#I MIGHT CONTINUE THIS

[aliyme]

Fake dating au, where tsuna needs a partner to stop a new upcoming mafia threatening their friends and families, there not pinning for each other…yet~

Fake dating trope has a hold of me recently, I apologize for my horrible writing skills.

[lynxmisnomer]

A strange encounter

The Curse of Metropolis Part 1

Next

Read on ComicFury

[ask-yoriichi]

I just found this u-u

And I can't help but to do this uwu

This might be a Y/N x Yoriichi (Kimetsu Gakuen AU) series, idk, maybe you comment about the next scene and I'll draw it (probably)

[cat-autism-wizard]

'how could you live the with guilt on your conscious and blood on your hand? your own blood on your hand.' danny must have thought about for the millionth times in the past eleven years. it had a simple answer. he didnt care, yet the question was lingering in his mind ever since he tore vlad's ghost-half apart from him.

he hated that.

he hated the fact that he might still had a 'human' part in him. he didnt want to be a human, he despised them. they hated ghost because they were 'evil' but they go out of their way to kill and torture ecto-beings knowing that they do feel pain just like humans do. danny had no reason to care about humans and had so many to hate them.

so why couldnt he let go?

after running away from the fenton thermos and absorbing clockworks power danny was in the strongest form he could hold. he finally could destroy amity park.

so why did he keep on hesitating?

to destroy amity park and everyone in it. it was easy the first time and now he was even stronger but why was it hard? he never regretted his decision to free himself from his mortal shell and he never regretted absorbing plasmius' ghost form, he never regretted destroying people. it was all easy decisions. it all has been worth it. its gotta be. he was so close this goals now. no turning back.

but then jazz spoke to him. like she did when he was a kid. still believing that he could be better, that he was still that little kid. she was wrong she was so wrong amd danny was going to show her.

but he hesitated while doing it.

[yinyangbuns]

Refuge

Short fic

Wei Wuxian was a troublemaker.

He was loud, and unrestrained, and he liked to goof off. He was always teasing and playing pranks. He was reckless.

But he was not irresponsible, no matter what the rumors said.

He was smart, and he made sure things got done. The Jiang disciples loved their shixiong; they respected him, even as they laughed with him.

But just because he made their work enjoyable, did not mean that he didn’t make them work.

His drills were framed lightly, and if they were truly struggling he did not hesitate to step in and help, but they were rigorous.

No one who watched Wei Wuxian’s training drills could claim that they were lacking - with the exception, as always, of one Madam Yu.

But the boring truth could not stand up to the enormity of the rumors.

Wei Wuxian was trouble. This was one thing that everybody seemed to agree on.

(He let it roll like so much water off his back. Sometimes, he thought he could almost feel it bead there, like water droplets on the beaten wood of the old boats, refusing to leave him, sticking to his skin like a cold sweat.)

He may be trouble. He may bring chaos and destruction wherever he roams. He has heard such things so often that somewhere in the back of his mind, he has already accepted them as irrefutable truth.

But he has never been able to sit idly while he could be doing something, anything at all to help.

Madam Yu is a fighter; to surrender is unthinkable. She would - and will - fight to her death when the Wen come and bring the sect down with her.

She is the type of person to go down with her ship, cursing the skies even as the water closes over her head.

Wei Wuxian, however, has always known the value of a strategic retreat, has known it since he was on the streets, throwing his only food to the side so the dogs would chase it and not him, relying again and again on the half-and-half chances that he wouldn’t earn a new wound in the mold of sharp teeth by the end of the day. The chances that they would find whatever morsel he had picked up more tantalizing than himself, easy pickings and barely able to run away on legs shaky with exhaustion.

What this means is that when the Wen come to destroy Lotus Pier, they will not destroy the Jiang.

What this means, is that Wei Wuxian has a plan.

(He spends days scribbling furiously in his sickbed. He is not strong enough to walk more than ten paces, in those early days, but he can write, and his brain works just fine, and all he can think about is the fate of the Lan, and the boon that is Yunmeng’s river, and the threat of war looming ever-closer. The Wen will come; Wei Wuxian swears to himself that they will not stay.)

Madam Yu may be first lady of Lotus Pier, but Wei Wuxian is head disciple.

He will not allow the disciples who rely on him to die like cattle under his watch.

As soon as he is cleared to walk, he calls the youngest of the disciples to him. He takes them out, plays games with them, shows them sneaky ways to hide themselves and emphasizes the importance of staying together. He shows them how to swim quietly under the boards of the decks of Lotus Pier; shows them the quickest ways to leave without drawing attention. He prepares them in the best way he knows how to without scaring them. He plays games with ulterior motives and gives them tight hugs and prays to whatever gods will listen that they remain safe.

He sends the littlest ones home with lotus seeds in their pockets and whatever excuses he can think up in the moment, and hopes that someday there will be a sect for them to return to.

The older disciples meet a much different version of their Shixiong than they are used to. He is serious, and his eyes are calculating, and his hands are white-knuckled around his writing brush. The Wei Wuxian they meet is tight-lipped and stoic.

The Wei Wuxian they meet is preparing for war.

The Wei Wuxian they meet has sketches of Lotus Pier spread out in front of him, exit routes marked clearly and distinctly, with arrays scribbled erratically in the margins with arrows pointing to different areas of the compound. Arrays for confusion, for cloaking. Arrays for escape.

The Wei Wuxian they meet discusses with them in a quiet but confident voice the evacuation plan for the servants and disciples of Lotus Pier, and sends out scouts to watch for the advance of Wen that the main Jiang family refuse to believe in the possibility of.

The Wei Wuxian they meet shoves talismans and checklists in their hands as he talks about fire on a mountain, and a sect leader dead, and a sect heir silent with a broken leg, forced to walk day after day.

Wei Wuxian is their head disciple.

He is achingly, painfully young.

And he is bound and determined to protect them against an army.

(The disciples decide, then and there, that they are going to protect him as well.)

[ac3th3shark]

I JUST FINISHED BANANA FISH AND IM IN DENIAL SO I WROTE THIS TO COPE!!!!!

!!banana fish spoilers!!

Eiji's sister doesn't have a name, so I refer to her as Fuku bc that's what the random name generator wanted.

idea: Ash survives and comes to see Eiji in Japan

It had been a little less than a month since Eiji had returned to Japan. His injuries had almost fully healed, and he was able to walk around and do things again. His poor mother had been horrified to see the state he was in when he arrived home. She cried so hard seeing him hurt in that wheelchair. He remembers thinking about how upset he was that Ash hadn't come, but he was sure that he would see him again while his mother thanked Ibe for taking care of him and his father yelled at Ibe for letting him get hurt.

About a week after he arrived home, he got a call from Ibe saying that Max had called him, and Ash was in the hospital after getting stabbed by Lao. Max had asked him not to tell Eiji yet, but he thought that he deserved to know what happened. Eiji wanted to go right back to America to check on Ash, but he didn't. He decided that he needed to stay here for a while before doing anymore travelling and he's confident that Ash would be ok, ash is strong. One of the strongest- no, the strongest person that he's ever met.

He was so worried about Ash, asking Ibe if he knew how he was doing every day. He remembers thinking that he shouldn't of came back until he was sure that Ash and everyone else was ok. He was so relieved when a few days ago Ibe told him that Ash had finally been released.

He was snapped from his thoughts when his mother called his name. He looked up from where he was staring at a page of his book.

"Sweetie, someone's here to see you."

"What?"

"I think it's a friend from America. He barely speaks Japanese, but he kept saying something in English and your name so I figured I would get you."

Eiji tried to think of who it could be. What if Ash had gotten into more trouble and someone had come after him again? now, that was extremely unlikely. But who could it be? Max is too busy with his engagement and planning his marriage. He had heard that Sing was working with Yut Lung now, so who?

"Thanks ma" He cautiously got up and walked to the door that was cracked open.

Upon opening the door, he was met with a familiar face, ash. Ash had come to see him.

He just stood there staring and Ash just stared back. Finally, he worked up the ability to say something.

"Ash..."

"Eiji..."

"Ash!"

"Eiji!"

Ash jumped onto Eiji, bringing him into a tight hug, Eiji hugged him back. They both pulled back a little, staring at each other, both of them crying happy tears. Ash moves one of his hands to Eiji's face, gently pulling him into a soft kiss. They both Smile as they pull away.

Eiji grabs his hand and pulls him inside the house, shutting the door behind them. As soon as he moves his hand from the knob its back around ash and they're hugging again. They stay like that for a while before Ash remembers that this isn't his home and pulls away.

"How are you? Are you ok? I heard that you were stabbed. You just got released a few days ago, right? Why are you here?"

"I'm fine now, I lost a lot of blood and ended up passing out from blood loss in the library but I'm ok now." Ash responds, gently taking Eiji's hands into his. "And I'm here because I missed you."

The nice moment only lasts for a short minute because Eiji suddenly turns around.

"Awwww, Eiji! Your so on-edge all the time since you came back! I can't sneak up on you anymore!" Fuku, Eiji's younger sister pouts.

"Heh, sorry Fu."

"who's that?" Fuku and Ash both say at the same time, pointing at each other.

"Ash," Eiji starts saying in English "This is Fuku, my younger sister." He turns to Face the girl better, "Fuku," he says in Japanese now, "This is Ash, my....Friend from America" he blushes a little when he decides not to tell her that they're dating.

"Hehe! I knew that that charm I gave you would work!!" Fuku laughs as Eiji jumps back a little.

"Ahh, that was intentional!?"

"What did she say?" Ash asked.

"r-remember that charm I told you about? She said that she knew it would work." The red on both of their faces intensifies and so does Fuku's laughter.

"Well, if it's that obvious, may as well just own it." Ash says, "You can introduce me as your boyfriend if you'd like."

"Sure."

And they all three smile.

[ram-to-the-ham]

So I have like shit writing schedule and I’m piled with school work so idk if I’ll be able to write this…

But I really want to write or outline a fic where Soap and Ghost are on a mission. And that mission involves the use of bombs. Like maybe to level a building once they get the intel. And soaps a little too close to the bomb when it detonates and so he gets thrown back. He’s crumpled on the ground, but he doesn’t really have any major injuries. Maybe some bruised ribs and some burns but otherwise he’s ok.

Except for the loud ringing in his ears and the fact that he can’t hear anything.

And he knows Ghost is probably calling for him asking for a sit rep, he most definitely heard Soaps yell over the open comms. But he can’t even bring himself to give a half assed response back. Everything is spinning and while the ringing is still present, it’s dulled. Which makes the suffocating silence even more apparent and so much more terrifying.

At some point in his delirium, he feels the pounding of footsteps rapidly racing towards him. Before he can even react to whip his gun up and aim at the intruder he’s roughly grabbed by the shoulders. It takes him a couple of seconds to recognize his Lieutenant. He’s never seen him so frantic, and from what he’s seeing, it looks like Ghost is talking a mile a minute. And only seems to get more panicked the longer Soap goes without answering. Before he can even begin to say anything the hands gripping his shoulders shoot up to his face and grasp at the sides of his chin. Surprisingly, the touch is soft with Ghost tilting his head back and forth.

Soap has to restrain himself from relaxing into the hold, so he clears his throat before speaking what he hopes isn’t too loudly.

“Sir… I- I can’t hear a word your saying.”

[woundedheartwithin]

When his parents were killed, Yagami Takayuki was getting high and fucking his study partner. He’d left to let the anger fade from his heart, and stayed away so that the stench of weed would fade from his clothes, because he couldn’t endure another shouting match with his father so close to the last one.

And his first clue that something was wrong should have been waking up in someone else’s bed from a nightmare he couldn’t remember. Or the way the air stood still around him as he walked home, leaving the sidewalk covered in dead leaves. Or the way his house had been eerily silent, the door hanging ajar by just an inch and a half, no angry voices bleeding out into the unraked front yard. And maybe he had picked up on those clues and simply ignored them. Or maybe he’d missed them entirely, lost in his excuses for where he’d been the night before and why he hadn’t come home.

He gets on a train to Kamurocho late that same night, trying not to think about how easy it would be to step out onto the tracks instead.

[calmasyoghurt]

Step 1. Watch umk final (preferably with Swedish commentary)

Step 2. Vibe with the winning song

Step 3. Recognise the winner when they appear in social media

Step 4. Check out the guy that the finnish representative befriended, start following him and his band on Instagram

Step 5. Become obsessed with said band

Step 6. Go to the concert they have in your country's capital (make friends in queue)

Step 7. Never stop thinking about the concert

Step 8. Get merch and a concert-ticket for Gothenburg (plan to go with friend you met in queue)

Step 9. Watch the band's concert film via rtv slovenia, without understanding what they are saying

[anoncryinginthecorner]

A Notice

Palace of Lingwen:

Name: Arlecchino Rank: Supreme Title: Dire Balemoon

Description: 

Arlecchino is a cunning ghost who feeds on people. Caution is advised when facing her. A descendant of Khaenri’ah’s Crimson Moon Dynasty, who suffers the same curse as her predecessors.  Her ghost fire comes from the Flames of Heaven, the Ruler of all Mortal Flames. 

Half a millenia ago, Arlecchino and The Spiderflower Goddess crossed blades.  Which resulted in her being sealed within Mount Esus (East)

This land is now plagued with remnants of the living.  Entry is forbidden to all but Martial Gods, to prevent more tragedies. 

If you see this ghost, do not engage. Flee for your life.

[callofthecurlew]

It's not something he'd ever really considered before, but the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense.

[billy-theratking]

I'd Know You Anywhere, My Love - Part 1

Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington

AN: Just a little excerpt on Billy and Steve after the Star Court Mall battle. Get ready for Upside Down infected, monster Billy!

Warnings: Panic attacks

Part 2

Steve lazily cracked an eye open, groggily squinting at the familiar layout of his bedroom. Nothing looked out of place, which only left him even more puzzled. He focused on his body and found that his heartbeat was perfectly steady and his breathing was even. So, if he wasn’t awake because of another nightmare…

Then what woke him up?

His question was answered in the form of a muffled clatter that came from the apartment beyond his door, the sound prompting him to quietly climb out from beneath his warm blankets and retrieve his trusty spiked bat from where he’d stashed it under the bed.

Robin had gone out for yet another date with a cute girl named Hannah that she’d met at a poetry reading and had told him not to expect her to return to their apartment until well into the morning.

Steve considered the preferable scenario where Robin had changed her mind and came back early, but she would’ve called to warn him of her imminent return just in case he was… busy.

Surely he would’ve heard their landline ring, he was an incredibly light sleeper since he’d found out about the Upside Down and all the things that came with the territory. Which could only mean that Robin didn’t call, and that indicated that the second -and much more distressing- option was the most likely one. 

He had an uninvited visitor, which was unexpected because their apartment wasn’t in a particularly bad neighborhood.

Sure, it wasn’t like there had never been a break-in that was in the area, it’s just that… Steve had never thought it would happen to them.

He and Robin didn’t have a whole lot of stuff that was worth stealing, other than their hard-earned TV of course. Though, even then it would be pretty difficult to take considering the fact that the thing was heavy. Like ridiculously so, to the point where he and Robin had struggled to get the appliance up the flight of stairs and into their living room.

His train of thought was derailed by the almost inaudible sound of his fridge door opening. The noise reminded him why he was standing stiffly in the cold corridor. He took a step forward, moving out of the hall and into the living room, his foot slipping slightly as it came in contact with the wet hardwood floor.

Looking down, the meager light of the street lamps shining through the windows allowed him to see some sort of slime smeared across the ground, the puddles parallel and evenly spaced like footprints.

His gaze tracked the path back to his right, the prints beginning in front of the wall next to his TV. The off-white wall was just as pristine as it had been when they had moved into the apartment, with no sign of tampering.

It was as if the prints had just appeared out of nowhere.

Memories of gateways to other dimensions and the creatures that followed flashed through his mind before he viciously stomped down the reminder. He hoped -prayed- that this had nothing to do with the Upside Down.

Steve carefully stepped over the ooze slathered across the floor, creeping up to the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. The golden light from the small bulb spilled out onto a small portion of the tiled floor of the dining room and kitchen, softly illuminating the surrounding area in an eerie glow.

He peeked around the corner in order to peer into the kitchen and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion upon seeing the absolute mess of the place.

His various plastic magnets were scattered across the floor, some cracked and in pieces as if they’d been stepped on. Wrappers and shredded Tupperware was strewn about with half-eaten and abandoned scraps of food left haphazardly everywhere.

He was so furious at the sight of the absolute disaster he almost missed the figure rummaging about his fridge. Examining the little bit of the silhouette he could see, he stared wide-eyed at the gap between the bare fridge door and the floor, where he could see a pair of slimy feet.

Although, it took him a second to register that what he was staring at weren't feet at all but talons, ones that looked freakishly akin to something one might see on a bird as opposed to something distinctly human-sized.

Steve must've made some kind of noise, because the nightmare-inducing crunching abruptly cut off, the shadowed figure straightening from its hunched form in order to stare at him from over the fridge door.

Some sort of swinging metal caught in the yellow light of the fridge, giving Steve a good eyeful of an eerily familiar earring. Unfortunately, Harrington had only seen that particular earring on one person.

A familiar pair of bright blue irises swam in dark pools of black, lazily raking over Steve's frame. After an uncomfortable moment of mutual staring, the other male’s petal pink lips curled up into an unsettling grin that showed off inhuman needle-point teeth. Regrettably, Harrington would recognize that smug face anywhere and Jesus fuck-

It's Billy Hargrove.

A dead teen is standing in Steve's kitchen, a half-devoured rotisserie chicken held in the loose curl of his… fingers? At least, that's what they resembled. They were more like claws, Billy’s usual sun-kissed tan skin steadily fading into a smooth matte black from his elbows down to the tips of his fingers.

Unsure of what else to do, Steve wound up and viciously swung at the Billy look-alike, who swiftly ducked to avoid the deadly spikes that were periodically scattered throughout the wood.

“Hey! Hey! Easy, Pretty Boy. It’s me, Billy.” It drawled and Steve’s lips twisted into a scowl at the casual use of the degrading nickname, anger rearing its ugly head at this… impostor’s words. Harrington knew it wasn’t Hargrove because there was no way in hell Billy would come looking for Steve of all people. Max maybe -perhaps even El- but certainly not him.

“I don’t know what you are, but I know for a fact that you’re not Hargrove. He’s dead. I watched him die.” Steve swallowed heavily, ignoring how his voice cracked.

The look-alike’s face creased with exasperation, the creature clicking its tongue in clear disagreement.

“Well that’s kind of impossible considering that I’m right here.” It both looked and sounded completely done with the brunet’s perfectly valid argument, thank you.

“He’s dead.” Steve repeated, for lack of anything else to say.

“No, I’m not.” The impostor stressed, frustration bleeding into its tone.

The creature carelessly tossed the half-eaten carcass of the chicken onto the nearest counter before taking an aborted step forward, causing Steve to backpedal and plant his feet, readying his bat.

The brunet swung as the blond reached out to grab him, getting a solid hit right on the look-alike’s chest, a flash of metal drawing his gaze down to where nails met flesh. The thin gold chain around the impostor’s neck had gotten tangled around the bat, the delicate jewelry snapping when Steve yanked it away.

The familiar necklace dangled from the black-coated nails, glinting insidiously as it swayed with the brunet’s trembling hands.

It was Billy’s.

Steve suddenly recalled the day that he’d finally gathered enough courage to ask Max about the jewelry’s significance; she had told him that it used to belong to Hargrove’s estranged mother.

Steve tore his eyes away from the necklace, braving a glance at Billy and he instantly wished he hadn’t, a cold chill running down the brunet’s spine at the blond’s severe expression. It was the same look he’d had that night at the Byers house, the night that Billy had attempted to beat him to death.

Steve flinched when those crazed arctic eyes darted away from the necklace to hone in on him, prompting the brunet to drop the bat as if it had burned him. The crack of wood hitting wood was deafeningly loud, the sound ringing through the kitchen like a gunshot.

He immediately clapped his hands over his ears, hoping that it would at least muffle the noise. On the contrary, it just seemed to grow louder and louder until it was the only thing he could hear.

The distant crash of a plate shattering broke through the white noise, Steve’s hands dropping away from his head as he felt the pieces of porcelain rain down around him. The left side of his skull throbbed in time with his frantic heartbeat as he flashed through memories of Billy kneeling over him, pinning him to the ground as blow after blow landed.

Steve couldn’t breathe, choking on the thick metallic flavor that flooded his mouth. His aching eyes squinted open, his pained gaze meeting the manic grin on Billy’s face as the younger boy kept throwing punches.

Every inch of his body hurt and he could feel his skin split, bruise, swell up, Billy’s unhinged laughter echoing throughout the Byers living room, as if it were coming from all around him. Then there were hands on him, pressed against the back of his head.

He flinched away, but the hands were persistent and they weren't hurting him, so he gave in to the instinct to lean into the gentle touch. His breathing slowed some, the ringing lessening in volume until he could actually hear a voice.

“Hey. Hey. Stop that.”

The fingers moved lightly over the back of his head and he hissed as it ran across a painful bump. The prodding hand came back around and paused in front of his face, a bright crimson coating the tips of the pointer and middle finger that Steve distantly registered as his blood.

He focused his vision past the hand and to the figure crouched before him, who still talking. “Damn, Bambi. You hit your head pretty good.”

Billy looked different now, the claws, talons and weird eyes were gone. The blond looked perfectly human, exactly like the Billy from his memories.

And, as if sensing his eyes, Billy’s sky blue gaze lifted to meet his. “Are you okay?”

Steve just blinked uncomprehendingly at the blond as if he was seeing him for the first time. Then the glint of metal pulled Steve out of his daze, his attention caught and held in a vice grip when his eyes settled on the golden amulet that dangled from Billy’s free hand.

“Billy…” Steve breathed softly, tearing his eyes away so he could look at the figure kneeling before him. He reached out, cautiously touching the cool skin of Billy’s wrist, feeling the thump of the younger teen's heart when pressing his fingers against his pulse.

“It’s you. It’s really you.”

He stared in puzzled astonishment as Billy shuffled closer, the blond’s brows furrowing in confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, Bambi. That's what I was trying to tell you before you went all Babe Ruth on me.”

Suddenly remembering the sound of metal tearing flesh, Steve released his grip on the other male like it had burned him, and dropped his wide eyes to Billy’s unmarred chest.

“But… but I hit you. I know I hit you. How are you okay?” Steve felt his breathing begin to pick up the longer he stared at the inky black that was smeared across Billy’s golden skin.

“Nope. No. We are not doing this again.” Billy hissed, hands frantic as they moved over Steve’s frozen form. “Come on. Come on, Bambi. It’s just me, it’s just me.”

He carefully framed Steve’s face with both of his cold hands, bringing their foreheads together. Each of Billy’s warm breaths fanned against his face, sweet like candy and somehow soothing. 

Steve was surprised when the panic released his lungs, his breathing slowing to match Billy’s calm puffs of air. The blond leaned back, but didn’t go too far, staying practically nose to nose with the other. This close, Steve could count each individual freckle sprinkled across Billy’s cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

They’d messed around a few times but then everything went to shit at the Byers house and Billy started ignoring him, so Steve stayed away, giving Billy the space that the blond so obviously wanted.

And then Billy was flayed and people were dying and he was trying to avoid being killed by angry Russians and there was no time to think about what was happening as Billy stood over El, facing the creature that was towering over the two of them with squared shoulders, looking all to the world like the stubborn, brave teen that Steve remembered catching glimpses on during their brief fling.

Then Billy was screaming and Max was screaming and when Billy went horribly silent, leaving only Max’s heart-wrenching sobbing to fill the sudden oppressive quiet that had descended over the group, Steve stared down at Billy’s unmoving body with a mess of confusing emotions all battling for attention, watching numbly as black oozed from the wounds on the blond's sides, chest and hands. 

The rest of the night was a blur of colors and noise as they ran, avoiding the authorities and Russians alike, and then he was suddenly standing in the shower fully clothed, his hair and stupid sailors uniform plastered to his goose-pebbled skin as he shivered under the spray of water that had long gone cold.

Steve cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed there, and carefully pushed Billy out of his personal space. “What uh- what happened?”

When Steve had a panic attack, the details of what exactly triggered him and what had transpired during were kind of a blur. So he was left wondering why the back of his head was throbbing angrily and why he could taste blood.

Billy stared quietly for a moment, slowly giving him a once over, before answering. “You hit me with the bat and my necklace broke. And when you looked at me, you froze up. Next thing I knew, you were unresponsive.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line, ashamed of himself. Billy was the last person that he wanted to see him like that, weak and pathetic.

“Then you kind of collapsed and backed up when I tried to approach you. You began to slam your head against the cabinets behind you and I’m guessing that when you hit your head, you must’ve bit your tongue.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, that was odd behavior. Robin had never said anything about self-harm during any other episodes, so this was a first.

“And no matter what I said, you wouldn’t listen. You just kept repeating ‘no’ under your breath while hyperventilating and staring off blankly into the middle distance.” Billy sounded kind of odd as he spoke, almost as if he were actually rattled by the incident. “It was like you couldn’t see me. It was terrifying.”

Steve almost broke his neck with how fast he jerked his head up to look at Billy -Billy Hargrove- who had just admitted that he was scared and worried about Steve.

The whole situation was insane and had Steve feeling like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him, leaving him trying and failing to regain his balance.

“It was a panic attack.” He heard himself explaining without his say-so. “I have them sometimes when I’m reminded of shitty situations I've been in.”

He didn’t know why, but Steve felt the irrational urge to comfort Billy, who was still staring at him like he might shatter if the blond moved away. Billy slowly rose before holding out his free hand, palm up, in an offering. Steve took Billy’s extended hand, gratefully letting the other male to help him up to his feet.

“How about we set you up with some pain meds? Have any Advil or Tylenol?” Billy scratched at his chin in thought and Steve stifled the need to smile at the adorable expression on the blond’s face.

This was nothing like the Billy that he was used to, but he couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down just because the blond expressed a bit of kindness. Billy had shown himself capable of being nice if it benefitted him somehow. Steve had to remember that the blond was still a ticking time bomb and any misstep could set him off.

“We have some in the bathroom, but I can’t have any kind of pain reliever because of the meds I’m on.”

Billy halted all movement and side-glanced at the brunet, piercing eyes drilling into Steve’s head as if he were trying to pull the unsaid information from the brunet's brain.

“How about some alcohol then?” Billy moved back toward the fridge and Steve stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, the blond going stock still for a second time underneath his hand. Frustration overtook Billy’s face, making it do some unattractive things as the blond attempted to get a lid on his emotions. “Let me guess, can’t have that either?”

"Yeah, pretty much." Steve nodded, releasing his hold on Billy so that the younger male could pace freely.

“What do you do if you get hurt or have a headache?” The blond sounded furious, as if Steve’s lack of options personally offended him somehow.

Steve just shrugged, not really sure what to say and not wanting to push the blond further into a rage. He left Billy in the kitchen -the blond muttering to himself- in order to grab a large black garbage bag to start cleaning the kitchen.

Steve desperately wished that he could take his medication. He felt overwhelmed, anxious and guilty; viciously cursing the fact that he couldn’t fuck up his schedule by taking any before eight am.

Billy joined him a few minutes later, wordlessly grabbing one for himself. Steve abandoned the blond to pick up the various food-stuffs scattered around, Steve went to investigate his magnet problem.

He picked up the blue rose that Robin adored and tried to put it back on the fridge door, but the minute that he let go, it fell. He glared down at the magnet before squatting to pick it up and try again, only to get the same result.

He attempted the same with every single one of his magnets with the exact same thing happening every time he let go. They had demagnetized, all of their stupid magnets did, and the last time something like this had happened, a rogue piece of the Mind Flayer had awoken and possessed Billy.

He glanced over at the blond, who was considering a half-eaten slice of pizza very intently, before shrugging and tossing it into the trash bag he was dragging around behind him. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Billy’s sudden appearance had something to do with the magnet's odd state.

It took the two of them around an hour to finish cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, Steve allowing himself to be distracted by the monotonous task. He didn’t want to look into Billy’s mysterious resurrection, much less how the blond had even found him or got into the apartment with all the windows and doors locked.

Billy moved into the living room and Steve followed. The blond made a move as if to flop down onto the couch and Steve’s hand snapped out in order to grab his wrist and tug him away from the furniture with a disapproving frown. The kids liked to call it his ‘Disappointed Mom’ face.

Billy gave him a questioning look and Steve explained himself. “You are covered in unidentified shit and, therefore, not allowed on any of the furniture until you shower.”

Billy gave Steve his trademark flirtatious grin at the command, saddling up next to him and shamelessly pressing into Steve’s personal space.

“If you wanted me to get naked, you could’ve just asked.”

That attitude was more like the Billy he remembered, the familiar behavior putting Steve at ease for some reason.

“Dude, get off me. We’ve just established that you’re covered in yuck.” Steve complained, shoving at the suddenly clingy male. “Go get in the shower. Towels are in the cupboard to the right of the bathroom, you animal.”

Steve gave him one last push to send the blond on his way, waiting until the younger man was out of view before going back into the kitchen for something to eat. It was now nearing five in the morning and his stomach was complaining about the lack of food.

He was about to open the cabinet when he noticed the black spots on the door and counter. Moving toward the light, Steve flicked the switch, illuminating the room and revealing the horror that was once hidden by the dark of the room. There was a thick, ink-like substance all over the kitchen floor and Steve’s own blood coating parts of the hardwood and lower cabinets.

He probably stood frozen in shock for several minutes, just taking in the utter mess of the room, wondering what the black liquid was and where it came from.

Then he recalled how black welled up in the wounds when the bat hit Billy, coating the nails in dark ink. Ripping the bat out must have flung the blood into all sorts of directions, which explained the drops of obsidian shining innocently at him from various surfaces.

Steve considered all the clues that alluded to the fact that Billy was not exactly human.

The odd slime on the floor and coating his skin, the horrifying limbs and eyes, the odd coloring of his skin, the fact that he was cold to the touch like a corpse and bled black blood.

Something was going on here and it had something to do with that dreaded dimension. He needed help and he knew exactly who to call. Grabbing the landline, he listened closely to make sure that the shower was still running loudly before dialing.

“Robin, you need to get home, like right now. Billy Hargrove is in our apartment… and I think he came from the Upside Down.”

[wearerandomlyyours]

"I can fly it."

Hangman looked at Rooster in disbelief, finally tearing his eyes away from the bucket of bolts that might be their only way out of this mess.

"That piece of shit is older than both of us, Bradshaw, how the fuck are you going to even get it started? 'Cause I sure as hell don't know the startup sequence. We don't even know if it can fly!"

Rooster turned to him and gave him a slanted smirk that seemed both out of place and horribly familiar.

"Let's find out."

Hangman gaped as Rooster, reserved, stuck on his perch Rooster, started marching strait across the ruined airfield.

"Roost.....! Fuck."

The hair-raising thirty seconds it took to get across the tarmac felt like an eternity, but they made it safely to the Tomcat that would hopefully get them out of there.

Rooster flipped a switch, "Okay, we've got power. Once I give you the signal for 'air', I need you to hold this switch until the needle gets to 120. Once I start the engine, hit this button to stop the air feed, then pull all the pins and disconnect everything, got it?"

"Yeah, but you're explaining everything once we get back to the boat."

Rooster slanted that same strangely familiar smirk as he hit the button to start the airfeed, giving a little cheer when it did so without a hitch, "Sure, man. Stow the ladder once I'm up!"

It took less than a minute to get the old Tomcat ready for takeoff, but as they taxied out of the hutch, Hangman saw the next obstacle.

"The runways are wrecked! How are we gonna get this museum piece airborne?"

No response. Then...

"Uhhhh, Roo? Why are the wings coming out?"

Silence from the front seat.

"Rooster, this is a taxiway. This is a VERY SHORT taxiway, Rooster."

Hangman felt the rumble as the afterbuners wound up, "Shortest takeoff distance ever achieved by a Tomcat was 1,400 feet without a catapult, just hold on."

Hangman didn't get a chance to say anything to that as Rooster released the brakes and the old jet rocketed forward, hurtling towards the fuel towers in front of them.

"Roo..."

"Needle's alive, c'mon sweetheart..."

The towers were getting closer at an alarming rate.

"Rooster..."

"Almost, almost...."

Closer still.

"Rooster!"

"Hold on!"

With a gut-wrenching lurch, they were airborne, Hangman absently noting the jolt of their front landing gear getting torn away as he activated his ESAT.

"Hoooooly shit."

"Yup."

"If we get out of this alive, I'm gonna kill you, Roo."

"That's fair."

[smiles-for-anon]

There's so much Dream and Quackity angst in the lore so, Can I request for some fluff for these two?

You can choose who is tiny and who's big :]

Have a cookie 🍪 :D

I HAVE DECEIVED YOU!! >:DD ONLY THE FIRST PICTURE IS FLUFF!!

[dulaman-na-farraige]

Fun Magma doods from today morning. Thank you @immaboutodosomthn for joining! Left side of the second page by her, the rest by me <333

[i-am-not-your-little-princess]

Hurt

So, I came across Christina Aguilera's song Hurt, and it made me feel... things.

Isabela will regret every harsh word, every shove, every flick of her hair. Every weaponized word used against her little sister will fill her with a deep seated sense of regret. Because Mirabel is gone now. And one hug won't erase the pain she caused. Isabela will never get another chance. Her little sister's flame was extinguished, like the candle that went with her.

Numb.

Was all Isabela felt.

The kind of numbness that starts at the tips of your toes and slowly creeps up the rest of your body, until it consumes you whole.

It felt as if Isabela had been numb for years.

Numb to everything.

Her gift.

Her abuela's impossible expectations.

Her community's exploitation of her abilities.

The constant cycle of perfection.

"Oh, look! It's Isabela! Isn't she just perfect?"

"That Mariano is a lucky man, to be able to marry someone with such perfection."

"Oh, Isabela! Thank you! Another perfect flower arrangement!"

"Oh, how I wish I could be her! Someone with such effortless perfection surely never has to want for anything!!"

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

PERFECT.

She was numb to it.

All of it.

She'd become numb to the feelings of others, too.

But no one bore the brunt of her wrath more than her youngest hermana, Mirabel.

Mirabel. Poor, sweet Mirabel.

Mirabel, who sang with pride, sweet, loving melodies about her gifted familia. Mirabel, who could pick up any and every instrument, and play it with ease. Mirabel, who had begun to outdo even Agustín, with her stitching and embroidery. Mirabel, who was effortlessly, and unapologetically herself.

Mirabel, who greeted each day with a smile, despite the cards she'd been dealt.

Giftless Mirabel, who hid her pain behind her smile, who silently begged for scraps of affection from her abuela, only to be left with nothing but harsh words and cold glares. She was almost always rebutted by Isabela.

Isabela hated to admit it, but she'd begun to take great pride in verbally eviscerating her sister. It made her feel a little more normal, a little less perfect.

But not any less numb.

Truth be told, Isabela was jealous of her youngest sister. She was free. Free to do whatever she wanted, wear whatever she wanted, go wherever she wanted. She could be a normal kid. What purpose did she have, other than to stay out of the way?

"The only thing you have to do is stay out of the way, and you can't even do that!? No wonder you didn't get a gift!"

"If you weren't always trying so hard, you wouldn't be in the way."

She'd used her youngest hermanita as a verbal punching bag. She'd become so numb to everyone else's pain, she failed to recognize that Mirabel was suffering too.

And Mirabel was suffering. Perhaps more so than everyone else.

Because in one last desperate attempt to prove herself, Mirabel ran into their crumbling house for a damn candle.

A candle.

Mirabel had placed a candle above her own life.

And she didn't come out.

Isabela had spent years resenting her sister. Jealousy slowly suffocated their relationship, tightening like vines on a tree, sucking the life out of her, turning her soul black.

And what for?

Mirabel restored color to her life.

But one hug wouldn't erase ten years worth of lost time.

One hug wouldn't erase venomous words, cold glares, or years of blame over things that Isabela just couldn't do.

It had taken ten years for Isabela to hug her sister again.

Ten minutes later, she was gone.

"Isa, Isa!! Give me one last hug before I walk to my door!"

She'd never get another one.

She'd never get another chance.

She was too late.

Always too late.

And she'd never forgive herself either.

I'm sorry for blaming you, for everything I just couldn't do.

And I've hurt myself, by hurting you.