#even the style quirk I do with colouring under hair lighter

[chloesimaginationthings]

HELLO i love these two so much, i couldn't not draw them

ALSO my friends and i love your art okay bye

THIS IS SO PEAK WHATTTT

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

a luminous love || tom holland x reader

a/n: I feel like I should apologise for the length of this. I was not intending for it to be as long as it’s ended up, but I hope that doesn't put anyone off! there is also a follow up of this planned: the subsequent road-trip. both are definitely stand alone’s but there will be a few casual nods to this fic throughout. i’m thinking of doing a couple shorter blurb style fics as these longer ones take up a bit more time to plan and write. also looking to delve into my angsty side after doing so many slice of life, fluff pieces. let me know what you think, thank you all for reading and being amazing as always! come chat! x  

word count: 2556 warnings: alcohol use summary: its the annual summer BBQ extravaganza at the holland household

The patio doors were wide open, folded in on themselves as shimmering golden sunlight enveloped the kitchen. Sunbeams glinted off the mirrors and glass surfaces, rainbows dancing around the open space. Light music was playing from a portable speaker, the birds chirping along to the soothing tones. You could hear voices all talking over one another, loud laughter and a dog barking. From your position in the hallway you could see people sheltering in the shaded kitchen from the sweltering heat that was London on a glorious summer day. Bodies filtered in and out through the large open space, congregating both inside and out. You felt a gentle squeeze of your hand. Taking your eyes off the crowded room and glancing up, you saw tom had rested his bag in the hallway, and was waiting for you to do the same. “You okay?” he asked, as you stepped out of your trance and copied Tom’s actions, “It’s only the family, you’ve met them before - and a couple family friends...” he trailed off. “Oh.No, I’m excited I promise!” you reassured him. Tom grasped your shoulders, spinning you round slightly so you were standing directly in front of him, your bodies touching. His smile widened, pressing a feather light kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” You leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes quickly as you soaked up the closeness. You picked up the discarded gift bag, lost in amongst the jumble of things you and Tom had brought in for your quick stay at the Holland household. He entwined your fingers together, rubbing the back of your hand slightly with his thumb before jerking his head questioningly, ready to face the onslaught? you nodded, grinning. Pulling him in close beside you, he stretched his entwined hand across the back of your neck and up over your shoulder casually. “You weren’t having a summer Holland BBQ without your favourite, right?!” he bellows, as you both appear in the kitchen entry way. A myriad of eyes darted over to the pair of you, everything stilling for a millisecond. Even Tessa dropped her ball. Then the place erupted. “Oh honey!” “Ayy, about time guys.” “Favourite? yeah right!” “Only in your dreams you div.” “Oh look who he brought!! Thank god, I needed someone to talk about...” “My favourite non-Holland!” The cacophony of voices echoed around the room, people whooping and hollering before finishing their previous conversations. With another light squeeze, you feel the weight of Tom’s arm disappear from around you. His fingers ghosted across your back before he was hugging his brothers, pulling out high fives and fist bumps. You found yourself immediately enveloped into a perfume filled, soft hug, Nikki running a hand through your hair complimenting the slightly lighter colouring, “- I’m so glad you could both make it! I was worried you’d miss out what with your trip but it looks like we were just in time.” You were heading on a road-trip up to Scotland to visit your family since Tom had some proper free time off work, him wanting to drive and explore some pretty hidden routes with you. You’d decided to stop off for a night at his family’s house before heading off the next again morning. “We wouldn’t miss it! Yearly tradition and all, also it’s just a wee thing but please just accept it no questions.” Nikki pulls a face at the gift bag, “You don’t have to do that, you’re family - no need for gifts!” You can feel yourself falling into a grin at the comment before thanking her for letting you stay the night and for the amazing spread. You hear the pitter patter of tiny feet on the tiled floor, before your four-legged friend jumped up on her hind legs, tail thumping the ground and front legs pawing at yours. “Oh hi baby, hi Tess!” you coo softly, kneeling on one knee to stretch behind her ear and rub her belly as she continued to hop on her back legs, her tongue sticking out to lick your face.   Her ears suddenly pricked at a whistle, and both your heads turned as she noticed Tom - immediately forgetting about you and bounding over to him. He sticks his tongue out at you menacingly. You rolled your eyes, grinning as you stand back up again. Nikki leading you to a group of people gathered around the island, “Anyway! Let’s get you a drink and introduce you to some friends! Tell us how you’ve been, it’s been so long.” //// You were laughing with the twins, watching Paddy show some of his new football tricks. Tessa was trying to get in on the action, pink tongue hanging out as she ran around you all. You’d already been handed plenty of drink, a table set up in the corner of the kitchen with every kind of spirit laid out for guests to help themselves to. Massive beer crates were stacked next to the fridge, clearly on a rotation. You had met and talked with so many family friends already, before the groups dispersed and you were waved over by some familiar faces. The boys were taking up a whole section of the garden with their games. Far away from the BBQ and food, as directed by Dom. “What do you say to a game of beer pong?” Harry asked you, shaking out some of the curls that were beginning to stick to his forehead in the sweltering sunshine, “Bet a tenner I’ll sink you.” You laugh, smirking, “Alright kids, you’re on!” He groaned, “I hate that nickname, you’re older than us by literally two months!” Paddy acts as referee as you and Sam pair up against Harry and Harrison who were already squabbling about each other’s techniques. As you watched your last shot dive into the cup, bopping about slightly, you cheer loudly. The competition, beer drinking and sun already heating up your cheeks, staining them pink. You hug Sam in celebration and made a beeline to Harrison for a commiseration’s handshake-turned-hug, hearing Harry to have it out with his twin next to you.   “Cough up, bro.” You held out your hand upright as Harry begrudgingly slapped the ten pounds into your hand. You all start laughing as Harry downs the last cup, not before sloshing it all down himself. //// You’re lounging in a deckchair, listening to some childhood stories of the boys until you feel a shadow block your sun. “Hey darling, you alright?” He hands you two platefuls of food before pulling up an empty deckchair beside you. “Hey! So good. Warning I’ve definitely had more than my fair share of your gross beer.” You thank him for the food, pressing a soft and quick kiss to his cheek as he chuckled at you. He had already taken to the sun, his face now painted with a sun kissed glow. You take a minute, swallowing slightly as you take him in. The food plates resting on your lap, he lounges back slightly, a bottle of beer in one hand. Tess immediately jumps into his shorts clad lap, his striped linen shirt was unbuttoned and his dog tags shifted as she lay down, panting and eyes softly blinking in the sun, mouth upturned as if she was smiling. “You look good.” You whisper as you pass across his food, trying to avoid Tess’s eager snout as you did so. He quirks an eyebrow, “Oh really?” he laughs, “How many beers have you had exactly?” “Well, I played beer pong with your brothers...” He nods his head in understanding, smirking at the slight wobble in your voice. “Did you win?” “You bet I did!” The hand that was resting on Tess’s back he instead used to high-five you, laughing as he turned his head in search of his brothers. That same hand now resting on your bare thigh comfortably as his leg leant against yours. “Well, if you’ve got another round in you later...we can beat them again?” You agree enthusiastically, knowing that you’d be at a slight disadvantage seeing as the sun and alcohol was already going to your head, but that Tom would carry your team easily. More people gather round the two of you with their plates of food, engaging in conversation about golf, work, filming etc kindly including you in their conversations as you munched on your food, hoping it would soak up a little bit of the alcohol. You soon found yourselves back indoors, stomachs nice and full, as you took a break from the sun. Tom was leaning back into the arm of the sofa, wrapping his arm around your back and resting it on the opposite side of you, pulling you super close. He was talking animatedly to the man on his left, one of Dominic’s friends that you’d been introduced to earlier. You were fiddling with Toms tags, lightly dragging them back and forth on their chain as he conversed about his latest job. “I found it!” Nikki announced as she made her way over to the sofa, everyone shifting up as she squeezed in-between you and Harrison’s girlfriend, who you’d been chatting with on the opposite side of the couch. Tom groaned. “Not another one mum! I’m surprised you still have any left to show at this point.” Nikki ignored his objections before pulling open the photo album, and immediately you were taken in by the cute small toddler in a variety of places around the house; in the bath, under the christmas tree, in his high chair with chocolate birthday cake all round his face, outside in the grass on a blanket - giant smile plastered across his little face. Tom had rested his chin on your head, peeking over you. His cold tags making your back flinch slightly at the change in temperature. you cooed and laughed along with her as she took you through the book, telling you stories about her eldest, mischievous son. You could feel the vibrations against you as he laughed at different pictures, his mum leaning across to ruffle his hair. “You two would have the cutest kids, I’m just saying-“ Nikki blurted out. Tom groaned and immediately pulls himself and you up off the couch, “-I’m just saying! Tom!” “Oh, here we go! Mum you’re cut off,” he says laughing, guiding you back out into the sunshine, and past the BBQ, “Dad, mums at it again.” Dom sighs, then laughs before heading inside, “What has got into her!”   You stifle a giggle, Tom with a hand on either shoulder his body pressed flush against you as he propelled you through the throng of people gathered round a fire pit, and led you back to the beer pong table. “Please ignore everything my mother just said.” You spin around quickly so you’re chest to chest. Bringing a hand up to cup the back of his neck as you pull him down just slightly, whispering in his ear, “Whilst we’re definitely not ready for kids yet, I’m definitely not against some practice in techniques...are you?” He pulls his head back sharply, golden eyes coming to life in the glittering sun. His entire face breaks out into a smile, “You’re such a tease, move it!” 

Spinning you back around, he presses you forward brushing your hair behind your shoulder as he sinks some light kisses into the side of your neck, as you both continue towards the beer pong. You pretend to shove him off, his breath tickling your cheek. 

“PDA! PDA! Ew, get a room guys!” Paddy jokes, cupping his hand around his mouth and announcing to the garden. “What are you, twelve?! That’s it Pads!” Tom suddenly bounds away from you, leading to a chase as Paddy runs nimbly around the garden; dodging people, chairs, cups and plates - Tom hot on his heels. You burst out laughing, shaking your head as Tom lifted Paddy, chucking him over his shoulder. You sat yourself down on the dry grass, waiting for the boys to finish their play fighting. As you do, you feel a soft body lean itself against you, tail hitting off your legs. “Hey baby,” you murmur, clapping and stoking Tess as she lay belly up in the sun, “Whose a clever girl?” //// “Here.” You sit up, having been lying on the grass since the latest beer pong match which led to copious amounts of drinking games. You’d questioned if the world would stop spinning if you lay down, a chorus of laughter coming from the boys and their friends.  Tom passes you a glass of ice-cold water which you gratefully take, before hunkering down next to you himself, sitting with his knees up and his arms clasped around them. You take a couple sips before balancing your cup in the tufts of grass, he opens up one of his arms and you cuddle into him. “Your brothers suck,” you joke, the water chasing away your light headache. He laughs. “Thank you for pushing our trip back to fit this in,” You rest your head on his shoulder and look out at all the people, still having a great time despite the fact the sun was slowly disappearing below the trees. “Tom. Of course, my folks completely understand. I love your family and you don’t always get the time off to see them. What’s one extra day, hm?” He turns his face to look at you and you lift your head off his shoulder. You had a spattering of pink across your cheekbones and nose, your freckles peeking out. Your hair was falling out of its messy half up-do. yes twinkling as you looked up at him through your lashes. His hand brushed against your hair and the side of your face before he tilted your chin upwards and took your mouth in his, brushing his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss, letting him press soft clusters of kisses on your nose and cheekbones. You laugh and bring him back to the centre. “I love you,” he announced, taking a breath before kissing you again - you unconsciously reached for the back of his neck to pull yourself in closer. “I love you too.” you sigh, shifting yourself to now lie between Toms’ legs. letting him whisper soothing words into your ears, of all the places you were going to visit on your trip.

“Oi lovebirds,” Harry comes bouncing over to the two of you. Tom leaning back on his elbows as you sit comfortably between his legs, him tightening them around you.

“I took these. Thought you might like them. Who’d of thought? You guys actually look really cute.” You hit his arm, as he dramatically yelps and rubs at the attacked area.

He held out the polaroid’s as Tom balanced on one elbow, shifting his weight to the left as he reached out and took the pictures.

“These are actually sick Haz, thanks bro!” He shifts back, sitting up with your back pressed flush to his stomach as he brought his arms round for you both to look at the small collection of photographs Harry had taken throughout the day.

You smile wide at the joy and love plastered on your faces, a tiny miniature you beaming up at your goofy boyfriend squinting in the sunlight. You feel Tom’s arms wrap around you tighter. breathing each other in, you feel him relax behind you, you trace patterns along his sun kissed skin with your fingers as the sun begins to paint the sky in gorgeous oranges and pinks.

[nox-lee]

Opening Lines Tag Game

I was tagged (ish) by @alecjmarsh

RULES: List the openings of the last ten stories you published. Look to see if there are any patterns that you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. 

I was delighted to see that I actually have 10+ fics on AO3. Several of these are codas though, which may skew the comparison a bit given that they’re a different style of writing...

Snap, Crackle, and Pop

Dean’s at the Roadhouse when he gets the call, waiting for Cas to join him for their usual burger and beer. Typically Cas beats him here, orders for them, and has stolen the pickles from Dean’s burger by the time Dean arrives. But Dean enters the Roadhouse to find their table empty, which should have been his first sign that something was wrong.

A Calm Between Storms: A 13x22 Coda

Castiel feels pretty fortunate, all things considered. They've made it back through the portal in one piece and managed to save dozens of other souls in the process. Lucifer remains trapped on the other side. The loss of Gabriel weighs heavy on him, but he sets his grief aside for now. He doesn't forget about it exactly, just tucks it away inside of himself, not ready yet to examine it.

Hand To Mouth

“This is stupid.” Saying it is useless; it’s not like Dean’s ever listened to reason before, but Castiel feels obligated to point it out nonetheless. “This is reckless and dangerous and—”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, hold this one for me.” Dean pushes a firecracker into Castiel's hands, while he juggles another in his own and flicks at his lighter.

The Sweetheart Next Door

Dean stands on his lawn, surveying the house that now bears his name on the deed. It’s a rundown old thing, in dire need of a new roof and a dozen other imminent fixes. But it’s in a nice neighbourhood and it’s his, and that alone is almost cause to smile. Almost. He doesn’t though, because his gutter chooses that moment to collapse with a screech of metal on the left side, sending the stray cat who has taken to sleeping in his front bushes scurrying.

Baby It’s Cold Outside

It's cold and wet and everything around them is swirls of fog and mist, making it hard for her headlights to cut through anything. Baby growls her frustration, her wheels squealing on the sleet beneath them.

She is upset, to say the least. Only a week ago, she had been warm and cozy, freshly waxed and tucked away in the bunker garage where she had hoped to spend the holidays in luxurious comfort. Instead, she is miles from home, and growing crankier by the hour.

She's tired and cold and dirty. And Dean is being an idiot.

I Have Measured Out My Life in Coffee Spoons: A 13x06 Coda

Castiel flinches as Jack bursts into the bedroom. As expected, Dean does not respond well to being jolted awake. Although he knows Jack can't be hurt by bullets, Castiel still scowls when Dean pulls the gun from under his pillow and aims it at Jack.

Dean has not always been such a deep sleeper. After Castiel pulled him from hell all those years ago, Dean hadn't slept well at all. He almost always slept fully clothed and often left his boots on as well. Castiel hadn't realized straightaway that this had been unusual behaviour. He himself didn't need sleep, and while he understood well enough that it was a human requirement, he hadn't fully appreciated all the rituals of nightfall.

All The Anguish You Suppress: A 13x05 Coda

Cas wakes up in a field. He has a brief moment of unthinking calm in which to feel the sun on his skin. He turns his head to the sky, breathes deeply, then spares a confused glance down at his new attire.

Then it hits him. He flinches with the sudden intensity of it that feels like an actual blow to his chest— like there’s some invisible hand squeezing his heart and lungs, compressing his air. This longing. It cuts deep at the core of him.

Dean.

Witchcraft and Whiskers

Halloween had always been Castiel’s favourite time of the year. He loved watching the leaves turn colour and crunch underfoot. The crisp air that carried the smell of winter always made him want to curl up with a cup of tea and a good book. And he loved the theatrics of Halloween: the skeletons and ghosts that hung from porches, carved pumpkins alight with candles. It was all so magical.

Nothing Else Matters: A 12x23 Coda

"Dean, that tickles," Cas grumbled. But his eyes were bright, his nose crinkled, and his lips quirked up in a small, half smile.

Dean grinned and continued trailing his fingers down the sides of Cas's ribs, resolutely ignoring the way he squirmed beneath him as he moved lower and nosed around Cas’s hipbone.

He had only managed to pull Cas’s shirttails from his pants before a firm hand grabbed him by the hair and tugged gently. 

A Marriage of Misadventure

Dean’s first conscious thought was that everything was too bright. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, but a white light persisted on the inside of his eyelids. Although he wasn’t about to open his eyes to confirm, he was certain there was sunlight pouring in from a window somewhere. It was too bright, his head was throbbing, and every muscle in his body ached.

Dean rolled to block out the light and buried his face in the warm mound of blankets next to him. He inhaled an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant scent. It was deeply soothing, and Dean was pretty sure he could stay like this forever. Warm, dark, perfect. Nope, he would not be opening his eyes any time soon.

Then the mound of blankets moved.

This Isn’t How It Was Supposed To Go: A 12x10 Coda

The ride back to the bunker passes in icy silence. Dean is seething and the more miles they travel, the angrier he gets. Fucking angel with his fucking death wishes. He glances over at the angel in question who is sulking and staring resolutely out the window. Only an hour ago their fingers were brushing together on the space between them. Now that space feels like miles and is immeasurably colder.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

OBSERVATIONS

There’s a lot of bad writing here, and plenty that I’m embarrassed about looking back. But I do think it’s important to see where you’ve come, and where you’re headed!

With a few exceptions, I seem to use almost exclusively present tense. I’ve wondered about this before and I really do think it’s a fanfic phenomenon. 

I tend to start either right in the action with dialogue or far removed, with very little in between. Some of that discrepancy is the codas though, which have more immediacy.

I have a pretty even split of Dean vs. Cas POV, which is something I struggle a lot with in terms of knowing which character is best equipped to tell a story. 

I use the word “resolutely” too much and it sounds pretentious af. 

Spot any other patterns? Let me know! And tag me if you do your own... I’d love to see. 

[dorkyungsoowrites]

11 Questions Tag

Rules: Answer the eleven questions you were asked, then write your own eleven questions and tag more people. (I'm too lazy to write my own, but here you go.)

Questions from @vampwrrr

1)  What are three of your oddest quirks?

Oh buddy there are a plethora to choose from haha. I guess, I've been told I walk with a very even, rhythmic gait (so much so they noticed it & pointed it out, mind you), my socks never match, and when I set things on a desk/counter I like placing objects parallel or perpindicular to each other so it's neater.

2)  What’s your favourite hair colour for men?  For women?  Why?

You do what makes you feel the best/happiest. I don't care about that stuff. This was an odd question.

3)  What was your favourite band before you got into EXO?

Um, BTS I guess. I followed them before I discovered Exo, so yeah.

4)  How would you describe your style/aesthetic?

Dorky punk with a splash of space.

5)  What advice would you give high school you?

Don't care what others think because they don't care about you. You're beautiful and smart and kind and wonderful, and your worth is not defined by the people that are or aren't around you. Don't let people push you around and walk over you so much. You deserve better. Put down that [redacted]. It doesn't help. Not in the long-term. Get over yourself you selfish, immature bitch. You are not alone in your pain. If you were to talk to your friends about it you would see that and feel so much lighter. Seek help. Your parents will not think less of you or over-react/worry. They will support your need to talk to someone professional. Men ain't shit. Stop trying to force that garbage crush, pick up your courage and ask her out. You know who I mean. Tell her exactly how in love with her you are. She'll accept you. Yes, even though you haven't come out yet. I only had the courage to kiss her twice long after high school. It wasn't the same. She deserved for you to be better to her in school. Give her all the love you know she needs and deserves. Your struggles aren't so different. Also, learn to take notes and study properly, and practice your instrument more. College me will suffer and struggle enough as it is.

6)  If you could be any comic book character, who would you be, and why?

Well I've always loved Deadpool, but to be him? Fuck no. I mean all comic book people have tragic backstories like damn. I'm gonna cop out and say Mai from the atla comics cause she's badass and is in love with Zuko.

7)  What are your top 3 favourite hobbies?  Why do you find them fulfilling?

Watching movies/tv, writing/reading and playing music. I enjoy escaping to other worlds and observing people. In these mediums you see into characters' heads a lot so it helps build this picture of humanity in its most vulnerable, most mundane and strongest states. There's no limit put on creativity and fantasy and world-building, and I find that amazing and freeing, and healing. With music there's just so much passion. It reaches everyones hearts. It's a unifying thing among humans, and gives voice to otherwise indescribable feelings. I've played all my life and I still can't properly voice how I feel when it comes to music a lot of the time. I just know that the happiest and most at peace I am in my life is while playing a piece of music. And that's precious to me, so I won't give it up.

8)  What do you like to read?  Why do you like it?

Besides fanfiction I usually read fantasy. See above.

9)  Please describe what you would like to do on your idea of a perfect day.

Sleep in, sip a warm beverage under blankets with a significant other watching movies while it rains, and watch the sunset. Possibly by a fire. Just enjoying the quiet calm and the company without worries.

10)  What draws you to your EXO bias, and bias wrecker?

Kyungsoo is talented in many areas (singing, dancing, acting, etc.). He has my second favorite singing voice of all time. He's also a very thoughtful and sincere person. At least what he shows us. He seems to be very open-minded and kind with manners to boot. Even though he can seem mysterious a lot of the time I think he has his reasons for holding back parts of himself and that's respectable. I go a lot by "vibes" I get from people and I just feel that Kyungsoo is a good person at heart. That's what lets him stand out among others for me and drew me in. And with the chance of this sounding narcissistic, his personality reminds me of me a lot of the time so I feel kinda connected to him in that way. I don't think I have one particular biaswrecker so I'll leave this here.

11)  What are three of your strongest pet peeves?

Um, being rude?? Like, having your phone out while eating out with someone, texting/talking in the theater, etc. Being inconsiderate of my feelings. Like talking over me or ignoring what I just said, etc. And not cleaning up your own messes. Like it's not that hard to pick up your dishes/shoes/whatever and put them back in their proper place.

[fantroll-purgatory]

Kilius Koplan

I’ve been saving this boy up.

@ancientvacation usual disclaimer that I don’t have a lot to say besides oooh and ahhhh

Alternian OC

Name:Kilius Koplan - Kilius comes from Achilleus, also known as Achilles, one of the great Greek heroes. It also sounds close to ‘Kleos’, a Greek concept of glory. Koplan is from Adam Copeland, the real name of the wrestler Edge, who’s finishing move is The Spear, the same characteristic weapon of Achilleus.

Also indicates he might have a soft spot somewhere…

Strife Specibus:

grapplekind/2xspearkind - The spear is a common weapon for ancient Greek heroes to use. Furthermore, The Spear was the name of Adam ‘Edge’ Copeland’s finisher. He uses two as to be like a pair of beetle pincers. He mainly uses grapplekind as it’s what he’s trained the most in, but aspires to finally use his ancestor’s spears passed down to him, so he always keeps the card on him as a little bit of motivation.

Fetch Modus:Apronmodus - Kilius stows and fetches things from underneath a curtain-like structure, much like how foreign objects are taken from under a wrestling ring. This means that he can use the underside of his kilt as a kind of hammerspace. It’s very silly.

hlkgjkaerhwr yeah it is! I love it so much.

Blood color:He’s an Indigoblood. The hex I use for his text is #0021bc whereas his blood, symbol and blood-coloured garments are a darker shade. I kinda run with the HC that there are set colours for each blood caste, but individual trolls type darker or lighter than those colours as a personal thing.

I think that tracks especially given that Equius used a markedly different text color than his blood color.

Symbol and meaning:Kilius’ symbol has gone through an evolution. The symbol I used for the longest time was the Hercules constellation, mainly because of it being a heroic figure and tying to him nicely. After the EZ came out, I redesigned a lot of aspects of my trolls, most importantly their symbols. As such, I recreated the Hercules symbol using the sign language of the Indigo caste. If I had to give it a name, I’d use Hercinius. The symbol also resembles a Greek pillar, which is neat.

Oh man yeah I love that.

Trolltag: perfectPankrator - A pankrator is just to describe someone who takes part in pankration, a gladiatorial style of combat where physical attacks with the use of punches and kicks are emphasised. Perfect is just to show Kilius’ ego and ‘better than you’ attitude. Instead of the negative words often found in trolltags, Kilius uses a positive one to stand as some kind of paragon to other trolls, fulfilling more ego-wankery.

Quirk:He replaces [hH] with ’]~[’ as to represent his symbol. Kilius’ ego would certainly lend him to shoehorn his symbol in wherever possible. As for his tone of voice he’s actually pretty verbose, but doesn’t use large words all that much. His kind of verbose is just being able to talk for ages and ages. He has a kind of mental rhythm when he speaks and isn’t averse to using spur of the moment rhymes. This is mainly to evoke the kind of promos popular in pro wrestling as well as thematically fit with the poems of the ancient world.

Design:I wanted to get a good fusion of Ancient Greek aesthetics along with modern professional wrestling outfits. So he wears a singlet, elbow and kneepads, and ring boots to represent the former, and over his singlet, a kilt commonly worn by ancient warriors, and atop his head rests his headband. His hair is meant to be a kind of unkempt curly mass, and his missing tooth is a reference to Chris Benoit, who I recommend not googling because it’s a nice day. The face plaster is mainly meant to exhibit a kind of roughboy demeanour.

“Don’t google it” you say, to a person who definitely googled it and now wishes they didn’t and has to pass the warning on to others. (note: it’s not just a minor thing it’s a major thing and will probably take you to a dark place)

Special Abilities (if any):Winning Smile. (Joking.)

Lusus: A rare lusus, the Bipedal Musclebeetle, named Beeteokles. His species have strong fatherly instincts, and Beeteokles in particular is doing his best to teach Kilius in the ways of the Palaestria, combat, and traditions. Which is impressive considering he has no mouth or discernible way of communication other than Beetle skrees and rhythmic flexing. His picture is a little inaccurate, as he should have the head of a Hercules beetle instead. His relationship to Kilius is meant to evoke the strong presence fathers played in Ancient Greek epics, as mentors and goals for their sons.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I fucking love this and I have an addition because I’m still playing with the idea that indigobloods have hooved lusii so consider keeping everything the same except to change his lower half to a minotaur bottom. Oh my god I love this beetleman holy shit

Personality: Kilius is a pretty great guy to be honest. He doesn’t hold himself to modern-day hemorelations, instead finding solace in working off the ancient values taught to him by his lusus, more or less. He’s open and friendly to most, if not a little much to digest all at once. He often invites people back to his hive, all even before learning their name or where they came from. This is supposed to tie into the Ancient Greek value of ‘Xenia’, where a person is expected to be a good host to visitors, most of all strangers, and for visitors to behave properly when in a host’s home. This also ties into my interpretation of Kilius as a Knight ‘serving’ others in a sense by being such a good host.

However, Kilius may be friendly but he certainly isn’t a pushover. He’s up for a scrap or brawl often, and getting into arguments with him often results in the other party just letting things slide with how bizarre arguing with Kilius can get. He’s a very physical person, often acting on a whim, with enough cunning and battle training to be able to formulate plans under pressure. He’s also kind of a glory-hound, his acting on a whim for some more prestige often bites him in the ass, not that it dissuades him from trying some more.

He can be irritating to be around, as he can seem like he’s not taking things too seriously or genuinely. If met with someone who actively dislikes him and lets him know, Kilius will take it as an opportunity to gussy it up and make some long poetic speech about the fire of their rivalry or such. Going from his poeticism, that’s also a big part of Kilius. He has a flair for the dramatic, developed from both instincts and the theatrical nature of wrestling. He’s very well-read, so long as they’re either ancient epics or professional wrestling annuals.

Any other ideas or such would be appreciated!

I…I actually have one because you went and named him after goddamn Achilles. This dude could be a classical wrestler by day…and a heel by night! He could especially play up being the big, bad indigoblood beating up on the poor, defenseless lowbloods. He’s got the extra strength at hsi advantage and he plays dirty??? How dare he??? It’s a fun little contrast to his at-home personality and may get him some shit even when he’s out of the ring!

Interests: Wrestling, surprisingly. It’s his main hobby, passion and potential career in the fleet if he works hard enough. His passion for the classical world, which I’m not even gonna begin to try and explain for Alternia, is another major interest of his, specifically heroes and their glorious adventures.

Other than his two core themes, Kilius doesn’t really go for much else. Fitness is important to him, though that’s mainly to get better at wrestling, and epic poetry is more of the classical stuff. Some ideas would be helpful, as whilst his themes are strong and handy, I don’t want him to just be the wrestling and classics troll lol.

Hm.

I mean modern wrestling is commonly called “soap opera for men,” (whether the folks who watch wrestling like that comparison varies lol) and to tie back to both the classical version and the modern one how about he’s into nice-smelling soaps, classical opera, and soap operas? Gives him a little more dimension, and gives him something to do around the house besides watch wrestling.

Title: Remember, different verbiage and +/- skews. I have Kilius as a Knight of Hope, in that he passively serves others Hope. This kinda ties into how I see pro-wrestling, but I feel it works for Kilius even in the mindscape that Knights actively exploit.

This is kinda where I’m struggling honestly, to properly put into words why he’s a Knight of Hope. I’ll give it a shot, but I’d like to keep the classpect. That being said, I’m open for insight or suggestions/modifications to help him better fit this title or another similar one.

Kilius is kinda caught in an interesting quandary with his classpect. On the one hand, he has very strong beliefs that he has complete commitment to and uses them as a positive force in his life. On the other hand, as a Knight he’s being disingenuous in some form thanks to the mask he adopts for others. In the weirdest sense, Kilius’ mask is himself, that is, the idealised version of himself that he aspires to be, and presents himself as through his speech (the third person thing is a sort of showing of this, a trait that would be dropped as he goes through the revelations and lessons of his character.)

His main struggle is that he’s not living up to the idealised vision he’s made for himself. His mask is like a professional wrestling gimmick, Kilius the brave and bold, flexgrappler champion and future immortalised in epic tales of valour and etc etc. Some larger than life figure that he keeps stoking. He’s essentially made his mask some kind of Platonic form, the ultimate greatest version of him. This is why that he seems like he has it made from outside perspectives as he’s friendly, has conviction, goals, a sweet hive, etc etc.

Ugh, I’m really struggling with this honestly. So long I’ve mainly focused on the abilities part of his classpect, which is stuff like ‘serving’ others his faith in pro-wrestling conventions that he forces them to obey to them. I have a whole post on that which I’ll link here. Sorry if this kinda meanders, but Kilius is an older character of mine, and also one very close and dear to me, so I love the bugger.

Honestly I feel like the powers you gave him would work well regardless of whether he’s a Knight or Page? There’s a pretty fine line between the two.

I feel like maybe the “heel” storyline drives that home even further? Because now that conflict rears its head in multiple ways, both with his “Kilius the brave and strong” persona and the “Kilius the evil indigoblood” one. They’re both these really hamfisted attempts to shoehorn himself into a role that maybe doesn’t fit him all that well. And with the added interests I mentioned above, maybe those are things he keeps really private because they don’t mesh with either of those personas.

And I think I can make the argument even under the Knight verbiage CD and I use because this is a case where he’s so immersed in a profession that’s Hope personified that he’s feeling choked! It’s difficult to grow when you spend so much time doing something that requires you to suspend disbelief so much.

Land:Back when he was a Rage player, ‘The Land of Quakes and Kayfabe’, but since he’s Hope, I think I had ‘Rings’ as one of his words. The idea being that there were Hope-y wrestling rings around the planet, and upon entering them some shit happens. I’m not sure on this lol.

Hmmm. What about Land of Faces and Rings? Obviously referring to faces in wrestling, but the aesthetic could be that of Majora’s Mask-style makss that grant the wearer the abilities related to them upon donning one.

That’s the consort mythology, of course; it’s not actually real. Until Kilius believes it is.

Lots and lots of tournaments, with the promise that upon completing the necessary fights he will be able to reach his denizen. But that’s nonsense! Wrestling goes on forever and plotlines rarely have a conclusion! Kilius needs to will himself to the denizen if he wants to reach them.

Dream Planet:I think Prospit may be a given. Despite his struggles with his heroic fantasies, he IS very get-go and take-charge generally.

D/Ancestor: Kilius’ dancestor is Turnus Koplan. Whilst Kilius represents the Greek ideal of a hero, cunning, individual, glory-seeking, Turnus represents the Roman ideal a little more, in that he’s direct, professional and looks to the group more. That boy is here. Kilius’ ancestor was a great hero, aptly titled as 'The ]~[eroic’ (I love quirk-y ancestor titles). Upon a fall from grace, and enslavement into the gladiatorial rings, he quickly became known under a new name, 'The Crippler’, another reference to Chris Benoit.

Love this dude.

All in all, Kilius is a very special and sentimental fantroll for me, and one that despite working on a lot of stuff for him, hasn’t had much in the way of deeper personality or narrative arc developed. He’s mainly been used for roleplay, which doesn’t exactly support SBURB arcs. Plus I’m a very improvisational person in those types of settings, meaning I can often just roll with random info or ideas for Kilius without thinking about it. Hope you enjoy this boy!

i did! And tbh I think he’s basically good to go? I can’t even think of any redesign suggestions for him.

Thanks for sending him in. I hope the few extra details I provided can help!

TR

[discord-of-laughter]

100 IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS: Damian

Thank you so much @myriad-ocs / @myriadimagines for tagging me!!! 💛 

PART 1: THE BASICS

1.      What is your full name?

Damian. I was found wandering the streets close to an orphanage when I was still too young to know my last name… and I reject the last names of my foster parents. So, all there is, is Damian… no middle name, no last name, no birth certificate or birthday.

2.      Where and when were you born?

I suppose I might have answered that already. It’s possible to assume that I might be around 30 years old… but the day I usually celebrate my birthday on is the one I was brought to the orphanage because I don’t know the true year, month or day I was born at.

3.      Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

I wonder… but then again, I don’t want to know either. It feels better not to be sure that they were the disappointment I expect.

My foster parents on the other hand… I don’t want anyone to remember their names or to associate them with me. They were scum… leeches… they could cash some money with me, could use me for bait and sympathy… I was a cheap help and bait with big, sad eyes.

They sent me to lure well-meaning people into dark streets… a well-placed hit over the head… sometimes a few kicks too if they felt like it… that’s what they did. Fed themselves on the willingness to help of others… and their wallets. Nearly exclusively themselves though.

I don’t want to know if they had an occupation aside of it or a personality… or family… I don’t want to know anything and all I know is already too much.  

4.      Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

I don’t know… maybe. For a few days way back, I felt like I had a brother for a bit more than a week… but that was nothing and means very little… but seeing who I am, my condition, my personality and all. I can only hope that no, I don’t have siblings.

5.      Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

I live alone. It’s a small apartment. Nothing fancy but at least towards the yard so it’s kind of quiet. One room for pretty much everything and a bathroom. A big window in the main room, the heater in front of it… I can sit on it while blowing smoke into the cold morning air. It isn’t too rundown. Most of the neighbours work hard. Lots of people from different places I usually avoid most of them in the hallway. But there are three of them I think of a bit differently. One of them sometimes makes me breakfast… and the harsh detective lady let’s me crash on her sofa when things are too shitty.

I have a bed, a sink, a fridge, a microwave, a toaster, a sorry excuse for a wardrobe and a small table for everything… those are the most important things… it’s often kind of darkish in my apartment but I don’t care… it’s good for sleeping in… and cheep enough for someone who earns his money like I do.

6.      What is your occupation?

I’m a… musician? I’d like to be a musician and a singer… I beg for gigs at small pubs… but it barely pays for anything… I’m not shy to take any help that is offered to me… pride is overrated. And I have a bit of money at the bank from a previous job… or was it a job? Because I am definitely skilled and talented in the only thing my foster parents taught me.

7.      Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye colour, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

Really? I don’t own a bathroom scales… so whatever. Sometimes I forget to eat, sometimes I’m too drunk to eat… sometimes I gorge myself… I’m comparably lean I think… not much physical activity and a generally considered “unhealthy lifestyle” with little sun might lead to that. And my ashen skin. I suppose there might be a hint of olive under the greyish pale of it but I’m not sure. My race is up for debate as well… something Mediterranean Caucasian probably, generally considered white. Short, black hair, blue eyes… dark rings under my eyes, thin lips but still enough for a sweet kiss. I’m not especially tall either but hadn’t had a chance to get to know my height for a while… and I suppose I forgot about it if I ever knew it.

I like to dress casually, jeans, a t-shirt, sometimes a shirt. Usually combined with sneakers, nothing fancy. A small leathery bracelet on my right arm, on the left a silvery bracelet providing info to medical care personal if needed. I have a bunch of scares… none too big, absolutely none too interesting. I never fought in a war in- or outside the country. I never had a notable medical procedure done to me but accidents, impulsive and reckless behaviour happen… and foster parents.

I don’t have a tattoo either, just a burn scar on my left side… if you have to identify me that is the only thing to go for because otherwise I’m plain, uninteresting. But apparently despite all and my heart condition still interesting enough to attract attention once in a while. Oh… and I have a mole on my left hand. Slightly below where my thumb and my palm connect. A small dark brown dot you can only feel but not see. And a few freckles between my left ear, my hairline and my neck… look closer…. closer… well hello love, are you trying to seduce me? Because if you keep breathing on my neck it will work.

8.      To which social class do you belong?

Lower class probably… maybe not yet… I honestly don’t care as long as I’m alive, getting by and there is music you might as well say I’m scum class and I would just give you the finger.

9.      Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

It’s not an allergy but an intolerance they say when a big violet lump forms on my skin when a wasp stings me… but that doesn’t happen too often. I’m usually too afraid and gentle with them… but it’s a hassle when it happens.

And I do have a heart condition… there is a name for it but let me explain it simply instead so that we can move on. My heart more or less beats irregularly, sometimes it stops. It already did two times so far and I’m still here, so that’s the good news. The bad news is that to fix even a part of it costs money – a lot of money. That I obviously don’t have, so I’ll probably live and die with this ol’heart of mine. No excessive physical exercise or it might stop… and so on and so on… all you need to know is that the pump is kind of broken but there still is a lot space for you and some others and a lot of love left. But better don’t go for the deal because death is my eternal companion always peering at me from a distance and waiting for it to happen… wondering if three times really is the charm?

10.  Are you right- or left-handed?

Left-handed.

11.  What does your voice sound like?

Very rough and raspy… kind of lowish I suppose but less when I speak than when I sing.

Here… how about you listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo-FlLQ6Gls

12.  What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

I honestly never though about that. Stuff with a double meaning maybe? Sweet, nice and honeyed phrases to charm someone. Excuse me… maybe? -ish stuff? Stay away… urgh I really don’t know who the hell even cares about that enough to notice it?

13.  What do you have in your pockets?

Keys with a bottle opener attached to it, lighter, cigarettes, comb, mints, some spare money and a pretty old and worn phone I probably had for 5+ years.

14.  Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

Baby, I’m a walking collecting point for annoying habits. Smoking, drinking, lying, at least two times so far dying. Flirting with women I know are out of my league. Diverting tactics when someone is about to actually get close to me because suddenly all I can think about is… how much it might hurt them if I just die then and there… and I want to die alone… I don’t want anybody to cry because of me… does that count as well?

Other defining characteristics… I can talk myself in and out of nearly everything. When nervous I like to rub one of my bracelets between my thumb and index finger… I put them on before leaving the house because they are my shackles keeping the person I am inside to allow a more society friendly mask to take its place… don’t call me if Trish Talk is on… though I suppose that is kind of obsolete… and don’t expect me to pick up before noon either.

Is hating hospitals a quirk? I have such a hard time standing even entering one… I don’t know something about them just makes me feel death’s hand on my shoulder press down… not really but you get what I mean… right?

 PART 2: GROWING UP

15.  How would you describe your childhood in general?

Wanna take a wild guess? Shitty.

16.  What is your earliest memory?

The cold and mud on my feet… the cold and mud everywhere while I wander dark streets… everything is damp, and the lights are so bright. Dark, dark, light, dark, dark, light… nobody on the street… cold wind howling through the empty streets… a dog barks somewhere.

There is just fragments and feelings left… though. Not the whole picture… it ends there. I don’t remember how I made it to the orphanage… the next thing I remember is hot water in a shower… in an otherwise cold bathroom. And an oldish woman trying to scrub the mud off me… the brush hurt…

The earliest complete memory is from a few days later… singing to the blind and afraid boy until he stopped crying… all while he listened to my heartbeat… going on until he fell asleep. I felt safe and warm… it was so long ago.  

17.  How much schooling have you had?

I suppose I have no kind of degree at all. Sometimes I think it’s a wonder that I can read and write… and know enough math to con people. I don’t really know what kind of education or schooling I received before that night of my first fragmented memory.

The nuns taught me a bit afterwards… but from the moment on I went into my foster parents care that was over. At first, I was still sent to school sporadically, but they soon gave up on that too… and claimed they home-schooled me… claimed being the important word here. Because nothing like that ever really happened. I learned a thing or two from TV shows though… and taught myself to play guitar eventually.

18.  Did you enjoy school?

I don’t think so. Not the few months in my foster parent’s care at least… I enjoyed being taught by the nuns though… but before that… I wish I knew.

19.  Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

From them… I did learn stuff on the streets or from TV or because I did my best to teach myself… but most of what I’m able to do… most of what I’m good at… I learned from them and their example… how to lie, steal, hurt, deceive, cheat, defraud, fool and con. But I think I might have just always had a talent to use my words precisely and as my weapon of choice.  

20.  While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

I had anti-role models if that counts. People I knew I never wanted to be like… but I never felt compelled to follow the path of some hero either. Or wanting to be like someone I saw on TV or on the streets. I always just wanted to be me… a better me… but that was kind of stupid too I’d say.

21.  While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

I hate you… and you should know by now… I got along with those people outsiders would call my family by lowering my head and gaze, keeping my head down and saying nothing that could distract them from their victim or TV show… and before that… who knows and after that… I haven’t had a family since then… and likely never will have one.

22.  As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I don’t know… someone not like them? Someone not like me? Someone who does the right thing and helps people maybe? Or makes them happy? A musician possibly… or a singer… not like them at the very least.

23.  As a child, what were your favourite activities?

I loved singing… I loved just being able to go outside without being bait… but I also liked the drives to other places before… work. I loved watching TV and when I got the chance to get some sweets to hide in the park and eat them all… music… just listening to new music in the shops that allowed it on and on and on… I suppose I never was very much of an active child and that kept my heart going comparably smoothly for a bunch of years. I also loved to sit outside on the fire escape ladder late at night… watching both the stars and humans… but that isn’t especially active as well.

24.  As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

I… don’t know… and I don’t think I care very much… more kindness probably because I felt compelled to comfort Matt back then. But they made sure to knock that out of me… to make me quiet and angry and dreading when they actually took interest into me… which may be one of the reasons I feel so much safer when I know someone won’t actually take interest into me… I suppose before that I was kind of an intelligent child, sympathetic, compassionate… wanting to help maybe? Not too shy either I suppose… but that seems like nothing, but a thin veil of memories left from a past life.

25.  As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

Maybe I could have been popular. I kind of felt like I was during the time in the orphanage… but I don’t think those kids were really my friends… except for Matt. And then after he was gone… I don’t know I think I did withdraw myself a bit… and before that could change again there were my foster parents and I did not get to see many kids anymore and honestly, I didn’t want to either… I didn’t want them to learn anything about what was going on… or worse their parents might have ended up being victims of them… I couldn’t risk that.

I suppose that was when I was over and done with being popular… what a shame, especially now when I look back with the guitar in my hand trying to beg for a job or being able to perform at the next bar.

And Matt… Matt was deeply hurt, stubborn, clever, determined… and very, very afraid and weak when I met him… I wanted him to feel better and to be there for him. Because he could be so nice and caring… and he was the only one who knew about my heart before even I did.  

26.  When and with whom was your first kiss?

Some girl… I don’t even remember her name. Not even her hair colour. People place so much value on their first kiss… but I don’t know it was nothing but good fun at best. I think she giggled and her mother nearly had a meltdown – something like this.  

27.  Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

No and probably and probably some girl I walked home after meeting her at the bar or wherever… she offered me a coffee… probably… the details are a bit fussy. I just remember making her little sister breakfast the next morning before sneaking out of the house to not get caught by her parents.

28.  Describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

You are asking for a long list. All my life lead to this for better or worse and if I tell you of every account that brought me closer to here we’ll still be here tomorrow. Mostly I think I influenced myself… the few people I ever cared about did… losing them did… and my overall shitty childhood. And probably meeting you! Can we move on now?

 PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

29.  What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Dying… probably three or more times up until now though I only remember two times. If you let me fall in love with you I might finally be able to change that though… how about it?

30.  Who has had the most influence on you?

Our kind and benevolent saviour in the sky! Or you know… like the people who messed up my childhood… like… I did tell you how many times before now?

Can I ask you something? How important is the past to you? Do you think it is all that defines us? Then what am I to you? Because very obviously it doesn’t matter to you what I did yesterday or today… or how much I tried… because at some point someone had the most influence on me and that is what you are going to ask about! Maybe… just maybe people like Matt, Jess, Bo and the others haven’t had the MOST INFLUENCE on me. But sometimes quality is still worth more than quantity. But I doubt someone who asks 101 questions in one go would understand.

31.  What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Not dying and staying dead yet?

32.  What is your greatest regret?

Not dying yet! No, scratch that. Allowing people close enough again so that my death would hurt them. Because I am a shitty human being like that.

33.  What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

You heard my life story, you tell me. But I think throwing the flowers meant for a very much injured friend in the thrash can because I couldn’t stand hospitals ranges pretty high… right after luring people to be robbed, beaten up and sometimes left to die of course… but you know that’s one of the things I usually did before breakfast though I’m not sure that counts!

34.  Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

Yes – go and request inspection if you want to know more. But know all my friends are well enough aware of it.

35.  When was the time you were the most frightened?

What is fear even? Maybe when I woke up, mud all over, cold and damp, in a place I didn’t know, with no memories and no one to turn to… I think I have never been more frightened than the night my life began… or the part I remember faintly at least.

36.  What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

Who knows… I probably have enough drunken slip ups to fill a book. But losing to Jess after challenging her to drink probably is on top of the list. The next thing I remember is being held under the cold spray of water from the shower half-naked… barely kept upright by Malcolm and Bose because they were afraid that I’m about to die of alcohol intoxication… but at least they have never seen Jess so wasted either, so there is a bit of pride about all of this as well.

37.  If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

I don’t know… maybe to get hit by a car the first night I remember before reaching the orphanage would be a good change to make? Or to run away during the first days of foster care? Honestly there are a thousand things I would consider.

But in the end, I just want the two of them to be alive. Both of them… because she is the only person I ever met who understands… and he… he’s…

38.  What is your best memory?

It was such a random morning actually… blowing smoke into the cold air outside while the warmth from the heater keeps me warm… there is so much fog and everything is quite… probably a Sunday and holiday… going over to one of my neighbours and having breakfast with him… getting the sign right when asking him to hand me the sugar. Going for a little walk outside and to smoke a cigarette while he goes for a run… talking to another neighbour there… meeting up again later to just sit on Jess’ sofa and listening to music while nothing else happens… nothing… a good day.  

39.  What is your worst memory?

…dying?

 PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

40.  Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

Neither. I suppose I’m just a -mistic person. Expect… but not only the good or only the bad makes life less surprising and less disappointing.

41.  What is your greatest fear?

What is fear even? It is to leave or to be left in pain – emotional, physical, whatever. So… pain.

42.  What are your religious views?

If there is a god, we will never know, and he probably doesn’t care.

43.  What are your political views?

That something is going very wrong right now and no one really wants to change anything for the poor and huddled masses as long as it keeps them from being part of it.

44.  What are your views on sex?

I miss it. The nicest thing two consenting adults can do to and for each other… and nobody’s business but their own.

45.  Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

Maybe… but I’m better at dying. And that depends… there is no absolute in something like taking or sparring a life.

46.  In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

Risking the life of hundreds and thousands of innocent people and their children for money and getting away with it… genocide, slavery, sex trafficking of children. Honestly, it’s hard to choose the ultimate evil. Especially when some individuals might just come up with a new most evil thing any minute of any day.

47.  Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

Do you believe in the existence of fairies, dragons and spinning gold from straw my sweet summer child? See… neither do I.

48.  What do you believe makes a successful life?

How should I know? Obviously I suck at it. But maybe staying true to what you believe in would be a good starting point? And hopefully it is the right time and place for it and the world agrees instead of making you feel guilty… no I honestly don’t know what makes a successful life. You tell me, I apparently need any advice on it I can get.  

49.  How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

Hahahaha… you have no idea.

50.  Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Who doesn’t?

51.  Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

Give me the right circumstances or reasons and I’d do anything…

52.  Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

Considering I did already die for nothing at least twice. Any reason would be a good one… or at least a better one.

 PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

53.  In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

Trying to keep them at a distance – failing too often in the end. But I don’t think it’s possible to generalise how I treat others… people I don’t know or want to buy groceries from… professional I guess. It’s different for friends of course… but I have a hard time to really… let someone in on things. And whenever I notice too much that I already know them well… that we might be close. I might as well feel the need to get some distance between us… I don’t know I just… I just don’t want anyone to be sad when I’m gone. So for them to not care seems like the best option, even though I suck at keeping to it.

54.  Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

That is… embarrassing. Matt probably… okay? Because he… knew another me, a better me. And in a way inspires me to be… better…

55.  Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

Respect the most? No one… respect at all, a bunch. Nobody is perfect though, quite to the contrary so there is no such thing as respecting someone the most for me.

56.  Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

I hope there is nothing like a best friend… maybe Matt comes closest. But it would be hard to tell because, there are also Jess and Bo. And to a bit of a lesser extend Malcolm and Trish. They are a stubborn bunch, but they mean well – all of them in fact. And they bear with me.

57.  Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

No, there is no such person and it’s probably for the best.

58.  Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

I’d like to think so. But I think the person I would fall for deserves to be given a heart that… is better than mine in pretty much every aspect with the potential to make them happy instead of ensuring tragedy.

59.  What do you look for in a potential lover?

That they only stay for one night?

Actually, I don’t know. Someone better than me, probably out of my league… inspiring me to be a better person maybe? I know it’s not fair to expect anyone to settle for less or settle for me though.

60.  How close are you to your family?

How familist to assume everybody has one!

61.  Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

No and no. Because.

62.  Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Jessica probably. She’s seen some shit herself and I guess she would ask the least amount of questions which is probably good. Besides it isn’t like she would close the door in my face. She pretends to be tough but refusing someone really desperate for help isn’t really like her.

63.  Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

Matt, Jess and their friends. And the friends of their friends too, all of those ladies are probably better at kicking ass than I’ll ever be. Pretty much everybody actually. I’m not picky if I need someone to protect me. Bo and Malcolm too, I mean I trust them well enough when I’m drunk. But it all depends on the situation, usually there is not really anything I need to be protected from I’d say.  

64.  If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Hopefully no one…

65.  Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

Narrowing it down to a single person isn’t possible. But there is a bunch of people over whose death I wouldn’t shed a tear.

66.  Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

I don’t avoid conflict. If they fucked up they are better ready to hear me tell them so. But I won’t go back and forth with someone forever. Honestly argue isn’t even the right word… I’m not interested in their point if what they did sucked big times.

67.  Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Nah, why should I? Social situations aren’t my thing anyway. But if it’s needed to pull of something I might as well. During a normal day there is no reason for me to take on any kind of leadership anyway.

68.  Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

It’s okay. Sometimes it’s needed, and large groups allow for a certain anonymity which can be nice if you want to avoid attentions. I just really don’t care about large groups of people in general.

69.  Do you care what others think of you?

Maybe. But more or less only what a few others think. The whole world in general? Or society? Only if it interferes with or obstructs with what my goal is.

 PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

70.  What is/are your favourite hobbies and pastimes?

Music, preferably listening to it with others. Singing. Smoking. Having a drink with a friend or without. The sport course I go to.  

71.  What is your most treasured possession?

My guitar maybe? Actually… probably a memento from my childhood. Nothing special though but from a time where things were… different.

72.  What is your favourite colour?

Red.

73.  What is your favourite food?

Coffee and anything made from liquorice – especially liquor. Oh, and the fried eggs Bo sometimes makes when I’m really badly hungover. I wonder what his secret is.

74.  What, if anything, do you like to read?

Something that makes me feel better? I really liked The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway for some reasons… probably because there is no bad person in the story and humans are just that – humans.  

75.  What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

Movies with friends that aren’t depressing. Even better if they are so bad you can totally slander them. Getting to know knew songs a friend likes. Even or especially when I hate them at first. And I like to listen to the radio because the more trivial shows calm me down.

76.  Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

Smoke – yes. Drink – yes. Do drugs – no, never even once in my life. And I can see the surprise on your face, no use in hiding it. It’s because I want to and no, I don’t want to quit and I won’t quit even if you would like me to – thank you very much.

77.  How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

At a bar with a drink or a completely cosy with a bottle while hanging with friends… sometimes alone to relax and forget… just me the radio and a bottle.

78.  What makes you laugh?

Dry jokes, understatements and sarcasm.

79.  What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

When someone mocks people’s needs or what they believe in it offends me. The same is true for people mocking my friends for whatever reason.  

80.  What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

Music… or fight the insomnia with alcohol, which I kind of do already and with quite the success as I want to remark.

81.  How do you deal with stress?

Not well. More often then not with a drink or just curling up on the sofa of a friend.

82.  Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

Spontaneous mostly – making plans on the long run doesn’t really make sense for someone like me.

83.  What are your pet peeves?

When people I’m on the phone with don’t pay attention but do something else. But also, when people I’m with are constantly on the phone. I guess I just like to have the people’s attention I’m with while I’m with them. And when someone tries to tell me all the things I should probably change… that and to be woken up much too early.

 PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

84.  Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

Sleeping in and sleeping it off. On good days finding something to eat before even getting dressed. On not so good days getting decently enough dressed to walk over to Bo’s apartment and hope he has mercy on me and some breakfast left over.

Then getting some work done, going for a walk, practicing or annoying another one of the unlucky people I call friends. Maybe going to my sport course depending on the day of the week. Then getting home again, listening to the radio and sometimes taking a nap before I leave for the evening again.

Hopefully for a gig in some pub or something alike or to help out a friend or acquaintance with work or whatever else. Getting a few drinks in the end before heading home. With some luck actually making it home and into my own bed… rinse and repeat with smoke breaks in between.

I don’t care about the routine being disrupted most of the time. Sometimes I might even be glad about it… mostly though the routine is fine enough… safe enough.  

85.  What is your greatest strength as a person?

I have nothing to lose and I’m able to get people to trust me easily enough. Or in other words I’m a very good liar, which allows me to clear the path for others or cover their back. Also I’m available most of the time if they should need me at all.

86.  What is your greatest weakness?

My questionable life expectancy? Not letting people close? All my bad habits? Take your pick.

87.  If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Everything.

88.  Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Ambivert.

89.  Are you generally organized or messy?

Messy. I leave the cleaning up for tomorrow… if I actually make it that far.

90.  Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Singing, lying, alcohol tolerance.  

Sports, being a good person, getting my life together.

91.  Do you like yourself?

Good question… I suppose so, or I wouldn’t be so scared of actually suddenly being gone one day.

92.  What are your reasons for being a hero? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)

I’m not a hero. I’m not even a sidekick. I just… … … want that the hero knows he is needed. That I support him, and his work is appreciated. I think even a hero needs to know that. I don’t think someone like me can suddenly make a change the way they do. But I… I don’t know, I want them to know I have or try to have their back. And my only reason for it is… that I feel like it. No secret second reason. I just think it’s the right thing to do.

93.  What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Surviving for as long as I can would be good and bad enough. But if I can manage to make people I don’t know smile? While I’m here and keep them from crying when I’m suddenly gone I think that would be enough.

94.  Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Alive hopefully. And otherwise in the same place, with the same people at least… maybe with more people to share my love for music with would be nice. But I’m not picky. And no hope means no danger.

95.  If you could choose, how would you want to die?

Alone in a place where they don’t find me for years to come. Until no one remembers me anymore… so that no one would cry.

96.  If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

Every morning is like knowing and not knowing that it might be that last day. But if I knew that I only had 24 hours left… I’d tell everyone that I’m done with them, that I’m done with this city and that I’ll start some kind of business far away from here… and then leave the city to find that place where they don’t find me for years to come. While everyone goes on with their life thinking I’m an asshole but alive in some far away place, doing my own thing.

97.  What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

I… don’t know. I don’t want them to remember me but probably being drunk. I hope it’s that, it seems like… such a fair thing to remember me for.

98.  What three words best describe your personality?

Walking, manipulative disaster.

99.   What three words would others probably use to describe you?

That drunk guy.

  100.   If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…):

Carry on. Ily Damian. Surprisingly enough many people do. Because you are more honest than you admit. While you try to do the right thing, you are just bad at it… but it doesn’t have to stay that way. There is more hope than you can see right now… and while you are right “no hope means no danger” maybe you need to step out of your comfort zone a bit more… because hope as well as no hope also means so much more.

[haru-desune]

Our Nights Are Quiet But Never Silent

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Rating: T

Pairings: Iwaoi and Matsuhana

Summary:  Hajime realizes he should probably more concerned about the fact that he’s been effectively kidnapped- if quietly agreeing to cooperate with this madness counts as being kidnapped- and that he has no idea where they’re going or when they’ll be back, but honestly he’s been through too many of Oikawa’s- and this is definitely all Oikawa despite the fact they’re currently striding towards Makki’s sister’s car- hare-brained schemes to really care. He knows the drill by now.

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

A/N- Okay so I was meant to write my chapter for the DA fic, but this happened instead? First Haikyuu!! fic so tell me what you think!

A sharp crack against the window pane breaks the silence of the summer night, and Hajime looks up from essay he’s writing. Crack. The sound is sharp against the serenity of the night, and he really has no choice but to huff and push his chair back, stretch his sore muscles, and make his way to the window. He opens it, leaning his head out, only to jerk backwards to narrowly avoid a third pebble, which clatters harmlessly, if noisily, on the wooden floor of his bedroom. He glares into the darkness before his eyes settle on the sheepish figure of his best friend, yet another noisy but harmless thing, in the yard, pebbles in hand. A car revs in the background, and he knows Hanamaki and Matsukawa are inside, waiting. He sighs, knowing there will be no progress made on the essay today. Summer homework blows anyway.

He nods quickly at Oikawa, and can see his friend’s face light up in a big grin. He grabs his wallet and house keys- though he knows he’s not likely to use them- before pausing for a second, debating what to do next. On the one hand, his parents have never been particularly light sleepers, he’s wearing his indoor slippers, and he could conceivably make it down the stairs and out the door without anyone realizing. On the other hand, Oikawa always brought out the madness in him. Decision made, he pulled out a pair of sneakers he’d stashed in his closet after last time, and didn’t bother changing out of his pyjamas- he doubted the other three had either- before crawling out of the window and climbing down the convenient tree who’s branches just happened to touch his window sill. He jumped from the lowest branch, landing in front of a grinning Oikawa.

“What are you waiting for, Shittykawa? Let’s go.” he said gruffly, choosing to overlook the way the moonlight made Oikawa’s hair shine and put his cheekbones in sharp relief.

“We’ve been waiting on you, Iwa-chan. So slow!” he replied, teasingly before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the car.

(Hajime realizes he should probably more concerned about the fact that he’s been effectively kidnapped- if quietly agreeing to cooperate with this madness counts as being kidnapped- and that he has no idea where they’re going or when they’ll be back, but honestly he’s been through too many of Oikawa’s- and this is definitely all Oikawa despite the fact they’re currently striding towards Makki’s sister’s car- hare-brained schemes to really care. He knows the drill by now.)

They slide into the backseat, and there’s plenty of room, really, but their thighs end up pressed against each other anyway and it’s familiar, and warm, and safe, and the most comfortable Hajime has been all night. Makki raises his eyebrows at them in the rear-view, and Matsun gives them his signature shit-eating grin. Hajime says nothing, just looks pointedly at where Matsun’s hand rests on Makki’s knee. They seem to get the hint. Makki starts the engine and they’re out of the neighbourhood before Hajime can blink.

“So,” Makki asks to the car at large. “Where are we headed?”

The destination turns out to be a 24-hour American-style diner that had just opened up in some far corner of the city called ‘The Greasy Spoon’, which Oikawa promises is some kind of joke in English. Hajime figures if it’s got Matsun’s approval- and it had to have Matsun’s approval or they wouldn’t be going there at all- he has no room to complain. They practically fall out of the car, and Hajime takes a moment to smack Makki for playing only Naruto openings all the way there. The restaurant is fairly small, containing only a few booths and a countertop with red shiny stools. It looks very much like the diner in an old American film he had watched once with his mom, and Hajime is pretty sure that’s the point. It’s empty aside from the wait staff, on account of it being midnight, so the four of them have their pick of the tables. They choose a booth tucked away in the corner and pile in. Oikawa flirts shamelessly- harmlessly, Hajime reminds himself- with the waitress who blushes prettily and offers them a menu. Hajime rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics and shares a mildly exasperated look with Matsun and Makki, who are pressed unnecessarily close to each other given the size of booth.

(And Hajime has never been quite sure what’s going on with them. Any attempt to ask has been masterfully deflected by a snarky comment or well-timed joke. It’s not like there was a drastic change in behaviour or anything, in fact it took him weeks to realize anything was different between them. They just seemed closer, somehow, and Hajime, though he hated to admit it, was envious.)

They order milkshakes for everyone. Hajime asks for vanilla, knowing it would annoy Oikawa. He’s not wrong, since his best friend wrinkles his nose.

“Boring, Iwa-chan!”

“Oh, and what is the Grand King ordering then?” asked Matsun lazily, using the nickname bestowed upon him by Karasuno’s tiny number 10.

“Chocolate, of course! What else but a classic flavour to go with my classically good looks.” replied Oikawa, giving the waitress a toothy smile that made her giggle and Makki gag. Somehow it was Hajime’s heart that fluttered at the sight.

Makki and Matsun order a single strawberry milkshake.

“With two straws” Makki adds, throwing the waitress a wink. She smiles indulgently at them, taking all the menus but one, just in case.

“I can never tell if you two are serious.” pouts Oikawa, and Hajime can’t help but agree.

“Oh but we’re always serious” says Makki, fluttering his eyelashes at them.

“Then are you two dating or not!”

“Well of course.” his tone becomes suddenly solemn “Issei’s the love of my life.”

“Aww babe, you’re so sweet.” Matsun coos, looking at Makki with an exaggeratedly dopey expression. Makki grins, all traces of seriousness gone from his face, and Oikawa groans in frustration. Hajime, however, notices the soft smile the two exchange when they think he’s not looking, and everything clicks into place.

Their milkshakes arrive, and the four suddenly realize they’re starving. They fight over the menu, nearly knocking over their shakes before Hajime grabs it through sheer upper-body strength and force of will, and orders burgers and fries for everyone. He adds four cokes to the list as an afterthought because he just knows someone- Oikawa- is going to complain that they’re thirsty halfway through the meal.

“Such a brute, iwa-chan” Oikawa whines, flipping his hair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Drink your milkshake Trashykawa.”

Makki and Matsun are making good on their two straw deal. The heart eyes they’re making at each other over the frothy shake might be mostly to fuel Oikwa’s frustration- it’s working- but knowing what he does now, Hajime can see the genuine affection underneath and wonders how he could have missed it before. He snaps a picture when they aren’t paying attention. He’s never been the best photographer, the other three- even Matsun- far outstrip him in that area, but he thinks this one came out pretty well. The two of them look… soft. And happy. He sends it on the group chat, knowing that Oikawa would follow it up with a series of angry emojis that would just make their day.

(Part of him wishes he could be so blatant, that he could lean against Oikawa, hold hands under the table, share milkshakes, just tell the world that this boy was his. But then again, did Oikawa even want to be his alone? Was there a them that existed beyond childhood best friends and partners on the court? Hajime was too much of a coward to find out.)

“So Iwazumi.” Matsun grins as Makki slurps up the last of their shake, “Your tastes lean more toward vanilla huh?” he asks with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows.

“That would be telling.” responds Hajime primly, pleased that he delivered the line without a blush or a stutter.

Makki chokes on the remnants of his milkshake, but saves himself with a Cheshire-cat smile. “Ooh, vanilla in the streets but chocolate in the sheets, aren’t we, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa bristles besides him, because he’s made it very clear that that name is his, and Oikawa can be more possessive than the average toddler if given half the chance.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” he splutters, and Hajime would be paying more attention to the curious way his friend colours up if he wasn’t trying so hard to melt into his seat at the implication of Makki’s statement.

(One traitorous corner of his brain wonders exactly how far down that blush goes)

The waitress soon arrives with their burgers, and the discussion soon turns to lighter topics. They talk about volleyball and anime and Oikawa’s ever present fan club and the books they’ve been reading-because they’re all secretly nerds- and everything in between. Oikawa steals a bite of Hajime’s burger even though they’re both eating the exact same thing, inciting an age old argument which Makki and Matsun gleefully narrate like sports commentators. They unanimously announce Hajime the winner since, as Makki claims, pouting is an automatic forfeit. Oikawa throws a french fry at Makki, which he easily catches in his mouth, much to Oikawa’s outrage. Matsun laughs so hard soda comes out of his nose and Hajime orders another basket of fries to placate Oikawa, who takes a swig of his coke to calm down.

“Aren’t you using a straw? You heathen!” asks Makki as he notices Oikawa drink straight from the bottle.

“Straws are for plebs like you Makki.” he replies sweetly “I find there’s nothing more satisfying than the feel of the cool, hard tip against my lips.”

Hajime chokes on his burger and Oikawa freezes, realizing what he’s just said.

“The bottle!” he shrieks, “I was talking about the bottle!”

Hajime doubts Makki can hear him as he’s almost fallen out of the booth he’s cackling so hard. He’d help him if he could, but he’s still coughing on that burger. Matsun leans over the table and pats him on the back.

“It’s not too late to run you know.” he stage whispers.

“It was too late years ago.” replies in gasp, red-faced and not entirely sure what he’s admitting to. Okay that’s a lie. He knows exactly what he’s admitting to.

Oikawa looks seconds away from strangling Makki, who’s laughing so hard he’s not making a sound, just moving back and forth and clutching his stomach in a way that can’t be healthy. Matsun discreetly moves his cola away from Makki’s elbow and loudly engages Hajime in a conversation about the superiority of ghosts vs werewolves- Hajime is firmly in the werewolf camp in this debate while Matsun stubbornly clings to the delusion that ghosts are good for anything more than a few weak jump scares- until the other two are slowly drawn in and relative peace reigns once more. Hajime watches Oikawa’s animated face and hands as he argues that they’re all clearly wrong and that aliens are the true winners, and wonders when exactly he fell for this idiot, before jumping in to defend werewolves, because come on anyone with eyes can see that they’re the superior creature.

(They don’t talk about the future. About universities and careers and who’ll be doing what where after this year is over. They don’t talk about how these trips have been- and will become- more and more frequent the closer they get to graduation, how  none of them want to let go of this fragile bubble they’ve built for themselves in since their first year of high school. And they definitely don’t speak about the way Oikawa rests his fingers on Hajime’s wrist as his knee is pressed against Matsun’s and his ankle is tangled with Makki’s, or the fact that this position is mirrored in some way by the other three to form a complicated web of connections that grounds their little group. Hajime is glad of this.)

It’s Matsun who notices that the sky is beginning to grow lighter, and with a muffled swear calls for the bill. They each dig through their wallets and throw down enough to cover their bill before rushing back to the car. They’ve had these little escapades for a year now without their parent’s knowledge, and they’d like to keep it that way, which may not be possible if Makki’s sister wakes up to find her car missing. Hanamaki Kaori is a wild card at the best of times- she had taught Makki how to drive illegally after all- and Hajime isn’t willing to risk his freedom for the rest of the summer on whether she was in a good enough mood to not rat out her little brother.

They drive home in relative silence, content and oddly awake, despite having been up all night. Matsun has his hand on Makki’s knee again, and Oikawa’s slender setter’s fingers are tapping a distracting rhythm onto Hajime’s thigh. He watches them move for a moment, debating carefully. In the end, he’s not quite sure what makes him reach for those fingers, interlacing them with his own. It might be the way they had all avoided the elephant in the room at the diner that night, or the way Matsun and Makki had been so casually affectionate, or it may be the serene atmosphere of the car even as Makki races against time to get them all home, or the way Oikawa’s features are perfectly framed against the backdrop of a slowly pinking sky. It could be any one of these reasons or a combination of them all that urges Iwaizumi Hajime to stop being a coward.

Oikawa looks at him with wide eyes, because they’ve done this before, held hands, but it’s not quite the same. They’re closer somehow. Hajime wants to look away, but he’s transfixed by those chocolate brown eyes, which is stupid because he’s seen those eyes every day since he was seven. He’s not sure if it’s just wishful thinking, but he senses something akin to hope in Oikawa’s gaze, in the way he squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go. He pretends not to notice Makki smiling at him in the rear view or Matsun’s shit-eating grin.

They reach Hajime’s house first and he hops out of the car. It’s not until he reaches the tree by his window that he realizes that he hasn’t let go of Oikawa’s hand. His friend glances at their interlocked fingers, and then back up at him.

“Iwa-chan?” he asks, tilting his head quizzically.

“Yeah, Tooru?”

Oikawa gives a little gasp at that, as though by simply using his first name Hajime has answered every question that has been swirling around in his head. He steps closer with fire in his eyes, and Hajime swallows heavily, heart thumping as Oikawa leans down and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. He steps back, a little shy, a little unsure and Hajime lets out a frustrated groan and untangles their fingers to grab his best friend by the collar and pull him down for a repeat performance, deeper and needier than before. He reaches up to run his fingers through Oikawa’s hair as the taller boy wraps his arm around his waist. It’s just as soft as it’s always been, but this feels different somehow. They break apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night.” he mutters, his voice raw.

“Me too…Hajime.” replies Oikawa with a teasing smirk and Hajime is pretty sure his heart stops right there.

“You idiot.” he says instead “I’ve loved you since we were thirteen!”

Oikawa’s eyes grow comically wide. “You mean we could have been doing this for years?”

He sounds genuinely heartbroken and Hajime isn’t sure if he’s a terrible person for finding the expression on his face adorable.

“I guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.” he whispers leaning towards Oikawa once more.

“I guess we will.” Oikawa bends to close the distance, when a loud buzzing shatters the atmosphere. Oikawa picks up his phone with a frustrated “What?!” and Hajime can hear Matsun on the other line.

“Time to get moving lover-boy, we have three more stops to make and Makki’s slowly losing his shit.”

Oikawa’s ears turn red at the lover-boy comment, which Hajime finds strange. It’s hardly the first time they’ve called him that and it’s never garnered such a reaction before. Then again, Hajime supposes Oikawa had never really been serious about this before. At least that’s what he hopes.

“You could have just honked!” Oikawa hisses into the phone.

“And wake up the entire neighbourhood? Are you an idiot?”

Hajime snorts and Oikawa shoots him a wounded look.

“I’ll be there, give me a minute.”

“You have thirty seconds or we’re leaving without you!”

There’s an audible click as Matsun hangs up.

“You better get going, Trashykawa” Hajime says with a grin.

“Mean iwa-chan!” pouts Oikawa, before breaking out in a smile and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

“See you later Tooru.”

“See you later Hajime.”

Oikawa dashes off to the car and practically throws himself in. Makki takes off like the devil is on his tail, and Hajime would be worried if he didn’t know that Matsun would have him calmed down and following the speed limits in a second. He watches until he can no longer see the car in the distant horizon, before making his way up the tree and into his room.

(He ends up messaging Oikawa before collapsing on his bed in an effort to get a couple hours of sleep before his day officially starts, and if he sends Makki and Matsun a simple “thank you” as well, well that’s his own business.)

A/N-  In short I’m graduating Uni in two months and I have a lot of feelings whoops. I went out for dinner and a long drive with some friends and this popped out of there. I hope it’s good! I have lifted an entire conversation from today’s dinner, good luck figuring out which one…

[neocassity]

❁ Mortified | John Seo ❁

A/N: You could say it is a modern ‘Pride and Prejudice’!AU set in College. I have no other way to put it. The next parts shall be up sometime soon. Enjoy your read, if it is palatable to you, that is. You can express your distaste or ‘liking’ if you find it worthy of a feedback. I shall look forward to it.

❀Genre: Angst, Romance ❀Pairing: Reader x John Seo ❀Word Count: 1,985

Part 1 ❄️ | Part 2 ❄️ | Epilogue ❄️|

Pride mortified is pride lost. Pride mortified is pride in war to be brought back. Pride mortified is loathing the subject who caused the derision.

  Something rather unnatural was taking place in an educational institution, and ‘mortification of pride’ could it be labelled rather amusingly. As the pair assigned glared at each other apprehensively, impertinence a rather robust feature in both their etiquette toward each other, their peers silenced in their quest to converse and resolutely thought how to make their hatred for each other lighter.

  To no avail.

  “What kind of sentence is this? Could you not bring your prudishness here as well?”

  “Could you please care to understand that candidness is not appreciable when you are presenting yourselves in a formal setting?”

  “We live in the 21st century where candid is the key to social exploration and growth-”

  “A new century doesn’t necessarily signify values lost-”

  “Values are lost when you do not help an elderly cross the street, or rather adamantly disagree with your partner just because you are shallow enough to let your personal distaste get in the way of your education!”

  His face flushed and his eyes widened, not leaving yours for a mere second. The corner of your lips lifted triumphantly as you sensed his will to vocalise his revulsion any further having retired. An easy victory over the haughtiest man you had ever come across.

  He stomped out of the classroom and the entire student body present sighed unanimously, relieved that one half of the tension had chosen to hide beneath his own grimace. The other half was joyous then, as you pranced your way to your friends, one of whom chose to admonish you for you rather inconvenient uproar.

  “You know he is the professor’s preferred pupil. Rebuking him in front of hundreds of pupils will infuriate him further. He will make your grades fall and you will have to repeat the course. You’re the reason behind my high blood pressure. I cannot even bring myself to understand-”

  “You need to rest yourself!” you chortled, “I am severe on his nerves, so why does that disturb yours? Sometimes I feel compelled to reconsider if we are the best of friends or you and him.”

  “Of course it isn’t the latter, which leads me to worry. You and him are paired for the second time in a semester! Do you know what it is for? The professor wants you both to communicate and sort out whatever difference causes the commotion.”

  “It could be sorted but unfortunately, I am not as wealthy to change my facial attributes by going under the knife. And again, after further reconsideration, I’d rather spend the money to buy myself books and us meals than distort something God has so carefully blessed me with.”

  That caused your friend’s tongue to hold itself back, for she had been your companion when your last bit of newly conjured respect for the aforementioned man had broken down with his rather unflattering words.

  “I do not understand how does anyone even like y/n,” he had started rather broodingly, “She is unnecessarily loud, outspoken to the point where it is considered to be rather discourteous, and not even physically attractive. Have you seen her stuffing that little mouth of hers with food without any worry of her health? Rather unlikable, if I were to be honest.”

  You were to ramp down the three only stairs beneath your feet to him to give him a piece of your mind, but your friend grabbed your elbow and pulled you away. Her words of solace to you were,

  “When a man is so blindly disdainful, he is deaf to words spoken out loud as well. Speaking to him would only make him get even a worse impression of you. You must not complain!”

  But you were a woman of your own choice, later telling him that ‘rain is only appreciated inside a house when it rings against the roof’.

  “What if one doesn’t necessarily like the rain?” he refuted, his hand stopping against the paper he was so ardently writing on.

  “Then that person doesn’t like the essence of life. I would be far from surprised though, if one finds themselves abrasive to sound just because they can hardly produce their own.”

  His pleasantly groomed eyebrows, something you had once taken the liberty to praise him for, rose in understanding of your words. From then on, you hated curves resembling the ones that crowned his eyes.

  The silence between you two had found its own colour which resembled a repugnant yellow, and its odour brushed off people even closest to both your bosoms. When it was brought to attention to one of your most eager and prolific professors, he paired you two together. Contrasting persona, thoughts, and styles; same job, mission, and goal. The first project had been finished with much endeavour on both their parts, yet there was lack of cooperation that requires interest and compromise. The professor was a good judge of character, and thus shamelessly paired the two creatures, who were hateful toward each other, together again.

 However, last time they hadn’t had such a passionate banter. It was safe to acknowledge that the two of you were to ignore and loathe each other till death could put it to rest. His cold demeanour, inconsiderate disdain toward people any different from him or his preference, his constant denial to any situation foreign even at the slightest; all had you crinkle the skin on your nose and your lips hinted a subtle pout.

 “I cannot see you two putting up with each other anymore. Alas, your grades are going to tumble down!”

 “Fear not, my friend!” you consoled, “I am going to ensure none of us suffer for our mutual hatred.”

 The next day when it came down to the rushed submission, your partner showed up rather tentatively, his head slightly bowed as his eyes sweeping across the ground. You hid a rather sardonic grin behind the back of your hand as he approached you. You stood quietly as he placed himself at a position where both your arms could never touch, a space where another friend of yours could stand to snicker at him comfortably.

 “I apologise for my behaviour. I will take responsibility and ask Professor Austen to grade us separately. That only ensures justice-”

 Quietude ensured as you handed him a teal-coloured file, containing contents supporting yours. He read through all the pages except the first few he had typed on his own, his glances vapid at your articulate and keen observation of his representational fashion and perfect execution on his behalf.

 “How-” he had started but put to silence when the students standing before you in queue moved, allowing you and your partner to present yours to the teacher. Standing before the class, you started with a beam that quirked your eyes. To your astonishment, he complied and supported, also curving his lips rather gleefully every once in a while. You could not help but raise your well-trimmed eyebrows for the occasion. Well, he probably had some goodness draped by the ice that coursed through his veins instead of the warm, crimson blood.

 After the termination of the lesson for the day, he watched as your closest companion ran to you with Americano. Had you stayed up all night working his part as well? Why did you feel the need to drive yourself for his grades too? You were the last person who could be complaisant, thus the sacrifice on your part was rather complex whenever it came to being explained in his mind.

 He met his friend in the cafeteria as he carefully sliced onto his pancake, dimples digging his soft cheeks as he looked up at his rather bewildered friend.

 “She worked on my part, too. The professor did not even understand that it was not written by me. She saved both of us from failing this course.”

 “Well, that calls for celebration!” Jaehyun declared victoriously, “I had told you that despite her spirited persona, she is not as intolerable as you brand her to be. She could have talked of your misdemeanour and asked the class to justify her actions as well as complains. Yet, she chose to just work it out on her own and save you from all the mortification. If she were as blasphemous as you think of her, she wouldn’t have sacrificed her own sleep for the sake of your pride.”

 He looked away and his eyes perceived you slouched across the table as your friend ran her fingers fondly through your hair. You let your forehead touch the table and your nose followed, you shoulders finally unwind and your body lax. Only then did he realise that you were rather petite, and the manner you carried yourself had a lot of venture in how you were perceived. Your long mane covered your arms as you used your palms to leverage your head upon the table, your friend generously scattering your locks out of the braided bun to give your head a lesser load to carry on the top.

 “She has beautiful hair,” he muttered to himself, his whisper anguished, “It looks rather illusory… almost thought-provoking and transcendental…”

 Jaehyun’s mouth fell open as he rambled on to himself, his eyes fixated upon your form. He refused to look away, adamant to drink in your features, all the beauty his rather hateful eyes had purposefully patronised before. He could explain the reason before, but then he was all astonishment as you slowly brought your face up to your friend, your chin resting on your palm as you smiled lightly. Your left cheek had a very faint indentation, so faint that one not having seen you for years could not put it to describe your face. He ogled your form, his breath having hitched.

 “It’s just hair…” Jaehyun finally informed his rather bleak friend, before he rose to his feet and walked to your table.

 He cleared his throat and gathered your attention, which was somewhat scattered to him as well. You sat up straight and tensed your shoulders promptly, your neck straightening as he stared at the table where your face was placed even a while before, imagining the smile as he could not dare to look at its originator.

 “I, for a fact, have in mind that you are not a very complaisant person. Rather, you are conceited and somewhat self-centred as well. Despite all your rather stark and uninviting shortcomings, what you did today is rather commendable and I shall forever be in debt for your selfless service, more so because it was certainly out of your character.”

 “Interesting…” your friend muttered quietly beneath her lips, closed and twisted.

 The fact that the man towered over you had never delighted you, thus you chose to stand before him despite being rather fatigued, too fatigued to strike up an argument the most insensitive person was bound to desire.

 “John, I had never heard such intricate description of my character till now. I am rather surprised at your insightful observation of a fellow classmate. I shall always remember how I am, and act upon my traits. Especially, more to the person who had the vigour to judge me so. I am not so thankful, I’m afraid.”

 He started but you put your hand up respectfully, showing him some of your refined character his eyes failed to perceive, “If you will excuse me, I need to have some rest before the commencement of our next class.”

 Jaehyun’s palm deafeningly landed upon his face as he shook his head. His lips pursed as his friend drearily walked to him and sat down.

 “I do not know what I have done to cause her such temper.”

 Jaehyun chose to shake his head again, leaving his friend in a rather frenzied condition of mind.

[pathetichoney]

So I got hooked on My Hero Academia and with the set up universe it is so easy to create OCs so oops my fingers slipped (I haven’t been developing her for the past week straight nope) so here she is. Her first name is Kanon btw. Oh and more info under the cut because wow this is a long as thing I made for her.

Name: Minami Kanon

Pronunciation: Min-nah-mi Kah-non

Hero Name: Rose Siren

Birthday: July 20th

Gender: Female

Family: Yuuka Minami (Mother), Hibiki Abe (Father) 

History:

When Kanon was born, she was born to an unmarried couple, Yuuka and Hibiki. Though they had plans to marry, they never got round to it. They were moderately well off couple who made their wealth through Hibiki's illicit Villainous activities, Yuuka hated that they got their wealth that way and made sure to raise Kanon with many good morals.

Her childhood wasn't the best of times, as she frequently remembered fearing her father, his villainous ways weren't only shown in his career but at home as well. He often abused Yuuka physically as she was deaf and he couldn't use his Quirk on her, but didn't want her to leave nor expose him to the heroes for what he was.

Hibiki also abused Kanon, testing his curse of Pain on her, she often endured periods of unimaginable agony. He inflicted the curse on her as often as he liked in an attempt to get her to fight back and use the curse upon him, in a backwards way to lure her into joining him in villainy whilst also to strike fear into her about telling authorities about his activities.

When Kanon was eight, she was overjoyed to hear that her father had been killed in a battle between him and a hero called Star Driver. She resented the man completely and was glad that her mother and herself was away from him, glad to see the end of years of abuse and agony. She was saddened though, when she learned the authorities wanted to keep an eye on her due to the possibilities that she herself would fall into villainy, no matter how much she explained to them that she was glad he was dead and would rather die herself than become what he was.

When she turned eleven, she realised the path to counteract everyone's worries – she would use her Quirk to fight villains as a hero. She threw herself into training and before long she was enrolled into UA in the Hero Class.

Quirk: Curse

A mutant type quirk, Kanon cannot turn it off. It can easily be described as a sort of vocal magic. By saying words aloud, those that hear them are afflicted like a curse. For example should she say “sleep” or anything on the same wavelength, those that hear her words would fall unconscious. It is hard to pinpoint exactly what words could affect those she speaks to, so to safeguard people she resigns herself to a life without speaking. She uses sign language to communicate to those that know, gestures and writing to those that don't.

It isn't a simple thing that can be inflicted with just saying the words, as each curse takes immense concentration, depending on the kind of curse. For example, Sleep and Awaken don't take extended concentration as it is like a light switch being flipped, but the rest like Paralyse and Obey do as it is more comparable to a button being held down. The only limit to a curse is how long she can concentrate on the single curse for as with more listeners she has to concentrate. And though she can technically cast more than one curse at a time, it shortens each curse in half every time. And whilst each curse has to be focused on to activate it, even saying the words without concentration will often give a weaker effect.

Named Moves:

Sleep – Knocks hearer unconscious for at least ten minutes. Can last longer due to how tired the hearer is. Sometimes uses this on her allies if they are having trouble sleeping.

Awaken – Instantly wakes a sleeping person and gives a small boost in energy. Essentially a short of caffeine in someone's veins. A good strategy for partnering is putting an ally to sleep them awakening them.

Paralyse – Makes a person's body seize up completely, and their limbs relax. Most will fall flat unable to move, this move can last up to ten minutes but can sometimes feel more like a heavy blanket thrown over someone and it's not completely fool proof. Determination is a factor to counteract this.

Pain – It is a cruel curse that Kanon has never used, but heard her father use it frequently, the hearer feels unimaginable and crippling pain that runs through their entire body. From what she knew by reports of him, Hibiki used this curse as his main attack and at the time his death he could use it for as long as an hour straight.

Die – Self explanatory, it kills the hearer instantly but requires ridiculous amounts of concentration. Kanon has only ever used this once when playing with the family dog when she was four, it was how her Quirk was discovered, and she vowed to never misuse her Quirk ever again.

Obey – Sort of like a brainwashing curse, the hearer will be forced to obey all suggestions. The curse at her current level can last up to five minutes, but whilst she uses it someone else has to issue commands.

Silence – The hearer cannot speak nor make any noise. She rarely uses this one as she finds it cruel, the only instance she would use it would be if a person is saying harsh things about her ally or some other cruel thing.

Looks:

Her general style and appearance will always show a light hearted and sweet look, even when Kanon herself very much likes the dark gothic and sinister looking fashion. This is mostly due to her Quirk and how she wants people to perceive her. Due to the possibility for Quirk misuse, she avoids dressing like a villain and since most heroes dress in light colours, she forces the same style on herself. She doesn't hate it, however but she wishes she had a lighter Quirk so she could dress in a darker attire.

She has a flat chest but has a sort of uneven hour glass figure due to her small waist and large hips. Kanon also has tan skin and somewhat tired eyes (that she hides with makeup) mainly because she has a bad sleeping schedule and rarely sleeps well. She also has a large rough scar across her back from when her father dragged her by her feet along a large stretch of rough road. Due to this she rarely likes to wear anything that shows her shoulders or back.

Hair colour and style: Pale pink hair with a side fringe, she always has her hair tied back in a curled ponytail.

Eye colour: Dark pink

Height: 5' 8” / 173cm

Personality:

Kanon attempts to have a friendly and optimistic outlook on life and tries to project this to herself, but sometimes it fails when in familiar environments. In times like those she becomes sort of a drag to be around, and falls into being a pessimist a lot when talking about social and economical issues. Due to her powerful Quirk, she tends to make people uneasy or confident when she's in an environment where people know what it is and makes people hesitant to pair up with her in an activity involving quirks.

Due to the possibility of accidentally using a curse on an ally, she is a deeply apologetic person, often falling to her knees to apologise should she use it on anyone other than her target. She is also a ridiculously helpful person, who will offer aid to anyone in need even if it takes too much time out of her day. Such as if a person needs help as she is on her way to school, she will choose to arrive late rather than turn the person down. In cases where it is essential for time, she will give her number and ask if she can help later when she is free. 

Being loyal is another of her strong points, once you gain her trust it will be near unbreakable. She would probably be the kind of person to hide a body for you or take a bullet for you if you gained her trust.

Likes:

She loves things that combine flavours such as foods that are both savoury and sweet. For example chips dipped in a sweet milkshake, whilst gross she adores the different flavours. On a similar note, she loves meat with chocolate or fruity jams and sauces. She also likes playing violin as she can express herself through music rather than words.

Dislikes:

Those who judge others without getting to know them. For example, she hates when people insult those related to villains just because of the relation. The person they are hating could also have a similar hatred of the Villain but cannot sever the relationship due to circumstances of birth or trapped in abuse relationships. She also hates how heroes are judged by their Quirks, and not by their actions and hearts.

Hobbies/Skills:

She is quite proficient at playing the violin and has been since she was ten. She wishes to learn more instruments, but since her first priority is becoming a hero, she rarely has a chance to get around to it. She also has a minor interest in audio technology, hoping to find a way to conceal her Quirk and let her speak her mind. As such she has a close relation to a few people in the Support course who loan their designs of walkie-talkie slingshot ammo and help her with a Quirk concealer device, though they rarely make progress with it due to each test stalling them.

Support Items:

Slingshot – More than just a regular slingshot, it has been modified with a scope and perfectly matches the custom ammo for it and she is quite proficient at aiming with it. Due to it's uses in real life, she often carries it around outside of times that she needs to use it, dumping it in the bottom of her school bag or general carrying bags if she's out with friends.

Headset – Mostly an adapted Bluetooth headset, it allows her to use her curse over radio signals that are tuned to work with her curse ammo. Will also intercept other radio signals if they happen to use the same wavelength.

Curse Ammo –  Small speakers embedded into bouncy balls, they are designed to bounce off surfaces if thrown with enough force. They play at a set frequency that is linked to her headset, so she has to be careful with timing of curses, and sometimes has to repeat them should she want more than one person to hear. They are set at a volume to people in a 2 metre radius to one ball can hear, and minimizes risks of allies or hostages don't hear.

Regular Ammo – The most commonly used ammo when not up against enemies. Around her these can be found very often as she uses them for tasks such as turning light switches off, shutting up people who annoy her and also bugging strangers or scaring birds off. They act like regular bouncy balls, and are rather cheap to produce so she ends up using a lot. She has a relationship with Momo Yaoyorozu for her producing them due to their ease of creation, but since they are annoying to make at the frequency she has to make them, their relationship is a lot like an older sister telling her off for excessive use. She pays for them in study sessions and coffee.

Explosive Ammo – Basically a bomb that explodes on contact rarely carries them, and has a very limited supply, she has three varieties that differ in intensity. The first variation is like a small firecracker, enough to make a bang that's useful for small distractions. The second is like a cherry bomb that has a small explosion, enough to blast off a latch and cause harm to a person. The third variety is rather dangerous and is essentially a regular bomb, useful for clearing large debris but functionally useless unless in dire situations.

Ear plugs  – Mostly a precaution, but she makes sure to always have a large amount on her to give to her allies and any potential civilians should she need to use her Quirk to subdue an enemy this way she can control who she uses her quirk on.

Hero Outfit:

A pair of shorts with a see through skirt tied with a ribbon, she also wears a lolita style shirt, knee high socks and high heels with a platform. Her outfit is very pink and light, and although it looks uncomfortable or limiting, Kanon likes it due to how light it is but also cute. She can maneuver in high heels with ease, including running and dancing in them. Kanon also has a shoulder bag that is included in her uniform but is mostly just for holding her slingshot and ammo, including any small items they need for a mission.

[fiercyy]

This Ship is Ours to Wreck: Chapter 2

Summary: Peggy Carter makes an emergency landing on Themyscira.

Chapter 1

The city is beautiful and nestled high on the mountain face. Women from their early twenties to their sixties mill around them, going about their days. They’re dressed in luxurious silks and brocades that make Peggy positively green with envy. A squad of women march by wearing golden armour adorned with red capes.

“That’s my shade,” Peggy quips. 

She suddenly feels infantilized and embarrassed to be carried.

Diana brings her to a large throne room. Marble pillars hold up the ceiling. Beautiful story-scapes are carved into the walls. The floor is decorated with an intricate golden sunburst. Sitting on the throne is a fearsome blonde woman. When she rises and holds out her hand to Diana, her fur cloak parts to reveal bulging biceps.

Under the woman’s scrutinising gaze, Peggy cannot help but feel shamefully like a damsel.

“Mother,” greets Diana.

“Diana, another stray?”

Oh my god, is that a joke?

Diana gently sets her down so she may stand under her own power. Peggy’s legs feel like jelly, but to her relief, she does not collapse.

“This is my mother, Queen Hippolyta.”

Peggy, who always minds her manners, curtsies politely. Not so long ago, she stood before her own queen and had done the same.

“Dame Margaret Carter sounds quite well, don’t you think?”

She smiles at the memory. Someday maybe.

“Who are you and what brought you to our island?”

“My name is Margaret Carter, I was forced to make an emergency landing on your island.”

She startles herself. She hadn’t meant to answer. She looks down. A golden rope has been wrapped around her wrist. Is it just her or is it glowing?

“The lasso compels you to tell the truth,” Diana explains.

Peggy, of course, does not question this. Because of course, this magical, hidden island of women has a magic lasso of truth.

“Why were you flying in the first place?”

“Queen and country.” Diana bites back a smile and Hippolyta quirks an elegant brow.

“Where were you going?”

“I was returning home.”

Her mission is done, she is in no rush. No one is in danger of any information she has, but nonetheless, she tries to avoid straight answers. She is telling the truth, technically.

Hippolyta seems annoyed at this development. “Where are you flying back from?”

“Europe.”

“Specifically.”

“Germany.”

“Must you drag this out?” Diana asks.

“Yes.” The lasso compels the truth after all.

. .

Eventually, Hippolyta and Diana give up on the interrogation. They learn the answers to the important questions and are done with it.

Peggy means them no harm.

Her mission is over.

No one knows her location.

Peggy can’t help but feel as if the sole fact of her being a woman has shaped her reception. People don’t look at her oddly in the streets. Whispers do not follow her. She is allowed to move around as she pleases. She has been given a place to stay.

During breakfast on her third morning on Themyscira, she asks Diana about it.

“You are not the first woman to come to our island and find refuge,” she explains. “Sometimes we send them back to the world of men, often they stay.”

“So I can go, whenever I please?”

“Of course, you are not a prisoner. You mean us no harm,” as she speaks, Diana begins to clean up. Just like every morning, she’s headed to train. “Will you leave us soon?”

Peggy thinks for a moment. “Perhaps not yet.”

. .

This is utopia. This is paradise. This is the most comfortable that Peggy has ever felt.

She is surrounded by women. They all speak to each other and her with respect. They listen when others are speaking. It’s been a long time since she’s been in an environment like this. Not since school.

She feels respected and welcome, not like an outsider.

Peggy works with and for men all day every day. Intelligence work is a horribly exclusive club that she has clawed her way into. The place she occupies is hard won and it’s a battle that continues. Her existence as a woman is something she’s needed to justify at all times, every day.

Being here is like suddenly finding out that you’ve been carrying around a full pack of supplies, then finally putting it down and realising that the weight on your shoulders is actually 40 pounds lighter.

She’s tempted to stay forever.

. .

Of course, she begins training.

It is what Peggy does best.

She finds herself completely suited to their style.

Peggy fights with the ferocity and tenacity of a caged animal, the style and panache of a performer and ingenuity that allows her to make absolutely anything into a weapon.

She finds that her skill with a firearm extends to skill with a bow and arrow; once she builds up the strength to draw the bow.

Her favourite weapon is a dagger. She learns to stop a broadsword with the hilt of a knife. She learns to perform acrobatic feats, the likes of which she’s seen only Olympians perform. She learns collaborative battle strategies; she learns what it means to fight with a partner; something she hasn’t had in a long time.

The longer she spends on the island, the stronger she gets.

It must be something in the water.

. .

Peggy makes friends.

She’s never been what one might call outgoing, but she’s personable. She’s not prickly. The Amazons think she’s funny. They like her jokes, the ferocity hiding underneath thick English skin. They like her.

She’s closer to some than others but Diana is by far and away her best friend on the island.

They aren’t much alike.

Diana is a ray of sunshine. She’s silly and playful, sweet and kind. She is all sincerity and conviction.

Peggy is moody, pessimistic and sarcastic. These are all things she likes about herself. She is a born spy, sincerity is difficult for her. But conviction and kindness are things they share.

She likes Diana a lot and despite their differences, she feels a special kinship with her.

. .

Peggy keeps her photograph of Steve with her, always. She had it when her plane went down and keeps it with her now. It’s worn at the edges, but she doesn’t mind. It’s a well-loved photo, but she has others. As long as she can keep him with her, she’s happy.

On melancholy days, for despite living in paradise she still has them, she sits by herself on the beach, looks at it and thinks of him.

She misses him, same as she always has, but it’s all a little more bearable when she’s busy; when she has things to do. She misses him the way she misses home. It’s a phantom fever, a dull ache, a distant wish. It’s something she’s currently running from.

One evening, Diana sits beside her on the beach and gently pries the photograph from her tense fingers. She looks at the scrawny, squinting young man with a lion’s heart. She purses her lips and squeezes Peggy’s knee.

And she tells her about Steve Trevor.

. .

Themyscira is very progressive. Peggy, who is intimately familiar with many forms of discrimination, finds that women of all credos exist on the island. Women of all colours coexist here and there is no hierarchy of that nature.

There is a group of five sisters who live together, they’ve been here for a couple of centuries. They wear hijabs and pray five times a day. They live their lives the same as the rest of the Amazons, but they keep many links to where they came from.

The most recent arrivals (besides Peggy) are a group of Jewish women. They all have numbers on their arms and steel in their eyes. Their pride in what they are is stubborn and loud. Everyone on the island speaks hundreds of languages, but these women choose to speak Yiddish.

Where Peggy comes from, there was a sort of woman who was everywhere but had to hide. They had to develop codes, secret words, bases of trust. During wartime, one had to sacrifice a lot in order to be allowed to sacrifice for one’s country.

Here, there are only women. Here, it is not strange to have companionship and love. Here, there need never be secret codes or dangerous misunderstandings. Here, Peggy can comfortably be what she (and many others) were forced to suppress for so long.

. .

Peggy kisses Diana on a sunny afternoon after training.

She feels the burn of her cheeks under her hands and a swooping feeling in her chest like she’s falling. Diana’s right hand slides up into her hair and beckons her closer. Suddenly, the pounding of her heart is for a different reason than physical exertion. Peggy pulls away first and stares into her lovely brown eyes.

“So I’ve heard you have a pretty good track record with spies,” ugh. What a line to use. Diana will think she’s dreadfully cheesy.

But Diana laughs. “I have yet to meet one that I didn’t like.”