#tw: arguing

[shattered-reflections-au]

Fluffvember 16, Hug / “This isn’t a negotiation, friend”

--- --- --- tw: fighting and yelling (brief) (yes i know that's not fluff i'm listening to "what could have been" )

"you need to leave right now." Blue spat, nearly bearing his teeth at the woman in front of him.

Red couldn't hear much of the woman's side of things. but he knew exactly what was happening. he knew exactly who that woman was, and why Blue was yelling. why he had each hand firmly gripping the sides of the door, not letting her through.

Blue, protective as always. his anger starting to bubble to the surface as he treated the bastardly woman at the door with as little respect as possible.

Red loved him so much. "this isn't a negotiation, bitch. you are going to leave before i make you leave." Blue seethed again.

Red flinched as he heard some final screaming and the door slamming.

Blue stormed away, having loudly locked the door. Blue stomped right to where Red was crouched, hiding behind the kitchen island.

Blue pulled Red off the floor, lifting him up by underneath the arms and holding him in a tight hug.

Red shook with tears burying himself in Blue's strong arms.

"i'm never going to let her get you. never." Blue growled, pulling Red ever so closer.

[lazymblr]

[virtueofsanityx]

he isn't sure when things snap, but he feels it happen more than he really sees it or hears it. that ringing in his ears, it's only getting worse, and his heart has started jumping against his chest in a pattern more fitting of a hummingbird. arin is yelling, yelling at him, and he knows that he should probably be paying some kind of attention to the words and not just the tone of voice, not just the noise of it all, but none of it registers, nothing registers, nothing except for arin grabbing a knife.

and then cade, bottle falling out of his hand and shattering across the floor at his feet, is scrambling backwards on those broken shards, hands coming up to quickly cover his ears, eyes screwing so tightly shut that he's seeing stars behind them, and his head is shaking. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'll be good, i promise. i won't be bad anymore. i'm sorry, please stop yelling, ma, i'm sorry."

because he isn't here. he's not in this kitchen, drunk and confessing his love to a crazy man. he's a boy at home while his mother yells at him about what a miserable disappointment he is, about how bad he is, about how wrong he is. and maybe, as he slides down to sit on the floor, curls up into himself to make himself as small as possible, the yelling will stop and everything will be okay.

muttered apologies continue as he tries to ground himself, the pain of shattered glass digging into his feet and legs helping at least a little in that endeavor. no, he's okay. he's fine, this is fine. focus on breathing, in and out, slow and steady. the booze isn't helping, making ruddy cheeks feel even hotter, ears still ringing, throat going dry, but he doesn't dare open his eyes, doesn't dare uncover his ears, not yet.

What does it even mean?

A fair question, he supposed. It's just that he hadn't seen a point in immediately elaborating if the other wasn't going to believe him anyway. This whole conversation was either going to make or break their relationship--as friends or otherwise. And he hated it. He'd avoided it for so long...The feelings, the dark bullshit he's done a very good job at hiding all this time. Now, it seemed like, without much choice, it was all going to come spilling out.

You're makin' up stories.

"I wish it WAS A FUCKING STORY," he practically screams, his voice shooting up an octave, hands ripping at his chest. Tears drip down his cheeks--angry, fearful, hurt tears. It's not fair of him to get so worked up, especially when Cade's drunk and vulnerable as it is. He knows it. Usually his temper was so easily pushed aside, bottled up, shut down...He'd gotten good at being calm, at being patient a long time ago...But this? This was too painful.

"I wish it WAS, Cade!! I wish I could say: OOPS, HA-HA, Cade! Joke's on you 'cause I'm a fuckin' LIAR!! I fuckin' HATE you an' I been pretendin' all this bloody time! But that's BULLSHIT!!" He looks like a crazy person aand he knows it, ranting and raving with frantic movements. Maybe if he was drunk he'd be aa little more calm, but that wasn't the case. He's stuck with raw emotion. All of it.

Suddenly, he's scrambling for a kitchen knife, ripping it from the knife block and holding it up. The tip is pointed toward his chest, teeth gritted like a wild animal.

"Y'want me t' PROVE it?! I'll fuckin' prove it, Cade!! I'll fuckin' do it even if it hurts like HELL! But yer not gonna like what ya fuckin' SEE!!" His free hand tears open the front of his shirt, revealing the giant tattoo of runes and symbols scrawled across is chest, centuries of scars and bullet wounds and harsh red marks leftover from the pain and agony of living too long. The knife is trembling in his hand, but he's got it pointed at his own heart...

[coniferouspines]

Stanley Pines is dying.

A good samaritan on the street found his unconscious body and decided to call an ambulance for him. Stan doesn’t remember everything that happened. He just knows that a few days and a multitude of tests later, he was unceremoniously diagnosed with a terminal illness in a random hospital in the middle of Oklahoma. Emphasis on terminal. The doctors tell him that without treatment, he has maybe two weeks to live.

Stan can’t afford treatment, nor the hospital bill he’s sure to be slapped with from his current stay. He sneaks out during the night shift and disappears. It’s one more debt added to the list but it’s not like it’s going to matter once he’s dead anyway. He finds the last place he left his car and spends the rest of the night awake in the backseat, wondering what he should do.

In the end, the conclusion is obvious: he wants to see his family. To say his final goodbyes to them in person. However, this brings a new dilemma. Stan’s family are all in different places. His parents in New Jersey, Shermie in California, and Stanford in Oregon. Stan, currently in Oklahoma, is stuck in the middle and with a decision to make.

He can’t visit them all. As much as he’d like to, Stan has neither the money, the gas, or the time to do so. He’d probably die before he could see all of them. He only has enough energy and resources to make it to one of them; he’ll have to be content with phone calls to the others to say his goodbyes.

When the morning comes, Stan gets into the driver’s seat and starts the engine of the car. He sits there for a moment, just breathing deeply. He has to pick a family member to see in person before he dies, and he doesn’t have a lot time, so he has to choose quickly.

It was never really a question.

He chooses Ford.

AKA a terminally ill Stanley makes his way up to Gravity Falls, Oregon to reunite with his brother. He wants to say his goodbyes and apologies in person before he dies. He’s not happy about dying, but he doesn’t think he has much to live for anyway, so he accepts it. He just wants to make things right between himself and Ford before it happens so he can go without regrets.

Stanford is not expecting his estranged twin to randomly show up looking like he’s literally on death’s door. Nor is he approving of Stanley’s plan to seemingly just lay down and die. Good thing Stan came to him. Now he’s given Ford a chance to do something about it.

All current research and projects get shoved aside as Ford focuses everything he has on a new, single task: take care of Stanley and save his life.

(Amazing addition by tinfoil-jones here)

[rodawgg]

origionally ment to be a funny haha comic then it kinda went too sad but ummm BOOOOOMMMMMM (hits you with my toxic yaoi beam) AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (also im prouid of the. the lineart hehe) also AHHHHHHHHHHHH

[kingkaisen]

CRUEL — Satoru G.

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌��𝐑𝐘: He screwed up. He knew he was going to die soon. Desperate to hear your voice just one last time, Satoru decides to call you.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only || heavy angst, character death, descriptions of blood and injuries, brief mention of smut, canonverse, friends to lovers…

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2K

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: (Spoiler warning) just to clarify, this does not follow the way Gojo died in the manga!

As Satoru Gojo stared at the bright stars in the night sky, a sad smile formed on his blood-coated, dry lips.

This death was cruel.

Not just the nature of it — his internal organs scrambled to hell, holes decorating his body, or rather, what was left of it, leaving him no choice but to lay in a pool of his own blood that turned the back of his messy white hair crimson red — but the one thing Satoru often silently prayed to a god for, to the universe, to whoever was listening, was to not die alone. Please.

But no one was around. Even the uncut grass surrounding him that would serve as his place of death was void of insects.

How cruel.

It was his fault.

A team of the strongest special-grade curses and curse users he had ever seen ambushed him in what was clearly a thoroughly planned attack. After all, they couldn’t beat him with their own strength and power. Satoru Gojo was the strongest for a reason. But they knew about his weakness: you, his best friend.

One of the curse users started spouting off personal information they had gathered about you. Your full name. Your address. They even bothered to mention how you’d often go to the grocery store every Thursday evening.

Next came the threats — the brutal, unspeakable death they wanted to subject you to.

Satoru should have known better than to lose his temper. He knew — he knew — those bastards just wanted to get him all riled up, but his better instincts fled his exhausted brain and nothing was left except burning rage.

Adrenaline worked in his favor at first. He killed them all.

But he was careless with his own life, leaving himself open to attack. And now, here he was, paying the ultimate price. Dying, and dying alone.

Cruel.

Satoru didn’t understand why he was searching around for his phone at first, patting his ripped, wet clothes. The thing was bound to be broken or soaked in his own blood by now, rendering it useless, but it was worth a shot.

Pulling it out of his right pocket made him all too aware that most of his right leg was missing. But he couldn’t think about that right now. His final thoughts wouldn’t be centered around great concern over his own body, or rather, what was left of it. They would be centered around you.

His blurry blue eyes stared at the cracked phone screen he held above his face. His finger clicked the power button, and when he saw that dull screen flicker to life, he figured that perhaps, in some sick twisted way, his prayers had been answered.

Trying to find your contact was pure hell. He could hardly see, which pissed him off greatly, because he wanted to soak in every photographed detail of the picture you and him took at the Cherry Blossom Festival last spring that served as his home and lock screen.

It would be his last time seeing that bright smile of yours. It would be his last time remembering the sweet treats you both shared. He’d always let you have the last bite.

“Why didn’t I kiss her that day?” Satoru thought. “Why haven’t I kissed her at all? What the hell is wrong with me?”

A tear rolled down Satoru’s bruised cheek. The thought of dying without having kissed you was unbearable. He had found himself in the perfect First Kiss Scenarios several times but chickened out at the last minute, thinking that he had time . . . time to build up the courage to ask you to be his. To turn a friendship into something greater.

But it was too late now.

It wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t die yet, he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Not when he hadn’t yet told you he was in love with you. Not when his lips haven’t touched your soft ones in a deep, passionate kiss. He imagined it quite often. Pulling you close, his hands either on your waist or cradling your breathtaking face. The kiss would last until your lungs burned from a lack of significant air, or until both of your unwavering urges to smile interrupted it.

He hadn’t touched your body beyond the regular, friendly ‘hey, how are you?’ hugs and your cuddling sessions on the couch during monthly movie nights. What would it have been like? To have your warm figure underneath him, your faces inches apart, as you moaned his name softly?

Perhaps, having sex with you would spell the difference between hooking up with someone versus making love, because when he closed his eyes at night and imagined your first time together, those sinful thoughts were lust-filled, that much was true, but at its core, they were romantic. He vividly pictured the sight of your stunning eyes. Holding your hand during. Running a warm bubble bath for you afterward. All of those little, heart-warming things; he imagined it more than the sex itself.

But it was too late now.

It wasn’t fair.

At the very least, he hoped he could hear your voice one last time. You truly loved to ramble. Hearing you go on, on, and on about whatever crossed your mind was one of the circumstances that made him fall for you, as it always made his heart skip a beat.

Now, he wanted to hear you go on, on, and on about whatever crossed your mind as his heart started to give out.

Satoru dialed your number, pressed the speaker button, and rested his phone on his slow-rising chest. He waited. After a couple of rings, your voice, filled with blissful unawareness, came through his phone.

“Damn it, ‘Toru. Your phone call made me lose my game,” you said playfully. “What’s up?”

“Sorry.” Satoru’s voice was hoarse. Lower than usual. Lacking its usual enthusiastic tone.

“You okay?” You asked worriedly.

“I’m fine . . . just woke up from a nap . . . is all.”

“At this hour? It’s almost time for bed!” You paused. Satoru could hear you sip something — must’ve been another cup of that new, flavored tea you purchased last week and raved about on a daily basis, he guessed.

Continuing on, you said, “Well, anyway, if you want some company, you could come over and spend the night. You were coming over tomorrow for dinner anyway.”

“I won’t be able to make it.” A string of blood slipped from Satoru’s mouth as he spoke.

“Oh, well, no worries. You’re still coming tomorrow then, right? I got everything we need to try to make noodles from scratch. You wouldn’t believe how long the line was at the grocery store today. This lady tried to cut in front of me, claiming she had ice cream or something, and I was like, boo-fucking-hoo, I have ice cream too. I let her cut in front of me though ‘cause she handed me five dollars. That’s just how long the line was. People were paying other people to get in front of them. Let that sink in. Crazy, right?”

That was right. It was Thursday. Your favorite shopping day. If Satoru had the energy, he’d smile at the thought of you strolling around a store, smiling happily at the sight of your favorite snacks being on sale.

“Tell me more about . . . about your day,” Satoru asked weakly. He wanted to hear your voice. He had to hear you ramble to him, just one last time. God, he loved it more than anything.

“Hmm,” you shuffled around a bit. “Well, I didn’t do much. Aside from grocery shopping, I spent some time playing that game I told you about, walking around town, um, that’s about it I think. Oh! I found this cute shop selling mochi! I bought you some. It was a brand-new shop too. It still smells like fresh paint in there. The owner was nice as well. There was this other place selling lemon milk, which sounds kinda gross, but it’s basically just creamy lemonade I think, but I could be wrong. I think I’ll let you waste your money and try it before I do, just in case it’s disgusting. But yeah, that was my day. How was yours?”

“I’ve had better days. I don’t really . . .”

Satoru was cut off by his own choking. He coughed, then coughed again, coating his chin with that crimson-red fluid.

“‘Toru? Are you sure you’re okay? Are you sick or something? Is that why you took a nap?”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Satoru whispered.

He wasn’t certain you heard him at first, as you were quiet for a brief moment.

“No, no, I’m gonna worry about you. I’m always gonna worry about you,” you said. This time, it was Satoru’s turn to meet your words with silence.

“‘Toru?” You called out.

He tried to speak. He wanted to. But he could only cough and choke. Choke and cough.

“Okay, I’m on my way to your house. You sound horrible, like when someone’s drinking water and it goes down the wrong pipe, you know?”

“I’m not home,” Satoru responded.

“Where are you then?”

He could hear the worry in your voice.

“Satoru, where the hell are you? What’s going on?”

He coughed. More crimson-red.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m checking your location. You’re scaring me right now.” You paused for a moment, and when you spoke again, your voice was distant. Satoru gathered that you had put him on speaker as you checked your phone for his whereabouts. “You’re . . . it looks like you’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m on my way. What exactly happened? Were you walking to the store or something and passed out? When I get there, you’re going straight to the ER, I don’t care if you just have a small cold-”

“I’ll be dead by the time you get here, sweetie.”

The silence that followed his words snapped his slow-beating heart into pieces, because just as his heart was shattered, your world was as well, and he couldn’t stand being the reason for your suffering.

Another tear fell from his blue eyes, splattering onto the grass below him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so . . . sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe-” Satoru coughed again.

“You’re messing with me, right? This is some sort of prank or-or sick joke?” Your shaky voice softened. “Right?”

Satoru stared at the luminous stars above. They reminded him of you. Bright and pretty.

“Look up. The stars are bright and pretty like my sweetie,” he once said to you amidst a late-night walk.

You gave him a goofy grin that matched his own, swatting at the hand he pinched your cheek with. “Stop it, that’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard. And it doesn’t even rhyme.”

“Yeah it does, depending on how you say the word pretty. I’m the poet-in-the-making here.”

“It doesn’t rhyme, you fool.”

The corner of Satoru’s lips twitched as if his soul wanted him to smile at the memory. But he refused to waste his dwindling strength on smiling. He needed his strength for something else right now: to tell his sweetie the truth.

Because, damn it all, he refused to die without you knowing how he truly felt about you. It was the best he could do, seeing as he would never, ever get the chance to kiss you.

How cruel.

“Listen . . . I know we’re just friends, but . . . I’m in love with you. I wish I told you sooner, sweetie. But I kept it to myself ‘cause . . . I didn’t wanna fall in love with you. Loving someone means having someone you could lose, and the thought of losing you killed me . . . I couldn’t handle it. But now, there’s nothing about you that I don’t love. You don’t know what your smile does to me. And I could listen to you talk for hours, nonstop. I’m pretty sure I already have. I love hearing your awful jokes, and hearing you sing, even when you’re out of tune. It still sounds perfect . . . to me. I love the little frown you make when you can’t make decisions . . . the way your eyebrows would pinch together . . . then you’d always a-ask me. What milk to buy . . . if you should mop first or do laundry first . . . what to have for lunch. God, you’re just so-” Satoru coughed. Crimson red.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I know you never believe me when I tell you that, but you are. My eyes weren’t prepared to handle the sight of your pretty face the first time we met. I had a headache for three days. Three days. I swear it’s the truth. That’s just how gorgeous you are to me. And I wish I could see you one last time. No . . . no I wish . . . I wish I could’ve kissed you. I’ll never get the chance now, not in this life at least. I don’t know h-how any of this . . . afterlife mess works, but I hope . . . I’ll get to see you again. I really . . . I really . . . I re . . .”

His words were becoming incomprehensible. His eyelids felt heavy. The twinkling stars above seemed less like stars, but blobs of fuzzy light.

“Satoru? Please, keep talking. I need you to keep talking,” you said.

He could hear the rumbling engine of your car through the phone.

“. . . Trying,” Satoru mumbled, though uttering that word? It took more energy than it should have.

“This can’t be happening. Not you, ‘Toru, not you. I can’t lose you. I-I won’t be able to handle it . . . I can’t handle it.”

He heard you sniffle as you started to cry. He could imagine the tears streaming down the soft cheeks he wanted to stroke and kiss so desperately.

“Satoru?” You called out urgently when he didn’t respond.

“I’m here,” he whispered, but the words that rolled off of his red tongue were so low, you couldn’t hear him. He wanted to scream it, but he couldn’t speak above that pathetic whisper so easily carried away by the brisk wind.

How cruel.

“Come on, Satoru! Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me,” you cried. “Please don’t die, don’t do this to me . . .”

Satoru closed his eyes — an act that wasn’t of his own choosing.

It felt as if he was falling asleep. Falling asleep while floating in a pool or lake. But, in reality, he was dying in a pool of his own blood.

—

“‘Toru!”

The loud shout of his name made his eyes snap open.

Just how much time had passed?

He wasn’t staring at the stars above, but at you, his sweetie. Your face was right above his.

His breathing sped up. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of you, and more and more uncountable tears fell from his eyes. The sight of you alone was quite literally taking his breath away.

“Oh my god. I found you,” you fell to your knees in the blood-soaked grass, pulling his head in your lap as gently as you could. “The ambulance is right behind me. They can fix this, right?”

“You’re . . . here,” Satoru whispered. You leaned down, turning your head to the side until your ear was practically pressed against his lips, trying to hear his barely audible words. “I won’t . . . die . . . alone.”

“That’s right. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” you sniffled. You turned your head, your eyes staring at his lips.

You kissed them without a thought. Damn the blood, damn it all — this was not how you wanted your first kiss with your best friend to go, but you knew from his confession that it was his dying wish. You could feel Satoru use his little energy to kiss you back with as much passion as a dying man could. Your tears splattered against his cheeks.

When you pulled away and moved back a smidge, your face only an inch away from his, you whispered, “And I love you too. Do you hear me?”

His messy white hair — no, it was practically red now, crimson red — shifted as he nodded weakly, his hair tickling your face.

“Can you . . .” Satoru paused. You turned your head yet again, almost ear to lip. He tried to speak once more. “Can you . . . talk to me?”

“About what?”

“Anything,” he coughed. His blood sprayed across your cheek and nose. Crimson red. “Hurry. Sweetie, please hurry.”

His eyelids were getting heavy. Call it a feeling from his impaired gut, but he gathered that when his eyes closed this time, they wouldn’t open again. The faint sirens he heard in the distance couldn’t save him.

All he wanted now was to hear his sweetie ramble on, on, and on.

“Do you remember when we-we went on that trip to the beach together a few years ago?” You stroked his forehead with your trembling fingers, staring into his glassy eyes. “That stupid seagull took my sandwich, and you tried to avenge me, but the seagull won that fight. I’ve never seen someone run away from something so fast in my life. Remember that? You, um, bought me a new sandwich afterward and spent our entire beach trip trying to fight a bird. You wouldn’t hurt it for real, even though you could have. You’re too kind for that, even if it did yank your hair at one point. You probably didn’t get a chance to notice how beautiful that beach was, though. So vast and blue. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would have felt like to get married there. When I had that thought at the time, the only person I could imagine as the groom was you. That’s when I knew I was in love with my best friend. I knew that I’d . . . life . . . you . . .”

Satoru could no longer understand the final words you would ever say to him. He couldn’t hear you anymore.

His eyes closed. He couldn’t see you anymore.

The last thing he felt was your hand shaking his shoulder as if trying to awaken him from death itself, but as his chest rose and fell one last time, he couldn’t feel you anymore either.

How cruel.

♡ — @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @thequeenofcurses @he11okitty-mari @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @deadrevenge @koikohib @http-bell

[goddessofbees]

Danny's portal accident

Now I know technically he's not dead or has a ghost core in the actual show but I will die (ha!) with these headcannons

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Doodle dump because I have too many thoughts about them </3

Stupid shenanigans during their college era referencing this. Harold used to have a stupid moustache and goatee in that “I just started growing facial hair and idk what to do with it” kind of style.

Giving Melvin friends but also making him the shortest and the angriest out of the gang. He is friends with George and Harold and he hates it so much, he is entrenched in denial about it. His only two besties are each fathers of two and very much married, OF COURSE he's going to be mom/dad-friended to death.

They are judging you.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Something something Merlin is Arthur's bane.

[sluttywonwoo]

Whatever you say, beautiful

[lazymblr]

[divineandmajesticinone]

VAN HELSING (2004) dir. Stephen Sommers

[liketolaugh-writes]

Running a brief analysis of the Drakes vs (my conception of) the Fentons. It's fun.

Danny- My Parents Were Not Neglectful

Tim- I need you to understand that parents aren't supposed to poison their kids

It's not that Tim pities Danny, exactly? But I feel like Danny's incessant denial would bother him. He's like, I'm not here to tell you how to feel about all this, but Your Parents Absolutely Were Neglectful. Which is a tough thing to hear from Mr. My Parents Left Me Home Alone For Six Months.

Emotionally, the Fentons' pre-portal neglect probably had a lot fewer lasting effects on Danny, but there's a lot to be said for growing up in a house that was unsafe from the beginning.

Tim- Your House Had Traps In It

Danny- no it was just kind of messy

Tim- you tripped on wires and died

Danny- I Told You Not To Talk About That

As far as Tim is concerned, his parents loved him (wanted him to have the best of everything, wanted him to be happy and safe, wanted wanted wanted) but not enough to be physically or emotionally present - his dad didn't seem to know how even when he was trying. And Danny's parents loved him enough to be physically and emotionally present, but they sure as hell didn't seem to care if he was safe.

Danny- they were very protective of me!

Tim- they left unlabeled acid on the kitchen counter

Danny- I knew not to touch anything in a beaker

Tim- from experience?

Danny-

Danny- maybe

All of the post-portal shenanigans are a much messier issue that Tim isn't going to touch with a ten foot pole, but this is something he feels qualified to talk about. It's a very emotional conversation though. They're in very different places when it comes to accepting what their parents did wrong.

[linoyes]

LEE KNOW + [UNVEIL TRACK] CINEMA

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

Ignoring the haters who would win in said fighting match for Ethan 🤔

[middle-earth-marauder]

AKA, no one told shadow babies kick lol (he's gonna blame this on it being sonic's heathen, but really, between the two of them, who regularly uses literally kicking ass as a way to express his feelings???? c'mon shads that lil kicky gremlin is all yours-)

wanted to do something fluffy and quick tonight so here have a sketch of my favorite pregnant dumbass while i convince myself to go back to the comic pages lol