, Hi, Hello? What, How are you? Yes, How are you? I'm good, Hello?") They often vocalize at themselves when not hunting. . Creaking noises near windows, in dark spaces. . Open windows in abandoned buildings, with signs of blood or viscera. Mimics will drag prey through windows and doors into their nests to eat in peace. . Pained grunting, the sound of rapid shuffling. Mimics struggle to move on their legs. They either quickly shuffle/skitter while dragging themselves across the floor- or they vault themselves forward to reach prey faster. Can you fight a Mimic? Yes and No. Mimics become harder to kill as they progress through the stages, until eventually they are outright unkillable. In the Next installment of the Field Guide, we will discuss Stages 4-A and 4-B, the 'Apex' predators of the Mimic population.

[zivazivc]

the recent comic with floyd and les gave me immediate mixed emotions,

but i absolutely love the representation.

i’ve made HORRIBLE decisions, especially the one presented in the comic, and i love that.

It makes me regret it less.

thank you for this.

You know, I was not expecting to receive something like this. But I'm happy I did because I did want the situation to feel real, and I suppose from your response I can say I achieved that. And also I'm just glad you could find some solace in it. I know this stuff is hard to talk about, and a lot of people don't want to listen or hear about it, which makes it even harder. But lots of good people do some really bad things in their lives, and those things don't need to define them. Especially if they were mistakes and they learned from them.

[leapdayowo]

Goop!Wally au

(1/10) Retrogression

Barnaby has returned home way pass his curfew and Ms. Beagle is not happy about that. Barnaby gets grounded and has to do chores for a week and then is ungrounded. During this week, he thinks about Wally and what new toys and books he can bring with him to the pond (and practices his delivery on some jokes).

Wally meanwhile is dealing with the meaning of goodbyes (something he never felt as he’s had no one to miss before). He thinks he prefers when Barnaby was around, but Barnaby is gone and he isn’t sure how soon “soon” is to know when Barnaby will be back (perhaps he wishes he went with Barnaby, but he’s never strayed too far from the pond). He tries to pass the time how he used to, but with a new form, his existence is… different. He isn’t use to containing himself inside a “shell.” Maybe he has some limitations to his abilities and this form is not meant to be permanent..