#thanks for your comments!!

[antennatoheaven]

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[aethersea]

the question of fic comments is very straightforward actually. readers do not owe writers comments. writers do not owe readers fic. there is no bargain, no transaction, no debt.

fic is a gift. comments are a gift. gifts are exchanged between friends, out of love, not out of obligation.

I write for myself. I post it for others, as a gift, because their joy brings me joy. I read for myself. I comment for the author, as a gift, because their joy brings me joy. perhaps we were not friends before, but we are now, however fleetingly, because we have given each other gifts out of love.

[zeropro]

Hi! I adore all of the attention you give to the elite trine (there’s basically nothing of them that’s canon 🥲) and I love all things you make related to them!! Art, fanfic, just- answering us anons, all of it! Especially the most recent comics and fics you’ve been making of them, it’s so interesting to see their earliest and latest interactions, the emotional turmoil is SO GOOD. 😤👌 So, please don’t take this as me complaining when I ask but do you have any headcanons on when the elite trine are nice with each other? Like, fluff :)

Headcanon: Starscream does that thing dads do where they dont sit down to watch a movie with you and instead watches the whole movie standing behind you like an ominous cryptid.

[cuartosol]

disco disco

[stageturn]

(slides u a jon) got time for a draw this in your style?

use #stageturnDTIYS to participate :D

HAVE FUN!!!!! (closeups under the cut :3)

and here's the actual doodle of s1 Jon

[hivemindclown]

Just something I noticed

Thank you for your sacrifice beast x ancient shippers 🫡

[the-yawning-cat]

silly Y/N

Yes, silly silly y/n

Oh how I dream to be you..

[chalkrub]

first two art fight attacks! against all odds i've once again returned to attacking cats and dogs on the first day

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[cyucya]

Pleaaaaase give Skylar-Chili a hug the poor baby 🥺 surely he gets some from his aunts?

Oh okay, you win. Auntie Rouge time!!!

Powerless Sonadow kid AU! <start here

<prev Part 8 next>

Parts navigation

P.S. I was supposed to post something else today, but I’m in a good mood due to the disgraced ghost princess’s comics and arts.

So go thank them and prepare your napkins for tomorrow update!!! Unless I get distracted with some of you precious people making art for my AU again, you’re going to need them >:]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who is this sassy lost child?

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[jccatstudios]

Six of Crows: A Comic Adaptation

Part 1, Chapter 4

Pages 11–12

Previous Pages

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Download the Comics

[wombywoo]

happy holidays ❄️✨

[afreakforyautja]

Trapped (yautja x human)

Part 4

[oop- more interaction with our Yautja 🤭 I love your comments and your support, they keep me writing more 💚]

(Tagging @celticsrightbuttcheek for their ongoing support 🥰)

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts.

This is it… this is happening, you told yourself.

You could hear the guttural sounds of the two aliens battling nearby. Quietly, you slipped out of the chamber that had served as your only protection and crept around, desperately searching for something—anything—that could be used as a weapon.

Your panicked hands rummaged through drawers, the noise loud enough to draw the xenomorph’s attention toward you.

That split second of distraction was just enough. The Yautja drove its talons deep into the xenomorph’s ribs, earning a piercing hiss before tossing the creature aside to avoid its acid blood.

You had studied xenomorphs long enough to know their blood could melt through nearly anything on contact.

You had, unfortunately, learned that the hard way.

You could run now. This was your chance, both creatures were locked on each other. You grabbed an intravenous stand and with your hands trembling you began slowly backing out of the lab, keeping your eyes locked on the xenomorph.

Somehow, you felt the Yautja wouldn’t hunt you. You weren’t a worthy challenge in comparison.

The xenomorph, however, would kill anything without a second thought.

It hissed in your direction, and your stomach dropped. But then it looked to the left, where the Yautja had moved to flank it. Strangely, it felt like you and the Yautja were circling the xeno together, like predators converging on a common enemy. The Yautja seemed to notice your synchronized movement, perhaps thinking the same as you.

The enemy of my enemy…

The Yautja wasn’t quick enough this time. Already wounded and bleeding, it didn’t react fast enough when the xenomorph made its choice.

You.

The weaker one.

You froze in fear but stood your ground as the creature lunged. The medical probe you clutched became your only defense. You collapsed under its weight, struggling, your head thrashing side to side as its inner jaw shot out, aiming for your skull.

You held it off, just long enough.

The xeno’s weight lifted suddenly, and you gasped, the breath finally returning to your lungs. You barely registered what was happening, before your eyes locked on the savage scene before you.

The Yautja had pounced. It didn’t roar or cry out. It fought in silence, its primal, brutal attacks overwhelming the xeno. No armor, no advanced weaponry, just claws, fangs, and fury.

Everything you’d studied about their kind told you they were strategic, calculated warriors. But this? This was personal.

You remembered then—this was a younger Yautja. Not an elder. Not even a forehead scar to mark its first successful hunt. That explained the lack of discipline, the rage driving every blow. It wasn’t fighting for honor. It was fighting to end this, no matter the cost.

Please…

You whispered to yourself.

Please run.

This wasn’t your place anymore.

The xenomorph’s tail twitched, about to strike a fatal blow to the yautja’s back.

You saw it, just in time.

You ran forward and shoved the tail aside with your probe before it could pierce through the Yautja’s chest. The predator paused, its masked gaze snapping toward you. It growled, low, furious. It didn’t want your help. This was its fight. You were in the way.

But there was nothing honorable about dying in blind rage, you thought. You ignored its warning growls and pushed the tail aside again.

That second of distraction was all the xenomorph needed. With a violent shove, it knocked the Yautja off of it and launched itself at you.

You hit the floor hard. The impact stole the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. The xenomorph raised one deadly arm for the finishing blow—

But it was yanked off you before it could strike, though not without pain: its claws had grabbed a fistful of your hair, ripping it clean from your scalp. You screamed in agony.

The Yautja’s reaction to your scream was unlike anything you expected. A deafening roar erupted from its chest, a sound so raw and agonizing that it made your blood run cold. You clutched your ears, trying to block out the piercing noise.

The predator had lost all restraint.

It straddled the xenomorph now, attacking like a beast possessed. It grabbed the creature’s jaws, prying them open with brute strength. The xeno shrieked and hissed, its inner mouth striking out and biting the Yautja’s hand, but the predator didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

With a final, sickening snap, it broke the xenomorph’s jaws apart, ripping one entirely off and tossing it across the lab. Then it backed away quickly, avoiding the toxic spray of its blood.

It roared loudly, as if savouring its victory.

You lay there, breath ragged, heart pounding, staring at the terrifying figure before you.

A true menace, in spirit and flesh. It was deadly and the only thing alive besides you in the room.

The Yautja moved slowly now, chest heaving. It looked at the xenomorph’s hand—still clutching strands of your hair. It knelt, touching them gently, its fingers strangely delicate as they brushed against the human hair. It took a second, trying to make sense of what it meant for you to lose strands of hair.

It meant something entirely different in Yautja culture, you figured, since their dreadlocks were more of an organ than hair.

The Yautja now turned to you and slowly stepped closer.

You instinctively backed away, just a little, unsure of its intentions.

Were you next?

It knelt before you, head tilted slightly, its eyes fixed on the bleeding spot on your scalp. You both stayed still for several long seconds.

When it finally moved, you flinched and shut your eyes.

You expected pain, maybe claws digging in…but instead, you felt the soft weight of its fingers pressing near the wound, careful, almost… curious.

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe too hard, just stared as it tilted its head, like it was trying to make sense of your bleeding. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, confused as hell, not knowing what to do. Run, fight, say something?

“It hurts,” you whispered, even though you knew it wouldn’t understand.

It stopped.

To your surprise, a soft purr started rumbling in its chest. You squinted up at it, trying to understand what that meant again. The sound rolled out of its chest in slow, steady waves, and for some reason you could feel it in yours.

You didn’t want it to. You were still scared. You should have been scared.

But that sound…

It was doing something to your nervous system, whether you liked it or not. Your shoulders dropped without you realising it. Your breathing slowed. It was like being wrapped in low-frequency sound that you couldn’t shake off. Some primal part of your brain responded to it like it meant safety. Calm.

You didn’t get it.

When you looked up again, it was still making that sound. Still not moving. Still just watching you quietly.

You noticed its arm then, coated in green blood. Your eyes widened in shock. You reached out instinctively, wanting to check the wound, but stopped halfway, afraid it might lash out.

But the Yautja didn’t move. In fact, it seemed to wait.

“Will you let me help now?” you asked, half-joking. If it had let you help earlier, maybe it wouldn’t be this bad.

The alien let out a low grunt, a sound that could’ve meant anything, but didn’t seem like a no.

You stood slowly, and it rose with you. When you moved, it mirrored you, as if still watching your every step.

You made your way to a specific cabinet. You remembered the tools the Yautja came with when they were captured to be studied—medical equipment and some kind of salve that you had studied before. Human medicine wouldn’t help it, but this… this might.

You reached up to the shelf and grabbed what you needed. The Yautja stood close behind, waiting. You turned to show it.

Its reaction was almost funny, looking between you and the supplies as if realizing, maybe for the first time, that you’d been capable of helping all along.

It grunted again, sounding… annoyed, maybe. Then it strode over to the operating table and sat down with exaggerated weight.

You hesitated.

It flared its mandibles at you, letting out a louder noise this time, clearly impatient.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, suppressing a strange urge to laugh. You didn’t know why, but the way it behaved—almost human—was oddly comforting. And a little terrifying.

[asknillamilkfam]

Hello! Just saw this adorable post, and wanted to say you officially have a new follower! Yay!

Anyway, I had a question about the adorable little ones. What are their pronouns? I'd hate to be one of those people that says "what a cute little boy you have!" when they're actually a girl.

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