#pre-series au

[l-ii-zz]

I have been thinking too much about 777 family 🥺

(No he visto a ningún fan hispanohablante hacer este último chiste de vegeta 777 con prisionero 777 y he de decir que estoy muy decepcionada de todos ustedes)

[wrenfeathers]

I love the galaxy kids but the entire time i was watching the season i was wondering why on earth the adults let a bunch of kids go on a dangerous galaxy-saving adventure on their own

(literally the only adult they had was Kageyama who thought that was a good idea fr???)

So these exist now, have fun

[strifesolution]

Remember producer AU? Me neither.

For this redraw meme

[unfinishedslurs]

prank gone wrong (viral!) (steddie)

Eddie’s been someone’s dirty little secret before.

He’s got a type, okay? Unfortunately hot jocks are often the type of asshole to get sucked off behind the bleacher and then turn around and spit in his face about it. Going right back to their friends to talk shit about what a freak Eddie is, never mind the fact that his mouth still tastes like their nasty fucking jizz. He’s used to it by now. Used to people who pretend they barely know each other. He’s not asking they parade their relationship for the whole town to see, just someone who doesn’t pretend they’re strangers. Is that too much to ask? 

He’s so fucking stupid. He really thought this time would be different.

Steve Harrington barreled into his life like a goddamn train and Eddie’s been derailed ever since.

The first time he met Steve he was six. Eddie still lived with his mom, and she took him to the park, where he met a little boy who wrinkled his nose and told him he smelled bad. Steve does not remember this, and turned red with mortification the first time Eddie told him

After that incredible hit to baby Eddie’s self-esteem, they didn’t interact much, existing on the periphery of each others lives. He figured it didn’t matter. Harrington was a year under him, and a douche besides. Was ready to leave town from the moment he learned to walk. As soon as he graduated, he could finally get the hell out of this place and never think about the assholes he went to school with again.

His mom leaves. His dad gets arrested. He moves in with his Uncle Wayne, who only has one bedroom in his trailer and won’t take no for an answer when he gives it to Eddie. 

Eddie doesn’t graduate.

(Harrington comes back to school different after Byers beats him up. Eddie doesn’t notice. He’s got bigger things to worry about.)

They don’t talk in Eddie’s second run of senior year either. He hears the gossip, sees him come to school with stitches in his forehead and no girlfriend. Still, it’s none of his damn business. He rolls his eyes at the rumors and stays far away from Billy Hargrove.

Steve Harrington graduates. Eddie doesn’t.

And this is where his careful distance falls apart.

It’s the mall’s fault of course. What isn’t? Businesses closing down, rent going up, his resolve crumbling. All over some fucking ice cream. God, Eddie should have just turned around. Left the store and the mall and the entire damn town behind. 

He’s aware he’s being melodramatic, but in his defense he’s queer in Indiana. He has a right to be. 

Anyways, the point is that Eddie saw Harrington’s little blue shorts and red lips and cannot be held responsible for what happened after. 

(They fucked. That’s what happened. They fucked, and kept fucking, and then after the mall burned down Steve showed up on his doorstep with suspiciously placed bruises and his coworker and looked at Eddie with pleading eyes. He didn’t even bring Robin home to her parents like a sensible person, just insisted on having her there because they were a package deal now and couldn’t be separated. Like puppies, Robin said when he looked at her. Last he checked, she wanted to bite Steve’s head off, and now they were attached at the hip?

He got used to it quickly. He had to. She comes on half their dates. Steve’s lucky he’s so cute.)

Now, nearly five months after Steve served him ice cream for the first time, he feels his heart shatter in the Hawkins High parking lot. 

“Harrington,” Dustin shouts, and it carries across the empty lot. Steve’s head jerks up and he waves, Robin standing beside him. “Steve, c’mere!”

Steve tilts his head. “What?”

“Come. Here.” Dustin repeats, enunciating clearly. Mike and Lucas look at him like he’s insane. So do Gareth, Jeff, and Chuck. 

Steve, who is standing a mere 20 feet away, turns to Robin and says something that makes her snort. Eddie can practically hear his bitchy murmur. 

“Is that Harrington’s girlfriend?” He hears Gareth ask. He has to swallow his laughter. 

“Yes,” Dustin says.

“No,” Mike corrects. 

“He won’t admit anything, but he always has a bunch of hickies and stuff after hanging out with her,” Lucas clarifies, because half the time when Steve says he’s hanging out with Robin he's actually with Eddie. The fact that Robin is usually still there is irrelevant. Marking up his boyfriend is one of his favorite pastimes. He refuses to let his boyfriend’s “soulmate” get in the way just because she refuses to sleep in one of the Harrington’s fancy guest rooms like a normal person unless he kicks her out. The way they both pout at him for it is fucking ridiculous. He ends up giving in half the time, and then lies awake and cold on the very edge of the bed because Robin starfishes her way across the rest and Steve is a blanket hog. 

The first time he tried giving Steve a hickey as some kind of dominance move for privacy, Robin stared him dead in the eye and didn’t back down. 

“I can do that too,” she said, and promptly bit Steve on the shoulder. Steve, who was shirtless and already slightly dazed from Eddie’s ministrations, let out an honest to God squeak. Like a dog toy. Eddie and Robin both stared at him before breaking into loud cackles that had a blushing Steve yelling at them before finally burrowing under the covers and refusing to come out. Needless to say, Eddie didn’t get laid that night. 

“Harring-ton,” Dustin whines. 

“I’m literally right here. You come here.”

He did, if only to grab Steve by the wrist and drag him to where everyone else was standing. Steve squawks. “When we’re late for dinner with Ma, I’m telling her it was your fault—“

“I want you to meet everyone!”

“I went to school with them!”

“Yeah, but they think you’re still a dick,” he says, as if they’re not standing right there. Steve is similarly engrossed in their conversation, not even noticing that Dustin’s stopped walking. 

“They can think whatever—“ he walks right into Eddie and lets out a startled oof. Eddie, who let it happen, catches him as he flails. 

“Well hello to you too,” he says, not bothering to hide his amusement. 

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, gaze dropping down to his lips before whirling around and snapping, “Henderson!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lucas mimics under his breath, ducking behind Steve when Dustin turns around with the fury of a thousand suns in his eyes. 

He just stands there, hands on his hips as the kids bicker around him. 

“Oh, so now we can talk?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, brow furrowed like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh, a sharp sound that makes Steve jump. “What do you think it means, Harrington? You never want to talk to me in front of the kids! Don’t want to dirty your hands with the Freak in public, I guess.”

“I…what are you talking about?”

[no talkie henderosn]

“What?” His eyes get wide, panicked, as he reaches for Eddie. “Eddie, that’s not—you have to know that’s not what I meant by that. I never meant it like that!”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Steve mumbles something he can’t make out. 

“Speak up, sweetheart.” It comes out mean, he knows it does, but he’s feeling a little mean right now. Lashing out like a wounded animal just because his boyfriend didn’t want to talk to him in public. 

Actually, when he puts it that way, he remembers he’s justified. 

Steve says something again, still incomprehensible. Eddie rolls his eyes. “If you can’t stop mumbling, I’ll just leave.”

That does the trick. “I thought we were playing a prank on Henderson together!” 

Eddie gapes at him. “What?”

“I thought,” he repeats, running an anxious hand through his hair, “we were pretending not to know each other to mess with the kid. Eddie, baby, you’ve gotta know I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were hurting. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I…” This can’t be real. He’s been agonizing for months, and for what? A prank? Just some stupid, shitty prank Steve thought he was in on? He’s going to jump off the quarry. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have had so much fun with that!”

“I thought you knew!”

“How would I have known? I can’t read your mind!”

“You can sometimes,” he says, pouting. Eddie wishes they weren’t in the middle of an argument, he wants to kiss those lips so bad. 

He groans into his hands. “It’s significantly easier to tell when your boyfriend wants to fuck than it is to read ‘Hey, let’s play a prank on this twelve year old,’ on someone’s face, sweetheart.”

“I guess,” Steve huffs. Then his face softens. Eddie lets himself be drawn in by the wrist, helpless in the face of his sweet smile. “We can stop,” he promises, swaying in close enough for his breath to ghost across Eddie’s lips. “We could walk into Hellfire tomorrow holding hands, if you wanted to. Anything you want, just say the word.”

“How would we walk into Hellfire? It’s at your house.”

Steve pinches him for that. 

[arttsuka]

Mermay yay (but none of my art supplies wanted to collaborate with me to draw this normally and they started putting out too much or too little ink :D )

[veinsfullofstars]

✨ May I interest you in some Dedede and Meta Knight as childhood friends? ✨

(ID: Kirby series fanart of King Dedede and Meta Knight reimagined as kids, interacting in various cute and wholesome scenarios such as coloring, cloud-watching, sparring with sticks, overindulging on sweets, protecting each other from bullies, and more. Design-wise, young Dedede is short and chubby with a smaller beak and three feathers sticking up from the top of his head. He wears a pair of red overalls with gold buttons on the straps and a pocket on the front with a white two-finger peace sign. Young Meta Knight is maskless and similar in appearance to Kirby, save for his yellow eyes, dark-blue complexion, and a pair of tiny wings on his back. Additional headcanons and worldbuilding for this AU under the cut. END ID.)

(AU info updated as of 04/01/25.)

Started on 10/09/23, finished on 10/11/23, updated 03/11/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 10/11/23. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

—

-This AU primarily takes place within the Kirby gameverse (with a few superficial elements borrowed from external media), the timeline starting many, many decades before the events of Kirby's Dream Land, eventually catching up to and following the main games’ canon (with nods to side games and some unique events added here and there for character flavor). I'm trying to stay canon-compliant, but I’m also making things up as I go and changing them as needed, so no promises I won’t just go completely off the rails the more I workshop things, haha.

-I'm leaving ages nebulous in this AU (both because the series itself doesn't give characters canonical ages and to keep the timeline a bit looser narratively) and will be referring to specific eras of their lives simply as kid years, teen years, and adult years (the latter split further into pre-Kirby's-arrival and post-Kirby's-arrival). For clarity's sake, we'll say that Dedede and Meta are both the equivalent of 7-to-11 years old during the kid years depicted here, though they first met a little earlier...

-In this AU, the Galaxy Solider Army (GSA) is an intergalactic military group fighting various malignant forces across the universe, their reputation generally positive thanks to a genuine effort on their part to balance acts of war and defense with acts of philanthropy, relief aid, and compassion, well-known enough to reach even distant Popstar. Most known Star Warriors - Sir Dragato, Kit Cosmos, Yamikage, etc. - are either long since passed on or retired somewhere outside of the story (with a few exceptions we may learn about later...).

-Meta Knight is just called Meta for now. He won’t earn his title until long after he starts his overstars military training in his late teens, a crucial element to his storyline since - upon learning of the GSA in his youth - he becomes enamored with their deeds and longs to be a knight himself (not yet aware of the hardships involved in becoming one).

-That hammer belongs to Dedede’s mama - a former pro-wrestler - and will someday be passed down to him (once he’s strong enough to actually pick it up).

-The kids like to spar and roughouse in their free time, but they sometimes get proper training from Dedede’s papa - a retired knight himself with connections to the GSA, who’d settled in Dream Land with his wife just before they had their only son. Meta looks up to him with the same admiration he has for the Star Warriors, while Dedede doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with his well-meaning but strict father.

-In his early years, Meta is quite shy around people he doesn’t know well. In overwhelming situations, he tends to either shut down and go non-verbal or quietly slip away to recoup. That said, he is much more expressive around those he trusts, listening eagerly and chatting far more than he would otherwise. He also has a bit of an anger streak hidden just under all that reticence, though it takes a lot of prodding to bring it out...

-As a kid, Dedede is impulsive to a fault and likes to make wild plans that often put him and his buddies in precarious situations (when he actually bothers to follow through with them, that is). Meta is often the first to point out the flaws in said plans (if Para Dee doesn’t do it first) but inevitably ends up tagging along anyway, his wariness easily overturned by his curiosity.

-Despite the generally welcoming nature of the village, Meta still faces some measure of bullying by certain kids due to his strange appearance and timid nature (and, curiously, his connection to Dedede). Usually, he waits it out until either his tormentors get bored or Dedede steps in to defend him, but - as the taunts persist and his temper grows - it's only matter of time before he's the one getting into scraps rather than his bigger buddy...

[aheckinmess]

All's Well That Friends Well (Dad Nanami)

(Part 2 of Season of Serendipity.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Dad Nanami, Child Yuji, Original Child Character(s), Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, Yuji Itadori, Besu Sukuna, Parental Nanami, Dad Sukuna, Soft Sukuna, Protective Sukuna, Canon Divergence - AU, Sukuna Has a Daughter, Yuji is Nanami's Son, I Merged Two of My Series, Because I Thought it Would Be Adorable, Yuji Itadori is a Ray of Sunshine, OC Has Trouble Making Friends, But Yuji Sure Doesn't, Going to Pre-K for the First Time

Word Count: 1,025 words

Summary: Yuji goes to Pre-K for the first time; Nanami worries he'll have trouble adjusting, but Yuji is a little ball of positive energy. Needless to say, he makes friends.

While Yuji was an extroverted child by nature, Nanami still thought he might need time to adjust to preschool. So when Yuji easily waved goodbye as Nanami dropped him off for his first day at Pre-K, it soothed some of the paternal worry.

“Otouchan, how long is school?” Yuji wrapped his arms around Nanami’s neck and squeezed. “Is it very long?”

“You’ll be here for a few hours, Yuji-kun. But I’ll be back. You’ll be having so much fun you won’t even miss me.” He promised, kissing the young boy’s forehead. “If you need anything, just ask the teacher for help, okay? Remember how we practiced and…?”

“Raise my hand!” Yuji smiled.

“That’s my boy.” Nanami ruffled his hair and stood up. “Have a good day, Yuji-kun. And have some fun.”

“Okay!”

. . . . .

Yuji Itadori made having fun his mission. From the moment he stepped foot into the classroom, he curiously trotted around the room asking question…after question…after question.

“What about that? Why do you have that?” He asked Ms. Chotto, pointing at the hundredth object his little eyes had landed on.

“Yuji, honey,” Ms. Chotto laughed. “You’re such a curious little thing, aren’t you? Those are my plants and I keep them on the top shelf so none of my students accidentally eat them. They can hurt your tummy.”

“Then why do you have them?”

“I’m keeping them here for a little bit until I can find a space for them at home.” She explained, turning away to separate two girls from fighting over a doll. “Go find someone else to play with, Yuji, okay? I have to help some of the other children right now.”

Yuji pouted but did as he was told. Pre-K proved to be one of the most fascinating places he’d ever been! He’d already spoken to just about everyone in the classroom, when the door opened to reveal another little girl.

What surprised Yuji wasn’t how tightly she clung to her father, but her hair. Pink! Just like his!

As soon as Ms. Chotto got the pink-haired girl detached from her father, Yuji stood patiently to the side. He watched her hide in Ms. Chotto’s legs until she peeked out at him.

“Hi! I’m Yuji!” He beamed.

Her wide, brown eyes looked up at Ms. Chotto and then back at him.

“I’m Besu.” She whispered. In fact, Yuji barely heard her.

“You sure are quiet.” He said bluntly. When she seemed embarrassed by that, Yuji pointed towards a pile of blocks on the rug up front. “You wanna go play blocks?”

Ms. Chotto muttered something into Besu’s ear. Besu whined back at her, but Ms. Chotto delicately coaxed her in Yuji’s direction. Yuji led the way over to the blocks and Besu sat by him silently.

“I like to build castles. What do you wanna build?” Yuji asked as he got to work. A triangular orange block looked perfect to fit on top of his green stack.

Besu shrugged her shoulders as she grabbed a few square pieces to fit together. Yuji gave her time to give it a specific shape, but when he still couldn’t tell what it was by the third row, he spoke up.

“What is that?”

Once again, Besu shrugged. Yuji huffed, feeling disappointed. He’d expected her to be just like him since she’d looked so similar. But she barely even talked! Sensing this, Besu cleared her throat.

“I just like putting them together. But now I’m making a watermelon.” She explained, picking off a few blue pieces and replacing them when red and green.

“My dad put watermelon in my lunchbox! Wanna see?” Yuji stood before she answered.

“I don’t think we’re sposed to do that.” She glanced at Ms. Chotto and then Yuji’s lunchbox. “You could get in trouble.”

“Nuh-uh. It’s my lunchbox!” Yuji said matter-of-factly.

But when he went to grab it, Ms. Chotto put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yuji-san, it’s not time for lunch yet.”

“Can’t I show Besu my lunch?” Yuji frowned.

“Why don’t you show her when it’s lunchtime? That way you can both show each other what you have.” Ms. Chotto offered.

“Okay!” Yuji agreed, before toddling over to Besu. “Hey, Besu! Let’s wait until lunch and then I can see what you packed, too!”

“Father made me stew.”

“Oh, boy! Will you share?”

“...well, okay.”

. . . . .

While Nanami waited outside the classroom as kids shuffled inside, a man with wild pink hair waited with him. He couldn’t help but stare. Just like Yuji’s, and that’s not common. I wonder if he’s of any relation.

“You waiting on your brat, too?” Sukuna quirked a brow and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“I’m waiting for my son, yes.” Nanami answered. “It was his first day.”

“Mine too. You have any trouble dropping him off?”

“I thought I might, but he didn’t seem upset. He’s more outgoing, though, so I wasn’t too surprised.”

“I had to pry my daughter from me.” Sukuna scoffed, shaking his head with a smile.

“Ah, she must be a daddy’s girl, then. Does she have you wrapped around her finger yet?” Nanami normally wasn’t one for small talk, but the conversation helped him remain patient as he watched through the window while the teacher struggled to wrangle a boy into his bookbag.

“Absolutely not!” Sukuna huffed, but he turned his head away. “That is…I don’t give her everything she wants.”

Nanami couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I’m the same with my son. He’s my first.”

“My daughter is my first, too.”

And then the floodgates unleashed. More parents began filing down the sidewalk towards the portable classroom, but Yuji and Besu were the first at the door. Both of them raced and planted themselves directly into their father’s arms.

“Otouchan! You won’t believe it! That girl looks like me!” Yuji turned to Besu to see her the most animated she’d been all day, jabbering on to her father with bright brown eyes. “She’s real quiet though…like Fushi-kun.”

“I see. Did you have fun, then?”

“Yeah! I made a best friend!”

And Nanami smiled when Yuji turned to Besu, waving goodbye as Sukuna carried her away.

Continue Reading -> Chapter 3

[thetomorrowshow]

you will return to the hospital bed

febuwhump day 8: bleeding out

fandom: life series smp

part of my series six billion moths flying toward it, which begins in a war-ravaged world that grian manages to escape from, bringing the evo members with him to their own world, where they have infinite respawns and peace.

cw: mild gore, violence, war

~

Jimmy isn’t the best soldier.

“Left! Left!”

He isn’t the best marksman, yeah, but he also isn’t very agile, but he’s also Deaf and can never really tell who’s giving out instructions and what for (at this point, he’s really just cannon fodder, which is . . . not a nice thought).

Is the general yelling at him or someone else?

There’s really no way to know, but Jimmy just hopes he’s following orders and crawls left, his hands scraping against exposed tree roots and little chunks of dirt and rock. He’s just in time—a shell lands close to where he just was, blowing apart the ground with an earth-rattling explosion.

Whoever is behind Jimmy shoves him to the ground to get over him, Jimmy’s chin knocking against the dirt, a knee digging into his kidney. He bites back whatever he wants to yell at the soldier; the first rule of war is no in-fighting while you’re in an active battle.

He hates the trenches. Maybe one of these days, he’ll finally contract trench fever and he’ll be able to get out of all this.

Grian promised to get him out, but it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen. He’s been here for—what, two years? Too long. There isn’t a clean escape route; he’s either going to have to get injured or sick or he’s going to have to die.

He should probably poke his head up and take a shot anywhere he can, just to do something. They’re all hiding in their own trenches, though, waiting for him to do just that. He sure isn’t going to be the first person to check if they can take a quick shot. That’s how you die in this business.

He hates this. He hates how commonplace it’s become to just be shot at, yet how scared he is to this day every time he marches out.

He’s been here all day, choking on gunsmoke and trying to see through teary eyes, a miserable existence when any day could be his last.

“We’re gonna die,” someone cries out—Jimmy can’t tell who or from where, especially with all the explosions and gunshots going on, but he just ignores it and keeps crawling through the dirt, the hot sun pounding down on his shoulders.

He tries, at least, but before he can go far, someone grabs his leg by the ankle and pulls.

Jimmy spins around—it’s another soldier, of course, a man probably close to his age or younger, and he looks terrified. His face is almost green under the dirt and soot, his eyes wide and bloodshot, tears and sweat streaking down his cheeks.

“We’re gonna die,” he says. “I—I can’t—I’m just a kid, dude, I gotta get out of here!”

Jimmy knows that feeling. The shock, the overwhelming fear, the sense of displacement. It’s never quite left him, and to this day he feels all jittery and awful and scared in every battle that he gets sent out to fight in, but he doesn’t know how to tell the kid that he’ll be okay when there isn’t any guarantee that he will be.

Jimmy’s seen people die. Friends, bunkmates, shot as they crouched right beside him and were just slightly less lucky than he. There’s a good chance that this kid—

There’s so much yelling, he can’t even think, but he can’t distinguish any of the voices or anything and—

BLAM!

Jimmy has a moment of blinding white—

Of red—

Of looking down at himself and thinking, oh, that’s way too much blood to be healthy.

Of looking down at himself and realizing that most of his body was missing.

That he simply does not have legs, and he can see into his stomach, and one of his arms is mostly blown off, part of the bone of his upper arm sticking out of dirty, bloody flesh.

Beside him, where his arm should be, is the head of that kid, his eyelids still fluttering.

Jimmy has another moment, where he breathes and it feels wrong, where he’s hit by blinding pain and disgust and horror all at once, where he feels his heart try to leap out of his chest, where he tries to scream but blood just gurgles out of a hole in his throat.

He’s—there’s so much blood—he didn’t—

Everyone always says that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. All Jimmy sees, though, is the house he grew up in.

His home there, the evening growing late, children playing in the front yard to catch moths in jars as they flock toward the porchlight, his mother poking her head through the curtains to make sure they’re safe.

He’s floating away, like a balloon released, watching the scene grow smaller and smaller below him.

Then it all fades away into a near-silent high-pitched squeal, and nausea washed over all the pain and Jimmy’s vision goes grainy then blinks out completely.

He falls into darkness, and he doesn’t return.

-

The darkness is calm. Quiet, with little specks of light scattered throughout.

Jimmy wasn’t brought up believing in an afterlife, and he kind of thought that when he died, he wouldn’t have any sort of consciousness. His code would split up and tie itself back into the universe, and that would be that.

This . . . this doesn’t feel like that.

Why is he here? Not, like, physically (he isn’t sure he’s anywhere physically), but he’s definitely somewhere to some extent, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

He doesn’t like it, he decides a moment later, as the darkness begins to weigh heavily on him. How does it feel like that, like it’s absolutely suffocating him, like he can’t breathe, when he doesn’t have a body to react to any sort of pressure?

Then it weighs down more, and more, and it hurts—

It hurts his legs, so badly that he wants to scream, building up and up and up—and his arm, and his stomach, and his chest, and head, and hands, and throat—

There’s a sound, then, something that’s like the high-pitched whine of his death, echoing through his ears and it hurts just as badly as everything else, like his hearing aids are malfunctioning worse than they ever have.

There are voices beyond it. People are talking past the pain, past the noise, and Jimmy strains to breathe and manages it.

He’s breathing?

His eyelids feel way too heavy. He can’t open them, he can’t see a thing, he can’t do anything.

It hurts. Every part of him is in agony, and he gasps for breath again and again and eventually realizes that the awful whine in his ears is coming from his own throat.

What’s happening? He—he died, didn’t he, didn’t he die?

He blew up, his body was a collection of bits, chunks of flesh scattered across the trench, and he can only remember that and smell the blood and dirt and gunpowder and he shouldn’t be alive—

He pushes.

He pushes to open his eyes, even though it’s the most difficult thing that he’s ever done, and his vision is flooded with too-bright light and he immediately closes them again.

A voice says something.

His skin hurts, the actual skin of his chest—and then there’s something cold on his pec and Jimmy jolts, which just sends another wave of pain across his whole body.

He opens his eyes again—easier, this time—and squints against the brightness, trying to focus on the dark shape hovering over him.

It’s a person, who is touching him, and Jimmy blinks and blinks until he gets some kind of focus through the blurriness.

He can see their lips, at least, which helps him to understand what they’re saying.

“There we go, you’re all right. You’re back.”

Jimmy can’t speak. He tries, swallows, but words won’t come out in any intelligible form.

Some strange rasp comes out of his mouth, and the person—a doctor?—nods.

“Lungs sound good,” they say, moving off his chest. “Do you remember what happened?”

Jimmy shakes his head, a slight side-to-side movement.

Well, he kind of does. He remembers dying. He remembers being dead.

“You’ve been respawned,” the doctor says slowly. “Someone high-up must think you’re worth it. “

They clap him on the shoulder, a flood of agony surging out from the contact, and stand, turning away to fiddle with a blanket draped over Jimmy’s legs (his legs?). “You should . . . get back in the fight soon. Take a day to rest here . . . sure that everything went well.”

Respawn. A forgone conclusion; nobody ever got respawned. Not unless they were the best of the best, and Jimmy certainly wasn’t that. He can aim a gun and pull the trigger, but—

He’s . . . he’s Deaf. Why would they want him?

He died.

He knows why he got respawned.

He also knows he shouldn’t have been.

There are so many better people, so many skilled soldiers and tacticians and able-bodied people who have died—like the kid in the trench with him, who got hit by the same shell.

It shouldn’t have been him. It shouldn’t have been him, not when it’s millions of dollars just for one respawn. He’s already damaged, he isn’t good at anything, he was so completely dead and he just wants to lie down and let the darkness take him again.

He was dead.

It isn’t right to be back. It doesn’t feel right; it feels like he’s been dragged unwilling from his grave, all his pieces forced back together and shoved into a uniform. He doesn’t—he doesn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have been brought back.

It probably should have been anyone else.

But Jimmy’s back, now, and he has to stop hurting and get back to the fight.

He doesn’t have another choice.

[saphstories]

Requests! Yay! :D I have an idea for a Shadouge scene that's been in my head for months and I think you'll like it. Here you go!

Shadow has been avoiding sleeping for far too long and Rouge decides to take matters into her own hands. Meaning she slips something into Shadow's food at dinner to make him intensely drowsy. Cue some fluffy interactions as Shadow tries (and fails) to fight off the impending sleepies.

Lullaby Sleight

Dark circles clung to ruby eyes; scarlet striped onyx quills slightly disheveled from frustrated fingers scuffing through them. Multitudes of empty paper cups littered the desktop, all ignored in favor of scouring the scattered papers printed with the official GUN seal, classified information that Shadow had been attempting to decipher for the past several days with little success. A growl of frustration rumbled in his throat, and Shadow furiously ripped his latest sheet of scribbled notes from the pad and tossed it to the wastebin—already overflowing with other such crumpled balls of yellow paper—where it toppled to the floor with the others.

Leaning against the doorway of his bedroom, Rouge watched with a frown, concern and frustration heavy in her green eyes. Since receiving the intel reports from Commander Towers a week ago, Shadow had been borderline obsessed with breaking the ciphers, as if the author had issued him a personal challenge. He rarely left his desk, only briefly teleporting away to answer nature’s calls or retrieve more coffee. He would refuse any meals, citing he needed no distractions from his work, and Rouge knew for a fact he hadn’t slept a wink since receiving those reports.

Observing him now, watching his eyes flutter shut and snap open, watching his lips twitch with the desire to yawn but his jaw clenching to halt it, watching his knees bounce but refuse to even stand and stretch his restless muscles…Rouge made up her mind. Enough was enough. Abraham could fire her all he wished, but those ciphers could wait. Shadow’s health couldn’t.

The bat nodded to herself, a plan formulating in her mind. She knew Shadow, knew him well enough to know that if she forced him to bed now, he would fight her every step of the way, and she’d inevitably lose. He would ignore her, argue with her, and go right back to that desk and those cipher’s out of pure stubbornness, just as he had before. No. The conventional way wouldn’t work this time. Rouge would need…ulterior methods to get Shadow to rest like he so desperately needed. Rouge smirked. Well, she was always up for a challenge, and always had a trick or two up her sleeve. Years of working with Shadow meant she was well-versed in navigating the Ultimate Lifeform, and she planned to use all her knowledge of Shadow to get her way.

So, for the moment, Rouge left Shadow at his desk, headed for the kitchen, and began setting her plan into motion. With any luck, Shadow would be too distracted to pay enough attention to her to stop her.

#

Shadow’s ears twitched at the soft knock on his door but otherwise ignored it. He almost had it cracked, he just needed-

A well-manicured hand rested on his desk, covering the pages from his view, and his pencil was carefully tugged out of his hand before he could react. Indignant scarlet eyes shot up, enraged by the interruption, but the blasted bat merely stared at him with a smirk and a raised brow, twirling the pencil between the fingers of her other hand. Her slender body leaned against desk, her warmth permeating his cloud of focus, and Shadow ignored it to glower at her and held out his hand. “Give it back, please.” He commanded.

“No.” Rouge impudently tucked it behind her ear, out of his immediate reach, and Shadow’s lip curled. “Dinnertime, handsome.” She proclaimed.

Shadow scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not anymore.” Rouge disagreed, nudging him. “You need to eat, and being the generous bat that I am, I made one of your favorites.”

Shadow ignored the scent now so obviously wafting in through the open door from the kitchen, and the ensuing growl from his empty stomach. “I’m not hungry.” He lied. “I need to work.”

“You need to eat.” Rouge countered. “I slaved away in that kitchen for you, Mr. Robotnik. Are you going to let my benevolent efforts go to waste?”

Shadow opened his mouth to snap back at her…and paused, the aromas of parmesan chicken and alfredo pasta and honey wheat rolls hit his scent glands. His stomach rumbled again, and his mouth watered. Rouge really did cook his favorites, and Shadow knew how much she detested cooking anything more complicated than microwaveable mac and cheese. His ears flattened against his head, and his eyes lowered to the floor. “Then…a quick break shouldn’t hurt.” He muttered, standing and refusing to meet Rouge’s eyes and missing the conspiratal and victorious smirk that flashed across her muzzle.

#

Rouge wiped her mouth with her napkin, humming in the satisfaction of both a full stomach and a successful plan, observing with a secret smirk as Shadow practically licked his third plate clean. “I hope it was passable?” She leaned forward, ears pricked and eyes bright.

Shadow covered his mouth with his fist, hiding the belch that almost burst forth by clearing his throat, but nodded at the bat. “Delicious.” He commended her. “For someone that loathes cooking, you certainly excel at it.”

Rouge waved a hand. “Basic pastas like chicken alfredo are simple enough, and the rolls were premade. Nothing too difficult, but I’ll still be leaving it to you, Mr. Ultimate Chef.” Shadow snorted and shook his head.

He sighed. With a pleasantly full stomach, going back to work was as unappealing as a bonfire in Shamar during the dry season. The striped hedgehog wanted nothing more than to curl up in his chair with his current book and listen to his new vinyl on the record player, but… “Duty calls.” He sighed and stood up.

Rouge merely smiled at him. Shadow frowned, alarm bells ringing in his head at the…mischievousness in that smile, but even they sounded muted. He blinked, then blinked again…then yawned. Lethargy clung to him like a warm blanket, and Shadow shook himself. “What-?” He snapped his eyes open and threw a wide-eyed look at the still-grinning bat, putting the pieces together in his mind.

Rouge cooking his favorite pasta. Rouge insisting he come and eat. Rouge insisting on fixing his plate for him. The grin on Rouge’s face now. “You didn’t.” Shadow hissed.

“I did.” Her tone was smug.

“Rouge!” Shadow was never eating anything prepared by her or coming from her hand again. He was going to inspect every meal, every drink, every snack thoroughly from now on. “You can’t-!”

“I can and I have.” The smirk dropped from her face, replaced by solemn concern. “Shadow, you have to take care of yourself. This is the first time you’ve properly eaten since Towers gave you that assignment, and I know you haven’t slept since then, either! The circles under your eyes are nearly as dark as your quills. You need to rest, and if you won’t do it yourself, then you leave me no choice but to force you.”

“By drugging me?!”

Rouge snorted. “Oh please, you drama king. I know that drugs have no effect on you. A natural supplement that your body naturally produces however,” She held up a little plastic jar and waved it at him before tucking it back into her pocket.

Shadow opened and closed his mouth, indignant that Rouge would pull such a slight on him and embarrassed that he didn’t catch it in time to stop her. He shook his head and turned away from the table. “I’m going back to work.” He grumbled. He may still have some time before the melatonin took hold and forced him to unconsciousness, and he was going to use all the time that he had. Perhaps he could even fight it off. He staggered through the kitchen and down the hallway, shaking the fuzz out of his head. His mouth split open in another yawn, and as he leaned on the doorframe of the living room, he could barely make his legs work.

A slender body pressed against his side, a gentle hand curling on his shoulder. Rouge. Shadow blearily blinked at her, her green eyes swimming pools of soft emerald, and Shadow leaned into her warmth with a noise of discontent. He nuzzled sleepily into her shoulder, loosely wrapping his arms around her waist. A soft chuckle reverberated in his ear. “Alright, handsome. Bedtime for this Ultimate Lifeform.”

“Don’t wanna.” Shadow mumbled. “Wanna read…listen to new record.” He blinked pleading eyes at Rouge, disoriented ruby on mirthful green.

Rouge chuckled. “You need to sleep, hon.” She reminded him. Shadow pouted, and Rouge paused. “How about a deal? If you agree to go to bed, I’ll get your book and read to you.” She offered.

Shadow eyed her suspiciously. “What about my record?”

Rouge shook her head. “The record player is in the living room, hun, it’s gotta stay there. You can listen to it tomorrow, I promise.”

Shadow slumped against her. “Fiiiine.” He groused. Rouge wrapped her arm around his waist and guided the half-asleep hedgehog back whence they came, and Shadow practically flopped onto his bed, snuffling into his pillow. Rouge couldn’t resist and sniggered at the photo evidence now stowed away in her phone. Just in case.

“Alright, hon, you think you can get settled while I get your book?” Rouge prompted. An unintelligible grumble answered her, but the hedgehog shifted, so she darted down the hall to collect her half of the bargain. There, resting on the little oak side table beside Shadow’s wingback chair near the window, was the book in question, and Rouge snatched it before marching back to Shadow’s room. She found him sitting slouched on the edge of the bed, chin against his chest fluff, his breaths steady and bordering on sleep.

Rouge shook her head, hiding her smile, and bent down beside him. She slipped the skates off his feet and neatly laid them beside the bed for easy access the next morning, then stood and gently pushed on his shoulder. “Come on, hon. Down you go.” Though he grumbled, Shadow followed her guidance and made himself comfortable, watching her with sleepy eyes.

“Read?” He yawned.

She waved the book. “As promised.” Shadow smiled at her and patted the space beside him. “Shadow, I don’t think-,”

“Won’t be able to hear you from down there.”  He interrupted.

“Shadow, you have perfect pitch.” Rouge reminded him. Shadow pouted and sat up, crossing his arms even though he yawned again.  She rolled her eyes. “Stubborn hedgehog.” And before she could question if this was even a good idea, she jabbed at his shoulder. “Down, or I’m not coming up.” She threatened. Shadow flopped back down onto his pillow, and Rouge crawled up the mattress until she was seated comfortably at his side, her back against the headboard and opening the book to the marked page. “Lucy felt a little frightened, but she felt very inquisitive and excited as well.” Rouge began, then paused as she felt the bed shift, looked down to find Shadow lying on his side towards her, his half-lidded eyes focused on the book’s pages, his ears tilted sideways, and Rouge hesitantly combed her fingers through his quills. Shadow’s eyes fluttered, and she smiled softly at the quiet but contented purr rumbling deep in his chest. Rouge returned her attention to the book, but her fingers remained on Shadow’s head, stroking his quills, scratching his ears. “She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree trunks; she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out…”

Hours later, when dawn brought the first rays of sunshine, instead of rising with the sun, Rouge the Bat grumbled and clung tighter to her pillow, snuffling into the fluffy white fur of her best friend’s chest and humming contentedly when he purred against her forehead, nuzzling in his sleep against her hair and curling his arm tighter around her. However, that did not stop the E-Series badnik from snapping several shots of photographic evidence to showcase later in opportune moments before lumbering down the hall towards the living room and the television, which would be solely his to enjoy for the first time in ages.

(It's a Wonderful Life AU Masterpost)

[stilinski-ortiz-dolan]

animal kingdom│pre-series/au│halloween

[choco-bloop]

Pearl and Gem doodles for an upcoming AU im planning to write and make more content about :)

But in short: Hero AU but with Life Series and one more SMP :)

[sourtomatola]

Camelot AU Comics

The kingdom used to be quiet and peaceful, but the king had seemed to be going mad. His court knights taking children off the streets, to never be seen again.

The disappearance of one particular child had cause such an uproar, that the kingdom fell into chaos.

As the town breeched the castle grounds, the court seemed to understand the outcry and turn against the king and his family. Before anyone could lay a hand on the king, his suit seemed to miraculously malfunction, and impale him with his own safety locks.

HIs body being left on the floor, his corpse was never found, and neither was the remains of the royal family.

Now without a ruler, the kingdom filled with fear. who would rule them? Who should step up for such a roll?

The day after the royal families disappearance, a sword appeared in the anvil of the churchyard. Engraved in the handle was the words "This sword will serve the one true king."

Many tried to pull the sword, but all failed. The sword was left alone for almost a decade.

Then, episode 1, season 1 happened.

Season 1

First | part2 | part3 | part4 | part5 | part6 | part7 | Part8 | part9

Season 2

Part1 | Part2 | Part3 | Part4 | Part5 | Part6 | Part7 | Part8 | Part9 | part10 | Part 11

Season 3

Part 1 | Part2 | Part3 | Part4 | Part5 | Part6 | Part7 | Part8 | Part9 | Part10 | Part11 | Part12

Season 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part6 | Part 7 | Part8 | Part9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

[pencilofawesomeness]

Guys I'm having such a bizarre moment. I didn't expect to win like this, or to have my personal headcanons be confirmed so directly, but I also feel simultaneously robbed because Akutami is reaching into my head /jk

We received so little about Sukuna, but those brief brief brieeef moments of existentialism really caught me and I've thought about him for so long because of it. He was a fantastically terrifying villain, but there was always that dissonance there, between some of his words and actions, that portrayed that aimless longing and hurt and what that meant as a characterization point, and I'm honestly so hyped we turn around and get this in 271:

(scanlation for this panel because I think it gets the sentiment across better)

Followed by

I'm—

Y'all I started my draft for my Sukuna Reincarnation AU months ago and I never expected canon to validate me. They leave it easier and more open-ended, of course, but I'm coming on the record to say I wasn't crazy for my stretch of a character exploration and also I called it.

I won't go into the specifics of my "study Sukuna like a cockroach" notes now I just wanted to come grab the mic and announce that I beat Akutami to it >:D /lh

I'm being a good noodle and not stretching myself thin by starting a new multichap now, but I've had With the Storm in the works since January, and in light of the end of JJK and this lovely little tidbit, I'm tossing a sneak-peak from Chapter 7 because why not:

But maybe it could be. Maybe, just maybe, Uraume could accept this proffered hand and continue to hope.

---

Yet… things were different now. Things changed. Uraume changed, Sukuna changed, and even though they were still themselves, there was a myriad of shifts that piled on their shoulders until something gave way. Maybe a subconscious part of Uraume had braced for that to be a crash, but instead, Sukuna had been nothing but accepting and open. It only made them more nervous about losing him, just as they feared losing Pops. Uraume was not used to wanting, or hoping, but there was a powerful need in their chest that childishly demanded that they should get to keep both their kinder father and this happier Sukuna close, even if that may not be possible.

They nodded, not trusting their words at the moment, and Sukuna relaxed slightly.

“Good. Though that reminds me… You never really answered my first question. What do you want to do? With this life, I mean.”

There was that want again. Uraume felt the pull at their lungs until it was unbearable. They knew what he was asking; the question didn’t hinge on his involvement anymore, just them. Sukuna said he wanted to live peacefully, so what, then, was Uraume’s answer?

As much as they felt like a coward saying this, maybe that was okay. Sukuna felt the same way, after all. “I like this life too…” Uraume answered, and it was very different saying those words aloud. “Pops isn’t a shaman at all, and he’s good company and a good father. If I wasn’t able to find you, or you were not of this world, then… I would stay as his family.”

“That’s good,” Sukuna agreed, lifting yet another anxious weight from their chest. “I get that. Nobody else in my family are shamans either—at least, not really—and they’re all good people. It’s a good life, and even though I would have never expected it… I don’t want to lose it.”

It was amazing how similar they were, then and now. Uraume…really shouldn’t have worried about a lack of understanding. Sukuna didn’t have to say it, but it was clear that their thoughts had wandered down a similar road yet again. Their families, full of normal people living normal lives, were an unexpected treasure; to willingly become a monster, to become a scourge upon the world for whatever reason, would forfeit that. More than that, having people to care about made the desire to spread destruction lessen, rather significantly. Maybe that hurt and rage and bitterness was still there, in between their ribs, but in the ones that were dead and buried—a part of them, but also not quite there anymore, like when a scar ceases to constantly itch and ache and becomes only a mark on functioning skin.

They didn’t have to be monsters anymore. There were calmer, kinder things available to want—available to receive, even.

“This is so weird,” Uraume blurted, staring at their small hands and thinking of the strange miracle their lives turned into.

Sukuna barked a quick laugh before it was muffled into something like a snicker. “I know, right?” He leaned back in a stretch, his face catching the sun and lighting him in something that wasn’t a fire, but equally bright. “It’s not bad though.”

It was weird, to be a child, to be without some far-off goal, to be loved and happy, in the sense that it was absurd and foreign and absolutely unexpected. It was a breath of fresh air after years and years of having frozen lungs. Weird, surprising, but unmistakably good after so long of believing that no such term, deceptively simple, could have ever been applicable.

“Not bad at all,” Uraume agreed, a bright and blooming thing in their chest as their life began to slot into a new place. Still open-ended and perhaps a little terrifying for it, but Pops accepted them, and Sukuna accepted them, so maybe they could truly accept themself now, and whatever that will look like.

[yurki-posts]

The Nopony

(I made the eye wrong on the upper right aaaghhhhh)

[transingthoseformers]

Hi I wanted to complain to someone that I found out that there's like no sunderfroid content 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 searched for fics yesterday and there's like 19 whole things on ao3 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

IKR??? Sunderfroid is underrated, especially for how complicated it could be

[marvelousazula]

fun fact: the ciano dragon's, well, dragons can change their size at will. I was talking with @waterfire1848 on discord and had this idea for how the Gaang discovers Azula can do that. there's also a little bit of feels, I guess.

brief context: Aang and Katara found Azula living in the abandoned Fire Nation ship, they got the grumpy lizard to travel with them. at this point, they have no idea who Azula is. here's a drabble about the night Azula's having a nightmare about.

It wasn't like Azula went around announcing her skills, seeing she didn't have the skill of speech in this form. A form she had been in for years, and roughly the same size since then. She trained the size change, of course, but this seemed optimal to live inside a ship designed for average-sized Fire Nation men. The form was about the size of, well, an average-sized Fire Nation man. That was also a perfect size to travel with this group, sometimes she flew alongside the furball, but young dragons weren't fit for long distance travels, she'd allow herself to curl up in a ball on the corner.

So.

The group knew she could fly, spit blue fire and be a pretty good defense against "the inconvenient Fire Nationals".

It has been a few calm days, a rarity, and peace called unpleasant memories. Like the escape from the palace. Her fire swallowed by blue-ish white flames, kicking and squirming. She woke up tasting ash and blood on her mouth, it has taken months for the blisters to heal.

She got up, walked in circles in the same spot before laying down again. Closing her eyes brought images of the palace hallways and echoes of damning words. She huffed, sat up. They slept peacefully, the three of them, side by side.

It reminded her of some of the good old days. When she, Mai and Ty Lee would drag Zuko to a sleepover and the four of them would sleep under the stars. She didn't think too much about that. It brought other pleasant yet painful memories.

Sokka was as spread around as he could, lanky limbs all around, softly snoring. Aang at his left, in a position not much different, but occupying way less space as the smallest of the group. (As the youngest of the group.) Katara was on Aang's other side, back turned to him and the only one properly on her bedroll. On her side, hands tucked under her head.

Azula couldn't sleep, it didn't matter how many times she tried.

Back in the ship, she'd just go awake until her body collapsed in a corner from days of staying up. Now, she couldn't do it. They needed her protection – her help, they were kids (she hasn't been a kid in a long time). She needed to be well-rested, at her best performance at all times.

In the palace, when she couldn't sleep, she had two options: Zuko's bed, Mother's bed. Climb on it, curl up near the bottom and not move until sunrise. She hadn't shrunk (further) since joining them, but it was as easy as ever. She made herself a little smaller than the annoying lemur, found a perfect spot at Katara's feet. The girl irradiated warmth even through the bedroll, and was a firm presence.

It has been awhile, since she fell asleep this quickly.

///

"Why's Blue so tiny?" Azula could be very sleepy still, but she snapped her teeth at Sokka anyways. He should know to not try to poke her.

"She'll bite your hand off one of these days," Katara commented. "Maybe it's a dragon thing?"

"Flying and spitting fire are a dragon thing, not turning into a teeny tiny lizard."

Katara was looking at her like she was seeing the most precious thing in the world, Azula half-flew half-jumped to her shoulder: "Hello there. Slept well?" She nodded.

"It's a thing I heard in the legends," Aang chimed in, now fully awake, apparently. "Dragons are very, very large. It's convenient for them to shrink." She nodded along.

"Blue here doesn't look that large when she's, like, in her usual size."

Aang shrugged: "Unless she shows us, we don't know how large she actually is. We don't know how old she is. Or why she was in the South Pole. Or even her name. We literally call her by the color of her scales and her fire."

That was fair, she guessed. She thought they wouldn't take well if she shifted into a very Fire National-looking girl wearing clearly high society clothes. Or a girl that was very much obviously related to the Prince trying to capture the Avatar.

She liked this little life, stressful as it was, at least it was a little less lonely.