#so yeah I probably think too far into it but

[27dragons]

fuckit I don't have an actual plot but I can't let this go until I write SOMETHING for @cerealism 's amazing art.

Mob AU because fuuuuuuck me that's too pretty.

The door burst open.

"What the fuck is this bullshit about an extra point off my take?!"

It was Lia, because of course it was. She'd been winding up for an explosion for at least a month, and they'd talked about encouraging her to move on to some other territory but Jayce had begged Viktor to give her one last chance, because he was a total pushover and he knew it.

Sky scurried in behind Lia, still protesting. "...can't just barge in without--" She gave them a chagrined look. "I'm so sorry, I told her you didn't want to be disturbed!" She shot Lia a venomous look, and Jayce knew that if he hadn't specifically told her that there was to be no blood in the outer office, Lia wouldn't have made it this far.

Viktor knew it, too. He graced Sky with a smile. "It's all right, Ms. Young," he said pleasantly. "We encourage input from within our network."

Jayce had been sitting on the corner of the desk, but as Sky backed out, closing the door behind her, he paced over to lean on the back of Viktor's chair by the window. He kept his eyes on Lia, but reached down, dangling his hand where Viktor could see it.

Viktor took Jayce's hand, moving it to press it against his chest. Jayce could feel Viktor's heart beating through the shirt, steady and slow. It was soothing.

"Now, Lia," Viktor said, almost gently, if you didn't know him very well. "Please share your concerns with us."

Lia's lip curled in a snarl. "You can't just decide out of nowhere to take an extra point out of my take!"

"But we did not just decide out of nowhere," Viktor said, reasonably. "Two of your crew were injured on your last job, one of them severely. This is not the first time that poor planning has resulted in injury. We discussed it for some time before deciding to extract the cost of their care from your share. It seemed fair."

"But," Jayce said, "if you would prefer to pay the entire amount in a lump sum, we would certainly be amenable. That would save you the interest," he added helpfully.

"You son of a bitch," Lia growled, "Myk's broken leg was his own damn fault, you can't stick me with that!"

"Jayce," Viktor said, so smoothly that even Jayce might have been fooled if he couldn't feel Viktor trembling in rage under his hand. "Please escort Lia out of the building."

Jayce gave Viktor a bracing squeeze and then straightened. A few steps brought him close enough to wrap his hand around her arm. He was careful, not wanting to hurt her. "Let's go."

Lia made a frustrated, furious sound, and leaned toward Viktor, her eyes narrow. "One of these days, your lapdog won't be here to protect you," she said, low and threatening.

Jayce wasn't touching Viktor anymore, but he didn't have to be to know that the insult to Jayce would have spiked his partner's anger and heart rate. So much for that last chance. "Oh Lia," he said, disappointed that she understood so little. "I'm not here to protect him. Come with me now, or I won't be able to protect you."

She scoffed, shaking off Jayce's hand and still glaring at Viktor. "That's bullshit. I'd wipe the floor with you, Viktor, and you know it."

"I would prefer," Viktor said in icy tones that Jayce probably should not find such a turn-on, "if you did not keep ignoring my partner's excellent advice. But if you would like to challenge me directly, that can be arranged. Jayce?"

Jayce let out a slow sigh. "Yeah," he agreed. Lia was a liability, now. It was out of his hands. "I'll be outside." He left the room, making his way over to Sky's desk and sitting on the edge of it.

Sky glanced up at him. "She challenged him, didn't she?"

"I think he was hoping for it," Jayce admitted. "He's been in a mood all week. He might have provoked her a little bit." He shook his head. "Wish it hadn't come to that, though."

Sky smiled and patted Jayce's hand. "You're such a softie," she teased.

Jayce ducked his head bashfully. "I guess so. I'm just old fashioned, really. I'd rather take a hammer to their kneecaps, or at least take them down fast. Viktor..." He glanced back toward the door to the office, wincing slightly at the sounds that managed to make it through the heavy wood. "Viktor likes to play with his food."

Sky nodded. She'd been with them long enough. She knew.

The sounds were growing softer. "I guess we'll be going home soon," Jayce said. "You can head out now, if you want."

Sky nodded and gathered her things, pulling on her coat and checking the placement of her knives. "Maybe his mood will improve now?" she offered.

"Hopefully." Jayce walked Sky to the outer door and watched until she'd turned the corner out of sight before going back to sit on her desk and wait.

Not too much later, the office door opened and Viktor came out. He glanced at Sky's empty chair curiously.

"Sent her home," Jayce said.

Viktor nodded. "Caitlyn?"

"If you'll pick up dinner, I'll swing by and have her send over a cleaning crew," Jayce offered. "Oh, wait." He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket. "You've got a little..." He dabbed gently at Viktor's cheek until the blood was gone. "There." He left the cloth on the edge of Sky's desk. Caitlyn's crew would handle it. "I'll see you at home?"

"Don't take too long," Viktor said, his eyes glinting in a way that made Jayce's libido sit up and pay attention. Guess that really had helped Viktor's mood.

It was going to be a lovely evening.

What's up jayvik nation

[max-nicoxfandom]

DCXDP - Danny is a flerken, this causes Dick a lot of concern

Dick doesn't like Damian's new cat, or everyone thinks it's a cat, at least. It's kinda big for the size of a regular house cat, and it's whole body is like a weird trippy illusion; black with blue eyes one moment, white with green the next.

Damian claims he just picked it up off the street, and he's overall utterly unperturbed with the cat. According to him the thing was probably some sort of escaped lab experiment, and he is determined to figure out who was testing so inhumanely on animals. May God have mercy on their souls when that boy reaches them.

No one in the family quite likes the cat, except Damian, obviously.

The animal just has a way of sneaking into where it's not supposed to. It's always watching. Always just around the corner. Always at the exact place you don't want it to be at that exact moment.

Tim in particular is very annoyed by the cat. He likes to sit on Tim's paperwork, press buttons on his computer, and stick his face in Tim's coffee. The cat actively makes Tim's life harder whenever it gets the chance. Damian finds this to be the best form of comedy, because he is a little menace(lovingly).

Dick thinks he has it the worst with the cat overall though. Why? Because no one believes him about this stupid animal. Sure, they all agree that the cat is fucking weird, at the very least it's more sapient than a cat should be, but that's as far as they take it.

Not Dick.

Dick managed to sneak up on it once, and only once, and has never even attempted again. He just wanted to get back at the creature after it spent all day tripping him as he walked down the halls. It was harmless! Honestly, he just expected the cat to jump, maybe hiss, and skitter away for the rest of the day.

Instead the cat whirled around and opened its jaw so wide Dick swears its chin began to grace the floor, and then glowing green tentacles came out! They latched around his arms, covered his nose and mouth, and began to pull him into the tooth filled abyss of its jaws.

He felt the life in him leave before he was even half way pulled in. The fight slowly began to drain out of him, and the room was getting so so cold. Dick really thought this was how he was going to die, via his baby brother's freaky ass cat.

And then Damian's voice rang out, sharp and firm, simply calling the name of his cat lovingly dubbed "Phantom". The name Dick gave him, actually, because the cat travelled around the house like a ghost. Damian is the one who decided the name ghost was too childish, and thus, Phantom came about.

Damian arrived to him laying on the floor, Phantom on top of his chest purring away, as if the thing didn't try to consume him mere moments ago.

"Lying on the floor is quite unbecoming of you, Richard. However, since you are bonding with Phantom, I will let it slide."

And then Damian picked up the cat, tucked it into his chest, and walked back to where he came from.

When talking to Damian about the event later, he just looked at him like he was stupid. Tim said the cameras had shorted out (something that had been happening a lot recently), and he had no clue what Dick was talking about. Bruce and Alfred both advised him to seek mental help, believing him to be stress hallucinating. He didn't even bother telling the others.

So yeah, Dick doesn't like Damian's cat monster. He doesn't want to hurt his baby brother's feelings, but it can't stay.

Will be reblogging with more, eventually, other people's additions are VERY welcome

[weirdero]

I want to talk about Helena’s performance as Helly and her deep rooted misunderstanding of who Helly is as a person. And just in general how I think she perceives her especially after yesterday’s episode.

Helena is incredibly attentive, almost to the point of being terrifying. In the short moments she interacts with anyone, everything in her head is already scripted, calculated, and premeditated. She’s also a great method actress, reacting based on the energy around her. It’s like a stand up comic, constantly adjusting their performance to make sure their actions land. If something doesn’t click, she shifts.

Throughout the past couple of episodes, Helena spends most of her time just trying to go with the flow move with the water, trying to fit in without standing out, constantly monitoring the group and their reactions at every turn. And so far, she was good at it. She can play the part, until her own emotions towards helly start to blind her.

In these two pics she does a quick scan of Irving’s and Marks faces trying to analyze their reactions

Helena knows the group loves Helly. She knows Mark loves Helly. And honestly, I’d bet every dollar in my bank account that it genuinely makes her want to kill herself. She has zero respect for Helly, and she doesn’t need to. To Helena, Helly, and by extension, the group, are low value. Insignificant. At her highest, Helly is just a worker, a cheap extension of herself created with the sole purpose of just being a good employee to be displayed to the public as a little shining lumon puppet. But shit, the bitch can’t even do that. She’s done quite the opposite. So yeah, not a person to be respected or valued.

This particular disdain (and fuck it, I’m just gonna say hate) that Helena carries for Helly spills into the bonfire scene with Milchick.

While Milchick is reading the story, enunciating every word like a second grade elementary school teacher, showing pictures like they’re in a reading circle, I kept wondering to myself if Helena ever experienced something similar to this as a child. How many times has she heard this same story? Or hell, any other old Kier mythology? Lumon, Kier, the Eagan legacy, it’s all she’s ever known. This world is nothing new to her.

Even though I believe Helena is a loyal servant, she probably didn’t love all the weird shit she had to put up with in her childhood. The weight of the Egan legacy probably suffocates her. But she accepted it either way because that was the life she was given. Unlike fucking helly. Fucking helly who’s forced her into this situation to begin with. In my opinion, all of these particular feelings make their way into Helena’s reaction to the story as Helly, which could only be described as a middle schooler who suddenly thinks they’re too old for camp.

I saw this post someone made about this scene, and like shit, yeah, that’s probably right. Helena had one chance to shit on the weird religion that’s been shoved down her throat since birth and she took that chance.

Helena, in this moment, settles for crude, mocking jokes. She probably does this partially out of her own selfish need for Mark’s validation, as well as playing her role trying to fit into the group but I also think it’s a great reflection of her own personal feelings toward Helly. Helly, who would’ve never acted that way. Helly, who is many things, but never cruel. Helena doesn’t seem to understand that. For the moment, Helena takes a step back, flanderizes Helly, reducing her to this cheeky, crude, disruptive little jokester. That’s how Helena views her. With no respect. No nuance. Helly has layers Helena does not care to see. Helly doesn’t just break rules; she actively causes chaos, subverting everything around her. She’s purposefully, and happily, malcontent. A bitch, dare I say, an ungrateful bitch, most likely from Helena’s point of view.

Irving, who keeps testing her, makes her slip a little more. I talked about this a little bit in my last post about severance, but Helena doesn’t take well to being disrespected. She shifts from wanting the group’s (and mostly Mark’s) validation to just wanting to put Irving in his fucking place. These people aren’t equal to her in her mind. They aren’t cut from the same cloth probably not even made from the same fabric. There are levels to this shit, and they are not on her level.

She says what she says. It’s cruel. Mostly, it’s stupid on her part.

And just like Irving said later, and what I said earlier Helly was many things, but…

What Helena did at the bonfire was a fuck up. An especially surprising one coming from a woman as controlling and calculated as her. I’m fully convinced all those little mistakes came from a deep frustration within her. Much of that anger, in my opinion, is stewing from the realization that Helly, someone created by her, literally the source of all of Helena’s recent problems, someone who will stop at nothing to take her down, that person, the woman who’s literally locked up inside her, is more free than she will ever be.

Yes, Helena has no respect for Helly. Yes, she most likely hates that bitch. But when she herself is acting as Helly, it gives her the opportunity to almost let go. She gets the chance to essentially kill the bitch that’s been fucking up her life whilst simultaneously getting a chance to talk to this man who cares so deeply for a version of herself she hates, Even if it’s not the most ideal of situations (it’s not), it’s still something. I think, at the bonfire, she reflects on the ridiculous situation she’s found herself. All this shit caused by some other version of herself that she created, that situation plus all the other shit going down at Lumon is probably alot. And it just all bubbles up inside her. And when she’s given even the smallest opportunity to let anything out, she’s going to take it.

Idk it’s therapeutic in a way I guess.

She’s unfiltered, blunt, and almost carefree in a way that’s shocking almost unsettling. It’s clearly how she sees Helly to some degree, but also her own need to scratch an itch she’s never dared to before. And even though it’s an act of “Helly”, it still leaves a clear aftertaste of Helena.

Keep thinking about these two little moments whilst she’s making her jokes she not only keeps checking on mark’s reaction but also seems to laugh at her self in a way that just seems so genuine almost self deprecating. She acknowledges the ridiculousness of her situation and this dumb ass story she’s probably heard a million times

In my last post about Severance, I mentioned that Helena is the master of speaking her truth without outright saying it. She hides behind walls, but as Helly, she’s free to speak without restraint.

(Also her having sex with mark is a clear way of her expressing this new found freedom with in her role as helly but ima talk about that later)

[lazysoulwriter]

My Man, My Rules - Rafe Cameron

There was a fight. Of course, there was a fight.

Because Rafe Cameron couldn’t go one week without being knee-deep in some rich-kid drama.

And as usual, it all started with some guy looking at him the wrong way. Or maybe breathing too close. Or—God forbid—standing within a five-foot radius of her.

So now, here he was, blood dripping from his nose, shirt torn at the collar, grinning like he just won a championship fight, while his friends stood around awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

She, on the other hand, was livid.

“Oh, great. Just fucking great,” she started, storming up to him. “Again, Rafe? You really have one brain cell, and you let Topper borrow it for the night, huh?”

“Baby—”

“No.” She raised a finger, effectively shutting him up. “I swear to God, Cameron, if you get into one more fight, I will personally beat your ass myself.”

The entire party went silent.

Kelce let out a low whistle. Topper looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Even the guy Rafe had just fought—some dude from Chapel Hill who probably just wanted a beer—was staring like he had just witnessed something far more terrifying than Rafe Cameron’s right hook.

Rafe, though? He just looked amused.

“You done?” he asked, licking his busted lip.

She stepped closer, grabbing his face with both hands. “Oh, I am not done. In fact, I’m just getting started. Because you know what, Rafe? You’re mine. My man. And that means I get to decide if you’re allowed to get your dumb ass into fights.”

He blinked. “I’m… not allowed?”

“That’s right,” she snapped. “Not. Allowed. What the fuck do you think this is? Some fight club for trust fund babies? No, sir. We are done with this. From now on, I make the rules. You got a problem with someone? You tell me. You feel like punching someone? You tell me. You wanna get your knuckles bloody? I will find you a punching bag, Rafe Cameron, but it will NOT be at a fucking country club party.”

Rafe looked at her for a long second. Then, he smirked. “Kinda hot when you boss me around like that.”

She groaned, letting go of his face only to smack the back of his head. “Are you hearing me? You are banned from fighting. BANNED.”

“Banned?”

“BANNED.”

“…Like, for life?”

“Oh my fucking God—”

She turned to the crowd, gesturing wildly. “Does ANYONE else want to tell this idiot what I’m saying before I lose my mind?”

Kelce coughed. “I think she means you’re not supposed to fight anymore, bro.”

Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Kelce—”

She grabbed his chin again, forcing him to look at her. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

His smirk softened just a little. “Yeah, baby. I understand.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you really?”

“I do.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “I promise.”

She squinted, trying to decide if she believed him. Finally, she sighed and wiped some blood off his cheek with her sleeve. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I am cute,” he agreed. “And strong. And—”

“Do not make me take it back, Cameron.”

He grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

She sighed dramatically but let him pull her away. “Fine. But if I ever catch you fighting again—”

“I know, I know. You’ll beat my ass.”

“Damn right, I will.”

Rafe smirked, tugging her even closer. “My scary little girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “And don’t you forget it.”

[earnest-jumping]

Helloooo so I couldn't help myself and had to write a (semi-small, 2000+ word) fic to go along with this. I hope that is ok!

Fic under the cut:

Mornings in the Wachowski household were a production.

Of course, that wasn’t to say nighttimes weren’t a production. Wrangling three super powered kids to bed was a circus all of its own. 

But mornings? Mornings were their own ballgame. Shadow remembers the first one he’d been a part of. The false sense of security in waking to find Maddie the only other conscious member of the household, busy fixing coffee and eggs. Eyes taking in cups of juice that sat beside plates piled high with bacon and waffles. 

“Might as well get a plate and enjoy the silence,” she’d instructed, gesturing with the spatula she was using to scramble eggs, “while you can.”

His forkful of waffle had been halfway to his mouth when the morning had started with a bang. Knuckles above them, beginning his day by jumping from his bed and doing pushups. Then Tails, loudly complaining the echidna had woken him up-

And Sonic, already a chatterbox from the minute his mind drifted back to consciousness.

But even in the middle of all the chaos, there seemed to be some balance. Tom and Maddie above it all, stern but good-natured. Theatrics that never truly went too far. The easy and almost practiced way in which syrup, salt, and jugs for refilling juice all got passed from hand to hand. 

Easy. 

He should be used to it by now. 

So when Shadow wakes on the trundle bed pulled from beneath Sonic’s racecar bed just for him, an odd fluttery something filling him from the sounds of everyone already up and making a racket downstairs? He doesn’t like it.

He’s grateful the distance from the attic to the kitchen is enough to muffle the noise. He couldn’t imagine immediately waking to whatever was currently taking place at full volume.

I’ll just wait here a little longer, he thinks. Just until it calms down.

—

Twenty minutes go by, and it does not calm down. Shadow heaves a sigh as he pushes himself to sitting up.

The mishmash of blankets and sheets that had tangled around him are rubbing his fur the wrong way, and-

Elmo had fallen off the edge of the bed.

Hands dart out to rescue his red-furred stuffie from the floor next to the trundle. Elmo’d landed face down, a slight squish to his stitched grin. And yeah, maybe he was just stuffing and stitching. But that same fluttery feeling in him has Shadow’s emotions in a muddled mess, and he’d dropped his stuffie, his friend, his first really, truly his possession since his return to some semblance of normal life- on. the. floor.

Sorry. He thinks, smoothing a fist in circles over his chest. Sorry for dropping you. Sorry for being careless.

Elmo says nothing. Just continues looking at him with his ever-patient smile. 

It’s okay. The smile says back. It wasn’t on purpose. Elmo forgives Shadow.

Another raucous laugh drags the hedgehog from his conversation, the clinking of metal on ceramics an adjoining melody to the hollow growl of his stomach. He’s hungry. Sleeping in was nice while it lasted, but he needed food.

Maybe he could snag a bit of the french toast he smells in the air, before it goes soggy. It’s this goal that gets him finally untangling from the mess of fabric he’s lost in, one hand keeping hold of Elmo the entire way down the attic ladder and to the first floor landing.

“-because when he finally, I mean finally got to the end of the doors, he found probably the best and coolest secret in the whole universe!” Tom was narrating, waving an apple in one hand for emphasis. His boys are clustered around, leaning in over their plates to hang on to every word.

“What was it? What treasure did he behold at the end of his quest?” Knuckles urged him, attention nowhere near the open door frame Shadow hovered in. 

Tails’ ear twitched. “It’s got to be really cool if it was behind so many different doors.” 

“Tell us!” Sonic cried, french toast-topped fork flinging little drops of syrup towards his father. 

Tom’s grin took on a sharp edge while he leaned back in his chair. “Well, y’know, you’re not part of the monks, so I can’t tell you.”

“No way!”

“How could you- that story was so long!”

Knuckles threw himself back in his chair, arms crossing. “I admire the adherence to the monk’s code of honor, Father Donut. But I am blindsided by your deceit!”

Shadow watched the way Tom cackled, proud of himself for his long-winded joke. Gloved hands squeezed Elmo to his chest while he shuffled further into the kitchen.

“Oh, man- you only get to tell that joke to someone for the first time once. I can’t believe I forgot to use it until now!”

“I can’t believe you’re still stuck on a joke you heard in your sixth grade science class.” Maddie quipped from her spot leant against the countertops, hands cupping a lopsided, handmade mug painted varying shades of purple and pink.

Sonic groaned while stuffing his mouth with more french toast. The scene is so very homey, so domestic and comforting, but Shadow still can’t shake this squirming in his chest. 

He moves a bit further into the room, and finally eyes find his own. 

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead.” Tom chirps, moving his chair over a bit to make room for Shadow to fit in between him and Sonic. 

Instead of taking it, Shadow looks down at the head of Elmo. That same smile is peeking back at him, reassuring and gentle. 

Already, there are multiple hands trading serving spoons and offering helpings of whatever is on the table to be ladled onto a new plate. Tom is busying himself with pouring a new cup of juice to set at the spot made for him.

Sonic is opening his mouth to speak, hand holding a fork speared through with a new piece of french toast. Then he actually looks over to Shadow, and the ebony hedgehog watches eyes track down his face to land on the vibrant red friend in his arms.

The squirming feeling intensifies for only a moment. Shadow stands in a stalemate, unable to make himself move as he watches flickers of confusion and surprise roll like a wave over his blue counterpart’s features.

Finally, he raises one of Elmo’s paws. His fingers help it to wiggle side to side in a happy wave. 

Elmo says good morning to Shadow’s friends!

The rest of the family continues on their morning routine around them. Sonic’s brows smooth out from their confused furrow, then raise in understanding.

“Good morning, Elmo.” He calls, attention drifting just long enough to place the french toast onto the plate he’s finishing making for Shadow.

That attention turns right back to the two of them, standing in the middle of the kitchen as Shadow’s squirmy feeling settles into a low fuzziness. Sonic’s tail gives a lazy wiggle behind him to match Shadow’s energetic one.

To their credit, the rest of the room only manages a small hiccup in their routine before choruses of Good Morning Elmo! and Hi Elmo follows behind Sonic.

Only then does Shadow’s feet unglue from their spot on the tile, pushed forward by another growl in his tummy and the smiles sent his and Elmo’s way. The chair he settles in is big enough to cross his legs in, so he uses the lap space to sit Elmo in, upright and facing the table.

He turns his head to share a smile with Sonic to his left, who mouths another ‘good morning’ at him.

“We can cut up an apple for Elmo, right, Maddie?” Sonic requests, eyes big and pleading. One of his hands has wiggled its way to holding onto Shadow’s pinky, the touch firm but yielding in case it wasn’t wanted.

“As long as Elmo promises not to waste it or make a mess.” Maddie responds right away, looking to the little stuffie in her son’s friend’s lap with a raised brow. Shadow thinks for only a moment, then motions the monster to nod his head in agreement. 

“One apple in slices, coming right up.” Maddie acquiesces, moving to do just that after dropping a kiss to Tom’s head on her way past.

—

Once bellies have been sufficiently filled, and Tom has done his rounds of good-byes and gone to work, Maddie gets started on the dishes with the explicit instruction for the boys to ‘play nice and give her some space’ until at least ten thirty. With that in mind, the Wachowski boys lead Shadow and Elmo out into the backyard so they can show off their blueprints and plans for a treehouse structure spanning three sycamores. 

The woods behind the house are huge, they explain with enthusiasm, and are perfect for a base of operations for all kinds of mischief.

“And as training grounds for our recruits, eventually.” Knuckles adds, tapping at the space he’d mapped out in marker for a climbing wall and obstacle course.

Shadow gives a nod, unsure where these recruits would come from or what they would even be for. The idea looks interesting, at least.

“Y’know, we can add a space for you, too. Give you a room in one of the treehouses.” Sonic offers, picking up a red marker to do just that. Shadow’s nodding grows more enthusiastic, moving his hand to get Elmo to join in on the action.

“Can I ask-“ Tails begins, voice steady but awkward, “Shadow, why’re you bringing Elmo everywhere today?”

“I am wondering that as well. Could it be related to the vow of silence you have chosen to partake in?” Knuckles joins, hands at his hips. Eyes dart between the hedgehog and the monster he was keeping propped up to look like he was sitting on the picnic table.

Shadow’s stomach fills again with the squirming feeling. He’s ready to slide Elmo off the table and into his lap to cradle, or maybe even put away completely, when Sonic speaks up.

“It’s ‘cause I’m the best gift giver and he can’t contain how much he totally loves it. Plus, who doesn’t like soft and fluffy things? Right, Shadow?”

Yeah? Yeah, maybe that was it. Having Elmo around just kind of helped, today. Like as long as he could keep the fluffy monster at his side, he would be alright. Even not talking was okay, if Elmo could do it for him.

Elmo thinks it’s nice to take some time to be quiet for yourself, every once in a while. The smiling stuffie coos to him. Shadow plays with the soft arms, waving them up and down a few times before making him nod their agreement. 

Tails looks unconvinced, but a single look from Sonic has him bending back over his blueprints with his green marker. “You never got me a super nice present like that.” 

“Nonsense! You were very enthusiastic about the miniature train building device Sonic gifted you for the holiday tradition of gift-giving!” Knuckles argued, “You spent many hours on many days piecing together the delicate metalwork!”

“A stuffed animal would be nice, too.”

“Then perhaps I shall gift you one for your naming day! I will have our matriarch take me on a day when you are not with us, so it will be a surprise!”

Shadow tunes them out after that, content to run his hands over the soft fuzz on Elmo’s back like he was calming an upset child. Elmo didn’t mind. Elmo never minded if he was a little too squished in a hug, or if Shadow needed to squeeze his arm tight when his chest was too warm or his head felt too loud, like now.

“Hey.” 

Sonic’s voice pulls him back, free hand wrapped in his to squeeze him back into his brain. “You know you don’t gotta be embarrassed or anything, right? You can carry Elmo and not talk if you wanna.”

I know. Shadow mouths, squeezing back once before taking his hand back. 

“Good.” Sonic nods in approval, some tension ebbing out of his shoulders. “And Tails and Knuckles didn’t mean to make you feel that way, or get you upset. Sometimes they just let their mouths run ahead of their brains if they’re curious about somethin’.”

Only Tails and Knuckles? 

Shadow quirks a brow, making Sonic duck his head and laugh. “Okay, me too. But trust me, it’s all good.”

Friends that care about each other ask lots of questions to learn more about their friends! Elmo does it all the time.

Shadow brings the stuffed monster to his cheek, letting the threads of his smile brush over the fur there in soft back-and-forth motions. The squirmy feeling finally leaves again, and he settles Elmo back into his lap just as Knuckles and Tails are busy bickering over where they would put the ziplines.

“Do you wanna hear a joke?” Sonic asks, eyes glued to Elmo when Shadow turns his head to look at him.

A joke? Shadow tilts Elmo’s head up, bead eyes looking at his. A joke would be nice. It might be better than sitting listening to treehouse plans that he can’t contribute to.

Elmo loves jokes and laughing!

Both of them turn to Sonic, nodding. The blue hedgehog breaks into a wild grin, body moving on the picnic bench to fully face the two of them. 

“Okay, so there’s this monk place, right? And a guy’s car has broken down there a bunch, and every time he sees these monks going in and out of a secret door-“

The chatter over treehouses grinds to a halt, and twin groans interrupt Sonic’s story.

“You’re not telling it right! And it’s called a monastery-“

“Perhaps we should wait for Father Donut to tell it.” Knuckles offers, though the idea is immediately forgotten, and they all begin an easy trade off of bits and pieces in a story about a man, monks, and a secret behind an alarming number of doors.

 Shadow’s face twitches into a smile as he listens, arms wrapped tight around Elmo as they both settle in to listen.

------

Ahhhh I really hope you liked it! Selectively mute, autistic Shadow is SUCH a relatable character and his attachment to Elmo is such a mood and so cute.

N.E. Ways, tysm for your beautiful art !

Okay, another small thing for Shadow being the biggest Elmo fan.

[hitlikehammers]

Rockstar!Eddie Leaves What He Had With Steve Behind in Hawkins 💔 to Chase His Dreams 🎸

(so why is it that he’s back in Steve’s bed Hawkins every couple months for ‘very pressing reasons’ that are straining Steve’s heart honestly anything but? 🫤❤️‍🩹🥺)

NOTE: this was originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo AGES ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because something for the @steddielovemonth is going to be posted soon that is a standalone in its universe, but also very much a sequel to it ♥️

Steve really does try not to think about it in terms of…time.

Maybe that’s foolish. It’s mostly denial. Lots of it isn’t reliable anyway: the score his body keeps isn’t accurate, war-time left over from too many near-misses with a fucking alternate dimension but the popping in his joints and the ringing in his ears and the white hair he pulled out of his scalp and stared blankly at in the sink for a good twenty minutes: those are real things, but they don’t chart the passage of days, of hours, months and fucking years with any real meaning.

It’s been four years. Roughly. Depending on what the start point is. Whether it’s that Spring Break. Whether it’s the first winter. Or the spring after, when Robin begged him to go with her—there’s still time. She still begs, because they still talk given the thread inside them stays tied unbreakable to one another, oblivious to miles between. Maybe it’s measuring from the graduations, the kids—only Erica’s left at Hawkins High, now, though Steve gets calls from the whole bunch of them, Eleven the most, which was maybe surprising, then it’s a good split between Dustin and Will, another surprise. Max calls enough but her calls are calls, with a weight most of the others lack. Lucas’s calls aren’t super frequent but always long, mostly because he talks around the point forever, whatever the point happens to be. Even Mike usually ends up on the other end of the line once a month. It’s…that could be where the time starts from.

Or it could be the summer, that first summer. The one that taught Steve what it was to have a heart just to fucking break it.

Could be that. Impossible to say.

(It’s been 3 years, 7 months, and 14 days. Steve had only counted in retrospect, in the wreckage left behind, because while he’d known there was a deadline in it, to it all, he’d thought he could be enough. That he could change a mind. He’d thought…

Foolish things. Bullshit. Didn’t matter. Could be any fucking date.)

But since the point's come up, and it’s front of Steve’s mind, his least favorite (most favorite) place to find it: he hadn’t expected it. Robin liked to say she saw the signs but. Steve hadn’t watched it happen in slow motion because there wasn’t a single goddamn slow thing about it. Which was…for whatever it was worth, Steve knew falling fast and hard and with everything he was had maybe failed him every time, thus far, but at least he knows that for him?

That means it’s real. He’s all in. He might not be met equal on the other side of the equation—hadn’t been yet, maybe wouldn’t be ever, but he wasn’t having any luck trying to fucking change that fact so, learning to work with what he had was the best he could do. And he had love. He’d never been able to name it to himself so far: not before, and certainly never since. But.

Figuring out the sexuality thing had been a not-bathroom-but-definitely-floor talk on the shitty Family Video carpet sometime around November of ‘85. Slow days, idle comments, and Robin’s suspiciously-but-reliably-gentle-when-the-need-was-dire hand to his shoulder to say no, no: actually wanting to kiss people of any gender wasn’t really…the default Steve had always expected it had to be. How could anyone look at, say, Harrison Ford and not think, oh yeah, I would at least suck his face?

Turned out probably at least half the people on the planet. As in the straight guys and the lesbians. Steve had spent the majority of three days on that disgusting fucking carpet, open to close, popping up to ask Robin if she was sure because what about—

She was sure. And eventually, through a couple of needs for deep breathing and a handful of assurances that it was okay to cry—he appreciated that, but he kept the crying to his room after these long-ass shifts and if Robin stayed for some of those times, that was because she was half his head, half his heart, and she knew what he was going to do sometimes before he did.

They did end up on the floor of his bathroom, a clean one for once, at one point. Maybe because they both held to tradition. Maybe because Steve had largely come to terms with the mindfuck of yet another piece of his world, his self unravelling and rewriting itself, and thought the vodka in his dad’s liquor cabinet was a good way to celebrate. The label was entirely in Russian and Robin had been practicing on hers, said she was pretty sure it was the good shit.

Sometimes you can drink enough of the best shit on an empty stomach, though, and still spew the whole of it up.

Steve sometimes does think he drinks his dad’s best liquor that way on purpose, though. Delightful going down and yeah, it sucks to chuck it up but. The idea that it’s ultimately wasted feels…right.

Anyway: Steve had settled with it all by New Year's, and while he’d hosted the rugrats who could only blabber about their latest campaign with their epic DM, and he’d kissed Robin when the clock turned, well. It felt like a new start, a fresh page.

Something that had the chance at being a good thing.

And nothing much happened in the two-and-a-half-months that followed save for finally catching a glimpse of the D&D god who ran their little club while he was idling in his car to pick up the shitheads, this legendary DM who did not make Steve jealous one tiny bit and who was cool and was edgy and was so fuckin’ cool, Steve, did we tell you got cool he is?! and Steve had said language as monotone as he could before he squinted as out came all the metal and the ink and he’d said your club president dude is Eddie goddamn Munson and he should have kept his mouth shut because the amount of talking that ensued left him with a headache the size of Montana; but.

That was really all that happened until about…mid-March.

Then Spring Break happened.

It could be argued Eddie and Steve grew close enough to pass the acquaintances benchmark, ended up as at least tentative friends on top of necessary battle mates as early as the Upside Down. Whatever reason Eddie gave, he jumped in after Steve. Whatever speech Steve landed on, he didn’t want Dustin orEddie hurt.

It could be argued Steve wasn’t paying attention and didn’t stop in time and landed in the land of Tentative Friends You Wouldn’t Mind Added Benefits With after the…at least after the way Eddie leaned in close and his lips we so red and he called Steve big boy and…

Yeah.

When Steve carries what may or may not be Eddie’s still fucking corpse out of the Upside Down—he can’t tell, every time he tries to check again his own heart's too loud, his own breaths too shaky—but by then, they’re family. Bound in blood. Steve would die for him, like the others. He won’t let him die, if he can fucking help it.

Between him and Max, Steve almost crashes, breaks. Steve’s there when Max’s fingers twitch and he laughs with tears in his eyes and hands over hands and tells her he loves her and he’s sorry and he’s there, tries to talk around the letter he opened and resealed without evidence because Steve knows some tricks too, okay, and her words had broken him but now he could live up to what she thought she was leaving behind, could make sure she had every goddamn thing she thought she was giving up in spades, to roll around in in abundance. He was going to take care of her, whatever she needed. Whatever it took.

Her lips had quirked and the doctors called coincidence, don’t get your hopes up but; Steve knew Max. That was all her.

And there were more tears, he let her fucking feel them; he fucking hoped she’d notice, and remember, and give him so much shit.

Eddie takes longer, pulls out of the woods enough to exhale a few days later, and the way Steve slips out to find the hospital chapel, the only goddamn place he won’t be found by anyone he knows, and bawls his goddamn eyes out?

It’s family, and it’s love because it’s family but…it’s been so quick. It’s been intense, and that probably speeds it along but…

Shit. Shit.

That’s when Steve knows he sets a new goddamn record for himself and falls hard and heavy and stupidin, like, a week and change. Jesus Christ.

It’s in the recovery that they build something though. Something that’s not trauma or terror or the threat of imminent death. Steve spends most of his hours between two hospital rooms listening to progress reports and taking notes and the kids gravitate toward Max—Dustin would have been the outlier but Steve knows he’s not ready, and so he gives his own updates just to his brother when he drives him home after visiting hours—but that means Steve’s Eddie’s most common conversation partner. They talk about bullshit. Steve defends a-ha to the last breath he has. Eddie’s rendered speechless for a second and then frantic when challenged to pick his favorite band. Again when it’s his favorite song, from his favorite band. And again when it’s his favorite song of any song, ever at all. Steve's heart swells in the watching. He’s foolish enough to bask in the glittering of Eddie’s eyes when Steve indulges in talking, scene by scene as guided by the master in the bed beside him, about what his opinions on Star Wars really were. And then guided by no one, just invited to share what his opinions are on the last movie he saw and loved: which was Weird Science, the last movie he watched in a theatre because he and Robin had gone to face their fear or some shit after Starcourt and it was easier than he’d expected. Eddie listens, and nods, and asks if they can rent it when he’s out, before making sure to add  but you should really have a new choice like, eight months later, man, you work at a video store.

Steve was mostly just focused on Eddie more than implying, of his own volition, that he wanted to have a movie night.

Eddie’s released before Max, largely for mobility reasons, so they both go to visit her now. Robin’s put on the night shift when they schedule their movie night and Steve immediately moves to reschedule but she says no, she’s seen it, make Eddie suffer this time. So it’s just them.

They sit closer than they have to, on the couch.

And it’s little things that build from there. Max’s physical therapy is a government secret, like some fancy space-age protocol that has real hopes to put her on her feet again so she needs a ride, and while they could take turns, Steve and Eddie just take turns as to which vehicle they hop into to drive her. They stay when she needs them—not when she asks because she’s Max and she never asks—but it ends up three days a week back and forth and during: together.

And a lot of nights, for a movie or a smoke or a nightmare or a pulled stitch before they’re all taken out: together.

And shifts where Steve doesn’t even bother to bring his own lunch because Eddie Munson, unpredictable and wholly forgetful super-super senior—who Nancy and Hopper and most of all Joyce convinced the School would be finishing his final senior year at home save for tests, and only that once he was cleared by his doctors—that Eddie Munson brought Steve something every single time he worked. A burger, a chili dog, chicken fucking nuggets. A PB&J clearly homemade and cut diagonal.

So yeah. It starts out how it does when Steve’s in trouble. But it builds like…Steve’s never known before.

They kiss in May. Maybe so that it’s not their first, and a total cliche, when Steve kisses him for graduation behind the bleachers.

The sleep together after graduation, high on the thrill of it, and that’s maybe a cliche but Steve could not give a shit less.

And then they're EddieandSteve, only to find out they have been for a while; and this is just something a little deeper, a little bit more.

In ways that mean everything.

Looking back, Steve knows Eddie never minced words about his plan to leave Hawkins in the fall. With a mixtape and a prayer if I have to, Stevie-boy, he’d said once even, and Steve had laughed.

He’d fucking laughed.

So he’d known.

But July bleeds into August and Steve…Steve’s in love, okay, for real in a way that he’s never felt before. Right in a way he’s never felt before. He kinda just…overlooks it. Because Eddie seems to be at least on the same wavelength. Touches him first, reaches for him first: wants him. Looks at him with not just desire or attraction but…something no one’s ever looked at Steve with before.

And so he hopes. More than hopes.

But when Eddie starts packing, Steve can’t breathe.

He buys a set of luggage and goes home to start the same, has half of his not-excessive possessions shoved in when he realizes:

He’s not invited. Eddie’s never asked him to come.

Looking back, he’s afraid he wasted too much of those last weeks. Scared of giving too much away, the hurt from so many sides and the heartache that’s already taking root, but also: the way he clings, but tries not to make it obvious.

Fuck; but of course it was gonna be obvious, and how much energy did he waste, how many opportunities slipped by, because Steve was trying not to give away that Eddie leaving—to get away from a town that hated him, to try and make a real go with his music, to be anywhere without Steve so he could live out the dreams that predated Steve, that Steve had no place in—to try not to give away that all of it; it’d fucking destroy him.

Steve doesn’t know, to this day, how he stood and let Eddie kiss him breathless out the driver-side window, how he waved until Eddie was out of sight. He doesn’t know.

Kind of like he doesn’t know how he fucking keeps doing it.

Eddie throws tapes to every radio station with Van Halen or other top-played bands written on the insert in sharpie like that gives nothing away, and sneaks a demo in every underpaid delivery boy’s hands to record executives as he drives to the West Coast, sends Steve postcards what seems like has to be every goddamn day, filled up with his rambling until there’s no space left, has to draw lines around Steve’s address to make it clear where the damn thing’s going lest it get confused. Like they’re SteveandEddie still. Like only…only the things that changed after graduation are gone.

Steve sobs after about a month of it all, grateful and resentful, hateful and still so goddamn full of love it’s sickening. Literally, it makes him feel nauseous. He…

He keeps every postcard.

When one of them comes to say some idiot in San Francisco accidentally played Corroded Coffin on what’s apparently an important station, and Eddie got a letter in response from one of the labels, he says he’s coming back for the boys, they need to be ready. Steve knows he’s not one of the boys, but.

Eddie wouldn’t have told Steve he was coming if it wouldn’t matter to Steve. And maybe Eddie wasn’t in love with him anymore, maybe never was in love with him.

But he’d be lying if he said he thought Eddie didn’t love him. In a different way. A…you-don’t-get-to-come-with-me-but-I’d-still-want-to-see-you-when-I-stop-back kind of way.

And Steve…Steve’s not a fucking monk or anything. But even Robin doesn’t try to push him when he finally just tells her what he feels, lovesick and pathetic as it is:

I gave everything I had to someone else, and it’d be different if I wanted to back, to give again, but…I don’t.

I don’t want it back, not from him. Not if any part of him, wants to keep any part of it.

And because she’s Robin, she knows he means something else when he says ‘it’. And because she’s Robin? She’d push if she thought it was worth it.

She just holds him, and that’s really the best thing he could ask for.

But it becomes a thing. The boys go with Eddie, and they record new shit to impress...whoever. And they do. They come back for Halloween, because Eddie loves it. The label’s dragging its feet, but they’re not deterred, they’re energized. They come back for Thanksgiving because Wayne loves it—except he doesn’t, Steve knows that, Wayne actually hates trying to make a bird and Eddie had lamented more than once that they ended up with lunchmeat cut into cubes one year when Wayne was particularly frustrated with the process. They go out East, and try a few studios in New York. They come back for Christmas.

Eddie spends most of his time with Steve. Steve doesn’t fucking fight that; wants it…like…

There’s nothing to compare how he wants it to. Nothing exists that fits.

Eddie spends most of the time that he spends with Steve, though?

In Steve’s bed.

And here’s the thing: Steve had a decent amount of experience to compare to, but once they’d fallen into a rhythm, got past the awkward bits, the learning curve? Sex with Eddie had been a goddamn revelation. Not just because he was a man—after he’d left, Steve had forced himself to try, and dispelled that possibility quick as hell—and now?

Now, it’s like they never stopped. Every fucking time, it’s like they never stopped.

Steve’s not surprised in the slightest that he remembers every give and tell of Eddie’s body—of course he goddamn does—but that Eddie doesn’t miss a beat in touching, sucking, licking, worshippingSteve’s? That’s insane. That’s…

Unexpected. Every time it’s unexpected and every time Steve’s shown he wasn’t forgotten when he probably should have been. Eddie’s building a life that doesn’t include him.

He’ll only get in the way.

But Steve is selfish and stubborn and maybe it’s often, like almost strangely so, but it’s only a week or two at a go so he tells himself he’s allowed. He tells himself that it felt like making love in the beginning because Steve was in love, and that it still feels exactly the same because Steve…Steve never stopped.

Steve is still just as goddamn in love.

So yeah. Steve sleeps with Eddie and it’s like…it’s like rationed air. He gets a regular taste and he gets to keep breathing.

And it’s okay. Probably more then. Because he gets Eddie—even a little bit. Even just in scraps. When he has Eddie?

He has him, even for moments that were never made to last.

It’s Easter, this time. The band put out their first record in January. It’s doing really well. Eddie’s over the moon. Someone called about a magazine cover for a publication in Cleveland that’s apparently kind of a big deal, Alt..something. Steve will buy every copy in a fucking 100-mile radius. 200 miles. 500—

It’s Easter. Eddie didn’t lament not celebrating it after Spring Break in ‘86 but he’s back every year now. And if it’s just…come to mean something, or maybe did then and circumstances won out against it? Steve will be here. Steve will be comfort and a reprieve or a hot as hell romp with a familiar body, Steve will…

Yeah. Steve will do whatever’s needed. Wanted. Anything.

Pathetic.

But so much better than nothing.

Case in point: they’re both naked, sweat mostly dried, sharing a joint and it’s comfortable. It’s quiet and gentle and put up against sitting alone on a weeknight, not with Eddie?

It’s heaven.

“So when’s the dream happening?”

Steve looks cross-eyed toward his lips; he hasn’t smoked this thing long enough to have heard wrong. He squints up at Eddie, whose chest he’s laid out on, confused. Offers him the smoke but he waves it away.

“The dream?” Steve asks finally, when Eddie doesn’t seem to want to answer on his own.

Eddie looks at him weird. Not weird for its own sake but like: like he’s staring into him, and then like he’s disbelieving, but then also like he’s seeing him for the first time.

That kind of weird.

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Eddie answers like it’s obvious. “White picket fence. Little nuggets.” He spreads his hands as wide as possible without tossing Steve from where he lies. “See the sights.”

And Steve’s response is immediate. Doesn’t even require a thought.

He laughs. Like, ugly-laughs.

“Man,” he shakes his head as he catches his breath, and passes the joint off this time with purpose, not an offer or a choice as he snorts a little; “that’s not the dream.”

When Eddie doesn’t grab the smoke, Steve finally looks up. Eddie…

Eddie looks like what Steve’s always struggled to understand the word ‘poleaxed’ to mean. He thinks it might be this.

He looks…like something stuck him through the gut. Slapped him silly across the face.

“What d’ya mean?” And it’s just three words, one that’s a cheat, and he says it slow enough to take an age.

Steve breathes out, and then, if he’s gonna be honest, and if he has to keep holding the damn thing anyway, decides to take another drag before speaking:

“Figured out what the dream was, inside the dream,” Steve says, wondering if he’ll get away with the vagary; knowing he won’t.

“All we see or seem?” Eddie jokes a little, but it falls flat, his tone eerily kinda…strained but hollow.

“I like poetry.” Steve smiles up at him, soft, and offers the joint again straight to Eddie’s lips. He takes it this time.

“It was about family. It was about stability, not,” Steve shakes his head, stops talking half-assed around the lungful he’s holding, and lets it out slow; “not in a place, fuck, not in a house, but,” a person he doesn’t say, but he hears it in his head; “it was about sharing it.”

And that's it. That’s the simplest, most straightforward truth. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything complicated, or offensive in it. Hard to swallow. Even if he’s come to terms with it. Is mostly at peace with it.

Which is why it’s weird, that Eddie feels suddenly rigid beneath him.

So Steve turns, and braces his hand on Eddie's chest for balance, and frowns when he doesn’t even have to push down to feel the way his heart’s a fucking riot.

“What?” Steve asks, gentle; Eddie’s face is a portrait of conflict, of distress and Steve can’t fucking figure out why, they just came like four times between them and are sharing some very nice Cali weed—they’re nestled close, they’re together, it’s…

Eddie’s quiet, his breath disconcertingly steady for how his pulse pounds, and then he breathes out slow before covering his face:

“I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I already have, so,” he mutters, dejected for reasons Steve can’t even guess, then he laughs, humorless, shakes his head:

“Let me try, I guess.”

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, until:

“I’ve been in love with you forever.”

Steve thinks the world stops. His heart does, at least. Suspended. Silent so he doesn’t miss a syllable.

“And I told myself,” Eddie bites at his lip, worries at the bottom swell; “end of that summer, from the very first, I said: don’t ask him to come with you, even if it breaks your heart,” and oh god, oh god after all this time: Steve doesn’t think he’s projecting to hear the genuinely broken heart in those words for just remembering.

“Don’t ask him to settle, you’re not even in the same universe of what he wants,” fuck, what lies Eddie’s saying; did he believe them? Has he always—“what he needs.”

But Eddie is everything he needs, always was, will always be—

“You’ll never have the picket fence. You can’t give him his nuggets. You should never be trusted to park a Winnebago.”

They could have had a shitty studio apartment. They could have had the kids in college. They could have run the BMW until it died, or sold it to put toward a better van for equipment. They could have—

“You’re selfish, Munson, you’re a rat fucking bastard but,” Eddie’s still going, heart still hammering under Steve’s touch even as Eddie swallows hard and fails to smile, looks ill with the attempt like it hurts to try: “you love him too much for that.”

Oh. Oh god.

“It didn’t break my heart, though,” Eddie clears his throat and glances away, to the ceiling, eyes too bright: oh fuck; “broke my goddamn soul,” and a tear falls, and Steve can’t help but wipe it away, and kiss the track. Even just once.

So he does.

“When I saw you again that first time back,” Eddie starts again, voice rougher and shakier as he reaches a hand for Steve’s. “I could have asked the boys to fly out, the execs offered, but,” and this time, the attempt to grin is more successful, like a weight’s lifted from it: “and you smiled at me, it felt like,” and when he shakes his head this time it’s for disbelief, but the kind that comes with awe; “and when we slotted back together like we’d never been apart, it was…”

Eddie’s voice trails, but it cracks at the end—Steve doesn’t know which does more to stop his words.

He’s grateful, relieved, when they come back. He’s powerless but to give when Eddie touches his cheek so gentle and breathes:

“And I had to tell myself again, and again,” he murmurs, stroking Steve’s skin like he’s precious: “you love him too much to take his dream away from him.”

“What did it matter?” Steve can’t help but ask, no malice in it, just the need to understand. “You had your dream, you have—“

They have a contract. They have an album climbing the charts. They’re not just on their way—they’re there. The only next step is to get bigger, and bigger, and—

“Dreams within dreams, wasn’t it?” Eddie murmurs close to Steve’s cheek, where maybe he’s pressing to be close, or maybe he’s hiding a little, so Steve strokes his hair because he can either way and relishes how Eddie leans, melts into it like always. “Inside the dream?”

Steve nods, more to encourage more words. More Eddie.

“Break my dream open and there’s you with me, every step,” Eddie whispers, his lips warm on Steve’s skin. “Break my heart open, same damn thing,” and that causes Steve to shudder, and his heart to pick up now, too. “Both just kinda crumble if you take out the center.”

Steve can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wants to. Doesn’t think they’re lies. It’s just, he…

“Those,” Steve tries to speak but his voice cracks; he clears his throat and kicks his lips while he tucks Eddie into his neck, under his chin: “those would be good lyrics.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head and nuzzles Steve’s throat with the motion and this can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening, can it?

“No, those words were only ever meant just for you.”

And Eddie kisses the pulse point close to his mouth and holds there, like a sentry and a miser, and holy shit.

Holy shit.

“And I don’t know,” Eddie’s saying more, but it’s pitchy, thready, like he’s barely holding the words together at all; “I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or convenience, or routine,” his voice breaks again and the sob’s in the word when it comes even if it’s not streaming down on his cheeks: “pity,” and no, no, not fucking ever, how—

“I was never your dream then, and I don’t even know if I can be your inside-dream now, and,” Eddie’s rambling, and he does that when he’s desperate, when he’s overwhelmed and overfull with feeling—and Steve knows that. Steve knows that about him.

Steve knows. Better than he knows himself, Steve still knows him.

“I just want the world for you,” Eddie whispers, stroking up and down Steve’s jaw; “my sweetheart. My sunshine,” he smiles so real and soft and Steve melts, like the heart in his chest starts spilling through his ribs, warm and liquid: “you deserve more than the world, more than fuckin’ me and I,” Eddie shakes his head again, more this time like he’s stopping himself, like it’s a defense mechanism and Steve reaches for his cheeks, broad palms on either side to hold him still because…he doesn’t want Eddie to stop.

Ever.

“Did I ruin it?” Eddie breathes, and barely at that, eyes so wide and swimming and oh, god; “did I—"

And Steve can’t help it. He can’t help but kiss him with all he’s got, even if it couldn’t be all Eddie’s worth in all the world. Steve can’t contain all that Eddie’s worth.

But he can give everything, because this is the man who already has it.

“What the hell was I supposed to be to a rockstar?” Steve tries to talk through his own tight throat, his own growing smile, his own threat of tears bubbling close to the surface. “How the fuck was I ever going to measure up, ever do anything but hold you back when you could have—“

“I come back to you, for you,” Eddie answers immediate; it’s not what Steve’s asking but he won’t lie and say he didn’t want to know, at least a little. “The handful of times I’ve tried,” Eddie shakes his head once now, definitive; “I have always left my everything with you.”

The idea that Steve’s spent all this time feeling empty, and hollow, and missing the best of himself where it lived in the man he loved—the idea he was wrong, that they both were so fucking wrong is…insanity.

“I had a bag half packed.”

Steve doesn’t need to explain further. The noise Eddie makes is pure pain.

“Baby,” he nearly croons, falls into Steve somehow closer, wraps him up tighter; “I wanted to kidnap you in the night.”

“I sobbed in my bed after you were out of sight.”

“I pulled over before the town sign, because I couldn’t see the goddamn road.”

And Steve…Steve doesn’t really have a decision to make about what he says next. What dream he wants; always has.

“I never got rid of the luggage.”

And Eddie hears everything he says in those words, because after everything, Eddie Munson knows him, and…yeah.

Steve’s been kissed in a lot of ways before. By this man in particular, even.

But this: if leaving broke Eddie’s soul, if somehow the lack of Steve somehow did that?

This is…this is the body meeting another body, heart to heart and tasting the way a soul slides back in place. It's Eddie’s hands in his hair like hell never let go and he’s happy about the idea; blissful for it, even. It’s—beyond anything Steve’s ever known. So: yeah.

It’s not a decision. It’s just a fucking given.

♥️

🎸also on ao3

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[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 116

jack had gotten a bad hit.

sure, tackles and hits are just a part of hockey – but this one was worse than usual.

he wasn't even sure how he got himself into the situation, but during his game against the bruins, his head had been bent down far too much when he had tried to shoot off a pass along the barrier. when an opponent went in for the tackle, jack's head hit the boards in a nasty angle, and everything had gone black instantly.

the directions from the team doctors were clear: he needed to stay in a dark room, with no lights or loud sounds. he wasn't allowed to use his brain too much, since that would only worsen the concussion. no phone, no stepping outside the bedroom for at least three whole days.

thankfully, your apartment was the perfect place to keep someone who'd just gotten a concussion; the blackout curtains of your bedrooms were of the best brand, keeping the room perfectly dark during all hours of the day. that's why jack now found himself lying flat on his back on your bed, with his arms relaxing restlessly along his body, just as he had for the last 48 hours or so.

this wasn't the first time jack got a concussion. even back when he was a young player, he was too intense, too focused and too stubborn that he didn't care about the risk of injury when doing certain things on the ice, meaning that he had been forced to go through the boring process of recovering from head trauma several times. he recognized the feeling, and he hated it just as much as he had when he was still a teenager, when he was forced to stay inside while his brothers and friends could still practice. he wanted to do something, anything, but the pounding in his head limited his actions to pretty much none.

he felt helpless.

but even through the pain, there was one thing that made him smile.

you.

he was so thankful that you were there for him. he slept for most of his days, not having enough energy to stay awake for longer periods of time. but every time he woke up, you were there; reading him a book, telling him a story from your childhood, catching him up on the recent news. he was so thankful, because he thought he would have gone insane if he had to endure this all on his own.

"jack?" you asked from your side of the bed, voice hushed as it had been for the last two days. there was a small hum of an answer. "don't you want anything to eat? it's been…" you squinted, trying to make out the time from the clock on your wall. "seven hours since you had breakfast."

jack stayed silent, taking a few deep breaths before opening his eyes. "yeah, i think so."

your little nightlight, a lamp in the form of a fox in a far corner of the room, was the only source of light. jack could still make out your face clearly, probably due to the last two days of practicing his night vision. the concern on your face translated to worry on his, and then it was all just a downward spiral. you hated seeing him like this. jack was usually so energetic, so happy, so… tireless. seeing him like this really hurt you – and suddenly, you were back in your old mindset again. the pain and the worry and the anxiety all boiled up into one big soup of guilt. for the way you've treated him, for the way you care for him, for everything that has happened these last months. you stood up from the bed, about to make your way to the kitchen to cook something for him, but you stopped at him calling out your name in that raspy voice of his. "i'm sorry." when you looked back at him with a confused look, he spoke again. "for last week, for-"

"jack, it's okay." you shook your head at him, putting on a small smile. you didn't want him to worry about this now, not when his head was already overworked. "really."

now it was his time to shake his head – or, as much of a shake he could handle without his brain exploding from the jolt of pain shooting through it whenever he moved even an inch – and his voice was firmer when he spoke again. "no, please don't interrupt me now. i want you to hear that i'm serious about how sorry i am."

your heart fluttered like never before. not once until today had a man spoken to you like this. like you were someone worth apologizing to, someone worth fighting for.

"i am so sorry about pushing and pressuring you. i never should have." he took a deep breath. "you have your reasons not to trust me and not let me in, i understand that. however," his hand reached for your side, wanting you closer. "i also hope that in time, things might change. and i hope to stick along to find out if they do, without pressuring you, no matter how long it takes."

at this point, you wanted to throw yourself into his arms, bury him in kisses and hug the life out of him. but with the memory of his concussion still in your mind, you settled for leaning down to his height and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips for the first time in weeks.

maybe things would be okay, after all.

[captain-hawks]

thinking about down bad, closeted pervert bestfriend!mattsun who hates himself because every minor thing you do turns him on so much and he can’t even blink without picturing you completely fucked out in his bed and he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship by hitting you with the good ole “I have to tell you something” so he just drives up his water bill with cold showers 🫠 even worse if you’re dating someone bc in his head you two have already fucked on every surface of his apartment

you + seijoh throw a surprise party for mattsun at his and makki’s apartment.

the music’s too loud. there’s too many people. too much alcohol.

you look far too lovely for mattsun’s tattered, beer-addled restraint. especially when you parade him around the living room dancing and laughing and singing happy birthday. kissing his cheek, fingers carding through his messy hair.

(he wants to kiss you on the mouth, wants to show you how much he likes the new dress you bought for his birthday, wants to shove everyone off of his stupid couch and tug you into his lap.)

he forces himself talk to a girl whose name he really couldn’t care less about, because your boyfriend eventually shows up and shakes his fucking hand like they’re friends and really it’s not his place to care—

but then he escapes to the quiet of his room for a breather.

and you’re there, curled up in his bed. wearing one of his sweatshirts.

your boyfriend didn’t stay long and he thought you left with him without saying goodbye and—

he goes to tuck you in, though he won’t lie to himself and say it’s not partly because the sight of your bare legs tangled in his sheets is enough to wreck him on the spot.

“issei?” you mumble, half asleep, fingers tangling with his to stop him from pulling away.

he pauses, breathing in slowly. “yeah?”

(he knows his pillow is going to smell like your shampoo and his stupid, traitorous dick aches at the thought.)

“did everyone leave yet?” you ask, like you own the goddamn place (he wants to laugh at the irony, of all the things you don’t know are yours already.)

he doesn’t answer fast enough, his mind whirring over that ridiculous thought, and you add in a tired, whiny voice, “—cause i wanna cuddle.”

it’s probably shitty, the way he locks his bedroom door and texts the group chat and tells them he’s got a headache, he’s going to bed. the way he bends to your sleepy, tipsy, petulant will as you berate him for wearing jeans in bed.

(the way his hazy mind is caught somewhere between the fantasy of kissing you slow and soft against the pillows and fucking you into the mattress as you tuck yourself against him and drift off to sleep.)

[magiowlio]

thoughts on this update and references i found!! a lot of references to the games. like. A LOT. i feel like i might have missed some 😭

first time doing one of these posts because usually i am comically late to see each update-

under the cut bc. i ended up yapping more than i thought i would

legend worrying about twi!! i love how he's teasing but you can tell he definitely cares about both of them

"does he still give you trouble" i think this is a reference back to that one post where twi tells sky not to let legend push him around, and sky tells him that people like legend aren't bullies

SKY'S SASS?? HIM ACTING LIKE A RABBIT?? GOD I LOVE THE HERO OF SASS

the way jojo gives them each their own body language! i might have missed some, but wars standing with one hand on his hip, wild doing the thing where he ruffles the back of his hair (he does this in gerudo town as well! i remember some of the others like sky and wind doing this in their games, i don't think it's out of embarrassment though) and twilight playfully pushing wild and saying "get out of here!" which he also did with wars in the dawn arc! he also puts his hand on other's shoulders A LOT. he's done it with wild a good few times, and legend, hyrule, and wars if i remember correctly

"you good?" "yeah" "no, are you good?" i think something similar occurred with four and twilight when they were leaving the inn as well!

"how you handle the world around you separates a boy from a man, it's not the battles you win but how you choose to endure what is set before you" i thought the first part of what time said could be a reference to ocarina of time with the 7 yr time jump, bc try and tell me he didn't have to suddenly start handling the world around him differently after how different everything was when he woke up...and speaking of handling things differently, botw is the game where there's so many different ways to handle each scenario! so it's cool that this is what he's choosing to say to wild, because he'd probably understand that you can approach one problem from many directions

twilight and wild. they're so brothers!!! they're so relaxed and casual with each other! i feel like this is gonna be a HUGE contrast to when wild splits up with wars

again with twi and wild, the fact that neither of them want to be paired with wars is sending me oh my god...and wild imitating twilight from when they entered the dungeon is!!! i definitely laughed at that part LOL (i laughed at multiple parts. this whole update is filled with silly moments oh my gosh)

references to their games as they split off!! wild with his torch, the shot of sky from the back and then to him steeling himself to enter (just like with all the sksw dungeons!!) and wind yelling "come on!" at time just like he did in wind waker! legend, twilight, and four with the lanterns (alltp, albw, tp, and fsa had lanterns!) and hyrule with the candle from loz and taol!!

again with the lanterns! (i might be looking too far into this...) wind looking kind of nervously at four, wind waker had lanterns hanging in really dark areas that surrounded link in a little bit of light so the player can see a bit of the surroundings. another thing i think might be making wind a little nervous is that the moblins in wind waker also held lanterns that looked similar (if im remembering correctly 💀)

i've seen a good few people talking about how time is talking more like the heroes shade as he worries about twi and i def agree! "and be safe..." PLEASE HE'S SO STRESSED GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK

[quibbs126]

So maybe I spent too long doing this, my iPad’s at 15% right now and it’s somehow 10:30. But uh, I drew this

I said I wanted to practice drawing TFA Elita, so I did, and drawing Optimus again since it’s been a fair bit since I have (and also Sentinel already got his turn)

I admit, Optimus at the bottom especially looks rough, though I think some of that came from me drawing his face at too small of a distance for me to make it look right, but whatever

Honestly, Elita came out looking way better than I was expecting, and honestly I think the top Optimus doesn’t look half bad either. I think Elita ends up looking better because she doesn’t have as many details going on on the top of her head, but who knows?

Also I’m giving them their lips this time. Optimus doesn’t look right without them, even if I’m still not sure how to draw his lips at the moment

I’m also only noticing now that Elita’s yellow is probably because Blackarachnia has gold as a prominent secondary color. I don’t know, random thing to point out

Honestly, I don’t really have much to say, because this was supposed to be practice for the characters for later, because now I do want to draw those kids from the fanfic. I just think it turned out good

Unfortunately I work tomorrow, so I probably won’t get far in much art. Oh well

Oh yeah and one more thing I did want to mention, I don’t like how Elita, and also the other fembots, have such a different body shape to their male counterparts, being so slim and curvy and Elita here having blue in the rest of her body to emulate showing skin. I know Blackarachnia is supposed to be the femme fatale, the Catwoman to Optimus’ Batman, so like on some level I guess it can make sense for her/Elita specifically. But I just don’t really like it, why do they have to look so overly feminine and generally share similar body types (with some exceptions like Strika), when the male characters get so much body diversity, even just in our main cast? Well okay, I know why, but I can still be annoyed at it

Like again, Blackarachnia is the femme fatale, so her previous form having similar qualities can make sense. But Elita-1 was training to be an Autobot soldier, couldn’t she be a little more buff or armored or something? I don’t know

[ii-evil-confessions]

ooc: [OGAY!!!!!!!!!!! PHOTONS GO!!!!!!!!!!!

yeag anyways. this is generally what photons look like

head wings?? arm wings?? back wings?? so many wings...

yeag anyways!!! this is kinda what photons look like!! i wanna make a better ref later at some point because i do wanna point out that some markings on their bodies can be iridescent

so theyre based on birds. yaknow. thats their animal mode too. they go bird mode. its actually quite difficult to tell when they ARE in bird mode and when theyre not because theyre constantly birdpilling crittermaxxing

they're constantly emitting some sort of energy - whether thats light or their wings! they can summon and retract their wings at will. also they can fly but unlike electrons they dont really need to. their flight ability is more for show

their energy is more solid than other particles. why? i wanted an excuse for them to be able to preen each other. yes you can touch their wings. they can be preened. they can feel it. they can give you a wing hug. isnt that splendid?? also their wings are slightly see through

stereotypically, theyre seen as regal and cryptic. everyone thinks that theyre super important and can give you magical blessings. ethereal and shit. in reality theyre naturally kinda mischievous and are very curious. more like ravens than peacocks. however atom society is fucked up and they have to act like theyre all super important and cannot allow themselves to get attached to any other particle because "ohhh you cant do that. you cant have friends. youre a mini deity not some guy"

wanted to try and seperate them from how protons are stereotypically seen. protons: professional. powerful. photons: ethereal. regal.

they looove shiny stuff. very much

they got TALONS!!! long ass talons. i didnt show how long they were here but they can get very long

yeag. markings vary too btw. someone could have an amongus on their chest. did you ever think about that

they're rare to see in atom society - or at least, rare to see in the area that the atom trio is in. they're more common in other areas..... yeah im expanding the lore. i WILL make a map of where the atom trio live. this is a threat /j

creative little bitches. minds are constantly whirring with ideas.

also they think differently than other particles!! theyre crittermaxxing, remember? actually theyre cryptidmaxxing. i lied. theyre cryptidmaxxing

a majority of them are religious!!! they love the sun. there's a religion based around the sun and moon and stars. some people, however, take their beliefs a bit far..... cough cough... /silly

photons are attracted to light. theyre kinda mothpilled too. they like to fan out their wings and lay in the sun

umm will make more lore. yeag. also i should probably make sum more lore for neutrons and protons too huh]

[infiniteeight8]

Stephen is desperate for Tony to love him back, to the point that he uses his knowledge of Tony to manipulate him into a relationship. (Potentially manipulates things so Tony and Pepper break up? Or this could be after that?) After all, he knows he'll treat Tony right, what does it matter how they get to this point. The ends justify the means, right?

I love this prompt so much. 😃 So much potential here. *rubs hands together*

This is a “they won on Titan” AU. So Pepper and Tony are, prior to this fic, engaged. I did a google for how long Pepper has known Tony and landed on almost 20 years, since she says she’s been curating his art collection for ten years in Iron Man 2 (2010) and Infinity War happens in 2018.

-

Stephen knows the instant Tony lands on the Sanctum’s doorstep. By the time the armor is retracted and the Sanctum’s doors have swung open for him, Stephen is already halfway down the stairs. Tony stalks into the foyer and the doors quickly close behind him. A protective gesture, Stephen’s connection to the Sanctum tells him. “Tony. Is everything okay?”

“The wedding’s off,” Tony says shortly. He starts pacing.

Stephen’s heart lifts. “I’m sorry,” he says carefully. 

Tony snorts. “Don’t be. I’m the one who called it off. Pepper’s probably still trying to call me.”

“What happened?” Stephen positions himself so that Tony will pass close to him on his traverses of the foyer, but doesn’t try to stop him.

“I took your advice,” Tony says, “and talked to Pepper about DUM-E and U. About what they would need if something happened to me.”

“I take it that didn’t go well.” It never had in any of the futures Stephen had seen. 

“Understatement of the year.” Tony raises his hands and scrubs them through his hair. “Pepper has known me for nearly twenty years. She was around when DUM-E literally saved my life! She’s known him and U almost as long. How can she not get it? How did I not realize that she doesn’t get it?”

“If you explained—”

“No,” Tony cuts him off, as Stephen knew he would. There’s a line to tread here; Stephen can’t risk making Tony feel defensive of Pepper. “If she doesn’t get it after all this time, she never will. And frankly, after what she said, I’m not interested in giving her the chance.”

Stephen winces. “That bad?”

Tony stops pacing and turns to face Stephen. “She said, and I quote, “Tony, I know you’re attached to these things, but this is really too far. They’re machines, not children.’”

Stephen lets himself look as appalled as he feels. That was one of the more extreme options. “She called them things?”

Tony barks a harsh laugh. “Yeah. And when I told her that I made them and they have thoughts and personalities of their own and that as far as I’m concerned that does make them my kids, she asked if I’d thought about having real kids. Like we weren’t even talking about the bots anymore, like that conversation was over.”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Stephen says gently. “I can’t imagine how anyone could meet either DUM-E or U and not understand that they’re people.”

“Me neither,” Tony deflates. “But I’m starting to think that you and I are two of a kind there. I mean, did the other wizards recognize Levi?” Tony waggles his fingers in belated greeting and Levi waved a corner at him. 

“The Ancient One once called Levi ‘fickle’,” Stephen says dryly.

“Yeah, no, she clearly didn’t understand them at all,” Tony agrees. He sighs and takes a heavy seat on the Sanctum’s steps. “I thought I was finally going to get my happily ever after, you know?”

Stephen sits beside him. “Would the kind of white picket fence life that Pepper wanted really have made you happy?” he asks. It actually had, in some of those futures. But Tony could be just as happy, often happier, living a different life with Stephen.

“I don’t know,” Tony says. “But I was willing to try.”

Levi flares out and wraps around Tony’s shoulders, giving him a kind of hug where Stephen can’t, not quite yet. And if the action pulls Tony against Stephen for a moment or two, well, so much the better. Levi has been on board with Stephen’s plan from the beginning.

Tony laughs and pats the fold of cloak curled around him. “Thanks, Levi.” He turns to Stephen, almost close enough to kiss. They aren’t there yet, but Stephen can’t help thinking about it. Tony goes on, oblivious. “Want to come hang out with the bots with me? I’m feeling the need for some quality time.”

Stephen smiles. “I’d love to.” 

Everything is going exactly as planned.

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

'Third life timeloop but like evil and not third life' excuse me you can't just drop that title and expect me not to ask for more details, that is my whole genre! Also, if I'm allowed to send more than one WIP title... 'Finding yourself a boyfriend in the middle of the apocalypse step1' too, please! <3

ksksksksksk yeah ok it was to be expected lol (I will make a separate post for the second part because it's quite a change of the vibes ahahah)

Basically a while ago, I thought about timeloops. What's exactly happening with them? Well, in most stories, a timeloop starts because the protagonist has something to accomplish, a goal to meet. You need to confess your love, need to save your doomed friend, even save the whole world sometimes. So you loop and loop, trying again and again to meet this nebulous goal, and once you've gotten to it, woohoo congrats! The loop is broken (and you will never be the same again, probably.)

But what about a timeloop that's too late? A timeloop where the body's already cold? The world already ended?

And so Grian wakes up the morning after Third Life ended, blood and sand stuck underneath his fingernails. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll be doing it for quite some time.

It would be a fun exploration about how deep you can spiral when literally nobody knows you're spiralling because to them it's only been a day, while it could be weeks to you. Even months. How far can you go when the only limit is yourself and the 24 hours that keeps repeating again and again?

There would also be the concept of grief that isn't: Scar is here, on Hermitcraft, warm and alive. And yet he's dead. The Scar in front of you is a stranger, a lookalike of the one you left behind in what you feel was forever ago, but was, in fact, yesterday. This Scar doesn't know how much the desert sun can burn.

Fun times for everyone!! But then, dozens of loops later, standing still in the darkness of his own base, I think Grian will hear a knock at his door. He will open it with bloodstained nails he's given up on cleaning about 10 loops ago, and come face to face with Scar, looking just as surprised as him as to why he's standing here, on the other side of the doorway. Flowers spill from his hands - lilacs and poppies, the same colours of a bruise that refuses to heal - and so do his words, passing through a half a frown. "I just had a feeling."

And all that Grian can taste are iron and ashes in his mouth.

[softrosekisses]

~𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝒾𝓰𝒽𝓉~

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂���𝓇𝓎 - Ellie sees you at a museum and becomes obsessed~

𝓃𝓸𝓉𝓮𝓈 ~ !!! my first story i've ever posted🙈 i'm so nervous for people to read it honestly😭 but if you enjoy it, let me know! feedback is appreciated🎀

(also i used a prompt to come up with this! so els is a creepy vampire stalker and not very canon~🫣 )

Ellie shivers as she adjusts to the change of coming into the warm museum from the chilly outdoors. Even though the temperature doesn't affect her, she still has to play the part.

She's at a museum event tonight; she's been in need of some art inspo, and due to her... condition, she's been stuck at home for a few weeks. You see, she's a vampire, a very stubborn one at that. She thought she'd be okay without feeding for some time, and that ended up being false. She'd probably still be there if it wasn't for her southern charm and good looks helping her convince the naive young city girls to follow her home. She'd made sure they got home safely, of course; she's no monster!

She walks leisurely through the halls and takes notes, studying some of her favorite pieces. The famous "Starry Night" by Van Gogh caught her eye, or more so the beautiful girl admiring it. Her thick coily hair sitting perfectly at her shoulders tied in a cute little bow, the museum lights illuminating her soft skin; oh how Ellie wanted to feel it..she's never seen anyone as divine as this mystery girl. She continues to watch the girl as her eyes wander the painting, looking so amazed, and when she smiled, Ellie swears she felt her heart stop…again.

She ends up following behind the girl as she walks through the gallery. She tells herself that it's just a coincidence that they keep ending up at the same place. Every second she gets more obsessed with needing to know this girl, she completely forgets about finding inspiration; if anything, she thinks she just found her muse.

Lost in thought, something-someone bumped into her

oof

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!

Are you okay?"

Ellie was ready to give sass to whoever bumped her but stopped when she saw who it was.

"oh shit" she mumbled

"Ah yeah, no I'm all good, don't worry about it."

If it were possible Ellie’s ears would’ve gained a red tint.

“You sure? Sorry, I can get so caught up in the art and get distracted..” The girl smiled a little, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine. I should’ve been paying attention. Are you okay?” Her eyes travel the girl's body, checking for any injuries.

“Oh yeah i’m fine, i’m pretty clumsy so i’m used to it.” She says, shaking her head and chuckling to herself.

Ellie wanted to thank whatever god that made this interaction possible. She thought about properly introducing herself to fill in the awkward silence that began to set between them.

“I-“

“Well, sorry again!” The girl waves and walks away to whom Ellie assumes is a friend, with a little bounce in her step.

Ellie silently cursed herself for not being quick enough as she watched the girl’s skit sway away. She needed to have her. Slowly, she prowled behind her, making sure to keep a safe distance away but never too far. She watched her every move and wondered about the other girl she was talking to. Was she a sister, a friend, or something more? She thought about what the girl’s favorite piece of art might be and whether she created art herself. She wanted to know everything about her: all her quirks, what made her smile or cry, her deepest fears—everything.

And she intended to find out.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

So after Team Jnpr found out what happened with Playtime Co how many toys would they kill because some of them are beyond saving. Actually this could be it's own story. But anyway Yarnby, Catnap, and Miss Delight I think are to far gone. The Doctor would probably be no moral issue with killing. Mommy Long Legs, Dogday, and Doey would probably be willing to help them.

So not gonna lie didn't think too deeply on said concept, I was just commissioned to make the model and send it to them. I literally thought of it as I posted it...

But that is a interesting point, after all a good amount of the toys tragically aren't rehabilitate anymore... Just about any small one for sure as they all are basically feral.

I actually wonder if the smaller bodies can think beyond animalistic thoughts. It was mentioned several times that bigger bodies were failures that resulted in animal like natures like with Yarnby and Pianosarus.

So I imagine most the smaller toys are the same though Mommy does seem to be able to control the Mini-Huggies so some are... Trainable. Which is just another level of fucked up.

Ultimately I'd have to say JNPR would kill a good amount, their first kill would be Huggy, and they would be shocked when they do so cuz they don't understand what it is at first thinking it's a Grimm... Until it doesn't disappear and then a monster and once they learn they range in reaction.

Ironically I see Ren reacting the worst as this would break his semblance from emotional overload and since he rarely deals with emotions it would utterly devastate him... Nora wouldn't be much better realizing it's a child who was probably a lot like her.

Pyrrha would be inconsolable and like she was with Penny, Jaune would also be in a horrible state. But as we've seen in the series he is the best at pulling himself together.

And ultimately for his team he would shove his mental issues down to deal with later knowing something just died in him... They'd talk to Poppy and all four would be disgusted, horrified and angry...

As for which toys, yeah... Yarnby, Catnap, and Miss Delight would all be killed. I do kinda also see this situation where they hesitate to kill them, but Jaune would force himself forward to do it, so his teammates wouldn't.

They Would HATE Sawyer, things would not play out like in the game, they'd tear his robotic army apart shatter his container and drag him out piece by piece already being far past their initial innocence at that point.

Jaune would unlock his semblance from the sheer tragedy of seeing all this horror. Probably when he see's Dogday, desperate to heal him, to heal someone who suffered so much, he's had to kill so many victim already. They didn't deserve this! they weren't monsters, they were people, children who'd been twisted, used, turned into playthings for Playtime.

He'd activate his semblance as he rushed forward, grabbing the little critters rushing into Dogday, pulling them out of his flesh, ignoring them biting, scratching, trying to eat him as he did. He couldn't let him die, not another kid, not one who could still think, who still had a soul, and even now was tortured. Jaune would pass out waking up to see Dogday alive... The mini critters dead, torn apart, his team looking more spiritually worn out then ever.

Jaune would apologize, regretting that he passed out, that he didn't kill the small toys... The Feral children... that his team had to, that he couldn't protect them.

Yeah... this would be a emotionally fucked AU... Bright side I can see them saving Mommy Long Legs and by extension, Bunzo Bunny, PJ Pug-a-Pillar and the Mini-Huggies that she controls.

With Catnap I think Jaune more then anyone would understand... Loyalty is one of the core tennent of the Arcs after all... he would try but when his teams in danger he decides.

Doey, and all the toys in the sanctuary would be saved, because to put it simply the Prototype would die before Sawyer (The Doctor does) when he attacks the sanctuary Jaune and Pyrrha would go with Doey to fight him while Ren and Nora would follow Poppy's plan.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

One of the things that amused me since I started reading/watching Tokyo Revengers is the sense of style and fashion Wakui has.

Not only it's neat, but even on the covers it's so bold for each character, the clothes often have symbols (Like the funeral clothes Draken had forget what they called)

Even throughout the series and official art, characters would often change their clothes and it's not a simple "change the color" but rather a full new outfit.

It honestly disappoints me that he didn't work on drawing the spin off off manga (but I assume he wrote it) because as much as I love the mini series, I wish we could have saw Ryusei and Kojiro's sense of style. Do we even have an art of Kojiro drawn by Wakui?

If Ryusei and Kojiro got to have the iconic fashion cover art, what do you think they would wear? What colors? Hard to guess since Wakui almost always surprised us with the random bold colors

I like the spinoff covers a lot but yeah it would've been really cool for them to have had the types of outfits a lot of the tr covers had (definitely wouldn't change anything about the inside covers though, those are perfect). Especially since we know Ryusei is likely quite fashionable judging by all the clothes he has and likes animal prints judging by his room.

As for the colour's, I'm pretty sure their character colour's would be orange for Ryusei and green for Kojiro. That was the colour's used on their covers plus orange was used for Ryusei's merch during the pop up shop (Baji and Chifuyu both had their character colours) so these colour's would likely be in a few of their outfits. But like you said Wakui does give characters a lot of colour's outside of their assigned ones so there would probably be a bunch of different ones used.

No Kojiro done by Wakui though, only Ryusei so far

Guess technically Baji's birthday art counts too