#tumblr shorties

[izzybluebell]

king of the shorties 👑

[stilesdemonbaby]

Make me by FeelingsDusk

Tags: Angst, Soulmate AU

Published: 2018-03-02

Words: 1,696

I hope things start going your way soon!! For the Drabble prompts: Steter, Soulmate AU, “Make me.” Thank you

Thank you, anon! Gosh, sorry I took forever… It’s just… I drew a blank? I got 4 prompts in my inbox and my mind went blank with every and each of them. Thankfully, it passed, but it was so damn difficult to write… Anyways, I thought this was going to be a happy/funny one, but it turned out angsty but with a happy (sorta?) ending. Hope you like it?

Prompt: Soulmate AU + “Make me.”

“You must be Stiles,” Peter Hale croons faux sweetly, his scarred face entirely vacant except for his eyes, which hold a fire of insanity so bright and strong that it could burn the whole hospital to the ground in mere seconds.

Stiles shivers, horrified, and barely hears Derek shouting at him through the phone. He’s only dimly aware of the irony of that analogy, because those four words have branded the skin right above his heart since his birth. He’s waited to hear them ever since he was old enough to understand what they meant, what having a soulmate meant. At his lowest, he gained strength from them, managed to go through everything that life threw at him thanks to those four words written in a beautiful cursive that he’s never managed to replicate. Now he feels like he’s choking on thin air, the panic raising like a tidal wave that’s threatening to drown him.

Stiles shouldn’t open his mouth, shouldn’t talk to him. He shouldn’t give him the words that tie them together. “Make me,” he involuntarily snarls in challenge when Peter takes a step forward.

Peter stops immediately and his eyes shine a bright red. That red disappears when he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He takes another step forward and…

…Derek, after pushing Stiles away, slams into him with a snarl.

(Afterwards, Stiles keeps his mouth shut. Doesn’t tell them that Peter is his, that he is Peter’s. That somehow, in a cosmic joke that no one will find funny, the person that changed Scott’s life irreversibly and that killed Derek’s sister is his other half, his perfect match and all those things the sappy Valentine’s commercials tend to spout.)

(He wonders what does it make him, having a soulmate like Peter, what is it that makes them a perfect match. He wonders how was he before the fire.)

—

Stiles is trembling. He’s terrified but also oh, so, so angry. Angry at life, mainly, for dealing him these shitty cards that he can do nothing with but lose.

He stands his ground, covering Lydia and providing a protective wall between her and him. His soulmate. (Stiles had never been one to lie to himself, no matter the situation. He thinks it stupid and ultimately useless and pointless.) The irony doesn’t escape him. He’s protecting his crush from his soulmate. She said a weird combination of the words in his heart once, in kindergarten. She was (is) smart, beautiful and strong. He was convinced for a long time that they were soulmates, destined to be together against all odds. He loved her for it, even though she didn’t spare him even a glance. He knows better now, but old habits die hard (he used to love her so much and he still loves her in a way), so here he is, protecting her against his own soulmate.

Stiles keeps repeating the word in his mind. Soulmate, soulmate, soulmate. Soulmate. He can’t help it, even though the word hurts horribly each and every time.

“You must be Stiles,” Peter growls but doesn’t touch him.

Stiles wants to scream. He knows life is unfair. He knows it in his own flesh! From the marks his mother left in his arms when he was seven years old to the scar in his scalp, now mostly gone and what remains hidden by hair, that the empty bottle of whisky that his dad threw at him when he was eight years old left. He knows. All those things just made him stronger, hardened his skin until it was impenetrable! Or so he thought, because now he feels… He just wants to scream.

“Make me,” he snaps angrily instead, because he thought this, he would get. No small lettering, no conditions. His soulmate. His perfect match. “Make me,” he repeats, growling it through his teeth.

(Much later, he finds himself stranded with his jeep, his keys destroyed and useless. Peter didn’t harm even a hair on his head. The skin of his wrist where Peter touched him feels warm still. Stiles said no and he listened.)

(He doesn’t know how to feel about that.)

—

His throw is flimsy at best. His heart thunders in his chest, threatening to rip it open with each beat. Nausea crawls up his throat as the Molotov cocktail soars through the air and he can’t breathe. A ring starts piercing his ears and his hands, his everything shakes.

Peter grabs it easily and Stiles finds he can breathe again, if barely. A wet and cold sensation invades him. He can’t stop trembling.

Then, out of nowhere, an arrow pierces the Molotov Cocktail and Stiles can’t even scream as Peter goes on fire.

“You must be Stiles,” Peter screams and screams. Stiles tries to run towards him, but Scott grabs him and holds him back. He forces himself to not take his eyes off his blazing figure. This is his penance, to remember in vivid detail how he helped kill his soulmate. “You must be Stiles!”

“Make me,” Stiles whispers brokenly, head in his hands and knees to the ground, when Derek kills his soulmate for good.

(Peter was hurting the people Stiles loves. Peter was crazy. Peter was killing people, justified or not. Peter was… Peter was… Peter was Stiles’. His soulmate, his perfect match. And now he’s gone and he’ll never know why.)

(Stiles can’t look at anyone as he leaves. If he does, he won’t be able to ignore the need to gauge Derek’s new red eyes, the need to slash Scott’s own throat when he whines about Derek taking his chance to be normal again. This is his fault, he knows, because he never told them about Peter being his soulmate. But somehow, he doubts it would have made any difference.)

—

Stiles feels empty. He doesn’t understand, he barely knew Peter. He only met him a handful of times and none of them were good. The feelings he associates with the man are anger, bitterness, fear, pain, and none of those are good either. So why is he so broken? Why does this feel worse than… He doesn’t understand, it’s been more than a month. He should be over losing someone he barely knew, soulmate or not. He managed just fine before meeting him, so it’s not like losing him is, well, a big loss, all things considered. He has more pressing matters to pay attention to, after all. Matters of a murderous lizard-y nature. He doesn’t have time to mourn something that he never had to begin with. It would be absurd, in any case. Pft, how can anyone mourn something that they never had? This is just the same. Absurd, stupid. Stuuuupid.

And Stiles’ not stupid, so he refuses to do it. No, no mourning for Stiles.

No.

No mourning for Stiles.

You must be Stiles.

He swallows thickly. “Make me,” he whispers.

(Lying to oneself is stupid, pointless and useless.)

(He asks Derek, just once, about how was Peter before. His head gets closely acquainted with the wall abruptly because of it. He never asks again and just finds out on his own. It’s a bad idea, it doesn’t make him feel any better.)

—

Stiles stumbles out from the Argent’s house wanting to burn it to the ground, no matter who’s still inside. It would be poetic justice, wouldn’t it? To end the story just like how it started. People like the Argents shouldn’t exist. They only bring pain and destruction wherever they go, down to their last member. Look at Allison. Obviously there’s something not quite right in their heads. Stiles can understand destroying the people that harmed your family, but this? She hasn’t even bothered finding out all the facts, she’s just lashing out at everything in her path, whether it benefits her or not. It’s just violence for the sake of violence. Stiles can’t condone that.

Stiles won’t burn the house to the ground today, but only because Erica and Boyd are still inside and, no matter the grievances he has with them, they don’t deserve to be burned alive. He may not be able to save them right now, injured and vulnerable as he is, but he can tell Derek and let him deal with it. He won’t risk his neck for them because they’re not his responsibility and he doesn’t owe them anything, but he can make sure to pass along the message.

“You must be Stiles,” a voice says from the darkness, emotionless and stilted.

Stiles’ legs tremble and then give out on him. He doesn’t even register the pain of the impact against the gravel. His heartbeat speeds up to dizzying heights and suddenly he can’t breathe. He swallows thickly and no, he’s not going to cry. It has to be a hallucination, people don’t come back from the dead. And even if they did, Peter is a psychopath and the world (Stiles’ world, his people) is better without him.

“You must be Stiles,” he insists, coming to the light, a feral and intense quality added to the words.

Peter, Peter, Peter. He was a lawyer before, and Talia Hale’s left hand. And, according to the people Stiles talked to, he was as ruthless an enforcer as an attorney. Incredibly intelligent, he graduated valedictorian in high school and in university. Wicked sense of humor some of his classmates said, asshole, said others. Not to be messed with, all of them said. Peter, Peter, Peter.

“You must be Stiles,” he repeats, advancing towards him.

Peter, who even at his worst, never hurt Stiles. Who, clearly not at his best, heard a no and backed off.

“You must be Stiles,” he whispers, now almost at touching distance, his palm up and inviting.

Peter, who had his family killed and instead of hiding like Laura or Derek did, he sought to destroy the ones responsible. That was his first thought upon waking up. Because he wasn’t able to save them, but he could avenge them. Destroy them for touching what was his.

Just like Stiles would have.

“Make me,” he answers, voice shaky, as he reaches to take the offered hand.

[badp1l0t]

HAHA I JUST SEARCHED UP BLITZØ’S HEIGHT AND IT SAYS HE’S FIVE FT TALL BAHHAHAHJAJA WHAT A SMALL PATHETIC LOSER

Yes, i know that’s tall for an imp, i just think its funni how short a fully grown adult male imp is compared to humans lol

[therestisilence]

what are you gonna do with those pies boys ?

[then0names]

[jelixpo]

I always crack up at this scene mainly due to Amethyst's expression and Peridot bumping her fists together when talking about Garnet.

I've always loved the show's dry humour so if it were to be renewed, I'd love to get the chance to laugh more.

[neo-hiperbole]

Killer Klowns From Outer Space 🎪

Sketch of Fatso & Shorty! They’re sooo cute, I love them 🩷

[sanddollarpoems]

You might be

Forever out of reach

Just a dream I visit

On the bad days

You might be

Made up memories

Nothing like reality

A hypothetical place

[raineandsky]

GSGDHDHDDGDHSHDN GOODNESS I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS!

If you don't mind at all, could write something about a very reserved Villain begrudgingly walking the road to redemption under the Hero's care and supervision after loosing their powers to the same Hero on a battle not so long ago? This happens due to the Hero feeling responsible for Villain's condition. Despiting their villainous ways and checkered past, Hero believe there's good in him.

I know this one could be really hard to do, I'm so sorry :,)

TYSM!!! im a sucker for a redeemed villain - thank you for the request!

This is more humiliating than being beaten in battle. At least the villain was trying in a fight.

The hero smiles way too genuinely. “When someone leaves,” he says brightly, “make sure you tell them to have a good day.”

The last time the civilians saw the villain, they were striking the hero down with lightning from the heavens themselves. Now the civilians are seeing them here, on this street corner, with the exact hero they were trying to electrocute, handing out peaches from the agency’s gardens. A rather ungraceful fall, and the grace is the bigger of their worries.

The fall was… embarrassing, sure. Unflattering. But—and they would never admit this to the hero’s face—it’s a nice change of pace. Appearances matter though, so they’re making a point to scowl at everyone who asks for a fruit from their little basket.

They do miss their powers though. They still don’t like the hero—they want to strike that smile right off his face.

“It’s a nice day, at least,” the hero is saying. “Your feet alright? We’ve been standing a few hours now.”

“Please stop pretending to be nice to me.”

The hero’s gaze turns down to his own basket, much less full than the villain’s. “Kind of presumptuous,” he mumbles. “I’m not pretending.”

The villain hums disbelievingly. “Because a hero genuinely cares about a villain, yeah. Okay.”

The slightest frown appears on the hero’s face. “Look, [Villain], I want to help you.” He shuffles the basket in his arms awkwardly. “It’s my fault you’re here. I know you miss your powers and your evilness and your old life, so… I want to make your new life bearable.”

“Right.” The villain stares into the crowds. They’re never sure what to say when someone’s being genuine with them. “Well, okay. Thanks or whatever.”

The hero gives them a nudge that nearly topples them. They weren’t expecting the hero to come within touching distance. “I do think you’re a pretty good person, y’know,” the hero adds lightly. “You act like you want to blow everyone to smithereens, but really I think, deep down, you care a lot.”

Do they? Did they ever care about anything? Villainy has been their life for years. They can barely remember. But on the flipside… this isn’t so bad. They won’t tell the hero that he’s right, ever, but redemption hasn’t been as awful as they expected so far.

“You’re nicer now, anyway,” the hero adds brightly, “without the power of Zeus himself.”

Well, it’s a little awful.

[lee-s0a]

I watched both Good Omens and Wonka (2023). Had to sketch Aziraphale as the wholesome chocolatier :)

[vojjdless]

klowns on the brain...

[lucidskulls]

Shorty Squad 2.0

[eagledrawsandvibes]

(Please rb for a bigger sample size, this is for a video)

[creaturesandcuties]

My greatest project so far 🥹💚

[anna-naray]

"Raf's best friend and the golden child of a big devilish family at Zolfanello City! Ang-Lì, 11 lightnings (y/o) is a prodigy devil, a manga lovers and the most talented designer for his father fashion projects! He's currently attending the stage on earth to obtain his missing 1%... it seems an easy job for a devil like him, right?"

I have taken many elements of Ang-Lì's canonical design from the comics to the extreme in this devilish form! This young devil has a bold presence and is not afraid to fight for what he truly cares about! 😈

His clothes tell a lot about him! He designed them all himself, inspired by his favorite manga, comic books, and personal experiences (he designed that black short jacket with spines in memory of an unexpected encounter with a mysterious creature).

Hope you like him! 🫶

Characters -> Sulfus - Raf - Kabalè - Ang-Lì - Cabiria - Mefisto - Gas - Uriè

CLOSE UPS

Old drawings and studies, also here -> previus post

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

VH - Divide And Conquer

(Tw: attempted torture)

“I can't believe we finally have caught the legendary Vampire Hero”, said Villain.

The two Heroes glanced at each other and shrugged. The taller one frowned.

“Legendary ?” he repeated.

Villain looked at him with interest.

“Oh yes,” he said. “Many have fallen before your might, Vampire Hero. At least two or three of my opponents are behind the bars because of you.”

“Two or three and you call that legendary ? You're easy to impress.”

The other Hero was nervously following the exchange. Compared to his companion, he seemed much younger and frailer. His eyes were shinier and shinier with tears that did not quite fall. When at least it looked like he couldn't take it anymore, he stepped between the two, saying:

“Stop ! It's my fault ! It's all my fault if we got caught. Hurt me, not him!”

Villain gave the young Hero an amused look:

“Why is that little thing with you, Vampire Hero ?”

His interlocutor shrugged:

“You know. He's new. I'm supposed to show him the ropes or something. You have to teach them some way or some other. ”

“Is that so.”

Villain lift the smaller Hero's chin with a finger:

“My dear little one, how can I hurt him ? Many have tried and many have failed. I'll just make him have a nice little sunbath so he's neutralized. But since you've asked so nicely, I will take care of you.”

“Surely there must be another way ! I'm sure you can do better. I-I'm sure that deep inside, you're a little pure of heart.”

“ You heard your protector, you need to learn.”

He grabbed Hero by the arm, who turned his head toward the man who accompanied him. The latter just shrugged.

“Do you think he cares ?” simpered Villain to his ear. “Oh, he doesn't. He might be on your side, but Vampire Hero is evil. You're better off with me.”

Hero whimpered but didn't resist as he was dragged into the stairs.

“There are seventeen steps. Do you hear the sound they make ? There's an echo, so the prisoners down there can hear me coming. It’s all in the anticipation.”

In a sweet voice, he kept describing their surroundings while they were both descending into his torture room. During all the way, the small one didn’t dare fight back. He soon found himself tied up to a chair, helplessly squirming, his eyes giving a pleading look more than ever.

“So, young Hero,” purred Villain, “as it is your first time, I will make you a favor.”

“R-Really ?”

“Yes. Do you see all these instruments in the shelf in front of you ?”

Hero looked at the whips, the canes and the nails, and shuddered so violently it almost looked fake.

“I'm going to let you choose one among them. If not, I will choose, and you won't like it very much if I do.”

“You don't have to do this ! I-You just will make Vampire Hero angry and you don't want to !”

“You think he will rescue you?”

“I know he will.”

“How touching. But for now you're mine. So make your choice, before I get impatient.”

Hero pondered for a few seconds, then whispered:

“Um – the taser ? Yes – the taser, please.”

“If you ask so nicely.”

Villain delicately took the black rectangular shape in his hand and switched it on.

“Why, if I might ask ? Do you think it will hurt less than the others ? Let me prove you wrong.”

The half-hour that happened then looked much more pleasant for Villain than for Hero. And yet, as time passed, Villain felt somewhat uneasy. That had nothing to do with torturing a man, of course. He liked the thrashing, he liked the begging, he liked the naive faith of the innocent who was certain that he could be saved. Maybe that had something to do with the other Hero. While Villain was amusing himself, Vampire Hero was out of his sight. He might have been careless. He glanced at his watch, but Hero making a rather unconvincing whimper forced him to turn his head.

Perhaps that was the problem. Villain was used to the sounds of pain – the gasps, the moans, the howls, the cries and the pleas. He loved all of them without distinction, and of course he knew that they were a little different with each person. It was a familiar melody that Hero was singing, but thinking about it, it was slightly out of tune, and it got progressively worse. It was getting on his nerves. These rookies these days – they didn't even now how to scream right.

“Let's have a break,” he said.

“Oh well, I guess I’ve held that long.”

Villain raised an eyebrow, amused:

“Getting defiant, are we ? Careful, you sound like you’re disappointed.”

He stared into his prisoner’s eyes, hoping to get a look of terror, but all he got was a frown. Hero...genuinely looked displeased.

“Sorta”, he said. “In my time I didn’t have this kind of toys to play with. I guess having a little blue spark in your hand looks fun, but that doesn’t look like it does that much damage.”

“In your time ? What are you talking ab- wait.”

Hero tilted his head. For a moment he sounded impassible, but he broke soon enough. A loud, loud laugh resonated in the room, while the prisoner was squirming in his chair for a very different reason than before. His way of moving betrayed no pain at all.

“Are you shitting me,” said Villain, whose voice was now icy.

Hero grinned:

“You tell me, pal. I can’t believe you swallowed my “pure of heart” bullshit. I was laying it on so thick.”

Villain glared at him.

“Not that you were especially subtle either”, Hero added. “Oooh, the anticipation !” Do that again?”

Villain stood up and went to the door as fast as self-respect allowed. There was no one left under the sunlight. The guards were on the ground, unconscious.

“How -”

He turned back. Hero was now standing up, neglectfully throwing away the remnants of the straps that held him a moment before. He dramatically exclaimed, a hand on his heart:

“Oh no, he got away ! My, my. Poor little me. Tell you what, though. If Vampire Hero were so legendary, you should have bothered to know what he looks like. I didn’t mean to pass for someone else, but you’ve so graciously given me the opportunity.”

“It can’t be ! How could the – the other have escaped then ?”

“I hate to break it to you, but they are several heroes with super strength.”

Villain blushed and stayed quiet, his lips pursed. Hero picked up the taser, looked at it with curiosity, and switched it on. With a smile – a very worrying smile - he got closer.

“Hey, I warned you. I told you that Vampire Hero was going to rescue me.”

*

Vampire Hero is a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.