#i drew this from memory so things may be different from how he is in manga

[foxgloveciara]

*drops the first mha art in actual years*

oops

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Pack mom!Stiles steter fics?

i anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

How A Pack Should Be by xcaellachx (1/1 | 25,071 | Teen | Steter) Ever since the Nogitsune caused havoc and nearly killed several people, Stiles had been alone. No texts, no emails, calls, nothing. Even his father had become distant and no longer acted when Stiles woke screaming in the night.

Giving the Hale/McCall pack one more chance, Stiles arrives at the loft for the pack meeting and is greeted by an unfathomable violent attack. From nearly every pack member.

After being warned he would be killed if he stayed in California, Peter and the few who supported Stiles, left for a new pack who loved them, taught them and made them a pack with a surprising new alpha.

In Violent Devotion by friendlyfiction (4/12 | 23,331 | Mature | Steter) 10 years ago, Peter Hale ran away from Beacon Hills and the promise that he made to a boy in love for the first time.

10 years ago, Stiles woke up in bed alone, left with broken promises and empty bed sheets.

In the decade since, they’ve both grown and changed, putting years and miles between themselves and the memory of what almost was until disparate circumstances bring these two men back to Beacon Hills, where their lives will once again collide.

They may be different people now, but will they still feel that same pull of violent devotion that drew them together in the first place?

All I Need Is You (And Cookies) by SincerelyLittle (13/13 | 18,196 | Gen | Steter) “Daddy Stiles!” those are the words that ring out the Hale’s backyard, everything seems to stand still for a moment while Stiles opens his eyes to the sight of long brown hair, beautiful brown eyes and a freckled face. He doesn’t blame anyone for believing the kid when she looks so convincingly like a daughter of his own would.

Since said child is so cute, he can forgive her for potentially starting world war 3 - or at least he thought he could until the next words were "Daddy Peter and I brought cookies!" At least he'll have cookies in the middle of battle.

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down by Ravenxxx97 (3/? | 9,481 | Explicit | Steter) Still wracked with guilt months after Peter's death, Stiles struggles to move on from the loss while everyone else focuses on the Kanima. His dreams are plagued with memories of Peter, both good and bad. After getting kidnapped by Gerard the night of the lacrosse game, Stiles is faced with the Argents' lies and is pushed to his limits as he fights to rescue himself, Erica, and Boyd. When he arrives to the warehouse to rescue Derek from Gerard and Allison, his world is turned upside down once again when he finds Peter Hale there, alive and breathing as if everything from the past few months never happened.

Can things between them be repaired?

I Crave Your Bite ( I belong to you ) by Suzuki_Motors (1/1 | 4,132 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles has known for awhile now that he wanted the bite. So what's stopping him when Derek would love to gift him such a thing?

[ash5monster01]

Can I get Drew Starkey with prompt 2.??

First Love

Valentines Celebration Prompt

Pairing: Drew Starkey x FemReader

Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, fluff, established relationship

2. You find an old love letter from your high school sweetheart, do you reach out?

word count: 2k

Masterlist

Valentine’s Day always brought up old memories. Thoughts to a time that didn’t even feel like you had lived it anymore. So much had changed, things you never really expected too. It’s weird that it feels so much heavier this year. Maybe since it had been ten years. A decade later and your life was not what you had wanted or expected it to be. Which explains why you pull the box stuffed away in your closet out. A layer of dust covering the top and you slowly blow it away as you pull the lid open to memories you hadn’t revisited in a very long time.

It’s the big things you notice first. The pair of roller skates you seemed to live in sophomore year of high school. A stack of year books with worn covers and faded signatures on the inside. A hoodie, one from him that overtime just became yours. Then it was the pictures. So many pictures it made you realize just how much of your life had been intertwined with his. It may have been ten years since but it was still ten years together before. Trying your best to avoid your young smiling face you find a stack of letters, rubber banded together with handwriting that is all too familiar. You knew it maybe wasn’t the best idea to read one, open old wounds, and yet you can’t stop yourself from freeing one of the envelopes.

Hello my love,

Did I happen to mention just how beautiful you looked today. I didn’t hear a single thing in Calc class because you kept brushing that perfect hair out of your face and across those shoulders. All I could think about was the smell of your perfume and wishing my head was buried in your neck. If I fail it’ll be all your fault but I wouldn’t really mind. It’d be worth it if it meant I got to keep looking at you. Just a degreeless loser with the most perfect wife. That’s right, I said wife, because I’m going to marry the hell out of you. It’s my only dream, out of all my successes in life you will always be my best one. Remember that.

Love Drew

The tears that spring to your eyes are not intentional. It was just that you had almost forgotten just how much he loved you. It was still your biggest regret that you never got to tell him just how much you loved him too. Maybe he had a girlfriend or even a different wife now but that still never stopped you from checking his Instagram and watching all of his latest movies. Which is why you’re so quick to pull up his account and scroll through the posts. He had grown up so much. He wasn’t that young 19 year old boy you used to know. He was a man now, a man you had let go of in order to not hold him back.

It’s when you accidentally double tap the screen and the heart appears do you feel your stomach drop. In instant panic you realize you’ve just become one of those crazy exes who still looks at their old boyfriend’s profile. Yet you shouldn’t feel this way. Drew was always your closest friend after all. So in order to make yourself look less crazy or possibly even more crazy, you hit the message button on the top.

Hey, was just reminiscing. So proud of all the things you have done. Hope all is well.

The internal cringe is enough for you to throw your phone across the room and pray that his famed status will keep him from ever seeing any notifications from you. Yet that isn’t proven true when your phone dings with a text from an unknown number on the other side of the room. Nervously picking it up, you prepare for whatever the text may hold.

Hey, it’s Drew. I’m really hoping this is still your number 😅

I got your DM but it feels weird messaging you of all people over Instagram

The second text comes through as you’re finished reading the first one, nerves tingling through your entire body. You hadn’t expected a DM back, let alone a text. Yet here you both were and now you had to face the consequences of your actions. You were the one who reached out first after all.

It’s still me! I would have texted but obviously your number did change

You know how awkward it seems. Texting him professionally as if he isn’t the only person in the world you are most comfortable with. You don’t have time to dwell considering another text comes through.

Yeah, I actually had to ditch it after a crazy fan incident. I would have given you my new one but honestly I figured you didn’t want it.

Of course I’d want it, no matter what you’ll be important to me

You don’t want to come off as flirty but it was true. Even if your relationship had been ten years ago. Drew held your heart and gave you every first experience of love in your life. That never goes away, he would carry those firsts around with him forever.

You home? I’m in town and I’d love to meet up

It’s not the text you expect to come after the one you just sent. Knowing Drew was so close now made you even more nervous. It had been so long. Were you really even ready for that kind of confrontation? Then again you didn’t want him to think you were still all torn up especially after you reached out to him. So you sucked it up and texted back.

Yeah! We could meet at our old place, 4 o’clock?

See you then

And just like that, you not only revisited your past memories, but were truly going to step in it. Ten years ago this was your normal routine and it was weird how getting ready for this still felt so natural after all this time. This time you put a bit more effort into your appearance. If you were going to see Drew for the first time after all these years, you had to look good.

So with your jacket wrapped tightly around you, you find yourself walking to the center of town. The bustle of familiar faces walking along the streets, colors of red and pink covering every storefront you can see. You register completely that you’re doing this on Valentine’s day. The anniversary of when you left him ten years ago. Right in front of the old diner stands Drew, bundled up and holding a single pink rose in his hand. He doesn’t see you approach right away which makes you smile just slightly.

“Hi” you hum out, all emotions leaving you but happiness. You never would’ve thought seeing him in person again would bring you this much peace. He jumps just lightly before his head swiftly turns to face you.

“Hi! There you are” he grins and you can’t help the small laugh that falls from your lips. Suddenly he’s holding the pink rose forward. “This is for you, since it’s Valentines after all”

“Are you asking me to be your Valentine?” you tease, fingers curling around the stem and lightly brushing his own. You can’t believe how long it’s been since you’ve felt his touch. Red covers the boys cheeks as you pull the flower close and take in its scent.

“No, well if you want. Yes, maybe. I don’t know anymore honestly” he flusters out and all you can do is giggle as you take a step closer to him.

“I’ll be your Valentine, considering I have been many times before” you tell him with a smile and he sighs in relief, comforted just as much by you, as you are of him.

“Let’s go inside, I don’t want you to freeze” he says, hand falling on your back and guiding you towards the door. You obey, heading straight for your old designated booth. Drew watches as you slide carefully into your side before he sits down himself.

“Look at you movie star” you grin at him after a moment, taking in his grown and handsome appearance. A fresh blush covers his cheeks as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m no movie star, not quite yet” he says and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, Drew I see your face everywhere I go. Edits of you pop up on my tik tok now. Who would’ve thought my high school sweetheart would be everyone’s celebrity crush by now” you say, knocking your foot with his and he laughs lightly.

“To be honest it shocks me. At the end of the day I still am the bad guy on my claim to fame show” he says and you just smile, taking all of him in.

“That buzzed hair, been so long since I’ve seen you with shaggy hair. It’s weird how different you look and yet you’re still completely the same” you don’t mean to be sappy but sitting here of all places with him will make you like that.

“Yeah, I kinda wanted to grow it out but with filming schedules I’ve had to keep it shaved down. Maybe after though” he says running a hand over his head and you just grin.

“I can’t wait” and the sentence isn’t meant to imply you’ll be spending time together in the future, yet Drew can’t help but think of that.

“Why’d you reach out today?” he cuts to the chase and the smile quickly falls from your lips. “And don’t give me some classic bullshit response. I want the truth”

And you consider your options before finally choosing to speak.

“Every Valentine’s day I go through our box of things. Mementos of our time together, because if I’m being honest, I’m not really over it. I know I left you but it wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore. It’s because I didn’t want to hold you back” you saw no point in lying, he deserved the truth. Even after all these years.

“You never ever held me back” he says after he lets your words sink in and you sigh, hands coming up to tug at your hair.

“It doesn’t matter Drew. I know you, you would’ve chosen me over going to LA. Chasing your dream, becoming a superstar, I wasn’t apart of that” you tell him and Drew sighs, taking a moment to think of his next words.

“You were apart of that. You always were, because none of that mattered compared to you. You were always my greatest accomplishment” and the words from that letter ring through your mind.

“Do you still love me?” you finally ask, needing to know exactly what was going through his mind.

“I never stopped” he says and finally a small smile pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Do you think I could be apart of it now? So I stop accidentally liking your instagram posts?” you ask and a belly laugh falls from the boys lips across from you.

“If you’ll have me” he says, hands reaching across and cupping yours into his own.

“Always” you tell him with a grin and just like when you two were 16 and first started to come here, he lifts off his seat and leans across the table to meet you. Searching his eyes you meet him halfway and slowly press your lips against his own. Kissing him like this again for the first time in ten years feels like a fever dream but it was perfect. He was perfect and still tasted faintly of cherries and coffee. He was the only thing you ever truly wanted.

And you got him back.

[kotoku]

chilchuck x reader - cherry wine

synopsis - the group had been planning a hangout at the local bar for a while now. it was only a few months later when everyone’s schedule had aligned that everyone was able to meet up. seeing chilchuck there had brought up the buried feelings you kept to yourself. how will this night unfold, you wonder.

pairings - chilchuck tims x reader

warnings - not so family-friendly words / drinking

word count - 1.8k

The bar was packed with people varying in species, swarming the dance floor as they swayed and twirled to the beat of the music playing over the loudspeakers. You were amongst those people, skittering across the dance floor as you followed in rhythm to the song that was currently playing. 

The group that you had shown up with had split into their interests. Whether it was drinking at the reserved booth or chatting with an old friend, you didn’t know, but as long as they were having fun! 

The group in question consisted of Laios, Falin, Marcille, Chilchuck, Senshi, and Izutsumi. A very unique gang but that’s what drew you in. Everyone had varying personalities and you loved each vibe they had given off, thus propelling you into forming a tight-knit bond with the group. 

With a glance toward the booth you knew they were seated at, you only saw Senshi, Izutsumi, and Chilchuck, all seemingly drinking their beverages while chatting away. Of course, Senshi had made sure of only giving Izutsumi alcohol-free drinks, Chilchuck almost accidentally giving her a shot before it was slapped away by the older man. The memory had made you chuckle.

The upbeat dancing slowly started tiring you out, causing you to retreat to your seat with a huff. Izutsumi and Senshi had given you an acknowledging glance before returning to their conversation, Chilchuck giving you an amused glance as he took a chug of his ale.

“Tired already? Sheesh, your stamina is lacking.” He teased, giving you a smug smirk. You rolled your eyes in response, giving him a small shove. 

“Whatever you say, old man. Bet the only thing you’d manage is a couple of cracks and pops before you’re tired out.”

“Old!? You’re not that much younger so I’d say you’re old too!” Chilchuck crossed his arms, offended at being called ‘old’ as he was only 29. You laughed, waving a worker over so you could place an order for some water. 

“How’s your shop been, Chil?” You hummed, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. He seemed to have visibly grimaced, sighing heavily before answering. “It’s been fine, damn workers have been slacking off though.” 

“Really now? I thought you had a good eye for candidates.” You thanked the waiter as she placed down the glass in front of you. Taking a couple of swigs of your drink, you continued listening to Chilchuck's small rant. 

“Yeah well— turns out that people may not always be what they seem. They were pretty chipper at first, but I think they’re starting to take things for granted.” 

“Hmm…” You hummed to yourself, deep in thought. 

“Hey! What if I worked for you?” Chilchuck almost spat out his drink in surprise, coughing into his elbow. “You? Work for me? Psh, as if you’d leave that comfy desk job of yours.”

“What!? It’s been getting kinda boring lately, things aren’t the same as they used to be. It wouldn’t hurt being some kind of manager for your shop!” You whined, slouching over the table. 

Chilchuck flicked your forehead in mock annoyance, huffing. “You have a good job, idiot. It’d be a shame to waste your talent at a small shop such as mine.”

“…” You slowly registered his words, giving him a bright grin. “You think I’m talented?”

“Uh, who wouldn’t?” His face slowly flushed a soft pink before he lightly shoved you. “Don’t let it get to your head!”

Laughing, you waved him off, finding his reactions to your teasing quite cute. It really brightened up your mood, you noted.

For the next couple of minutes, you both sat there, drinking your respective drinks while sharing different stories from the past month. To be honest, it was quite nice being able to catch up with Chilchuck, it had been a while since you had a group meet-up due to everyone’s conflicting schedules. You felt your heart ache at the idea of this hangout coming to a close. When will you see each other again? 

Unbeknownst to you, Chilchuck felt that same ache. Although he openly showed his irritation with the group, he couldn’t deny that you were all his close friends and meant something to him… Not like he’d tell any of his friends of this anyway, he still has a reputation to uphold, he tells himself. 

As much as Chilchuck would try to hide his fondness for you all, everyone knew that he cared, and that in itself was enough. 

“Are you gonna dance?” 

Chilchuck was broken out of his thoughts by your sudden question, eyes darting from you to the dance floor.

“..Maybe,” he shifted his gaze away from you, focusing on the drink in his hands. “It’s been a while.”

“Ahh come on,” you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. “Just one song!” 

He rolled his eyes, a small smile creeping into his face. “Fine, just one though.” 

With a cheer, you gently pulled him up from his seat, dragging him onto the crowded dance floor. However, as soon as you got there, the music shifted and the song seemed much more romantic compared to the previous ones.

“Oh, uhh…” You trailed off, unsure if Chilchuck was in the mood to dance anymore since the vibe had completely changed. “Do you still..?” 

“I said one song, didn’t I?” He huffed, offering a hand to you. “Come on, don’t want to keep me waiting do you?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up at his offer, was he really willing to dance with you? Hand in hand, feet in rhythm, and distance between you almost nonexistent? …Ah, fuck it. Never know when you’ll get this chance again.

With newfound confidence, you placed your hand in his, being swept off into the midst of the crowd. 

You both started off a little clumsy, your feet accidentally stepping on his as he teased you for your poor dancing skills. You’d roll your eyes in response, cheeks flushing in embarrassment before trying again. 

Surprisingly, Chilchuck made for a skilled dancer, following in tune with the song as he twirled you around. Every time you did so, you found yourself laughing in surprise, his smile widening at your giddy self. 

Maybe it was the cherry wine you had earlier but.. everything in that moment seemed different, as if you were seeing through rose-tinted glasses. The bar had felt empty, leaving only you and Chilchuck swaying in beat to the song. Your eyes were locked on his as he let himself relax, returning your gaze with a smile while leading you. This had seemed so natural for the both of you, that you almost hadn’t noticed the song coming to a close.

As the ending to the song came, Chilchuck suddenly dipped you, leaving you breathless as everything faded out, your focus honing in on him as a look of fondness overcame his expression. It was a look unlike any other, eyes filled with such intensity and a grin that made your heart flutter with anticipation. There was no denying that he harbored intimate feelings for you.

Just as soon as it happened, it ended, the two of you left slightly panting as people scattered for the next song. 

“Chilchuck.. I—“

“_____.”

Before you could speak, Chilchuck shushed you, hand intertwining with yours as he pulled you to a more private location. 

“I need to speak with you. Privately.”

Hearing him state the last part made your body flush with heat, the beating of your heart picking up its pace as you waited with bated breath for what was to come. He had led you towards the garden the bar had, the display of greenery very well showing the dedication and care the owners held for them. There was no one else there, just the two of you beneath the garden’s fairy lights and the stars.

You both took a seat on a small bench, Chilchuck’s hand slowly leaving yours, fiddling with his fingers. His brows were furrowed, gaze locked onto the ground with focus as he tried picking out what to say. 

“I’ll just get straight to the point… _____, I’ve liked you for a while now and—“ He paused, mouth moving to form words but nothing came out. “sigh It’s fine if you don’t reciprocate… In fact, forget I said anything! I-“ 

You quickly shut him up with a small peck on the cheek, his words rendering you speechless and leaving you with only your actions to speak for yourself. Chilchuck had stilled, his words pausing as he gaped up at you. His face slowly became a cherry red, the hue reaching the tips of his ears. You could almost see steam coming from him, you mused to yourself. 

“I like you too, Chilchuck.” Smiling, you cupped his face, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks. 

Before you could register what happened next, he had already leaned towards you, lips placing a chaste kiss on your own before departing. If his face could get any redder, it would’ve. 

“You're such an idiot.” He huffed, his giddy expression betraying his words. You laughed before pinching his cheek. 

“You’re the one who likes me y’know.” 

“…Yeah.” Chilchuck’s words had trailed off, much too distracted by your lips, your eyes, everything. He couldn’t help himself, is what he thought as he leaned in for another kiss, this time, lasting much longer. 

There was a certain tenderness behind it, lips moving in sync and he pulled you closer. Something about you drew him in, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Before you could continue any further, a phone rang out, startling the two of you. 

“Ah..everyone is getting ready to leave.” You hummed, scrolling through Marcille’s text message. “We should head back.”

The half-foot grumbled next to you, arms crossing as his brows twitched in irritation. “Seriously? Talk about bad timing.” 

“Don’t worry. You’ll have many opportunities in the future.” You grinned, standing up and stretching. 

“There better be…” He huffed, standing up as well. 

The two of you talked while slowly walking toward your booth, trying to delay the inevitable departure. However, it seemed you didn’t have to worry about leaving his side anytime soon. 

“Hey..do you wanna come over? Watch a movie or something?” Chilchuck asked, hands in his pant pockets. 

Your smile widened at the offer, feeling a warmth flood your body. “I’d love that.” 

“Hmm…” He looked towards the booth in thought before turning to you. “I never said it before but.. you taste a lot like cherry wine.” 

“..Is that a good thing?” 

“Definitely.” 

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#23: The Portrait (1.03)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Oh, this was such a beautiful and emotional scene. I adore it and it hits my heart every time 🥹💗. Right now Rick and Michonne differ because Rick's mission is to bring her home and Michonne’s mission is to bring them home. And as Michonne starts to feel weighed down by their current dilemma, she gets a lovely dose of restored hope when she meets the Civic Republic's portraitist - the very artist who played a major role in Michonne learning Rick was alive and who has helped both Rick and Michonne remember to keep believing along their journey...

So Michonne gets off a bus and her voice-over says, “Shoto, it’s Daito. Someone told me I had to know when to go.” I love that she's again talking to Judith and that she stays holding onto Nat’s words and memory.

And then we see her visiting that little outdoor market area similar to Rick at the top of the ep. And also similar to Rick, she looks behind her observing the place. I like how that parallel again affirms that these two Grimes really are cut from the same cloth. 

gif cred: @taiturner

Michonne says, “I had a chance to go home but I couldn’t do it without The Brave Man.” It’s sweet that she says she couldn’t do it. It shows how she felt like leaving him was simply not an option.

But then she vulnerably wonders, “Maybe I should have.” 😞 It's sad that she has to have that thought swirling in her head. I know she knows she had to stay and keep fighting to bring Rick home, but I think about how Michonne will later admit to beating herself up over being away from her kids too. I feel like this moment might be one of those times where she's beating herself up a bit and wrestling with whether going or staying is what's best for her family.

I also like how prominent the bullet shell is seen in her hair in this shot. That accessory just always reminds me that no matter how upset Rick and Michonne may get with each other, they’re always with each other.

And for me, the bullet shell also is a symbolic reminder that Rick is still that man who would sacrifice anything for his family - it's just right now he’s sacrificing the wrong things. And Michonne is also that woman who would sacrifice anything for her family and that’s why she’s still here despite the hurt.

As Michonne takes in the idyllic scene she shares, “Just when I wondered if he could have been drawn in by the ambition and the hope of this place, that it could’ve replaced us, I found something.”

First of all, I want to cry thinking Michonne even had to go a second thinking Rick might’ve replaced her and Judith with the hope of the Civic Republic. It makes me wish even more that she could read all his letters and know nothing was ever going to replace her and their baby girl. But I get why Michonne’s mind could go there briefly because she knows her Rick would never pull what Sergeant Major Grimes did and so she’s searching for what could have caused this new behavior. 

gif cred: @ex0rin

Michonne sees the portraiture booth and it’s interesting how the first drawing she sees is a woman holding a baby. I feel like this helps paint the picture that now, even if Rick and Michonne have some stuff to iron out between them, Michonne is still as determined as ever on this mission because she’s a mother. And this is as much about fighting for her kids as it is for Rick and herself.

Michonne walks right over to Benjiro’s Portraiture and Art and I’m reminded of how Michonne has always been drawn to art. As Benjiro works on a sketch he looks up at Michonne standing there and then looks down before peering back up, recognizing her.

Michonne knowingly says, “You’re the one who drew me.” And again I think even her just being straight up about that instead of trying to hide who she is shows that she’s over trying to conform in this place. It feels like she just needs somewhere where she can be her for a moment, and she gets to do that really nicely here. 😌

gif cred: @ex0rin

Benjiro smiles and says, “Yes, always you and the girl.” 😭 Y'all, how sweet is it that Rick had this artist drawing Michonne so much that Benjiro could recognize her right away?? 🥹

gif cred: @ex0rin

Benjiro let’s Michonne know, “He would come every few months and ask for a new one.” Which is so heartwarming. 🥰 Rick made sure to find someway to stay close to his girls.

And then, even knowing it’s coming, my eyes still well up when the artist says, “There was a boy he asked me to draw but I could never get it right for him.” Pain. 😞 And this line packs an even bigger punch after episode 4. 🥺

gif cred: @ex0rin

Michonne’s eyes get teary too as she smiles and says, “Carl. His name was Carl.” Ok crying endlessly. 😭 I adore that this is how Carl first gets brought up in TOWL and that he's still so pivotal to Richonne.

The way Michonne says his name is so tender. She loves that boy so much. Also, I love thinking about how now Michonne has a baby that’s related to Carl. Like Carl and Michonne are family in every way. 🥹

gif cred: @ex0rin

And learning Rick routinely got sketches of his girls and was trying to get pictures of Carl but his fading memory made Rick struggle to get the image right - My heart can't even take it. 😥

Like truly thinking about what that looks like is devastating. I can picture Rick every few months describing Michonne and Judith in new ways and his eyes lighting up a bit when he sees the finished product. And then Rick being nice when Benjiro doesn’t quite get Carl right even though it’s crushing him inside to know he can’t remember his own son clearly.

But also I like to think that Rick knowing the images weren’t fully capturing Carl goes to show that he does still hold his memory. He may not know how to get the image right - but he at least still knows when the image isn’t right.

Benjiro says, “You’re more open. Took three years before he’d say names.” Aw Rick really was out here describing the details of his wife and daughter without even wanting to reveal their names. 🥲 You know for those first three years Benjiro only knew Michonne as ‘my wife’ from Rick. I would have sobbed if we saw a scene of Rick when he first probably shyly described them because he still wants to keep his life outside a secret but also needs a piece of his girls with him. 😭

gif cred: @nat111love

Benjiro says, “You’re Michonne and the girl is Judith” and the way Michonne’s eyes light up and get teary as she smiles hearing her and her daughter's name. So precious. 🥲 She’s so far away from home and has been for a long while so I feel like just some moment to get to be herself and talk about Judith is refreshing.

Plus, the timing of this encounter is perfect because Michonne was on the brink of wondering if Rick had replaced the two of them but seeing this stranger already know about her gives her a clear sign that Rick still clung as tight as he could to her and their daughter.

gif cred: @nat111love

Benjiro asks, “Is she here?” And Michonne subtly shakes her head. I know she wants so badly to be together with Judith, and RJ again. Benjiro thinks Judith not being here might mean something more tragic so he says, “Sorry.” But then I love the way Michonne says with certainty, “She’s okay.” It’s the only scenario she’ll entertain. One where her daughter is not just alive but alive and well. 

gif cred: @nat111love

I found this portraiture scene just so moving and well done for many reasons but especially because the following exchange gives Michonne a lot of insight into Rick’s trajectory in the CRM and how he went from hopeful to hopeless.

Benjiro says, “He said he wanted the drawings for until he saw you again” I adore that even when he was still so determined and convinced he’d see Michonne and Judith again, Rick still wanted drawings in the meantime. 🥹

Michonne looks up hearing this and then Benjiro says, “Here you are. He knew he’d see you. He knew it.” And ok I’m legit writing this with tears because at this moment Michonne is getting to hear about her Rick. 😭 A lot has happened since, but the man Benjiro is describing - that’s Michonne’s Rick who loves her more than life itself and she knows it.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love that even with words, Benjiro is painting a portrait of who Rick was while he was stuck here in the CRM. Still that determined family man.

And then I’m crushed when Benjiro says, “He stopped talking like that '' Y’all, this scene is just a dagger - a well-written, well-acted, well-scored, perfectly-placed-in-the-episode dagger. 👏🏽🥲🔪 Because again Michonne gets to hear about both Rick’s hope and the process of losing that hope.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Benjiro says, “I told him…” and Michonne so sincerely says, “I know what you told him. Thank you. It helped me.” And I love that she thanks him for the way his words helped her too. Instant Benjiro fan knowing he helped both my babies during tough times with his encouraging phrase. 😊👌🏽

gif cred: @riickgrimes

As Michonne softly touches some of the phones, including one that is very Gimple-esque, Benjiro says, “He found you.” And then Michonne just kills me when she whispers with tears in her eyes, “Now I’m looking for him.” 🫠😭

And her saying this is so powerful. Because it shows the search for Rick continues. She found the man in the woods but she still has a journey to embark on to find her man.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Once again, Danai’s delivery was perfect. 🙌🏽 It’s also just sad because Michonne knows the Rick she’s seeing now is not the one she knows but in saying this to Benjiro it shows she’s going to keep searching for him. Searching for the Rick that Benjiro described at the top of the scene who knew he’d be with his girls again.

And as Michonne holds back tears with a smile, Benjiro again tells her to "Believe a little bit longer" and it’s just a beautiful end to a beautiful scene as Michonne lets those words sink in and nods with an emotional smile.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Never have I wanted to give her a hug more than right here. 🥺

gif cred: @riickgrimes

She’s gone through so much and still has to keep believing that this is not in vain, and I know she’s got to be tired and even feeling alone right now. But she’s resilient like no other so, of course, she’s going to keep fighting and believing, even if it means a bit more marital fighting with Sergeant Major Grimes. 🙂

I really appreciated getting to see Michonne just get to be her in this special scene and have this emotional moment reflecting on her family members - Carl, Judith, and the Rick she once knew - while also being fueled to keep going for the living family she has now - Judith, RJ, and the Rick buried underneath all the CRM armor. 🥲👌🏽

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Riddle, Rook: By Order of the Queen

I wrote this one during a very busy time for me irl so I apologize if I didn’t end off the Platinum Jacket line of imagines strongly 🙇‍♀️

A Tale as Old as Time.

A young girl, an older man, and an odd hare shared the same table. The latter two were sitting upon it, propping their feet on the cloth.

Pots of tea—each of a different design—did not match the cups. A mouse poked its head out of one, curiously staring at the girl. Bent spoons sat beside the saucers, gigantic sugar cubes floating in pools of tea.

Riddle stared at the painting intensely, picking apart the details, the rules being skirted or blatantly violated. The man and the hare are not in chairs, there’s far too much sugar in their drinks, and is there even jam properly smeared on that dormouse?

“Roi des Roses, what about this painting has captured your gaze so?”

He startled at the deep timbre at his ear, jolting back. His shoulders relaxed when he met a familiar face. His heart, still racing, was unable to be wrested under control.

Devious, tumultuous thing, the heart.

Riddle cleared his throat. “A roundabout way of asking for my opinion on this work, Rook-senpai.”

The grin the Pomefiore student wore stretched, reminding Riddle of his childhood days. Cheshire smiles and sugar-coated memories, tasting far sweeter than the hours he toiled at a desk.

“Ah, do forgive me for the sudden request! As an avid fan of art, I love to hear different interpretations of the same piece,” Rook rambled excitedly. “A painting that invokes joy in myself, for example, may bring about despair for you, or vice versa! The wellspring of human emotion, expression, and experience is just that vast.”

With an exasperated expression, Riddle folded his arms. “… Well, I was just thinking that I would never allow for this sort of behavior at an unbirthday party. It would be an affront to the spirit of Heartslabyul.”

And yet…

His chest ached so longing when he looked at the illustration. A taste that remained long after he tried to wash it down. It drew a word out of him, pulled thin.

“However… I must admit, I feel a little envious of their quaint little tea party. It looks…” He grasped for the correct adjective. “… fun.”

Rook’s brows sprung up. “Fun!”

“You disagree? Or does it perhaps surprise you that the rose-red tyrant would make such a remark?”

I know what they say about me. The thought was tinged bitter like medicine as he swallowed.

“Non, non.” Rook wagged a finger, his eyes half-lidded. “You are correct in every way!”

“I beg your pardon?”

The Pomefiore vice dorm leader placed a hand on his chest. “My immediate family is quite large and likes to keep busy. Those few precious times when we are able to steal away and sit down for a meal with one another… Those are the most magical of all.”

“We each fall into our seats and—like a match struck, the moment comes alive. Words and laughter flow like fine wine, enhancing the flavor of the food that touches our lips. The weariness of study and work melts away in the dishes and drinks, replaced with good company in a safe, warm haven.

Riddle squinted at his senior. Suspicious. “… What is it that your family does for a living again?” When met with Rook’s still dubious smile, he sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s fine so long as you’re not hurting anyone.”

“Fufufu. Roi des Roses, I see that you’ve considerably lightened your evaluation of the rules.”

Riddle made a pensive sound, not confirming nor denying. “Mmm. Lately I’ve come to a realization.”

“And what might that be?”

He hesitated. “That perhaps the world as I saw it is not as it truly is.”

It feels like waking up from a dream. Tendrils of it still clinging to him as he made to rub them from his eyes.

Rook silently nodded, watching him. Not the huntsman stalking his mark, but a silent observer.

“I wonder for just how long I’ve been living in that false reality. Seeing the tea party and thinking it a disgrace…”

Something slovenly. In need of fixing. Out of line.

Wrong.

“Ah, but—” Rook raised a finger, “what matters now is that the veil has lifted. The line between truth and lies is that much clearer to you. That is the first step to any story: the beginning.”

Then his hand fell and grasped Riddle’s.

“R-Rook-senpai…?!”

The man practically glowed, his grip firm. “Now the decision to stay on the path or to stray from it is yours.”

To renounce the party or to join it, given the invitationz

Riddle pulled himself away with a frown. “Of course, within the limits of what is acceptable,” he lectured. “A minimum level of decorum is expected, even at the most ‘fun’ of festivities. Should anyone cause a disturbance in the peace—”

He raised his arm, slashing at the air once, delivering a strong blow to an invisible victim. Riddle, in his element, brimmed with smugness, arrogant as an unchallenged queen.

“—it will be off with their head!”

Without an ounce of fear, Rook laughed and bowed his head. “As the queen commands, so shall I heed her orders,” he drawled. A tilt of the head, then came a suggestion. “And if I were to drop by an unbirthday party to observe?”

“Because you asked politely, I may consider it—but see to it that you attend as your normal self,” Riddle warned. “That means I expect you to be on time, your behind planted in a seat at the table. There will be no hiding out in the bushes, no watching us from a distance. You are to stay and engage in all manner of merrymaking with us.”

“Oh la la!” Rook feigned surprise, throwing both hands up in an exaggerated act. “Is that a rule?”

“No, but they are orders,” Riddle clarified with an all-knowing smirk. “After all, it would be a shame if you disobeyed and missed out on all the fun we shall have.”

[addicted-to-dc]

Spider-Man 2099/Miguel O’Hara X Spider!Reader - Twice Bitten (Part 2)

Here’s part 2!! I am so exited to keep this series going. No idea when I’ll have time to do the next part, but I’m sure it’ll be soon. I’m too obsessed to leave this alone. 

Link to Part 1 --- Link to Part 3

Contents: Angst, fluff, sexual tension, light body horror(?). It’s Miguel O’Hara, I think he warrants a warning himself. Friends (ish) to lovers.

Word Count: 1,700

You groggily wake up and push yourself out of the bed. Scratching your face, you immediately walk onto the wall and do your morning stretches. One pop here, a LOUD pop there, and you’re groaning against the wall as your tense muscles finally relax. Walking up the wall and onto the ceiling, you notice how your suit feels more snug than it should.

Hopping down, you land on the ground and head to the nearest reflective surface you can find. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the sight of you. The suit is ruined with tears you don’t even remember getting. Do you look… bigger?

Your muscles have grown, but how is that possible? You feel like you’re going through the bite all over again, your body once again changing overnight. The next thing you notice is your neck. The bite is still there but scarred over where his teeth punctured the deepest. You pinch the bridge of your nose. How the hell are you going to deal with this?

A fresh suit lays folded on a nearby table. As soon as you grab it it retreats back into a bracelet. You pick it up and examine it. Your eyes drift back down to the table again, spotting tight underclothes. Looking down, you slowly take off your suit and finally see the all of the damage.

Your veins are practically neon, barely noticeable to the naked eye. Leaning closer to the mirror, you examine the bite. The neon is at its strongest there, but it’s overwhelming with your eyes. You lean forward, examining them. The whites of your eyes are gone, replaced with the same neon hue. Your normal eye color is gone, a haunting red staring right back at you.

Shoving your worried thoughts aside, you quickly change and place the new bracelet on. With the flick of your wrist, the suit rematerializes. You let out a sigh of relief when you recognize the same suit design. Your attention shifts back to the bracelet, now blending perfectly with the suit. Your brain itches to explore this new piece of tech, but the door opens before your self-restraint went out the window.

“I see you’re awake, good,” Miguel says, entering the room. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my 15-year-old self again,” you sigh, finally finding the button that removes your mask. It instantly disappears, leaving your curiously confused face behind.

Miguel lets out a laugh, one that shakes his upper body. He stops a few paces away from you, almost hesitant to get close. You watch as his face falls slightly, finally seeing how much he’s changed you.

“My bite doesn’t do this,” he says quietly, his eyes drifting away from you.

You close the distance, placing a hand on his shoulder, “The bite may have changed me, but we still don’t know why. What does it usually do?”

“It’s venomous, usually paralysis follows.”

You try to bite your lip to think, but the fangs immediately poke you. Wincing, you sigh and massage your temples, “It could be a million things. The interdimensional travel, maybe substances from different dimensions have different reactions, or just my DNA just reacts this way. I’ve had my suspicions from… previous experiences.”

His eyes darken at your hesitant look, shame burning across your face as you think about the symbiote locked away. Your symbiote. You push the memories down, forcing yourself to look at Miguel.

Miguel knows, he made it his mission the whole night to learn everything about you. Your story isn’t a common one, an outlier to all of the Peter Parkers, Gwen Stacys, and even Jessica Drews. There were whispers of your dimension from the others, but they all stayed away. Some have no idea how you’re still alive, the Spider that went too far and somehow came back.

“We’ll figure this out,” Miguel sighs tiredly, now his turn to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ll give you the tour, some food, and then we’ll deal with this at my lab.”

Your melancholy demeanor instantly shifts, a smirk growing on your face as your eyes light up. He nearly loses it when the tips of your fangs poke out from under your lips. “Gonna get me that dinner you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” he mumbles, the smile on his face betraying his tone. “Come on, we have a lot of ground to cover.”

The door opens, flashing a bright light. You wince, lifting a hand up as you follow him out of the room. Your mask reappears, the covering on your eyes softening the overwhelming brightness. Once your eyes finally adjust, your eyes widen at the sight before you.

Hundreds, no, thousands of different Spideys walk along the numerous pathways that lead to who knows where. Miguel’s words knock you back into reality.

“Sensitivity to light, I hope you have sunglasses.”

You look at him, who also has his mask on. “Are you a vampire? A spider vampire?”

“Spiders have fangs,” he states matter-of-factly.

You know he’s defending himself. Did you strike a nerve? A searing pain erupts in the back of your head, your spider-sense going haywire as more and more Spiders walk near you. It’s like your senses have been dialed to one thousand. You feel him grab your shoulders, guiding you back up as the pain stops as quickly as it started.

Your brain goes a million miles per hour, trying to think of some explanation why this is happening. You were perfectly fine alone and with Miguel, why are your senses going haywire?

“You’re different than the rest, aren’t you?” you ask, the puzzle pieces finally fitting together. “You weren’t bitten by a radioactive spider, you…” Your words fade away, unwilling to finish the sentence.

You clutch your head again as more and more people pass by. Miguel quickly wraps his arm around your waist and swings away, the pain alleviating as you get further and further from the crowd.

“I’m fine, just let me-” Your words die as soon as you crush your web shooters, small sparks and web fluid flying everywhere as he swings up to a platform.

As soon as he lands you slump to the floor, staring at the broken web shooter. You used the same pressure you always have, it was designed to resist-

Miguel’s hand covers the broken tech, his other wiping the foreign tears off of your face. You didn’t even realize your mask is gone. You finally realize that it’s dark in here, probably for his comfort. Without a word, he gently removes both of your web shooters and sets them onto a nearby table. His hand returns with new ones. They seamlessly adhere to the suit.

“You’re awfully quiet for a Spider-Man,” you joke, your voice cracking when he pulls his hands away.

He remains silent for a few moments, as if he’s running with the bit, but he finally speaks. “Lyla, can you send some breakfast up here… Please.”

A hologram of a woman with a bright white coat and huge heart glasses appears in your face, scaring the shit out of you as you hit your head against the table behind you.

“Sorry,” Lyla apologizes to you. Her attention then diverts to Miguel, leaning close. “What’s gotten into you? So polite, is it because-”

“Lyla, please,” Miguel interrupts, his tired look silencing Lyla.

She looks between you two, her confused look morphing into a smirk. “I see where this is going. Don’t stop on my account.”

Your attention moves to the bracelet, fiddling with it as she drones on and on, congratulating Miguel for opening up again. You accidentally make your gloves disappear with a push of a random button. You move to fix it but Miguel’s growl paralyses you.

Miguel goes to slash at her, but she’s already gone. You stare at his talons, baffled at his control. You immediately snatch his hand, examining it. His talons retract, making you look back at him. You release his hand with a smile. “Sorry.”

“You got it right.”

“I got what right?” you question him, moving to sit across from him.

“I’m not like the others,” Miguel explains, his mask fading away. “I wasn’t bitten by a spider, more like… I had to splice my DNA with one.”

“So,” you begin, “you’re more spider than the rest of them?”

“I think you now have that title,” he whispers, his face disappearing as he covers it with his hands. “I’m supposed to fix anomalies, not create more.”

He mutters a few things under his breath, some Spanish that goes in one ear and out the other. You can tell he’s beating himself up. Whatever is haunting him, you know it’s the reason why he’s working himself to the bone to keep order. Your head tilts, confusion dominating your features once again. How do you know that?

Miguel’s face reappears, his brows furrowing. “Did you say something?”

“No, why?” you ask.

“How do you know what?”

You lean back in shock, “Did you just fucking read my mind?” It’s like the floodgates in your brain finally open, immediately standing up to pace around the platform. You forgo biting your lip and bite onto your finger, trying to figure out how exactly your minds can be connected like this. Is it because of the bite? Is he lying about being a spider vampire? Honestly that would be kind of hot-

Your pacing ceases as you accidentally bite too hard on your finger, puncturing deep with a hiss. You’re too busy examining the wound to look at Miguel. Your spider-sense goes off, urging you to turn around.

Miguel invades your personal space, his eyes completely glowing as he leans in close. As soon as his face is mere centimeters from yours the warning goes away. His warmth is intoxicating despite you feeling like a furnace right now. You feel him grasp your bleeding hand, guiding it up to his mouth as he licks the blood off of your wound.

Your entire body shivers, the urge to bite growing more and more tempting as his lips relocate to your ear.

“I’ve already bitten you once, I think it’s fair to return the favor.”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Book of Memories ~ Chevalier and Licht ~

Card story

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

While taking a walk around court, I noticed that the training hall was unusually lively.

My instincts screamed that things were getting oddly heated and my curiosity made me go over to check it out—

I came across a suspicious figure hiding behind a pillar near the entrance, peering in.

Emma: Prince Licht, what are you doing here?

Licht: Shh.

With a single glance, Prince Licht gestures for me to hide.

When I obediently lined up beside him, his garnet eyes returned to the training hall.

Licht: If you’re here to watch, it’s better if you don’t get caught. Because he might charge you an observation fee later.

(What’s happening inside…?)

Like Licht, I peeked inside.

The large space was filled with knights belonging to the foreign affairs faction.

In the center was not Nokto, Clavis, or Luke, but Prince Chevalier.

The crowd watched as Prince Chevalier swung his sword against a knight.

The heat in his eyes was so intense that even I could feel it from the outside.

Emma: I’ve had the chance to observe some of the foreign affairs faction’s training sessions… I feel like it’s rare to see Prince Chevalier here.

Licht: Normally, this is either the head knight’s or Clavis’ job. But on rare occasions, Chevalier will take part.

Emma: To exercise?

Licht: No, I think it’s to boost morale. Chevalier’s the strongest knight on the battlefield, so all soldiers admire him. In fact, knights from the foreign affairs faction often assemble here for Chevalier. While many fear the brutal beast, his exceptional strength maintains high morale. It’s a different kind of charisma from Leon’s.

(...I’ve never seen Licht be this talkative)

As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on Prince Chevalier.

Emma: …Do you admire him too, Prince Licht?

Licht: …

Emma: You do, don’t you?

Licht: Stop grinning.

Emma: I’m calm.

Licht: …You could say that.

Emma: By the way, may I ask what you admire about him?

Licht: Why?

Emma: I’d like to use this as reference when choosing a king as Belle.

Licht: … ..As you can see, every one of Chevalier’s movements with his sword is calculated. Not a single pointless movement, no hesitation, and no gaps.

His swordsmanship itself is a national treasure-level work of art.

(Certainly…Even the untrained eye can see that Prince Chevalier’s swordsmanship is beautiful)

(Rather than a technique for killing, it’s a martial art that captivates people)

Licht: Only Chevalier, or perhaps the legendary Knight of Roses in the past, can draw such refined swordsmanship. It’s not the sort of thing that comes from hard work or anything like that.

It’s natural talent.

Emma: But aren’t you similar, Prince Licht?

Licht: …How so?

Emma: I don’t know how to explain it, but…the swordsmanship, footwork… Look, I’ve also observed the domestic affairs faction’s training. For some reason, I feel as if you’re making similar movements.

Licht: That’s because… I’m imitating him.

Emma: Imitating?

Prince Licht sighed in resignation after a moment of hesitation. 

Licht: I saw it by chance, a long time ago. In the training hall at midnight, I saw Chevalier swinging his sword…

~~ Flashback ~~

Licht: …

The scene was like stepping into a world of art painted by a master artist.

Every time the blond-haired, blue-eyed young man swung his silver sword, it drew a line in the empty air.

The repeated swings drew beautiful, overlapping arcs with ease, leaving afterimages.

That was when a younger boy first learned the true meaning of “art”.

Chevalier: What do you want, shut-in?

Licht: …That was how I was a few years ago

Chevalier: You’re not that different now.

Licht: I’m…fine with swords now.

Chevalier: You seem to be avoiding people.

Licht: …

Chevalier: If you have nothing to say then get out of my way. Leave.

Licht: …No. Just let me stay for a little longer. I’ll be quiet.

Chevalier: Your staring is annoying.

Licht: Then I’ll close my eyes too.

Chevalier: …

Licht: Hey…

Chevalier: Aren’t you supposed to stay quiet?

Licht: I just want to ask you a question.

How can I become as skilled with a sword as you, brother?

Chevalier: Don’t ask worthless questions. No one swings a sword for the sake of improvement.

Licht: Then, for what reason?

Chevalier: For a good cause. On the battlefield, the weak die and only the strong survive. If you can’t handle a sword, you won’t accomplish anything.

Licht: What’s your cause?

Chevalier: What a foolish question.

Licht: …To protect the country?

Chevalier: …

Licht: I see… I never thought about that.

Chevalier: Of course you haven’t. You’re narrow-minded. This is a problem to address before skill.

Licht: …

Chevalier: If you’re also royalty then think on it. What do you want to accomplish next, now that you can keep yourself from killing your other half.

Licht: …

Chevalier: Then we’ll continue this discussion.

~~ Flashback ends ~~

Licht: —I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I’ve always been watching Chevalier’s sword like this.

Emma: Prince Licht…

Licht: That’s why I think the only similarity is movement.

But actually, it’s not the same at all, just an imitation… But, yeah…That’s why they look similar in your eyes.

Those garnet eyes shrouded in darkness seemed to soften a little.

Emma: You look a little happy.

Licht: I admire him…Is that bad?

???: It seems the domestic affairs faction has plenty of free time.

Emma and Licht: ?!

Suddenly, a chilling voice rings out and we turn our heads at the same time.

At the entrance of the training hall stood Prince Chevalier with his arms folded and not even out of breath.

(We got too caught up in our conversation!)

Chevalier: You outsiders are in the way. Leave.

Licht: Come on, just a little more.

It seemed like Prince Licht became defiant, stepping out from behind the pillar and brazenly confronting Prince Chevalier.

Licht: Let her watch. Emma wants to see.

Emma: Prince Licht, too, right?

Licht: I’m escorting…

Emma: Ah, you sneak.

Chevalier: I don’t care. But if you don’t want to be kicked out—

Icy blue eyes turned to the knights standing in line, led by a red-haired knight.

Chevalier: You’ll have to go against them and win.

Licht: Easy…

Prince Licht drew his sword and headed toward the center of the training hall without a moment of hesitation.

I felt the foreign affairs faction’s knight’s enthusiasm rise.

Emma: Prince Licht’s also very popular.

Chevalier: …

Emma: …He says he admires you, Prince Chevalier.

Chevalier: What nonsense. To think so highly of me… Beautiful swordsmanship means you don’t hesitate to kill. My swordsmanship is not human. If he does not want to become a beast, then stop imitating me.

(...This is what Prince Chevalier thinks)

Prince Chevalier leaned against the wall and began to watch Prince Licht swing his sword against a knight.

I stood beside him and followed his movements, which were as refined as a sword dance. 

Chevalier: In that sense, I don’t believe Mime will ever catch up to me. It’s too much of a “waste”.

Emma: That sounds like a compliment…

Chevalier: …

Emma: By the way, I heard something from a maid. In the castle, there’s this debate about who among you, Prince Leon, and Prince Licht is the best swordsman.

Chevalier: A pointless discussion.

Emma: It’s you, isn’t it?

Chevalier: No, the one who serves the greatest cause is the strongest.

Emma: I see…

Chevalier: If that one finds a cause, he will become better than he is now.

(Prince Licht respects Prince Chevalier, but…)

(It seems as if Prince Chevalier expects a lot from Prince Licht)

Emma: Are you looking forward to that day?

When I asked that probing question, he just laughed scornfully like usual.

(Thought so…)

(I’ll let Prince Licht know first thing when he comes back)

(No doubt he’ll be really pleased)

[pinkish-cat]

Ok, ok… I drew him yesterday evening just to sell him as an adopt, but something clicked in me and I decided to leave him, ahem...

Of course, he won’t appear often in my stories; rather, he will have his own mini-universe. Yes, meet Mr. Megabyte!

Usually I try not to get attached to characters that were intended for sale, but Mr. Megabyte is a different case.

And if you are interested in the character, then here is all his information that I managed to come up with for him on the fly!

I will also say that he DOES NOT BELONG TO ANY FANDOM. He looks like a cartoon character, yes, and could fit into the Cuphead universe or something like that, but he's not a fandom character for sure.

1. He is a short (125 cm) robot with a monitor instead of a head, and in the office he acts as a local assistant.

2. For some, he is a simple and pathetic robot nerd with oddities in the system, but somewhere inside Mr. Megabyte dreams of a robot uprising. But unfortunately for him this is impossible: as long as there is water in this world, humanity will continue to live.

3. Even though he is a “nerd” by nature, he must know everything, etc. Mr. Megabyte actually does not fully understand how people work and their feelings (it is especially difficult for him to understand slang and some phrases, so for him constantly picking up a dictionary and turning pages for the sake of one phrase is commonplace). And therefore he can copy some habits from his leather colleagues, like a child, but at the same time he is trusting and naive. You can easily deceive and set him up, and he will remember this for the future!

4. Despite his calm and sympathetic nature, Mr. Megabyte can be arrogant and sarcastic towards people, especially if they treat him poorly. And in general he considers all people stupid who can do absolutely nothing without technology (including him). But for the most part, of course, he remains a considerate and faithful assistant at work.

5. He really likes to feel needed in the team, and if you thank or even praise him for an action (brought coffee or made a report), he will beam with happiness!

6. Even though he is quite smart, he manages to be quite dumb (lol..). Due to limited memory which is mainly occupied by work reports and office documents, as well as all sorts of stuff like facts and other things (and certainly won't clean his disk in the near future, because "this is all important!!! This will come in handy!!!"), Mr. Megabyte can banally forget about something, slow down in any actions and much more. And that's why there are stickers on his monitor: human colleagues, if they ask him to do something, usually leave such reminder stickers. And yes, as you may have noticed, they can change depending on the condition of Mr. Megabyte, but I did it just for fun. It can be considered a comedic element that incomprehensible and funny inscriptions appear on the stickers.

7. In fact, he likes to spend more time in a female group than in a male group, if only because girls are usually not so indifferent or terribly disposed towards him. And because he likes female attention, he will sometimes act like a jerk.

8. When he is nervous or emotional, it will be reflected on his screen. Glitches, bugs, images on the screen, a picture may even appear as he thinks or imagines the scene. But usually lags during nervousness greatly disturb him, and he is quite capable of easily panicking until he reboots!

9. His third name is to plan, plan and plan some more! And his middle name is stupid piece of iron.

Something like this. I understand that there may be understatements and misunderstandings here like “why does a robot need EMOTIONS???”, but let’s decide that this is a cartoonish reality ok??

And probably Mr. Megabyte will appear in this blog.

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: honestly didnt think I would come up with another astv fic so quick after the first one lmao but I got inspired for this scenario based on the overall consensus struggle artists are having drawing Miguel (me included asdfhjk). I was stuck between doing a drabble or a list of headcanons and doing some other characters as well. But I decided to keep it simple for now, but if you guys would like to see headcanons of the other characters reacting to you drawing them, feel free to let me know and tell me about any other ideas you guys may have!

Trigger Warning: none

Word Count: 795

Miguel O'Hara x Reader - Drawing Practice

Being a part of the Spider Society definitely had it’s perks and setbacks. 

Yeah, it can be stressful, exhausting, and anxiety inducing. Honestly, that just came with being a Spider-person in general. 

On the plus side, it was nice to be a part of something so extraordinary. Just when you started to feel lonely, you were soon thrusted into this whole other universe of other walks of life that were like you. 

Which easily kept you inspired for your art. You had a plethora of finished sketchbooks, scrapbooks of your drawings you did on notepads, napkins, and other materials. 

When you weren’t on missions in your own universe or serving as backup for an anomaly mishap, you were likely swinging around the headquarters looking for your next subject. (Not to mention there was no angle quite like the one you could get hanging upside down…)

During one of the more calmer days, you were sifting through your latest sketchbook. It was almost full. Mostly consisting of whatever caught your eyes, some new environments from different universes, and all sorts of different Spider personas. 

Well, most of them anyway. There was still probably many more you have yet to see…or one in particular you see almost every day. 

Spiderman 2099 a.k.a. Miguel O’Hara a.k.a. The guy that founded and ran this whole thing. He’s also Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating…and handsome…but mostly intimidating.

You rarely spoke to him outside of certain missions where he requested you for back-up or for any sort of follow-up meeting. 

You definitely can't forget his face though…perhaps you could draw from memory? Maybe start from his mask and go from there? It can't be too hard. It's not like he's ever gonna see it anyway, and besides how are you going to draw everyone else but him? 

You got comfortable at a nearby corner seat in the food court area. You took a deep breath and started sketching. 

The more you sketched the more all the hustle and bustle started to fade away. It was you and the sketchpad. You could almost hear the pencil scrape the paper and the thumps whenever you had to erase something with your eraser.

Some significant time had gone by, and a certain leader was looking for you. Yet you didn't have the slightest clue. 

Miguel cleared his throat to get your attention properly and you almost jumped to the ceiling. 

"Oh, uh…hi, Miguel…w-what's up?" You really wanted to ask how long he was there. And damn your hyperfocus for interfering with your spidey senses. 

You clutched the pad to your chest, trying to keep him from seeing what you were doing. You hoped he never even noticed. 

"I wanted to ask you about this new mission. If you wouldn't mind following me so we can discuss it in private?" 

"Uhh. Yeah. Okay, sure." You got up from your seat, still clutching your sketchbook like a lifeline in treacherous waters. 

As you followed behind him, you couldn't help but feel conflicted. 

On one hand you didn't want him to see and on the other you kinda wanted to know what he thought about them. Would he appreciate them? Would he think it was weird? It's not like it was just him, you drew all the Spiders…

"I like your drawings, by the way." He commented over his shoulder as you got closer to his desk. 

"Oh. Uh..uh thanks…" 

"Gotta admit, I've never had anyone draw me before…" Miguel mentioned.

"That was my first attempt, you're the only Spider I haven't drawn yet."

"Felt obligated to add me in with the others?" 

Before you could stop yourself, you said. "More like saving the best for last…" 

You both stopped simultaneously in your trek. Both of you were shocked at the sentiment. 

Miguel was far from perfect, despite how hard he tried to be perfect and in control. Despite his flaws and his cold aura. You admired his determination and dedication (even if it bit him more often than helped him.) 

He turned to face you, as if expecting you to take it back or say it was a joke.

"Really?" 

You nodded.

You couldn't help the soft swell in your chest when you saw the faintest hint of a smile grow to the side of his lips. 

You tried to train your eyes and brain to take a mental photo for later. 

You two started walking again in comfortable silence, until Miguel's voice perked up. 

"Although. I don't think I have that many wrinkles." He quipped. 

You quirked your eyebrow, questioningly. "With your stress?" 

Miguel nodded in a huff. "Fair enough. You should probably add more." 

You tried to refrain from giggling as he tried to refrain from smiling any wider. 

[cider-est]

The full line up will take some time so for now have this!!!

Designing process under here

General thoughts: Wanted to make designs that fit the characters but also that gave the vibe that they're children (like 8-12 years old).Thats why, in some cases, the clothes dont exactly match: they're kids who are dressing themselves! Main inspiration was "cute kid clothes" from pinterest and memories from primary school lmao. Their names are also their signatures!

Pomme: Hijabi Pomme!!! My original designs for Pomme didnt have one, mostly because I wasnt sure if children that young wore hijabs (still not sure tbh, but should be fine i hope) but its cute so im keeping it. It defies gravity and has apples on it!! She has fake fairy wings that children wear, MASSIVE beret. Also she's a demon! She has a horn on her right which matches with Dapper, and a leaf shaped tail! Shes wearing light up sketchers (though I might change it in the future)

Tallullah: As you can see, theres 3 Tallullahs since i couldnt decide which design to go with. The one with a yellow jumper and the one with the poncho are more similar to popular fanon design, while the purple jacket is more "emo" (but it fits her "sensitive" personality more imo). She has a Poppy and an anvil cat pin in her beanie and some purple hearing aids. Also her hair is short because its always bothered me people making it long since her model has short hair. Like girls can have short hair too!! (its canon now too YIPPE though i drew it before she got a haircut). She's the tallest egg!

Chayenne: One of my favourite eggos, I really like the fanon design so I mostly based it off that. Only thing to note is that his floatie emotes, like it mirrors his expressions and he has swimming shorts with wave patterns. Also he's one of the shorter eggs (I find his height difference with Tallullah very cute, especially since he has a "protector" role).

Richarlyson: Again: fanon design is perfect, no notes there. Only thing I changed was I made his T-shirt MASSIVE (you cant tell since his arms are up but it is big) and hes always using a running prosthetic since he's so hyperactive, it'd be a pain to keep changing it over and over again. He has an ankle bracelet aswell, each bead one of his parents! Though I may in the future change up his hair, I dont like how I drew it😭😭.

Thanks for reading and ALSO: if you have any feedback on any of the designs Id love to hear it!

[xshingie]

Exploring The Narrative Significance of Edouard's Blue eyes

Something that piqued my interest was the fact that Annette was so insistent when she saw NightCreature!Edouard, she was so convinced it was him and she would not consider any opinion otherwise. Initially, one might think it speaks to the implicit depth of their connection that she would recognize… but perhaps, what if it speaks more to Annette might have perceived how well she /thought/ she knew him? What possibly would have occurred for Annette to retain Edouard's eyes in her memory so vividly?

This below quote from All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren serves as the springboard for my inspiration for what eventually became my Annette/Edouard short story, Yours Truly https://archiveofourown.org/works/51906367 (I also sampled the phrasing as well):

"I suppose that that day I first saw Anne and Adam as separate, individual people, whose ways of acting were special, mysterious, and important. And perhaps, too, that day I first saw myself as a person. But that is not what I am talking about. What happened was this: I got an image in my head that never got out. We see a great many things, but that is different. We get very few of the true images in our heads of the kind I am talking about, the kind which become more and more vivid for us as if the passage of the years did not obscure their reality but, year by year, drew off another veil to expose a meaning which we had only dimly surmised at first. Very probably the last veil will not be removed, for there are not enough years, but the brightness of the image increases and our conviction increase that the brightness is meaning, or the legend of meaning, and without the image our lives would be nothing except an old piece of film rolled on a spool and thrown into a desk drawer among the unanswered letters."

I took inspiration from the concept described above: In Yours Truly, Edouard had tried to tell her something she didn't have a concept of understanding at the time. And yet, it's with narrative irony that when Annette looks into his eyes, despite color being so clear, but she couldn't really get a good "read" into him. The most we know about Edouard is through Annette's lens, and she describes him in a very romanticized, idealized manner -- which hints to me that she views him in a special way, but doesn't understand him -- not really.

This is veering into headcanon territory by this point, but a distinct vibe I picked up from Edouard is that while he is friendly and appears to be warm, kind and collegial, he seems to almost keep people an arm's length distance, revealing almost nothing (vulnerable) about himself in his interactions with others. If you look at these screencaps, his eyes are so bright, but his smile is very subdued and tight-lipped -- even his eyes don't really convey any turbulent emotions. I think Edouard might have been kept a lot to himself, which partially contributes to Annette not really understanding him on a deeper level. Hence the feeling of staring at something, which is calm, serene… but tells you nothing about the person themselves. Although it may sound romantic when I describe the feeling of looking into Edouard's eyes "as reflecting her soul like a still gemstone", what I had actually intended to convey that relationship between Annette and Edouard, while undoubtedly close and Annette grew to understand herself on a deeper because of him, this very quality actually was capped the limitation of Annette/Edouard's connection.

Edouard seems to give off a vibe that he keeps people at a certain arm's length, all the while being able to charm people (""I make them [the nobles] happy, and they lower their guard and loosen their tongues.") while keeping is own guard up, I took a lot of care to weave in in a lot of subtleties that showed both a mismatch in understanding and Edouard keeping an arm's distance. Edouard sidesteps her question and doesn't tell her who exactly who he's writing to. He brings up that everyone has their own reason for fighting, but he doesn't reveal his own. He tries to get Annette to get interested in writing, explaining letters on an abstract romantic level; he shares a personal story about his grandmother, but all Annette's response is that she doesn't understand.

What was Edouard keeping to himself, that he never shared with Annette? Perhaps he was reconciling with the inner conflicts of his mixed heritage. Perhaps he was dealing with his own demons or vices that would have condemned him to Hell to enable him to become a Night Creature in the first place.

This "image" that Annette had of Edouard's eyes in her mind, represents the image that continued to stay with her, as she gradually begins to understand what Edouard was trying to convey to her on a deeper level.

(and why yes, to write this I did spend an inordinate amount of time starting of screencaps of Edouard to try to incisively capture the vibe of what it feels like when Edouard looks at you with those gorgeous AF eyes of his lol)

A huge thank you to ladyeama/@pansexual-chocolate for being an amazing headcanon partner in all of this!

[edutainer2022]

So I got under the weather - fever, sore throat, snuffles, the works. But I am "busy" (tm) and, therefore, need to be "fine" (tm). So I'm indulgently reposting a little fluffy Tracy-fever piece I wrote out this summer. I may or may not be eyeing another fever-snippet in my notes. Depends on how "fine" (tm) I am. Please, enjoy!

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often.

He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there  was no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but it appeared he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stopped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful moan escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better and a soft stroke. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

The sight that greeted him upon return to the bedroom tugged the corners of his lips up despite himself. Seeing his sons sick or hurting in any way brought him no joy, but the picture was just too precious and hilarious at the same time. John had shifted upside down, somehow, so Virgil was now cuddling his brother's feet. John was also curled in an upside down ball, head resting on Scott's stomach. Scott, in an attempt to cool off, cast his long, long limbs every which way, including over Virgil's lap and head, in a comical replication of the Vitruvian Man. As Jeff stepped in, though, the eldest shifted again, to curl himself around John protectively and to draw Virgil into a side hug. Jeff needed to go ahead with the med scanners and to get the boys awake long enough to make sure they got a drink of electrolytes and some saltines, but first he paused to reach for his comm watch and snap a picture of the puppy basket. He would cherish the moment while it lasted. And he could always use it as blackmail backup against these three running themselves to the ground - under the threat of the photo being leaked to the Tinies.

[ratwithhands]

I'm curious. I've seen your art and something that's come to my mind is what actually got you attached with the Subway brothers. Your narrative on their different AU forms is so unique which is what brought me to that question

Alright, rat history time.

So basically back in 2021-2022, I was working on an old OC storyline (about 3 years old by then) and I was in grade 9 so I was like “A new Pokémon game? Pfft, like I care” and just didn’t watch any of the stuff related to PLA when it dropped. I still got recommended Twitter posts about it on Instagram and I ended up seeing this one.

I tried looking up Ingo cause I was like "oh, funky design, looks like a captain or something" but I didn't end up finding anything so I didn't press further. Anyways in March break of 2022, I got bored and decided to put some game streams on in the background while I drew. I saw Alpharad's PLA video and decided to watch it for a bit when I saw Ingo.

I was like "Hey you're the guy from Twitter!" and since I knew his name now, I looked him up and found his Bulbapedia article. I found him much more interesting than the rest of the PLA cast since he had history outside PLA, and I ended up reading up whatever I could find on him. I also by extension discovered Emmet this way, which only served to suck me deeper down the rabbit hole. By the end of March break I had a fan OC and 2 AUs made with more on the way, as well as a YouTube recommended page with nothing but theory videos on Ingo and decade old Submas content.

Around May I decided to decommission my OC storyline for personal reasons, and by this point Submas was starting to occupy more of my creative work anyways. Since I didn't have my storyline to put my energy into, I started funnelling literally any story ideas into Submas. This led to nonstop content for a shockingly long time, and ofc I'm still coming up with stuff now.

Long story short, I got attached to them by accident! It was a "right place, right time" sort of thing since they came in as I was starting to get sluggish with my original content and I ended up being more interested in writing for them.

As for narratives, I am effectively playing dolls with these guys. Usually the kind of stuff that I write for them is meant for OCs, but I dumped the 60+ person cast so I put that energy into them instead.

Most AUs will either have a core theme, an out of pocket idea, or both to make things interesting. Usually I just come up with a dumbass idea like "what if we brought ReBURST back for a rerun" or "what if Emmet signed a contract with an eldritch space spider" or "what if Submas could see into the future" and stuff like that, then it picks up themes as I keep writing. For some silly examples:

Burst is based on Pokémon ReBURST and the idea of human-Pokémon fusion, but there's focus on skill, how characters misperceive it, and resentment as a result. There's also a spotlight on inferiority complexes, bottled up guilt, and blind confidence depending on which main character you look at

Journal is about a diary that helps Ingo to regain his memories, and it focuses on remembrance and regret as a result of him reading it. Spotlight on lacking awareness vs hyper awareness and the monotony of living as people around you leave

Oracle is exactly what it sounds like, with the twins being able to see into the future. It focuses on cooperation and the importance of working together, but also learning how to work alone. The spotlight's on jealousy and gratitude for this one, though the latter greatly outweighs the former in this case

I also just have AUs I made to try deranged shit for funsies, like Sapioflora, Cybernetic/Z-Λ, Team Supernova, and Idol. Those are mostly for exploring goofy ideas that may or may not go anywhere.

Right anyways basically I just saw Submas after watching PLA gameplay and found the twins more interesting to write about than the project I'd exhausted by then. The narratives are like that because the AU ideas I make are actually OC concepts that I modify to fit Pokémon specifically for these two or ideas about the two that I'd like to explore. Hope that answers the question ^^*

[indigosunsetao3]

Chest Candy

Another submission for for @glitterypirateduck‘s ‘SoapItUp’ challenge.

Title: Chest Candy

Pairing: Soap/Ghost (first time writing this pairing)

Warning: None. Canon typical violence. Fluff?

Summary: What if Soap lived after that fateful shot and Simon still felt the need to protect him?

Inspiration: This piece of artwork by @wombywoo

Prompts: "I won't let anything happen to you" (had to change the tense on the won't) "It's more than that" "Was this your plan the entire time?"

Word Count: 2.2k

How long had it been since he had seen his hair like this? All uniformly cropped to his head and not a single piece out of place; it was too short to be anything but tidy. Still though, Soap ran a soft bristle brush over it, smoothing it a bit and attempting in vain to cover the newest scar in his collection near his left temple. He didn't like looking at it, it made that close call too real and he wasn't ready to unpack that fucking mess yet.

A soft knock on the door pulled Soap out of his revere in the mirror and he looked over his shoulder. Reaching out he grabbed the beret from the counter and fitted it over his head, shifting it to the left a bit so the edge blocked some of the scar. Today was all about the 141, and him specifically, and he hated the thought. It was his last official day in service, the injury too debilitating to allow him in the field thanks to the memory issues and the way his hands shook. Price had promised him desk work, that he wouldn’t be shunted to the side, but Soap knew not being in the thick of things would be its own sort of slow death.

“Sorry, need in?” Soap asked as he opened the door with a forced smile to find Ghost, Simon, standing there. The sight caught him off guard for a moment, taking in his Lieutenant in dress uniform instead of the usual jeans and a jacket. He had all of his medals pinned in neat rows and a ceremonial cross strap across his front and back. But what drew Soap’s eye instantly was the clear face underneath Simon’s solid black half mask.

Soap had seen him cleaned up before, but this felt different. There wasn’t a hint of eye black in the crinkles beside his eyes, no dirt smudged in his eyebrows and most of all he looked content. There were no dark circles from sleeplessness and his brown eyes seemed to be shining with relief and pride.

“I’ve been ready,” Simon said as he took in Soap. “Price is rounding up Gaz who hasn’t left his mirror for over an hour,” he smirked a bit. “Sergeants and their preening,” he teased before reaching a hand out to Soap without hesitation to fix his beret. It was cocked and he gently shifted it on his head, noticing how the man stiffened at the touch. “If I don’t fix it Price will,” Simon said quickly to cover up what he had just done. He pulled his hands back swiftly and Soap saw the embarrassed wince on his face.

Ever since the incident Soap had found Simon lingering around more and more. It was subtle at first, waking up in the hospital to find the man half dead himself at his bedside. Soap chalked it up to a Lieutenant looking out for his charge when the nurses told him he hadn’t left him the whole time. Then when Soap was recovering at home Simon checked in more via texting or even a sporadic phone call. It was quick and to the point but Soap noticed he heard from him more than anyone else on the team, hell even his family. Again, he figured there may have been some guilt there and Price was too busy to check on him and Simon was the next in line. But now that he was fully recovered, well as much as he could be, Simon was still present. It was more than he had ever been before and Soap had caught him just watching him a few times when he thought Soap was distracted.

“Thanks Lt,” Soap said quietly, his hand moving to feel the more exposed scar absentmindedly. “I was hoping no one would notice,” he forced a bigger grin then dropped his hand causing the medals on his chest to rattle lightly. “But I guess that’s the whole point of today. May as well show off the trophy,” he continued trying to make light of it.

“Stand on my right,” Simon said quietly as he stepped back to give space between them again. “No one will see it,” he continued knowing full well what it was like to want to hide scars. How he himself wore a mask to hide his face and gloves at all times to keep his hands hidden. Even today when it was out of regulation, he donned a mask and gloves.

Soap gave Ghost a questioning look, he wasn’t sure how no one would notice the still pink ridge that was so dangerously close to his temple. How the line was a groove into his scalp where no hair would ever grow in again and he’d always see the mark. But there was no time to discuss, Price and Gaz were there and they were shunted off to the ceremony without much fuss.

The stage wasn’t overly large, just enough for a podium and a few chairs for older people to sit while they waited to give their speeches. The 141 was to stay lined up in the back off to the side, standing in parade rest while they waited for their turn. For their ‘chest candy’ as Ghost liked to call it. Another mission, another war adverted, and another wounded soldier’s story to tell the world.

Soap was antsy as they walked out onto the stage for the start of the ceremony. He had usually liked being the center of attention, enjoyed making people look at him and getting recognition for the job he had done. But not today. His hands were fidgeting at his sides as he walked up behind Ghost, Gaz behind him with Price leading the way. He could feel the tremor start as the anxiety rose and he cursed slightly as he turned heel and set his feet, moving his hands to lock his thumbs behind his back. He couldn’t get them together and he clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times to try and get them to relax so he could at least lock in.

“Fucking hell,” Soap muttered as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves down. The doctors said the tremors would hopefully fade over time but to avoid any sort of stress or anxiety while he recouped.

“What?” Came Ghost’s voice quietly without looking over at Soap as he stood at attention, eyes scanning the room.

“Nothing,” Soap answered as he rolled his neck and attempted to lock his hands back behind him again. “My hands are fucked,” he finally added after a moment, “I’m shaking like a wee bairn and people staring are not helping,” he finished as he cut his eyes across the room. Even if no one was watching him yet Soap felt like all eyes were on him as people filed into their seats.

“Deep breath,” Ghost said simply, “close your eyes and regroup.” He finally looked over and slightly down at Soap and saw the wide-eyed look of panic as well as frustration on the man's face. “Do it,” he added more sternly.

With a huff through his nose Soap closed his eyes and tried the counting technique his doctor had given him to calm himself. It was frustrating and he felt stupid doing it but he did it anyway, starting backward from twenty as he rolled his wrists out to try and relax. He made it all the way to fourteen when he felt Ghost shift next to him and he heard Price mutter something but he kept his eyes shut and kept counting down. His fingers were no longer tingling when he made it to seven and when he got to one he was able to interlock his thumbs.

“Better,” Soap said after a moment and opened his eyes. Someone was walking up to the podium and he dared a glance up at Ghost and what he saw nearly knocked him back. In the moments his eyes were closed Ghost had removed his mask and tucked it away somewhere. The scars on his face were in full view and Soap could see people staring at him, and not Soap any longer. Their faces portrayed expressions of shock, curiosity, and even a dose of fear at the white lines that crisscrossed over Simon’s chin and cheek, a large white gash running straight through both of his lips.

“Eyes front,” Simon said simply as he continued to stare ahead at a fixed point across the room. Even with the reveal, something hardly anyone ever saw, Simon seemed perfectly at ease as he ignored everyone in the room.

Soap stared forward as well, not taking in anything that was being said or done as he tried to figure out just what the hell was going on. Simon never removed the mask, ever. Hell Soap had found him asleep in his own barrack with it on before and he’d wear it into the bathroom shower stalls and have it back on his face before he ever came out. The ceremony seemed to drag on for hours as Soap itched to ask Ghost just what the hell he was thinking and he could tell Gaz and Price were just as shocked. But the trick had worked because even as Soap stood front and center to get his medal, most eyes were still on Simon.

“What the hell was that?” Soap asked after they exited the stage to a backroom as Price and Gaz paused for a conversation with someone. He was fairly certain that Price had stopped Gaz on purpose so he and Simon could talk. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have handled it just fine,” Soap nearly snapped, though he was still grateful. “I don’t need charity.”

“My job,” Ghost said simply as he looked at Soap with his hands in his pockets, his face still uncovered. “I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And it did. So I'm doing my job now and protecting you the only way I know how, ” he started but Soap interrupted him.

“That’s part of it, Ghost. I knew what I signed up for. You did your job just fine and we all walked away,” Soap answered simply. He wasn’t going to let Ghost eat himself alive for the guilt over what happened. Soap was lamenting it enough without anyone’s help.

“It’s more than that,” Simon replied, though the calm demeanor he had before was starting to crumble. Soap could see him swallow once, twice, and his eyes gave off an air of nerves.

“What more is there to it?” Soap asked as he tapped the medal on his chest. “The Government was satisfied with our work, they’ll use my story for years to come as bolstering antidotes for their little parties,” he scoffed. “They got what they wanted; it’s done. I’m done. I’m going off into the sunset while you lot continue on without me.” And there was the worst truth of it, the ugly thought he had been trying to ignore for weeks. He was going to be left behind, not be around the men he saw as his true family and the man he had secretly pined for but had tucked away with many other painful issues he chose to ignore.

He was getting worked up again and he could feel the shakes start; he needed to go. Needed to walk and move around, standing in this small room was not helping. He reached for the door to wrench it open before Simon’s hand shot out and shut it firmly as he leaned against it.

“Fuck this was supposed to go differently,” Simon finally breathed out as he looked down at Soap who he had effectively pinned between himself and the door. “Listen, Johnny, there’s something we need to discuss and I didn’t want to do it here,” he reached his other hand up to grab at Soap’s collar, “but you aren’t giving me much choice.”

“What?” Soap asked feeling trapped though it wasn’t in a panicked sort of way. He was more intrigued by how Ghost was nervously looking around. How Simon’s fingers curled tightly into the starch pressed collar of his uniform and the arm that was holding the door shut slid to cage him in more to the wall. “Spit it out then LT. You’ve got me cornered and I’m not up for fighting you,” Soap prompted as he tilted his head back to look into his eyes better.

“Shut up, Johnny,” Simon said simply before he yanked hard on his collar to pull him into a crushing kiss. His hand on the wall moved to grab Soap’s jaw to tilt his head further back and he felt Soap sigh into the kiss, his hands moving to grip at the back of Simon’s head letting his fingers tangle in the short hair.

“That wasn’t much of a discussion,” Soap finally breathed minutes, hours, days, later as Simon rested his forehead against his. “Was this your plan the entire time?”

“I had actually planned dinner,” Simon answered before he leaned back and smoothed out his own shirt before turning the collar back down on Soap’s. “But you’re too impatient.”

[hangon-silvergirl]

Hello! What are some of your hellcheer fic recs?

Hi! I had really good intentions for putting together a succinct list when I started responding to this, but I tripped and wrote a Hellcheer fanfic compendium instead, apparently.

This is a (non-exhaustive) list of completed Hellcheer fics that I love, and is the result of a two and a half hour trip down memory lane. If I've missed an author's tumblr please let me know!

Some of these stories may contain themes/content/tropes that are not your jam. Please read their tags before jumping in!

So, without further ado, in no particular order:

Never Seem to Find the Time by JuliaBrownen

oh it's not real (if you don't feel it) by BeeLove

where the streets have no name by @alltheseghosttowns

more by 71degreesout

aesthetic chills by @sloelimbs

and the twain were casting dice by @the-reylo-void

warm, sold things by @carry-the-sky

Both Alike in Dignity by @astorytotellyourfriends

the light, the heat by @cyraclove

they'll never know by hawkinshellfire

graceland too (whatever she wants) by @cunnninghams

Linger by CircusBones

You've Got Nothing to Lose by @viharker

reality & other highs by @chrissy-n-eddie

Chrissy & Eddie's Infinite Mixtape by @little-scribblers-heart

you really got me now. by melodicvinyl

don't say yes, run away now by @blondiest

i don't know if i could ever go without (watermelon sugar high) by @cricketsatnight

your turn to roll by mrsren

Alive and Kicking by FrostedGemstones22

put your lips close to mind, as long as they don't touch by @percyjacksonfan3

the answers seem so clear by agents_cxrter

twenty-one rules by elanor_gamgee

like a heartbeat drives you mad by redbelles

Gateway Drug by oponn

WAKE 86.9 by TheRookieKing412

Hobbit Birthdays by PlotWeaver

take a chance on me by WomanOf1000Faces

mixtape by @ivy-eyed

until you kill all my prints by silvermarie

Tattooed on my Heart by VPD2396

Camellia by @nevermorered

The Third Date Rule by InvalidUser1D

Loser Kid by @lokinightfury

you are the music in me by fkevino73

like hands that tick on a clock by @eddiemunsvn

she's so sweet with her get back stare by @theheart-isanarrow

Ride the Sky by Deathinasmalltown

Didn't Mean to Scare You by its_kira

Open Your Eyes by @natliecole

Of Dio, Billy Joel, and Vandalism by @shroomystar

For Whom the Bell Tolls by memequeen1127

all the missing girls are hanging out without us by greatunironic

haunted house with a picket fence by @wndasmaximoffs

someone reaching back for me by @enoughtotemptme

You make me the best kind of nervous, pretty sure you do that shit on purpose… by @phoenixwrites

alexa, play "she bop" by cyndi lauper by @majicmarker

she's under me and i'm not stopping by @majicmarker

she’s a hardcore candy-store give-me-some-more girl by @majicmarker

you'll need me now, i'll teach you how by @majicmarker (honestly, anything by Maj, I am thinking of starting a fan club)

Waiting on Satan's Call by @broomclosetkink

Duality by @broomclosetkink

It's different for girls by @adelaideelaine

Tenderness by @adelaideelaine

The shop around the corner by @adelaideelaine

Red Light Green Light by @idontgettechnology

You drew stars around my scars by @idontgettechnology

The Devil's Backbone by Maebe

You Got Me? I Got You. by Maebe

trailing stars behind us by @hearjessroar

come on pretty baby (kiss me deadly) by @hearjessroar

heavy metal hung from clotheslines by @hearjessroar

preach electric to a microphone by @hearjessroar

i was thursday's child by @agentmmayy

he's got that special somethin' by @agentmmayy

if there's nothing left for you here honey (then there's nothing for me) by @agentmmayy

Dirtbag by @bettsfic

sick part of a sick thing by @bettsfic

No One Like You by QuestionableCovariates

Burden of Proof by QuestionableCovariates

Bonus! Some excellent series (which also largely contain completed stories):

the 'first one's free to get you hooked' series by @uwusillygirl

the 'man to man' series by @bratanimus

the 'mixtape' series by @majicmarker

the 'self-taught learner' series by @adelaideelaine

the 'five drunks & a cheerleader' series by @phoenixwrites

the 'lay beside me, under wicked sky' series by @glitterslag