#slice of life fun

[girlboyburger]

handles

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine's reaction when you call him and tell him that his catcake gave birth (its so silly ikr, just a sudden idea nothing important lol)

Cats are like potato chips; you can’t have just one.

Summary: When you call Aventurine to share the news that one of his beloved catcakes has given birth to a litter of tiny, adorable kittens, you expect a simple reaction. However, Aventurine's response is anything but ordinary.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Comedy, Slice of Life, Pets(Catcakes), Domestic Life, Lighthearted Fun, Situational Humor, Silly Situations.

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A SILLY AND CUTE IDEA 🤭 AND BEFORE Y'ALL COME AFTER ME I KNOW CHURIN HAS 3 CATS SO PRETEND TWO OF THEM ARE PARENTS OR SOMETHING!! KEEP THOSE REQUESTS COMING!! 🫶💖

You stood in the middle of your living room, phone in hand, staring at the sight before you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. One of Aventurine's beloved catcakes, a plush-like, mischievous creature with large golden-rimmed eyes and its distinctive trash-can-lid "hat," had just given birth to a litter of tiny, squirming mini-catcakes. Each one looked like a little version of their mom—black and pudgy, with miniature trash can lids that tilted adorably to the side.

You dialed Aventurine’s number, giggling to yourself at how ridiculous this was going to sound. The line picked up almost instantly, Aventurine's rich, confident voice greeting you.

“Darling, I hope this call means you're missing me terribly.” he said, the smooth charm practically radiating through the phone.

“Oh, I am,” you chuckled. “But that’s not why I called. Um...one of your catcakes just gave birth. You’re a...catcake dad now!”

There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end. You could picture him, his eyes widening in a rare moment of surprise, his usual air of confidence momentarily thrown off balance.

“Wait…my catcake did what?” He sounded somewhere between bewilderment and amusement, a laugh bubbling up in his voice.

“Yep! A litter of tiny catcakes! They’re like little carbon copies of the original but with even tinier trash can hats.” You tried to stifle your laugh but failed miserably, imagining how Aventurine must look processing this news.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Little risk-takers already multiplying without my knowledge…” he murmured to himself, though you could hear the faint trace of excitement creeping into his tone. “Tell me, darling—how do they look? Are they as devilishly charming as their old man?”

“Oh, absolutely! Little round black puffballs with the cutest, most intense eyes.” you said, leaning down to gently pet one of them as it squeaked. “And they’re already wiggling around, so I think they inherited your, uh, energy.”

“Mini me’s, indeed.” Aventurine’s laugh was low and surprisingly affectionate. “I suppose I’ll need to come over and meet the little scoundrels. And...maybe celebrate with you, seeing as you’ve helped bring my legacy forward. How does dinner sound?”

You grinned, heart fluttering a bit at his charm. “Dinner sounds perfect. But be prepared—they’re already trying to climb out of the box I put them in.”

“Oh, they’ll fit right into the family, then.” He let out an indulgent sigh. “Well, be a dear and keep them from getting too rowdy. I’ll be over shortly.”

As you hung up, you could still hear Aventurine's amusement lingering in his voice. You smiled to yourself, turning back to the tiny creatures that had somehow managed to turn a perfectly normal day into something absolutely unforgettable. Only Aventurine’s pets would come with this level of drama.

Aventurine suggestive fic next 🤭 keep those requests coming!

[amaranthdahlia]

crack au idea where afo reincarnates as kudoichi's baby (in a no quirks au too)

bonus doodle:

(theyre best friends :])

[fyblackwomenart]

"Vibes" by Kwazi Magaba

[sp0o0kylights]

No Upside-Down AU

"It's called the Creel House."

Steve groaned. Then groaned again when Dustin produced a binder full of papers, many sticking out at odd angles. He dropped it down on the counter, the thing making an audible "thunk!" 

Robin shot a look over her shoulder from where she stood, restocking the kids cartoon aisle. 

Steve had a feeling he should have volunteered to do it instead. 

"It's Halloween, Steve.” Dustin snarked, rolling his eyes dramatically. “ We're too old to go trick or treating!"

Ah yup, there was that incoming headache, the same one he got whenever Dustin stormed in with a half baked idea. 

At least this one didn’t involve tramping around tunnels and stumbling over a pack of feral dogs. 

"So you jump right from collecting candy to, what, conducting a fricken seance in a haunted house?" Steve retorted, running a hand through his hair. 

A part of him wanted to pull it, but his parents had rid him of that habit long ago. 

Dustin scoffed. "We're not conducting a seance.” He said, like that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “We're gonna do science experiments." 

"On ghosts!” 

“Come on, Steve!” Dustin whined, his voice pitching up in the way it did when he might not get his way. That meant he’d probably already told his poor mother Steve was involved, just like he always did. 

Not that Steve couldn’t completely blame him for doing it. 

Between Will Byers getting abducted, found, thought dead, and miraculously coming back to life in the morgue, the Starcourt Mall Fire (caused by Russian experiments if you believed the rumors but what Steve personally knew to be about fifteen different OHSA violations) and the damn feral pack of rabid dogs, the parents of Hawkin’s found themselves suddenly needing to keep a much closer eye on their children.

Claudia Henderson was no exception. 

(And maybe a part of him liked Claudia. The way she tried so hard to provide for Dustin, making the most she could of his fathers absence.Steve knew they weren’t divorced, but he also never personally met the guy, and well. 

At least Claudia was still there. 

At least she was trying.) 

“Okay. Let’s say I agree to play ghost masters  for a night.” Steve said, mispronouncing Ghostbusters on purpose and enjoying the immediately shrieked correction it got him. 

“Why on earth would anyone be willing to let a bunch of teenagers into their house for the night?”

It still killed him that the kids were technically teenagers. Had been, for a hot minute.

They were even high school freshmen now and wasn’t that a trip?

Soon one of them (Steve had his bets on Max) was going to start pestering him to learn how to drive and the very thought made him want to get on his knees in front of his Beemer to beg forgiveness. 

“I promise we have permission, Steve.” Dustin pleaded, rolling the word promise across his tongue in that whined, over exaggerated way kids forever used against their older siblings.

 “We crossed our i’s and dotted our t’s on this one! It’s just an evening in a house, having fun. That’s it.” 

Steve sighed, running a hand down his face when Dustin busted out the puppy dog eyes.

“If you assholes--” He started, and winced when Dustin immediately let out a victory cry. 

Fists punched the air, Dustin jumping about as he yelled; “Yes! Steve, thank you!” 

“I didn’t say I was going to go yet!” Steve yelled after him as Dustin spun about, shouting that he was going to go tell the Party over his shoulder. 

Robin snickered at him behind the kid, which Steve immediately caught. 

“Don’t laugh too soon Buckley.” He threatened, pointing at her. “You’re coming too.” 

“Oh really?” She shot back, as Dustin flew out of Family Video, making a beeline for his bike. “How do you figure you’re going to get me involved in this one?” 

“Because you owe me for driving you to that bar in Indianapolis.” 

It was a gay bar, one Steve had heard about when one of his father’s shitty secretaries once again forgot to put the phone on hold when “trying” to transfer Steve’s call. 

(She had absolutely nothing nice to say about the bar, which was a solid recommendation in and of itself in Steve's book.) 

Not that he truly needed the ammunition. Robin was his best friend, and they loved each other-- a sappy little number he would gladly pull out if it meant he didn’t have to herd the brat pack around by himself on Halloween. 

Robin sighed dramatically, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fuck you Steve, fine.” She huffed, giving in.

“You would never.” He taunted, and then did his own stupid little mimicry of Dustin’s victory dance, just to make her laugh. 

Smiled wide when it worked. 

At least if things went sideways again, she'd be right by his side.

xXx 

“I don't recall the Creel House being a giant mansion on top of a hill.” 

Steve said it accusingly, standing at the meeting spot on Halloween, kids in costumes floating about them as they clogged up the sidewalk. 

Nancy Wheeler pursed her lips, arms crossing tightly across her chest. 

(Steve had no idea how they’d gotten her to come and frankly, hadn’t asked.) 

"It's not." She agreed.

Her eyes narrowed, zeroing in on her brother with a look that younger siblings the world over knew by heart. "And that is absolutely not the Creel House." 

"We mixed up the names, so what?” Mike waived a hand, as if by doing so he could flick away his sister’s irritation. “It's a haunted house we have permission to hang out in, on Halloween." 

“If it’s not the Creel house then how exactly do we know it’s haunted?” Jonathan muttered, hands clutching his camera. 

(Steve did know how he got involved, if Nancy was here.

Not that he mentioned that either.) 

Steve nodded in agreement, putting his hands on his hips as the kids grouped before them. 

"How exactly, did you get permission for us to stay the night again?" Robin huffed, staring up at a place that looked like it came straight out of one of Munson’s horror movies. 

“I dunno, Eddie got it.” Lucas said with a shrug, and got a collective groan from the older teens for his efforts. 

“I’m not getting arrested again.” Robin said, spinning on her heel to face Steve, eyes wide.

 “I know you guys get arrested by the Chief of Police like, every other day, but some of us do actually want to get into college and frankly, the whole experience sucked.”

“Only Steve and Jonathan have been arrested.” Nancy corrected, face now thoroughly pinched in annoyance. 

“The rest of us were just detained. That said,” She added quickly, as Mike and Dustin both went to speak at once, “Robin’s right. We learned our lesson from Starcourt, didn’t we? We are not breaking into places we are not meant to be.” 

She sounded like she was quoting something.

Knowing Nancy, she probably was. 

“Eddie has definitely been arrested.” Robin protested. 

Nancy, forever stuck on a technicality, shot her a look. “Not in the incident I know you’re referencing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he ran.” Lucas grumbled. 

“There is no shame in running boys and girls.” The man himself said loudly, leaping out of the bushes to land right in the middle of their little huddle. “Especially from the law.” 

“Eddie!” the kids shrieked as one, their annoyance at his prior abandonment immediately replaced by all his little Hellfire Club minions trying to tackle him. 

Max and El shared a private look, the only two of the children to not swamp the metalhead, and collapsed into shared giggles. 

Freshmen. Steve thought with a groan, as Eddie dramatically fell down, playing out a very overacted death scene. God help us all. 

“Harrington, call off your brats!” Eddie howled, the tail end interrupted by a cackle of laughter as Mike and Dustin tickled him. 

“We talked about this Munson.” Steve yelled back. “When you rile them up, they’re your kids, not mine, and you get to deal with them.”  

“Damn. Down my minions, down!” Eddie tried, and got tickled harder for his efforts. 

They all wrestled for a bit more before the boys relented, Mike and Dustin red in the face with laughter while Lucas, their own budding basketball star and thus the only one to even think of exercising, helped up a panting Will. 

“Eddie, not that I trust you, because we both know I don’t,” Robin started, as Eddie jumped to his feet. “But how exactly do we have permission to be in that house?”

“I’m wounded Buckley, truly.” Eddie said, a hand going to cover his heart. He staggered backwards, head shaking as though injured. “Here I thought you were one of my best friends.”

Nancy sighed loudly, rolling both her eyes and her head back while Jonathan hid a smile behind his camera. 

“You are one of my best friends you asshole,” Robin fired back. “Which is exactly why I don’t trust you! I know you too well!” 

Eddie laughed at that. “Fair.” He reached into his pocket, bringing out  a set of keys. “I’m house-sitting the place for the weekend.” 

“Someone trusted you to watch a house like that?” Nancy said slowly, before being nudged hard by Robin. 

She winced. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean, Wheeler.” Eddie said, taking the comment in stride. “It belongs to one of the executives at the plant my uncle works at. Their first house sitter dropped out last minute and they needed someone to watch their dog.”

Here, Eddie made a face. “He has one of those crusty white things that gets seizures or some shit, the guy said his wife wouldn’t go anywhere unless she knew the dog was okay.” 

“So you're allowed to be in there then.” Nancy said tartly. “I am sure they wouldn’t appreciate-”

“You are underestimating how last minute this was.” Eddie cut her off with a twirl, keys swinging out so that they flashed dramatically. “He said, and I quote,” 

The metalhead’s voice abruptly adopted an accent that sounded like a trucker and an English  butler had a weird, upper class baby. 

“I don’t care what you do in this house tonight, Munson, as long as you don’t break anything, kill anybody, and clean it up after yourself. And for fucks sake, keep the damn dog alive.” 

Taken aback, all Nancy could do was blink. 

“This dude sounds awesome.” Dustin said, impressed. The other boys murmured their agreement, once again slowly swarming Eddie. 

Like puppies, they were.

Overexcited, hormone ridden, accident prone, trouble finding puppies. 

“Pretty sure the guy was implying I could throw a party, so forgive me if I think inviting a bunch of children, their siblings, a bank geek and their overprotective mother” that was aimed at Steve, “over for a night of trying to communicate with the deceased isn't going to be a problem.”

“Like you would throw a party anyways.” Steve snorted, the sound ugly. 

“Wow, is this gang up on Eddie night? I could damn well throw a better party than you, Steve Harrington.” Eddie raised his eyebrows, taunting. 

King Steve was of course, a boy long left in the past, but a part of him, that competitive part who was very good at keg stands, rose to the challenge. 

“Is that so?” He said, standing up from his “mother hen slouch” as Eddie himself called it, to his full height. He took a step forward, made sure it radiated some of that past swagger he’d been so known for. “I’ll take that bet.” 

“Can you guys have a pissing match later?” Robin asked, ignoring the way Nancy winced at her choice of words. 

“Yeah!” Mike shouted, abruptly snatching the keys from Eddie’s waving hand and ignoring the shorter teen’s outraged “Hey!” 

“Come on, let’s go already!” He huffed, racing off. 

“Why did that asshole have to grow so tall?” Eddie complained, as the younger teens flew past him. Even Max and El took off, though they at least paused to shrug at Steve with twin smiles before they ran past. 

“I seriously hope this really is ok Eddie.” Robin said, worrying her lip anxiously as the older teens started the climb up to the front door, a trek that somehow took two different sets of steep stairs. “I meant it about getting arrested.”

“Chill Robs.” The metalhead assured her, knocking his shoulder into hers as he and Steve flanked her sides, Jonathan and Nancy trailing behind. 

“El’s here, so it’s not like good ol’ Chief Hopper doesn’t know what we’re doing.” 

“He knew what we were doing last time.” 

“No, he knew whatever lie Mike told him so he could sneak El around. That’s why the kid’s on his shit list.” Eddie corrected.

Robin sighed, defeated. “God you can be just as annoying as Nance, you know that?”

“Excuse me?” Nancy said, from behind, eyes popping wide and startelement. 

Jonathan hid his chuckle into a cough when she shot him a furious glance but Steve, now two years past being her ex, had no issues letting her see his amusement. 

“Sorry Nancy, but she’s not wrong.” He called teasingly. “You gotta get that need to correct people under control.” 

Then bolted past his friends as Nancy spat out his full name like a curse, offended, before quickening her pace to catch him. 

Laughing, Eddie and Robin took up the chase, leaving Jonathan to shake his head. 

“I am not running with this camera!” He yelled at them, cradling his baby and following at a far more sedate pace. 

“Your fault if we lock you out!” Steve called back, but the threat was empty. 

He and Jonathan had fixed their shit, those same two years ago. They were good now, even close, sometimes.

Not as close as he was to Eddie and Robin, but close enough to hang out with the kids on Halloween and enjoy it.  

‘A family.’ Eddie had called it, while he and Steve recovered in the hospital not even six full months ago, from a shenanigan neither of them talked about in front of Robin for fear she’d put them right back in the ER. 

‘We found ourselves a proper family. Good for holidays and everything.’ 

He’d had a stupid little grin on his face when he’d said it. 

‘How about next time we don’t almost die finding one.’ Steve had countered, and  then grinned smugly when Eddie’s protest just ended up making his injuries hurt. 

“You’re both dumb.” Jonathan had said at the time, their sole witness and ride out of there, soft smile he almost never let out on his face. 

“Screw you Byers, you were in California for this one!” Steve complained, and well, it had devolved into silly, amusing arguments from there but the point was still the same.

A family they were, the whole lot of them. 

xXx 

“Oh my god this place is huge.” Robin muttered, spinning about in the entryway. 

“That’s capitalism for ya, baby.” 

“We should split up, that way we can find the perfect room.” Dustin announced, shuffling his bulging backpack up as it once again tried to drag him to the floor. 

“You weren’t serious about the ghost stuff, were you?” Steve groaned.

He didn’t know why he did--Dustin never joked about this kind of shit. 

“We have an opportunity, Steven. I’m not wasting it!” 

“Fine then. Go run around like a lunatic and find me when you found your stupid perfect room.” 

“Weren’t you the one bitching about splitting up last time?” Eddie teased, playfully poking at Dustin’s back and trying to get him off balance. 

“Yeah, in an actual situation.” Steve countered, as the kids paired off, Lucas and Mike losing their preferred partners to each other, the girls not looking sorry for it. “Not playing pretend.” 

“Is that what we’re doing? Playing pretend?” Eddie moved his head so that for the briefest of seconds, his nose ghosted right past Steve’s cheek. 

Steve, more than used to Eddie having no personal space, didn’t even flinch. 

“With the whole summoning ghosts bit? Absolutely.” He clarified with his own secretive smile.  

Because Munson often spoke in riddles, had dual meanings to every word-and for once Steve had started to catch on.

Had even started to play around back. 

It may have taken him a hot minute to do so, but sitting on the knowledge that there was a chance Eddie Munson was actually, seriously, intentionally flirting with him had made the world rearrange itself a bit. 

Steve honestly wasn’t certain he was comfortable with what it meant in regards to himself--but he knew he found Eddie hot. 

More than that--they were like two halves of something, working and bouncing off each other in a way only those who were very close could. 

(“Two halves of a whole idiot.” Robin had said when Steve had first broached the topic.

Steve had licked a finger and stuck it in her ear in retaliation.) 

The guy part, Steve found once he’d thought on it, didn’t bother him as much as it once would have. What made him hesitate wasn’t that, or even how quickly his discovery had led to him having fucking wet dreams of Eddie Munson.

No, it was everything else.

Namely, the dad he’d already disappointed, but also all the other crap that came with living in a small town, and being relied upon by a lot of parents as their kids' de facto elder sibling. 

If Steve came out, openly came out…

People had been shitty enough to Eddie, in high school. Steve had even been one of those shitty people. He knew how they thought, what they could and would do. 

Egging, graffiti, getting your ass kicked in an allyway, and barred from establishments was all just the start of it, for someone who hadn’t even admitted to being gay. 

He’d about convinced himself to ignore it. He liked girls anyway, was one of the lucky ones, as Robin loved to put it, whose brain and general being didn’t care too much about his partner’s gender. 

“It at least gives you a shot to fall in love with the person you’re “supposed” to.” She’d said, drunk off her ass and wobbly as she made air quotes with her hands. 

Steve couldn’t blame her for it. Not now, when he finally understood the consequences of dating that other person. 

The one you weren’t supposed to. 

Then came that damn bar in Indianapolis. The bartender with the earring who’d shot him an appreciative glance and Steve hadn’t even had to think about it-he’d just, winked. 

Ended up with a free drink.

Made out a little at the back of the bar on the guy’s break and sure, it hadn’t gone farther than that but it was enough.

 To know.

To want. 

How Robin hadn’t caught him on that one was a miracle, but he didn’t want to ruin things. A part of him knew she was graduating soon-her, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie, if they could finally drag him through Mrs. Click’s class. 

 They could all move, if they wanted to, after that.  

He was happy to follow them wherever they wanted to go, and knew the first three were trying to get into the same colleges. He also knew he wouldn’t have problems dragging Eddie along for the ride. 

If anything the guy was itching to get out faster than any of them. 

Laughter suddenly rang down the halls, interrupting him from his too loud thoughts. 

Steve smiled at it, knowing he damn well couldn’t abandon the kids. 

“You alright?” Jonathan asked, his voice too quiet as always, having come up on Steve’s left side. 

The guy just didn’t relax anymore unless he was high. 

Steve made a mental note to ask Eddie if he’d brought anything after the kids had managed to go to sleep-or at the very least, tire themselves out enough to be corralled in one room. Then the adults could go have their fun. 

Something he knew Jonathan desperately needed. 

“Yeah, just thinking.” Steve said back. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Jonathan responded, then cracked a smile when Steve playfully threw his shoulder at him. 

“Earth to Harrington!” Eddie called, and Steve blinked, because the guy had suddenly teleported from right near him to across the sprawling entryway entirely. “If you and Johnny Boy are done talking, I say we to go explore the basement. Together.” 

Eddie clapped his hands, to emphasize the last word. 

Jonathan shook his head, but Steve just sent his friend a conspiratorial wink, before putting on the most harassed sitcom-husband voice he could, yelling back “Coming, honey!” 

Eddie, who had started to turn, almost tripped at the words, long legs tangling together and getting an honest to god laugh out of Jonathan. 

Steve snickered right along with him, before trotting over to save his idiot friend from himself. 

“Come on Munson, let’s go be the stupid people who die first in all the horror movies.” He said, opening the door and trotting down the rickety, wooden steps. 

A pressure at his back, Munson crowding him as he followed. 

“If we wanna be the people who die first, then we have to sneak away to have sex.” Eddie murmured, hair ticking the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve grinned as the sound of the basement door swinging shut followed. 

The sudden silence and lack of light was just the courage he needed to blurt out, “Well if that’s on the table, then I’d absolutely rather die like that.” 

The breath Eddie sucked in was a high he could ride for days, Steve decided, as he carefully made it to the bottom of the stairs. went about feeling for the lights.

Being flirted with by Eddie was one thing but flirting back?

Steve had never been on a better power trip.

[scarapanna]

Small TW for

Bright lights

Injury

[lelelego]

messed around with clip studio's oil brush to get less rusty :^)

[marlynnofmany]

Preferred Speed

(Related side project: Prank War!)

~~~

The cargo bay was full of people and packages. This was, they told me, how things used to be in the old days.

“Only four deliveries to the same location is simplistic,” Zhee declared with a flick of his antennae. “There were days when we had six or seven, and Sunlight or Mimi would be sent out too.” He flicked his antennae in a different direction at the missing honorific. “She wasn’t the captain then.”

“Sounds busy,” I said. “Was that Pockap’s idea?” I’d only spent a short time under the previous captain’s leadership, but I didn’t have much positive to say about it.

“Among other things,” Zhee agreed.

“Hey Zhee, we’ll get back to the ship first!” announced Blip with a wide grin on her fishy face. Blop did stretches behind her, next to a hovercart carrying a heavy-looking crate.

“You will not,” Zhee said with serene confidence. “I will be here well-rested long before you appear.”

“You say that now!” Blip bantered back. “But I think you’ll find us lounging on the ramp when you return.”

Blop finished his stretch and threw a mischievous glance at Paint. “We definitely won’t be the last to arrive.”

“No fair,” Paint complained, clutching her own small box to her chest like a scaly child. “You all have longer legs than me.”

I said, “I could give you a ride if you want. I have the hoverbike.” (I did. I was looking forward to it.)

Paint regarded the old-but-serviceable machine like an untamed horse. “Maybe?”

I brought up the map on the handlebar screen. “Your spot is along the main road, right? That’s an easy stop on the way to the observatory. And your package is small enough to carry while you hold on.”

“Isn’t there room in the storage compartment?” Paint asked hopefully.

I didn’t even have to look. “Nope. Mine barely fit. If we could get both in there, Captain Sunlight probably would have just had me deliver both.”

“Both what?” asked the captain from the doorway, hearing her name.

I explained, “I’m going to give Paint a ride to deliver that package, since she can carry it while it won’t fit in the bin.”

“I see,” said Captain Sunlight. “Very resourceful. And very brave of you, Paint.”

Paint sighed unhappily. “It sure is.”

Mur followed the captain in, chuckling. “Better you than me. Enjoy the speed.”

“I can drive slowly if you want,” I told Paint.

Paint stood as tall as she could, which wasn’t very. “No, I don’t want to hold you up. Regular speed is fine.”

“Great to hear,” said Captain Sunlight with a clap of her scaly hands. “Everyone take your places; we’re about to land.”

We all got ready. Blip and Blop maneuvered their hovercart to be near the front; Zhee shouldered in next to them with his bundle worn like a backpack; I got onto the hoverbike and Paint reluctantly climbed up behind me.

“Have fun!” Mur called with a wave of a blue-black tentacle. “I’ll be doing meal prep with Eggskin, thinking of you.”

I could hear the scowl in Paint’s voice. “I hope it’s something stinky.”

The intercom chimed with the landing tone, just in case we were distracted by bickering or something. A subtle change in engine tone, and we were there.

Captain Sunlight opened the bay door. Blip and Blop scrambled out, yelling cheerfully after Zhee when he used their hovercart like a springboard to jump ahead.

While they all ignored the captain’s reminders to be careful, I drove down the ramp at a sedate pace with Paint’s hands clutching my shirt, and we were out into the alien city.

This was a nice-looking one. Very sunny and clean. The spaceport was right next to a public thoroughfare, which felt weirdly trusting after the tight security at some other places we’d visited. Apparently all the screening for ne-er-do-wells was handled before landing here, or they just didn’t expect any trouble. Either way, it looked safe and pretty, with single-story architecture that reminded me of sandcastles made of porcelain. Everywhere were rounded walls with domed tops, tapering from the bottom like someone scooped the material together. Then turned it glossy white with lots of intricate patterns, and translucent bits where it got thin enough for the sun to show through. Most of the pedestrians were either Strongarms or Waterwills, and I wondered whose culture had come up with the design. Maybe both together.

I was maneuvering the hoverbike onto the convenient skyroad that passed over those pedestrians, and thinking idly about whether there was a different word for people who walked without proper feet, when I noticed how tight Paint’s grip had become.

“Should I slow down?” I asked over the wind. “Or would you rather walk after all? I can pull over.”

“I’m okay,” Paint said, a little tense. “Pretending we’re on the ground. I don’t have to look. Enjoy your crazy human death wish.”

I laughed and shook my head, but didn’t bother to argue. She wasn’t going to enjoy speed or heights no matter how eloquent I was about it.

So I did enjoy the ride, on the nice wide skyroad made of a transparent material that was probably a Waterwill design. Most of the single-person scooters and bigger buses hummed along slowly, though there was plenty of room to weave past them and admire the view of the city while I did. Those porcelain walls got really colorful farther out, and most of the walkways were tiled in colorful squares.

Much too soon, the map showed Paint’s destination up ahead, and I took an off-ramp down to a lovely little public park. There was even something like grass, though the vegetative lumps that passed for trees didn’t cast much shade.

“We’re here,” I told Paint. “Your location is right over there.”

After a pause that was probably Paint prying her eyes open and taking in the surroundings, she let go and said, “Oh good. Thank you.”

“Package okay?” I asked. Hopefully it hadn’t gotten squashed.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’ll meet you back here, right?” She slid shakily off.

“Sure thing,” I agreed. “Shouldn’t take me too long. Enjoy the sun after you drop that off!”

Paint smiled the honest smile of a cold-blooded lizardperson under a warm sun. “I will!” She trotted off with a wave, and I zoomed up the onramp back into the sky.

I drove much faster this time, and it was great. The road got even emptier as I reached the edge of the city, which, for our purposes, was conveniently close. The observatory rested on a hill outside of town. I wondered if the telescopes and whatnot inside had trouble with the city glow, but when I looked for streetlights, I only saw little downward-facing things that I’d taken for security cameras. Maybe this city didn’t glow much at night, at least not in an upward direction. Pity we were doing the delivery now and I wouldn’t get to see it. Though, I reflected, I’d likely enjoy this skyroad less in the dark.

The road sloped down to meet the ground when it ran out of buildings, and I zipped past more tree-lumps on the way up to the observatory. It was built out of porcelain too, looking extra thick and sturdy.

An Earth-style doorbell seemed very out of place, but it was at knee height on me, so that tracked. I rang it and got the package out of the storage bin.

A thick chunk of wall pulled inward then slid to the side with a thud. “Hello!” said the client, a Strongarm with vivid red coloring and a pointy squid head like Mur. I glimpsed another in the background that was a roundheaded coral pink, and much less chatty than this one. “Thank you so much for the delivery! I hope the drive went well? No traffic or accidents or whatnot?”

I handed her the box, which was large but lightweight. “No, it was nice and easy. Nothing to slow things down, and the view was lovely.” This delivery didn’t require a signature the way most of them did, so I wasn’t sure how much conversation I was in for now that my job was technically done.

“Good, good,” she said, juggling the box with a random assortment of tentacles. “Oh, is that one of those really fast vehicles? I could never! I hope they pay you enough for the risk.”

I smiled. “The pay’s just fine, and it goes at a good speed for me.”

“So bold and daring. Here! Take this for your troubles.” She set the box inside, then grabbed a little bag that looked like commercial snack food. “These are the best, and I just cannot stop eating them. You’ll do me a favor by taking a bagful.”

From inside the room, the other Strongarm yelled, “Give two.”

“Yes, quite right. Have two.” A second bag joined the first.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting them graciously. The label held a posing Strongarm that suggested I check with Eggskin’s species database before trying any. Their food was usually pretty compatible, but I wouldn’t want to be wrong.

“My pleasure! Have a lovely day, and a safe drive back!” She waved three tentacles and fairly pranced back inside before slapping the door close button. Even after it shut with a thud, I could make out her excited voice talking about the package.

I put the crunchy snack food into the now-empty storage bin, and sped off down the hill.

There was nobody out there, so I upped my speed from “reasonable” to “enjoyable,” and made it back to the park in no time flat.

“That was fast!” Paint said as she scampered over. She’d actually been lying on one of the lower tree-lumps like a fence lizard soaking up the sun, which was adorable and not something I was going to comment on.

“Yup, and I even got food as a tip.” I opened the bin and showed her a bag.

She grabbed it in delight. “These are the best! Pockap used to get them, and he’d never share!”

“Help yourself,” I said. “I got two.”

Paint made delighted noises and opened the bag to crunch a mouthful happily before folding it into the storage bin and settling into place.

I caught a whiff of seafood, like low tide during the peak of summer. Maybe I wouldn’t bother asking Eggskin if I could eat it.

“All set?” I asked.

“Yes,” Paint said decisively, getting a solid grip.

I scooted the bike gently toward the ramp. “You can have both bags. If Mur likes them too, you could bribe him to trade with you on the next delivery.”

“Ooh,” Paint said. “Thank you. I might do that. Or I might just eat them.”

“Your choice,” I said, then zoomed up onto the skyroad. I tried to go slowly, but I was pretty sure Paint closed her eyes anyway.

~~~

Did I mention the Prank War?

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[thou-babbling-brook]

Hand studies I did a few weeks ago

[crushedsweets]

Some OC/Self insert stuff that I’ve been working on with my friends:3 hoping to share the little story we’re making one day…

[toxintouch]

yk how in veres likes on his character sheet it says he like cooking (badly)…… WHY HAS NO ONE DONE A FIC ABOUT THAT YET‼️⁉️⁉️ THAT SHOULD NOTTT BE A WASTED OPPORTUNITY. i’m not even joking im ab to send this to so many people because i can’t let this go to waste 😞

Here u are anon!  For the record, you are completely free to send this prompt around wherever you’d like!  It was such a fun idea, I’d love to see more takes on it. ^^

Warnings: Vere talking Innuendos? Innuendos.  So many, and I don’t guarantee that they are funny lol.  Just a general silly vibe and imo: absolutely  tooth rotting fluff.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅SOUS CHEF ‧₊˚♡₊˚

You find yourself wandering through Lowtown during the lunch hour, trying to decide what sounds like a good meal.

Your mouth waters at the scents being carried on the breeze, a plethora of pleasant aromas wafting out of the eateries nestled inside the Amaryllis District, so fragrant that you can smell them all the way down on the bustling streets of Lowtown as long as you stay downwind.

However, if there’s one nice thing about knowing Leander it's that you also know you don’t have to go that far (or spend that much) for a delicious lunch. 

Near enough to the Wet Wick, there’s a series of side streets that make up an eclectic amalgamation of Lowtown and the Amaryllis District, and in it: a small and inconspicuous eatery.  The menu changes often, though you aren’t sure if that’s out of innovation or necessity, but the food is always filling and reasonably priced.

You follow the winding streets, getting lost for a brief moment before correcting your course, traveling until you see colorful chipped girih tiles and wide, clean windows.  You let yourself into the shop, the now familiar sound of hinges in need of an oiling welcoming you.  

There’s an assortment of goods on display–jars of honey and spiced fruit and loaves of braided bread with seeds–all kept safely locked away beneath an enchanted pane of glass.

Looking around, though, you don’t see anyone selling said fantastic wares.

You call out, expecting the shop keep or her wife to come running but instead you hear…silence.

Followed by a loud metallic clatter.

You freeze, unsure what to do, what the threat is–if there’s even a threat?–but before you can make up your mind, you’re greeted by a most unexpected sight.

Vere comes out of the kitchen area, his hair swept into an artfully stunning up-do that reveals the long line of his neck and clavicle, blemished only by the heavy collar locked around his throat. 

He’s wearing a weighty linen apron over his clothing, presumably to protect his outfit, though–his long gossamer sleeves are completely discordant with the notion, making you think that maybe the apron is more of an aesthetic choice.

“What’s this–?  A mouse?  In my kitchen?” Vere asks playfully as you continue to stare, dumbfounded.  He wields a spatula in his hand like a weapon–swatching it into his off-hand like a riding crop with a decisive snap.

“Where is–?”

“–The shop keep?  Wherever she pleases–the shop’s closed on Mondays.”

(You really don’t like the way he’s watching you…  Or the way he keeps inching closer…)

You take a step backwards, your eyes never leaving his.  “Oh,” you say, bandaged hands reaching blindly behind you.  “I didn’t realize.  The door was unlocked, so…”  You trail off.

You find the doorknob at last.  You attempt to turn it only to find that it won’t budge.

“Was it?”

Vere saunters up to you, tail swaying behind him.  You manage to tear your eyes away from his predator stare to search for possible exits, though you know for a fact you won’t be fast enough.   You look back and he’s already in your space, crowding you against the entryway.

(He smells really good, actually.  Like leather and spice and the subtle cling of perfume and incense.  And beneath that, something–earthy–animalistic, but in a way that’s intoxicating as opposed to unpleasant.)

“I was just about to make myself a snack–how nice that a snack came to me.”

“Stop playing around.” You try to steel yourself and inject the perfect amount of scolding into your voice while combating his heated stare.  “I know you’re just fucking with me to try and get a reaction; you and I both know you’re not going to eat me.” 

If he was, he would have done it by now.  Sometime within the weeks you’ve known him.  …Probably. 

Unless he just likes to play with his food.

“I didn’t realize you knew me so well,”  he says, looking amused.  “Perhaps I didn’t plan to, but now I simply can’t resist.  You look so absolutely delectable, how could I possibly contain myself?”

You don’t get the chance to reply.  Vere’s countenance changes suddenly–you watch his ears flatten a second before you hear the screaming whistle of a teapot.  His ears twitch in annoyance at the sound, his perfectly sculpted face showing a sour sneer.  He gives you a sideways glance, calculating.

“Then again.  I find myself in need of a sous chef.  Congratulations on your promotion.  Come along now.”  He hooks a finger into your cloak and pulls you easily into the kitchen.  (To be fair, you don’t struggle.  Anyone would want to see where this is going, right?)

He releases you once you’ve crossed over the threshold, waving his fingers uncaringly towards a second apron affixed to a hook on the wall as he beelines to remove a glass teapot from the stove and stifle the noise.  He moves quickly as you watch, casually throwing aside the spatula in his hand in favor of an ornate silver teaspoon.  He measures a vibrantly colored tea into the inlaid steeping container of the equally ornate teapot and takes a pleased inhale as the tea’s fragrance blooms, humming as he flips over a delicate hourglass to keep track of the steeping time.

There’s silence for a moment–

Him watching the teapot and you watching him.

“Well?”  He asks, without looking up.  You’ve seen this look before, you think – this pensive, almost lonesome look that makes your heart ache against all better judgment.  “Staying or going?”

He grins when you put on the apron.  You search his face for some sincerity, but he’s all sharp teeth and tall ears, covering any glimpses of deeper emotion with a sheen of smugness.  He circles you once you have the apron on, taking in the image.

“Mm, don’t you just look adorable.  Very domesticated.”

You’re pretty sure that the word he’s looking for is domestic. But of course, he knows what he said and he meant to say it.  You decide that he’s probably betting on your correction, already armed with a witty retort.  You smooth the apron down while pointedly looking away, deciding that you won’t give him the satisfaction.  You hear him chuckle.

Since you’re avoiding looking at Vere, you look around the kitchen for the first time.

It’s a spacious workspace–moreso than the storefront, even.  There’s a large iron stove unlike anything you’ve ever seen, covered with magical runes and dials, with a large hearth built into the belly of it.  A plethora of pots and pans have been placed on the burners, left to sizzle and pop in the red hot heat.  

Oil is singing from the heated, shallow basins but you don’t see anything cooking inside.  

There’s a slab of meat diced into neat squares and a heaping bowl of lumpy batter set to the side of the stove top.

“What are you making?”  You ask, trying to make sense of the scene.

“Panko crusted fish filet.  And there’s a pasta in the oven.  For dessert, I was thinking–” he gives you a sly look, one that makes your ears feel warm, “hmm, well.  I just had a much better idea in regards to dessert.”  He makes a show of licking his fangs, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual.

You think you tied your apron too tight; your airway is feeling a little constricted.  It seems to be getting worse the longer you watch.

You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away.  More ingredients, most partially prepared, and a host of dirtied pots and pans greet you.  You turn your back to him as you explore, fully engrossed in all of the views that the mess of a kitchen has to offer.  You’re almost afraid to ask: “So, what am I here to help with?”

“Oh?”  You don’t hear Vere come up next to you, but you feel him brushing up against you.  “Does my darling sous chef require…instruction?  A guiding hand, so to speak?”  You freeze, feeling his breath against your ear, shivers running down your spine at his light and teasing chuckle.

But then he’s breezing past you, making a wide dramatic gesture toward the large tome perched surreptitiously on the counter.  “Lucky for you, I’ve a recipe.”  His tail wags swishes elegantly behind him as he beams with pride.

His tail knocks the whisk out of the mystery batter beside the fish filet but he takes no notice.

Vere hops gracefully up onto the counter, reaching for the batter.  He does an impressive twist in order to grab hold of another whisk and you take the time to appreciate that.  Then, with Vere occupied and seemingly ignoring you, you take a look at the recipe book.  

The text is old and withered with the occasional dash of sprawling spidery script painting the margins.  (Said writing is utterly illegible–you’re actually not sure if it’s in a language you can read, though if you squint you think you can see something that looks like the word ‘cake’.)  The page it’s opened to is ripped in half, rendering precious steps of the recipe lost to time.  You spot a mysterious bite mark piercing through the corner of the leather cover.

And can’t stop yourself from surreptitiously glancing over at Vere.  He’s moved on from the batter (which looks as lumpy as it did a minute ago) and is now eating skewers of raw fish with his nails.

“You’re not supposed to eat while you cook,” you say, the time worn words out of your mouth before you can examine your personal stance on them.

“Says who?  Some limp dick?  No shame in indulging, pet.”

“You’re not even gonna have anything left to cook,” you warn.

“Hum, sounds like my sous chef should get to work covering them in batter instead of just standing there before I eat them all.”

You roll your eyes, but follow through with instructions.  The space is unfamiliar and your movements are slow and unsure with Vere looming over you from his perch on high, watching.

One of the pans of oil gives an ominous pop.  “Hmm, sounds like it’s hot enough,” says Vere.  “Move over.”

“Is that safe?”

“For me,” Vere says simply.  “And it’s faster.  Now stand further back or you'll get splattered–and not in the fun way.”  Idly, he tosses a batter covered filet into the shallow pan.  The resulting hiss makes you both cringe.

As if on queue, the hourglass for the tea gives a gentle chime, lighting up with a golden glow.  (You’re beginning to wonder how this humble shop can afford all these magical items, but then again this is the city of secrets.  You’re probably better off not knowing.)  Vere’s ears perk up, pleased.  He tosses the remaining fillets in the pan without a fuss, setting lids on top of each to contain the oil, acting as if doing so is going to stop any potential disaster.

Main course forgotten, he moves on to digging something out from inside one of the many cupboards.  “Be a dear and cut this for me, will you?”  He hands you a delicate peach before heading to the tea pot, stirring the contents and adding what must be a priceless amount of honey.

The peach in your hand is overripe but still vibrant–amazing, as you haven’t seen fresh fruit at all since you came to Eridia.  Your mouth waters anew as you remember what led you here in the first place–your quest for a meal–and you’re almost tempted to take a bite, follow Vere’s advice and sink your teeth in.

“My, my.  I’m almost jealous.  I thought you only looked at me like that.”

Vere shushes the denial from your lips, bossing you around regarding how he wants the peach sliced before shooing you out of his way and finishing his remaining tea preparations,with the look of an artist at work.  The tea is a warm oolong color, made only more alluring once the infusion of peach is complete.

It’s refreshing, too, once Vere serves it to you over ice.

You can almost ignore the great plumes of smoke coming from the oven.

Vere cooks how others might enjoy a leisurely stroll. 

Which is to say, he seems to be having fun, but you’re not convinced he intends on really going anywhere.  Still, there’s a rhythm to it–a dance, though he leads you in expected loops and turns, changes the tune at a moment's notice.  He’ll get bored of the task at hand and find some new spice to peruse, demand you taste test an ingredient or give your opinion on a dizzying new flavor he’s concocted.

(He manages to convince you to sample a bit of cucumber soup from the cold box.  You retch, proclaiming it salty, downing another glass of delicious peach oolong–

“I can still taste it in the back of my throat…!”–and he cackles wildly.)

Thick locks of hair are falling out of his up-do by the time he’s satisfied, framing his face and bringing your attention, again to the inviting line of his clavicle.  He tosses his loose hair over his shoulder, preening.

The recipe book is basically ruined, and the pasta is null and void, but some of the fillets look mildly edible.  The artful garnish is beautiful, at least.  The kale and orange slices really bring out the crispy burnt bits.  Vere seems to enjoy plating the food a great deal, humming and rearranging and circling the display until he deems it arranged to perfection.

He’s elegant when he takes a bite, biting down with a crunch.  His tail goes very still for a moment, then shivers microscopically as he chews.  He swallows in a manner that you can only describe as dignified, dabbing his lips with a napkin.  You wait in anticipation, but Vere says nothing for a long time.  Then, he quietly takes the old recipe book and throws it away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t insist on you trying it too.

You end up snacking on some of the pre-made goods, drinking the remaining tea and lounging at one of the shop’s cozy little tables.  The mood is light and easy, and the view is magnificent.  Outside, there’s nothing but trash littered streets and urchins, but inside…the afternoon glow coming from the window illuminates Vere like a sunset, painting him in dazzling shades of gold and red and bronze.

Vere hums, peering at you pointedly through his sooty lashes.  “So, dessert?”

You can’t imagine the look that comes across your face–whatever it is, it makes Vere laugh.

“What are you giving me that look for?  My intentions are pure.” His voice is a masterclass in syrupy false-innocence.  “As clean as Leander’s bed sheets after–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence and give me any mental images,” you beg.  “I have to sleep there tonight, I’d rather not know.”

“Ignorance is bliss.”  Vere agrees, closing his eyes and appearing to bask in the sun for a moment.  His face does something that you don’t quite catch–some hidden expression–but then, he’s smiling easily.  He must really be relaxed if he can still smile seconds after thinking about Leander.  You’re still admiring him when the shadows against the walls flicker, and suddenly he isn’t sitting next to you any more.

Instead, he’s returning from the kitchen, a tray in hand.

He sets it down in front of you, revealing an assortment of strawberries and an ornate silver porringer of what appears to be melted chocolate.  Vere sets it down on the table, plucking the small dessert spoon from the chocolate once he’s seated across from you again.

“Occasionally, life does offer up something sweet to savor–only for those willing to go out and take it.”  His tongue darts out to lick the chocolate off the spoon in his hand.  He maintains eye contact as his tongue laves across the basin and–embarrassingly–you think you get a little lightheaded from the intensity with which your blood rushes to your face.  The crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you that he know exactly where your mind has gone.

Setting the spoon down, Vere instead picks up a bare strawberry, leaning in closer to press it gently to your mouth.

The chocolate is overly bitter–a little burnt, perhaps, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you’re tasting the remnants of it on Vere’s lips.

(Before leaving, you plop a few coins down on the counter as payment.  You brought enough to cover your food…but definitely not enough to cover the mess in the kitchen.  There’s really nothing you can do about that.  

You hope you don’t get blacklisted.  You’d like to come back next Monday.)

Hope you enjoyed if you made it this far! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[cerubean]

it's been raining nonstop in brindleton bay...

[luminut]

sketches from episode 41

[starbound-sda-comic]

Dorm Days Ch1 - Roommates?!

so i fleshed out a comic idea about my 2 OCs Mori and Juniper and how they met. it…wasn’t ideal for either of them. i really want to start exploring the dynamic between these two, as it takes them a while to warm up to each other. not just in their first year, but for a couple years after that. after they do though, they become quite close and protective of each other.

i'd love to make this an ongoing series so maybe if more people are interested i'll work towards making this a webtoon. but in the meantime, this may be a small series i'll use as practice for my main ideas for Starbound. thanks if you read this!

Next chapter | Bonus pages here!

[jacarandaaaas]

she’s so funny stop😭

[legacyofthedamneddsaf]