#i wish i could add more ocs but too shy

[zerguette]

"Sing me to sleep

Sing me to sleep

I'm tired and I

I want to go to bed"

He's celebrating his first birthday :D (first time he's going to know what cake tastes like), damn Zar you became really important for me. Silly man that teaches me everyday i shouldn't give up and that i should take care of myself, thank you Zar. I CAN'T BELIEVE MONTHS WENT BY SO FAST....i keep learning a lot from him, he teaches me many things, and he teaches everyone many things,,,

Ocs in the drawing

Zar, Orion (holding cake) and Lucia (winged lady) - me

And now the important fellas

Accordion, Violin, Florence, Aurelia and Aidan :3 - @bluetorchsky

Pike and Argine yipee - @kursed-curtain

Fiver and Villain Jr. (I HAD TO ADD THEM, i think Zar would befriend them aheh) - @hammerhead-art

Bonus:

Tach and Harley took the photo

[silverefflux]

Sweaters

Chapter x + 0.5 of my König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

Fuckin chapter name. It's good as a standalone at this point LMAO

See Chapter List

Photo from Freepik

Summary: König takes a look at Kate’s closet.

C/W: MAJOR ANGST. MAJOR PLOTLINE SKIP. Established relationship, grieving, mentions of possible death, implications of violence, one pinch of racism

A/N: Chapter works fine alone, but is wayyy beyond the current position in the plotline. Sorry about the algebraic chapter number. While I still want my story in chronological order, I am mainly writing this for my enjoyment, and my mind is incapable of forcing itself to write in order right now.

As with my prior attempts to make multi-chapters in other fandoms, I can map out the whole plot almost instantly, but the writing itself of each chapter is so difficult. Enjoy (?) this sharp, angsty left turn though.

. . .

Possibility // Lykke Li

Dominik awoke lying face up, his limbs carelessly limp on their mess of a bed. It was the same position he fell asleep in. Like a corpse—hollow, lifeless—of which was the closest thing he felt like at the moment. The first thing that flooded his consciousness was a seeping ache on one side of his head. His eyelids reluctantly fluttered half-open. A boundless blur of white manifested itself into their bedroom ceiling; the same thing he last saw before his body surrendered to slumber.

Two painfully slow days have passed. Two days of tossing and turning in an untimed cycle of crying, then not crying. Not that he had a sense of time. Or a sense of being. His stomach grumbled as hunger crawled up to his throat, but no amount of food or water could answer for his soul craving his wife’s presence. No warm shower could replicate the feeling of her skin on his.

By now, the passengers’ and crew’s loved ones would have been storming Harrier Air’s headquarters for answers. He wished he had the strength to join them. He grew sick of watching the news too—it was all that everyone could talk about. There was no further lead anyway as to the plane’s whereabouts except the video that the hijacker sent to provoke the public.

“Captain down, First Officer down…”

If the shows weren't broadcasting replays of the same information, they were spewing senseless theories and tirades directed at anyone and anything. One of them pointed at Kate being “fairly new and foreign” as a possible fault. At that point, there was nothing more that Dominik wanted to do than to fling the remote control through the screen and into the commentator’s face, but instead he chose to simply turn the TV off.

He turned his head to the side and caught sight of her closet.

Her clothes are still in there. At some point I have to clean it—

Nein. Not unless they bring her body home.

A part of him wanted to believe that she was still alive. That maybe the terrorists were just exaggerating to add to their scare tactic. Or that, by some miracle, she was able to hold out for her life until rescue reached the plane. That is, if there still was a plane. Regardless, she was gone and no one knows where, and he wasn’t shying away from the possibility—the likeliness—that she wasn’t coming home and all he had left of her was her possessions.

With a grumble, he sat up and stared at the closet, then groggily paced towards it, mentally preparing himself to look at what’s inside. His fingers shakily gripped at the door handles, and the doors of the cabinet opened with a soft creak.

Her clothes were neatly kept in rows of hangers and columns of folded fabric. He ran his hands through the row of memories.

She wore this dress on our anniversary.

These were her favorite trousers to wear in-flight.

She would wear this coat over literally anything.

His hand stopped over the sleeve of a silken blouse hung in front of him. He closed his eyes as he brought the sleeve close to his face. Faint hints of Kate’s scent and her perfume immediately crept its way into him as the fabric softly rested on his cheek and nose.

For the first time in two days, he smiled.

But it was a bitter smile as a lump grew in his throat, a mere attempt to console himself over this meager replacement for human contact. When he opened his eyes, they were watering and his heart was racing, another wave of sorrow making its way. He leafed through the clothes lined up in hangers once more, this time with urgency, then slid them aside to reveal the rest of her clothes below. At the left corner, a stack of sweaters were safely folded away.

On top of the pile was her favorite—a knitted one that they bought together in Nuremberg during the holidays, already slightly worn out from being used and washed so often. If wearing it outside was deemed embarrassing, she would proudly wear it inside the house as a substitute for a t-shirt or a pajama top.

“It’s not just a Christmas sweater!” she would insist with her classic cackling laughter.

“It has Christmas tree designs, Katie. You don’t have to wear that all the time,” he would jokingly argue back.

He took the sweater out. Then the hoodie under it. Then the next one. Bunching them up together, he clutched them close to his chest and relished the small amount of comfort he found in Kate’s scent again. The wool from her favorite sweater brushed lightly at his lips as he held the clothes near, reminding him of what it was like to embrace her.

When was the last time we hugged?

After sorrow came a wave of guilt, and the joyless expression returned on his face.

I wish I gave a more proper goodbye.

I wish I had kissed her more before I left.

I wish I knew how much our fights didn’t matter.

I wish I was a better husband.

He wanted to cry, but his tears were close to running out that all he had left were the ones clinging around his lashes. That and the silent, crushing pain that felt like his demons pressing their muddy boots onto his heart and shattering it into a million pieces.

He crashed onto the pillows again, knees weakened by the agony. He rolled over to his shoulder, still desperately holding the sweaters close. If there was something Kate helped him do, it was hacking away at the walls that he put up so there was nothing but honest emotion expressed within the walls of their home. But honesty meant vulnerability, and with her gone, he was defenseless to his own grief.

Please come home.

If you really are dead, at least haunt me right now.

No tighter embrace was enough as he squeezed the sweaters even closer towards him. His head bowed into the fabrics as he winced, pleading with his own body to cry the pain out, but no tears were coming out. But there were none left. One would know they’re in a whole other level of misery when they’re begging themselves to cry for relief. All he had to grasp onto was to imagine what she would be doing if she was with him at the moment.

She would’ve snaked an arm around him and pulled herself into a cuddle, murmuring soft words of encouragement to comfort him. Her gentle hand would trace its way up his back and rest at the back of his neck, her thumb moving back and forth behind his ear.

He placed his hand where hers would’ve been.

When he opened his eyes, her face would be inches away, looking back at him. Smiling softly, wordlessly telling him things will be better, and that it’s okay for him to be this way around her.

“Damn it, Schatzi…” she would say in a long whine, “If you’re crying, I’m crying too.”

Then, still teary-eyed, they would giggle at them being absolute softies for each other behind closed doors. He would close his eyes and pull her close too, and slowly, things would become okay again.

Where are you, Kate?

Oh, how he missed those deep brown eyes of hers. He could fall into the pools of her irises, sinking into the depths of her being until the last sliver of light bid goodbye, but he wouldn’t think he was drowning. Rather, he would happily explore the mysterious abyss of her soul in that darkness.

It’s been around three months and two days since he last saw those eyes face-to-face. If only he was granted another chance to look at them again.

It’s been two days since the hijacking. There was still no sign of the plane. Its fuel could only last for so long. There were only two possibilities: that it landed somewhere undetected by radar and its navigational equipment tampered, or that it fell before it made its way to land. Dominik was afraid he knew which was more plausible.

If the plane crashed, I hope that she was unconscious or dead as it happened.

The thought of her suffering the way she did delivered the final blow to his chest as tears finally poured out again in sobs.

She didn’t have to suffer.

He knew that between the both of them, he was the one built to withstand that kind of torture. Not her. She didn’t deserve any of it. His hands clutched even more tightly at the sweaters as he cried out in torment, his mind calling out for her despite those around him convinced that she was gone, and his imagination convincing him that she was right next to him on the bed.

Es tut mir so Leid.

And the cycle starts again. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, tormenting himself to exhaustion until he fell back asleep.

. . .

Translation:

Es tut mir so Leid - I'm so sorry

For the algebra chapter number, the timeline skip, the spoiler, the PAIN, I am once again willing to receive a "SILVER WHAT THE FUCK" in the comments HAHAHAHAHHA love u all

[bravenew-what]

"I'll Never Live This Down"

Pairing: Andi Deris x OC

Warnings: Mentions of weapons, drugs, and alcohol

Author's note: Here is my next installment in my series with Andi! Here we're let in on a ghost of Marie's past that interrupts the night. I've been writing lots of chapters, just going to post them in chronological order instead of all over the place. Special thanks to my best friend @anotherhitandrun for always being my biggest cheerleader, my rock, and my shoulder to cry on. And for hyping this story up behind the scenes :P

Tagging: @sea-of-machines @wish-i-could-fly-like-superman (There is no pressure at all to read!)

--

“Wait, you mean he stayed all the way through closing time to talk to you?”

Marie shrugged at Anya as she finished cleaning up after her last order. “I mean I guess? We didn’t really talk outside of him being a customer.”

“But you got his name, that means you talked.” Anya slouched on to the bar. 

“Whatever you say…”

Anya studied Marie for a moment. “So what is his name again?”

Marie threw the rag at Anya. “Andi! I’ve told you twice already!”

“I just wanted to hear you say it again!”

Marie hunched her shoulders and stared back incredulously. “It was one night!”

“Do you think he will be in here again soon?” Anya boosted herself on top of the bar and crossed her ankles. 

“I don’t know, it’s been three days!”

As if on cue, the front door opened and the man in question walked through the door, alone this time. He quietly sat down at the end of the bar, setting a pad of paper and pen in front of him before looking up to scan the other patrons. 

“Now how did you predict that?” Marie whispered, cheeks now flushed red. 

“Wasn’t me, hermosa.”

His hair appeared darker underneath the hat he was wearing, but Marie attributed it to the different corner of the bar he was in. She fumbled around the glasses for a moment before pouring the same beer that Andi had the last time. She glanced over at him again. He seemed more sure of himself this time around, no friends nearby to add to the peer pressure of saying hello. He seemed quite nervous the last time, so Marie overtook the situation like he was feeling the same way. 

“Andi?” His eyes darted back to Marie and a shy smile quirked the corners of his “You’re back!” 

“Here I am.” He shrugged happily, taking the glass from her gently. “And You remembered.”

“Easy to remember when you didn’t have a predictable choice the last time.” 

Andi cocked his head. “What’s not predictable about cheap beer?” 

 Marie leaned on her elbows against the bar. “Foreigners always get the local stuff, you decided against it.”

Andi nodded in acknowledgement at the comment before taking a long sip. 

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Marie gestured to the pad of paper. Andi hesitated  for a moment before briefly answering. 

“Ideas for work.” 

“What kind of ideas?”

“Good ones, I hope!” He blurred out almost too quickly. 

Marie snorted. “You can get some interesting ideas from a bar indeed!”

“A lovely view helps.” Andi winked back at her and Marie stood up straighter. 

“¡Ay mierda!  That was braver.” She thought in her head. 

Marie laughed sheepishly then and turned away to tend to other orders, going straight to Anya, who had a knowing look on her face. Andi remained in earshot of the girls, picking up his pen and scribbling on the paper to make it appear as if he wasn’t listening to them. 

Marie spoke first in Spanish to cover what she knew they were going to converse about. 

“Don’t you start.”

“He’s into you.”

Marie blinked wildly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it!” 

“Uh, flirt back? Ask for his phone number?”

For a moment Andi considered giving it to her right then, but that would have blown his cover. 

“It’s too early for that!”

“No it’s not! It’s normal!”

“NOTHING is normal when a beautiful man with long hair from a foreign country walks into the bar you work at and wants to talk to you!”

Andi snorted at Marie’s last comment, unsure of what to make of it. At least the feeling was becoming mutual. He looked up to find both girls staring him down before Anya laughed and walked off, leaving Marie to her own devices. 

She and Andi stared each other down for a brief moment before Marie nervously gestured to his near empty glass. “Do you want another?”

Andi shrugged. “Sure.” 

Marie quickly grabbed a new glass for him. 

“This one is on me.” 

“You sure about that?” He called to her. 

“I insist!”

Marie quickly filled the glass with the same beer he had before and slid it to him before he could protest further. 

“Sh. It’s yours.” She pushed the drink closer to him and Andi chuckled lightly. “Is that the same hat you wore last time you were in here?”

“Sure is.” 

Marie reached out and gently grabbed the brim and peeled it off of his head, causing Andi to furrow his eyebrows in confusion, but he realized what she was doing when Marie placed it on his head backwards. Only the back of it missed his forehead and covered his eyes instead.

“Hey now!” Andi called out. 

“Oh my god!” 

Marie scrambled back from him while Andi laughed out loud and adjusted the hat so it wasn’t over his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Anya across the bar trying to hold her composure. 

“That’s not what I meant to do!” Marie pressed her palms to her temples in complete shock with herself. 

“Of course not.” Andi snickered again. “You were close enough, honey.”

Marie blushed furiously at the pet name. “I saw that going so differently in my head.”

“I think you looked at me more than the hat.” Andi pursed his lips smugly, to which Marie scoffed and hid her face in her hands.

“I’ll never live this down now.”

“I’m never going to let you forget that.” Andi shook his head, fighting a smile. 

“Oh god, never huh?” Marie leaned on the bar closer to him. 

“Maybe just between us.” Andi winked and beamed at her. 

Marie grinned back, attempting to hide the blush on her cheeks. “That makes me feel better.”

“Marie Aliza Carpenter.”

Marie’s head snapped towards Anya in an instant at the sound of her full name. Anya nodded towards the door. 

“Are you fucking kidding me.” 

Andi straightened up in confusion as the color drained from both women’s faces at the new couple that had just entered the bar. Marie and Anya spoke so rapidly with one another that he could barely translate what they had said before the couple had split and the man came to the bar. Marie put on a stoic face as the man approached her with a knowing smirk on his face. 

“What can I get you?” 

“How about the ring I gave you?” The man laughed in her face. 

Andi put the pieces together immediately. 

Marie rolled her eyes and groaned loudly.  “I told you what I did with it the last time you were in here, act like you have sense around your new girl.” 

She turned to make the man two drinks quickly, not putting a lot of thought into them. Andi raised an eyebrow as the man said something in a slimy tone of voice. He didn’t bother translating in his head. 

“Good for you. Not my problem.” She remained uninterested. “Is she even of age this time or are you seducing teenagers again?” 

Andi went paler than a sheet. 

The man scoffed and returned to the table with the drinks he had ordered. Marie’s eyes darted towards Andi and he raised his eyebrows in confusion. She shook her head and gestured to him to keep quiet. The much younger blonde woman he had entered the bar with stumbled her way to the middle of the barstools and leaned onto the counter directly in front of Marie. 

“What’s with the attitude you have with my man?”

Andi never thought an American accent would make him want to cringe, but there he was. 

Marie answered back in English with a smirk on her face. “Why, are you jealous?” Anya snickered in response. Marie studied the girl’s expression and gave Anya a concerned look that she seemed to pick up on. 

“Are you okay this evening?” Marie shook her head as she squinted her eyes and got a better look at the girl. But she flinched when the girl spat back at her in disgust. 

“Don’t be a whore about it!” 

Marie’s mouth dropped. 

“You’re only upset we’re here because Jose wants to see his son.”

“That doesn’t concern you.” Anya stepped between Marie and the blonde girl immediately. 

“She’s keeping my fiancé’s boy from him!”

Andi choked on his beer. Fiancé? A boy? The girl couldn’t have been 18. And the wide expression in her eyes were not of manic or aggression, but could have only resembled an involvement of drugs. 

The man rushed back up to the table to guard as Anya grabbed the girl by the arm and twisted it around behind her back awkwardly to push her away. “You’re done here, gringa!” 

“Hey!” The much taller man began to yell as Anya easily directed the teetering teenager out the door. 

Marie and the other man erupted into a fury of Spanish, the man increasingly pleased with how riled up Marie got with him. He stood taller and crossed his arms, now taunting Marie with another male name. 

“You get his name out of your fucking mouth!” Marie shouted from the top of her lungs, waving the sharp end of the bottle opener in his face. 

Andi stood up then, ready to step in between the two, but the man backed away as Marie kept yelling obscenities in Spanish, some he dared not repeat aloud. When the two were safely out the door and the bar completely silenced, Marie was the first to speak. 

“I’m done.” Marie threw the bottle opener down, grabbed a bag out from under the bar and stormed off. Andi immediately went for the door, but Anya tsked and held up a finger to Andi, signaling him to wait. When they heard the outside door slam shut, Anya spoke. 

“Take two right turns, she won’t be hard to find.”

Andi nodded solemnly. “Thank you.” He grabbed his things and slipped out the door amid the stunned silence of the bar crowd. He turned the corners quickly to find Marie standing on shaking legs, lighting a cigarette before crossing the street ahead of them.

Taking a deep breath, he called out to her. 

“Marie!”

[smok3inm1rrors]

I was tagged by @igotsnothing over two weeks ago whoops. I saw it went “I should do that” then completely forgot about it. But better late than never!

1. What’s your favourite sims death? Either death by satellite from TS2 or the skydiving one from TS1, entirely because of the “Whee!” at the end of it.

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match? A mix of the two.

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight? I usually don’t even notice when they gain weight.

4. Do you use move objects? Yes.

5. Favorite mod?. Aside from MCC + UI Cheats it’s between Language Barriers by Frankk, RPO and Talents and Weaknesses by Lumpinou.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got? Get To Work

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing?  aLIVE

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

Kathleen “Kit” Jones (Her name inspired from that "Kitchenaid Whiskey Jones" tweet). She's been around in some form as an OC since 2016.

She is also the sim in my pfp.

I want to do some gameplay/story hybrid with her (and other sims of my own) but that would mean...playing the game and not just using it as a substitute for drawing...

9. Have you made a simself? Back in 2016/7. Probably never again.

10. What sim traits do you give yourself? TS3 traits because I like them better. Adventurous, Love the Outdoors, Brooding, Unlucky, and Artistic.

11. Which is your favorite EA hair color? The color wheel. Dark Brown.

12. Favorite EA hair? This one from Get to Work.

13. Favorite life stage? YA. The only life stage.

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? I liked building in TS2/3 but could never get into it in 4. 

15. Are you a CC creator? I’ve done poses and recolors. I’m currently doing the “Fuck around, Find out” method of learning meshing. I should probably watch a tutorial.

I also know Python (Studied C.S in uni, which means fuck all really) and have confidence that I’ve used enough HTML to figure out XML, so destroying the game from the inside out is something I’ve wanted to do for a while. I have ideas that range from adding “Wish for a baby with…” and “Wish for Pregnancy/Wish for Pregnancy with…” to the Wishing Well for all your magical conception needs and story plot purposes, to figuring out how to add a whole “Spirit of the Wishing Well” NPC for also story plot purposes, to straight up overhauling spellcaster's alchemy to be more like TS3 alchemy.

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad? Nope. I’m not introverted, shy, or socially awkward (socially incompetent maybe), I’m just bad at using social media hah.

17. What’s your favorite game? Right now it’s Breath of the Wild. I like bullying the guardians for fun.

18. Do you have any sims merch? Nah.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims? Nope.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I used to try and be more story focused when the game first came out. I’m one of those TS2 Wants/Fears dictate the game players and while you can do that in TS4, it’s not as satisfying. Now I play it as an unholy mix of "Soap Opera Simulator 2014" and "How far can I take min/maxing the sims" .

21. What’s your Origin ID? I don't have anything of interest on there.

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator? 

sforzcc, Peacemaker, awingedllama, Sentate, Rusty, Johnnysims, simstrouble

It’s not cc but florwalsims and windbrook for their builds/saves as like many of you, I’m tired of playing in suburbia.

23. How long have you had a simblr? Not long, I lurked awhile before posting though..."awhile" being a year.

24. How do you edit your pictures? I use Clip Studio Paint. I’m too lazy to *ahem* photoshop and I have it for drawing purposes anyways. 

Usually it’s just using different blending modes (multiply, overlay, soft light, glow dodge my beloved) and special effect brushes.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far? 

Expansion: Get Together. I’ve used the club functionality in nearly every save I’ve played.

Game Pack: Vampires, Realm of Magic, Werewolves. Not because they’re particularly good but because I’m a sucker for occults.

Stuff Pack: Paranormal. Again occults, but this one also has an acceptable amount of gameplay in it. I’m surprised they didn’t try to pawn it off as a game pack. 

26. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next? I'll get Growing Together when it's 50% off. However if before then EA gets too goofy with what remains of TS4, (TS5 is going to be ""free"" to play, it's already fucked.) I'll probably just you know what the rest of the game. EDIT: I wrote this last night. After seeing that job opening for the marketing position on Project Rene...haha yeah. Shit's depressing.

I tag: your mom

[darsynia]

hello darsy! happy valentine's day!, first i wanted to remind you of what an amazing person you are i really mean it and that i love the posts you share and the polls, absolutely make my days, also want to ask you if you had a tag list? and in that case if i could be added, please? i would like to start reading your published writings here but i don't know where to first start and i would like to just pop up from nothing after getting the notification you updated, beforehand, thank you, i wish you the best of weeks and some good rest! send you my love<3

Oh goodness, thank you so much! I'm twirling :D And that pic is just the most preciously applicable to your kind words! I've been super shy about sending messages and stuff, this really makes my day 💚

I'd love to add you! I have a couple of different things going, but am happy to tag and then if you aren't in the mood for that thing or it's not your typical fare it's fine. However, if you'd like to specify, cause I have about 3 'kinds' of stories I'm currently posting, that's also good!

So, I have the Stephen series Animate Objects, and that starts with a 2-part story, Day Eight, where aid worker Amista Cairn runs into Stephen Strange and feels oddly compelled to show up at the sanctum to figure him out. That's followed by Diminished Seventh, a seven part sequel where Stephen and Amy work through his suspicion and her confusion as an ancient Babylonian relic imprinted on her the second she set foot in the sanctum. The next in the series will be Sixth Sense, which I haven't started yet, but it'll delve more deeply into what is up with the relic, and whether Stephen and Amy can get over their mutual mistrust, since they can't keep their hands off of each other...

The other series I'm posting is Trust Fall, which is a Tony/OC MCU re-write that will include more women in the Avengers, a team-oriented take earlier on in the chronology, and features Tony Stark and Emory Autumn. Emory is a PA to a pop star whose career needed a boost, so she went to Afghanistan to sing for the troops, putting Emory in the position to be kidnapped along with Tony, in the cave. Emory's smart and capable, but she's let her friend walk all over her for far too long. Tony and Emory both realize they need to change for the better as they fall for each other. A complication arises as Yinsen offers Emory a serum injection he'd spent his life savings on for his own family, who are now gone. Emory's new powers help them escape the cave-- but they put her in SHIELD's sights. ((EDIT: oh I forgot. There is so much sexy kissing in this story. SO MUCH. Gosh! Eventually smut in this one))

Along with Trust Fall I have a couple of other Tony Stark smut or ask stories (including a Tony/Steve I'm writing right now)

The third thing I've been writing is Steve/Reader fics, I have a oneshot set early on after Thanos's snap, and my series is called Just Right. Post-Ultron, Reader works as the 'armorer' for the Avengers, and she's loved Steve from afar for a year without being brave enough to say anything. Another version of Steve Rogers shows up, and this version looks at her like a precious gift-- but what's going on? What's happened to this Steve, and will it happen to their universe? Reader wants her Steve, but if this other version goes home, will she lose her chance to be with Steve Rogers? I also have a Sam Wilson/Reader argument kiss ask that's coming up, too!

I would be delighted to tag you in any or all of them, and again, no pressure-- I know I'm tagged in a few things that I look forward to getting to, but haven't yet!

Thanks again! I'm writing this at the DMV and I think the person beside me thinks it's a love letter, bahahaha. Honestly I love writing and getting to share it, so it kind of is? 💚

[hatersideblog]

I truly wish there were as many canon trans and neurodivergent characters as you guys want there to be so y'all could find the representation you crave instead of making a headcanon about every single character designating them as an autistic king when they're just like, shy. Imo being OOC in fanworks is a cardinal sin. What you're doing has to fit within the parameters of the original work, otherwise it feels like cheating at the game. It's more fun when you can keep a recognizable whole even with this new element. Most creators do not intend to code their characters as trans or ADHD or whatever. That is a reading you are bringing to the text, which is fine, except for when the character's psychology and story arc doesn't fit, especially if they have another identity that is explicitly explored and given nuance in the text. Some things are actually about what they say they're about. Don't take the Yentl out of Yentl, you know? It's stretching credibility and misreading the text. It takes me back to sitting through literature classes and having to listen to people who didn't read or understand the assignment talking loudly and being wrong about it. We need more trans and ND characters out there so I can stop having to wade through OOC fic that's really just about the author. If you want to write about your OC, just write about your OC, don't pretend that's Crowley Good Omens. Engage with what's there. Add a little spice, sure, bring an overlooked aspect to the forefront with some tweaking, supplement with a fun thought experiment (what if the cast of Friends were fighter pilots?), even draw attention to a complete absence, but don't just bulldoze over the actual content to flatten the story into what you want it to be.

Like, for example, there was a romance novel retelling of Pride and Prejudice where Eliza moonlights as a stripper. Patently ridiculous. Elizabeth Bennet's whole thing is that she is authentic and doesn't perform for people bc she finds artificiality ridiculous. She's a very cut-the-bullshit character in a world where people have to pretend to be respectable or in love (looking at you, Charlotte "she should have flirted more and fallen in love after landing him" Lucas, how'd that work out for you) or rich so they can get what they want, and that's where the tension lies between her and the stuffy aristocrats and their hangers-on like Caroline and Mr. Collins. She doesn't try to impress anyone and that makes her different. So for her to do burlesque, which is all about manipulating others' perception of her, is at odds with her defining trait. You're writing someone else.

What if the priest in Fleabag wasn't a priest, what if he was a neurosurgeon? That's a new story, my man.

I don't really have a point, I'm just venting about how annoying it is to have to scroll past uninteresting and repetitive and OOC content. At the end of the day it's harmless and you can do what you want.

I want everyone to be able to find what they're looking for in a story without having to paint over half of it. We're getting more and more beautifully written gay and racially diverse content and I just wish the rest of this site's overlooked identities would be up there too. Autistic, ADHD, occasionally bpd or bipolar, ace, disabled, chronic pain, and trans are the big ones I see recur a lot in headcanons and it just sucks that fans have to shoehorn them in.

[upon-blades-twilight]

Rules & Mun Info & Credits

Rules:

Adult muns only! There will be mature content on here. I'm fine interacting with muses that are minors, but I will cut things off if I feel like it's getting weird.

Be respectful and kind and I will do the same.

Private messages are always open. Especially if you're shy or want to discuss something like plot details.

English not your first language? That's absolutely fine so long as we can communicate plenty well enough that we can understand one another. In fact, let me know if you'd rather I simplify my vocabulary and sentence structure for you. I will happily oblige.

You do not have to be an experienced rper to write plots with me. You'll always be welcome even if it's your first time.

There is no rush to reply or any kind of post requirements. Post length is up to you and I typically will mirror you. Do what you feel comfortable with and just enjoy yourself. I have a lot that occupies me from day to day, so I’ll take a while with replies, too.

Alternate and Cross Universes are totally fine.

OCs and canon characters from other fandoms are also welcome.

'You' as a self insert / reader is just as welcome.

Doubles are absolutely fine. It doesn't matter what characters I'm currently active with, your's will be welcome, too. That includes other Vergils. We could always play with ideas like doppelgangers or Blue Vergil + Red Vergil.

Crippling bodily harm and death to my characters must be talked about first. I allow it, but it'll only be true for that particular thread. Actually I encourage it.

Discord RP is very fine too if you prefer. Ask me for my discord ID.

Anyone is welcome to send asks and/or prompts. You do not have to be a role player yourself, or have the intent to role play with me. See tag list for the prompts I have reblogged. Prompt lists and ask memes don't have a use-by date, and you can send as such from lists I haven't reblogged. If you do this, please include a link to the list/meme in question otherwise I may not understand it.

Prompts and asks do not have to be based on my main canon divergent arc or Ouroboros. Please state if you want a more canon, time specific, or even muse or person specific answer. Such as a question for me where the answer is very dependent on a specific muse I interact with, maybe even your muse, or even you as in yourself. Or maybe you wish to have an answer from Vergil from DMC3, rather than Vergil from DMC5. If nothing is specified or obvious then I will choose on a whim.

You may reblog ask memes and prompts from me without sending me an ask or prompt from the list. It's very much appreciated if you do, but I don't mind at all if you don't.

Anything I answer to you can be used as a starter even if it wasn't originally meant to be. All you have to do is reblog and reply to it.

For those that wish to interact but not RP, anything can be made into solo drabbles and answers. For example maybe there's a starter sentence you'd like to send, but not for me to make a starter with you out of it, but rather to use it as a prompt for a drabble of whatever I want. Just add (SOLO - Vergil/Ouroboros) at the end of the ask in these cases. If you like this idea but wish me to write it with a pairing or even self insert / reader in mind, just indicate that too. Such as (SOLO - Vergil) or (SOLO - Ouroboros/Reader).

Yo! Mun here, I go by Kris or Greed. I'm 38, genderfluid (any pronouns are fine), and often enjoy drawing and writing. I am often busy IRL so I can be very slow at replies. I do love chatting though! My DMs and Discord is always open for that, especially if you're the type that enjoys bantering with writing ideas between our characters.

This is a side Tumblr! Follow backs and my personal Tumblr is @everdreamtree

@saradika

@animatedglittergraphics-n-more

@benkeibear

@kafekitsune

[magnuficent76]

Hey guys I'm Normal about ocs. Here's Baltazar because I love them so so bad.

- What would they be embarrassed to admit about themself? What would they deny about themself?

☆ Baltazar is ashamed of literally Every Part Of Himself even if he really wishes he wasn't. It's more compulsory than anything, but they feel like if they're vulnerable for even a split second everyone is going to immediately start taking them apart the same way they do it to themselves. His whole life has been shameful in his eyes and as such unless he's ABSOLUTELY SURE he can trust other people, he would rather hide it all behind a wall of what everyone already expects and is familiar with <3 however, if they absolutely had to pick, it'd be anything related to their sports career and the whole… yk, alcoholism thing.

- Opposite to the above: What would they proudly admit, and what would they like to claim about themself?

☆ Hmmm… not a lot if we're being honest. Maybe their current profession as a farmhand/magica inspector. Or his kids ! He's real proud of those !... nd yeah nothing else.

- If caught in an inconsistency or a hypocrisy, how do they react? How would they go about fixing it, or alternatively, how would they go about denying and deconstructing it?

☆ Baltazar can't lie as per Celestial law, which makes them shake and blink compulsively to indicate them lying, but they ARE really good at wording actual facts into less conspicuous stuff. Loophole yay ! They don't often have to go back and fix their words, but if they do, they'll more often than not just add more stuff into the mix so it still won't TECHNICALLY be a lie, just a really over decorated truth. People buy it more often than not but if they don't, he just resorts to panic-gaslighting. Normal guy style.

- How much, and how deeply do they think about other characters' opinions that aren't about them specifically? For example if they knew one of their friends liked or disliked another person, how much thought do they give it?

☆ Baltazar values his friends' opinions and takes them to heart, so more often than not if his friends tell him someone is bad he'll try to keep a distance from them just until he can see if what his friends say it's true. Its a bad habit but they can't bring themselves to stop because of some codependency issues. Don't worry abouts it.

- Are they able to perform something 'Quick'? Do they prefer to sacrifice time over quality, or vice versa? How do they dispense effort per task?

☆ Oh absolutely. The switch between Baltazar's regular shy personality and their "performance" personality is like night and day. They learned how to do it early in their life so they could feel less anxious about Literally Everything, and now they do it on command. Balt, when he wants to be, is loud and unpredictable, really putting on a show for everyone around him so they don't notice how he's visibly shaking the entire time. Quality is important to him and he HATES having to do things out of the blue, often practicing several dozens of times before feeling he's got it down perfectly, but if time calls for it NOW then he's doing it NOW and he's doing it BIG. No halfwaysies we die like gods.

- How patient are they with themself vs. Others? Why, and how so?

(Small cw for suicide ment !)

☆ For everyone else, Baltazar is a saint. They can explain an instruction thousands of times in different ways just for someone to get it, and they'll be happy to assist in case they still need help, but with themself ??? Dude you might as well ask them to explode because there's nothing this man hates more than being understanding to themself. He messes up a single time and he's like "OK well guess you're too dumb nd stupid to do this even though you know how to. Fuckin idiot. Die now". He had to put a hex on himself to stop saying he's going to kill himself everytime he fails at something because it was disturbing other people. Normal style.

- How seriously do they carry other people's worries? How much does this impact their actions?

☆ They can't seriously be bothered to actually worry about themselves because of The Depression and such, but if other people express worry this guy would rather DIE than make them feel bad for not helping. Nooo girl I'm sorry I didn't take good care of myself and haven't slept for a week I'll do it right now ::( are you mad at me I'll explode for you if you want me to

- What would they Not want to change about themself? What parts of their self do they cling to, desperately? Even when those things would be already gone?

☆ This is actually kinda important in his later arc so I can't explain it too much but :3 heehoo.

- What would make them focus on themself more?

☆ People saying they want him to stop treating himself badly on purpose. It's literally like kryptonite to him. They feel SO bad having other people be worried for them so they immediately put in that extra effort to get the worry to stop.

- How do they tread around controversial opinions? Is it case by case, or depending on the company? In what way? Are they assured in their worldview or unsure? Are they open minded?

☆ Baltazar has been a punk by proxy since their conception like 3 million years ago before the word was even invented, so you bet your ass they're going to bring it up and be loud about it too. More often than not it comes up naturally and they talk about it but they're also just loud In General. His mind may be open but once something is in there it hardly ever gets out, so good luck trying to change his extremely concrete world view that has been Like That for hundreds of years now.

- How easily do they relate with other characters?

☆ He's (a little too) high empathy, so pretty easily all things considered ! Giving advice to everyone else is way easier than following it himself though...

Getting to know your character better

Here's some (hopefully) less basic things to think about when deepening your character.

- What would they be embarrassed to admit about themself? What would they deny about themself?

- Opposite to the above: What would they proudly admit, and what would they like to claim about themself?

- If caught in an inconsistency or a hypocrisy, how do they react? How would they go about fixing it, or alternatively, how would they go about denying and deconstructing it?

- How much, and how deeply do they think about other characters' opinions that aren't about them specifically? For example if they knew one of their friends liked or disliked another person, how much thought do they give it?

- Are they able to perform something 'Quick'? Do they prefer to sacrifice time over quality, or vice versa? How do they dispense effort per task?

- How patient are they with themself vs. Others? Why, and how so?

- How seriously do they carry other people's worries? How much does this impact their actions?

- What would make them focus on themself more?

- What would they Not want to change about themself? What parts of their self do they cling to, desperately? Even when those things would be already gone?

- Do they think of something as "Their thing", even though other people would disagree? Why so? Are they just not as open or upfront about it as they think? Or do they have gaps in self perception?

- Opposite of the above: Are there some things that others would consider "Their thing" in relation to your character, but they disagree? Why?

- How do they tread around controversial opinions? Is it case by case, or depending on company? In what way? Are they assured in their worldview or unsure? Are they open minded?

- How easily do they relate with other characters?

[curiousskelekitty]

Hey, I'm sleep deprived and blasted on weed, let's see the reasons why I think I'm autistic

I'm awakemd super from a super high nap. And it's by the smoke and smell of incenst and can't get back to sleep until incest was out and fan on

Eye contact? Either really focused on making it and not listening or focused on conversation and eyes Drifting away

Say exact same way of hello at job

And other things

Sensitive to wet and cold so much that made it part of her image

Staying awake to make this list

Even though I'm supe r high and running on 3 hors sleep, latte, and pizza and 4 hb eggs

Adhd 

Special interest in pokemon most of 26 year life

Creative

And loves child things like video game sand toys, special plush toys

And weird sex too

Like even when child me MASTURBAGED WITHOUT KNOW WHAT IT WAS

sorry tmi 

Holy ahky I discovered something abot me that I didn't know

Wow

Anyways

Loves reading

And loud music during loud lunch during hs

Sensitive to loud noises like toilet as child

An dlole sonic

Oh shit

It late

Waited blanket for win! Special as adult

Fighting slep to write this once again

Super shy

Talked in labg with sister when 

Adhd

Goes to speech therapy 

Because I don't talk

Or maybe lisp

Idk

Imaginary friends until second grade

First friend grade younger 

No friends in my grade until MIDLE SCHOOL

I think

Sorry no remember 

This list loooooong

Writing still very clean

Nose so dry

Oh shkt Don her 

He didn't say anything about me being up

I'm supposed to be asleep

Sh

lol

Argue with my self 

Like all the time

I even fight with my ocs

lol

Autism brain go

Special cartoon likeys 

Just explained idea for video for YouTube to boo and we might collaborate

My mouth so drunk 

Suuuuuper sensitive to socks on feet at night! Even in winter

But can't walk out iputaide without shoes 

Can feel EVERYTHKNG 

Loves swimming

BUT NOT RAIN

RAIN MAKE USBWEY

sinuses dry as hell  I can feel the air coming in my nose and down my throat

Hereditary 

Also likes anime and furries

Has phases of certain likes or Dislikes

Like love reading but then don't love reading

Hating spicy for most of life

But finding a love from some as long as there's flavors 

Mexico is so pretty

Making list like this

All the time

Will hypet focus on certain things for maybe a week

And it goes in curses 

Ow though hurt for typing 

Do stretches kids

Never admitted to watching porn whe her life insists of romances 

Daydreamer

Ever since litter

First lover

Cucumber Larry

When he gets suck on by giat alien ad hero

That turned me on

AS A KID IN CHURCH

not even four years old

wft

This might be really revealing about me and my life

…

Okay

This Is where I add more to the title of this video

To warn me of the dangers

Of whatever the fuck I'm on

Could probably make this list over 200 points 

Listn3s to music at night 

Might be slightly dyslexic 

Swimming

Vocal Stimson

When found out about stimming

Showed more stimming

So mad

Just took like 1 min to fix stimmong to swimming 

Make little songs whole life

Wow hide in DC bathroom. And sing sad songs to my self

Don't really to that anymore

Ah shit it's late

I need to pee

Sleeps with toys still

Like stuffed animals

Once could not fall sleep until Carla into toybox

Only woke up because got hot

BISEXUAL AD FUCK

when I was little I was looking g in the mirror and ask if I was more otm boy or girly Gil and decided I was in the middle

If that not nonbinary as FUCK than what is

Thinking g about if the video went famous and FIL saw and reacted

Whole family know

Please be warned 

Really sensitive about certain flavores in certain tempt

Those might go on Tumblr though

Incous make a lookout of people laugh 

And no one would know

Damn thos list loomg

STRETCH TIME

often godb what if whole world kno

I could go on and on

But I think I will conclude here 

Thank you everyone for reading

Good night

LoL

You wish

I'm very empathic

I forget words all the time

Especially with age

Always had bad memory

Selective hearing

Forms who they are around eho they with

But my baby let me be me❤️

Sinsirve tk sounds

I'm probably going to talk to my therapist about this list next week

Realized made horrible ablist joke in my head and realized it and was like tf why

Intrusive thoughts

Holly fuck

I can do this

And this

And

This 

So easily 

I love animals 

Dep3ndent and independent at the same time

Anxiety 

Depression 

I'm still making the list dumbadd

My bad

Too much of a topical thing like lotion makes me feel icky 

Hated mosquitoe spray because of sticky residue and smell

Hayes perfume

Sensitive to some smells, like perfume

Body pray okay tho

And candles

Loves sweets

LOVES TO READ

Can't focus on reading

Super aware of body

Hates being touched unexpected or by stranger

Said loved all colors and didn't have official favorite color until like first grade because didn't want to hurt other colors favorite

Still doesn't have least favorite color

"Lazy"

But I'm not suppsoes to coll me that

Realistic

Made day dreams befo3e bed every night

Had one going on for about a month

Googles everything 

Okay I'll go to 200

Then I'll go to sleep

Lover of computers when little

Still love them

Have several unwritten stories to tell, including like three books and three or more wannabe books

Wrote toriko slitty fanfiction church

Drew a the time

Sonic the hedged hog fan

Loves pun so much

Made up "Copper later" for funny goodbye

Lives all her sisters

And all bet peanut

Hates pumpkin guts and still hate the feeling of them

Picky eater

May13b first 2023

Special interest in music

Went into band for school ad a trumpet and played for most of life until high school graduates but was never good at it.

That sucks

I could've learned how to song better

Now that I realize my voice is good and can be better

Hates needles 

Squeamish 

Spiritual 

Loves crystals Spiritually

Believes in a carefree, unknowing god

Two more to go

AUTISM BLAST

Weird obsession with sex since really little

Oh shkt

Just remembered something

That I never told anyone! Fucm 

I won't tell you guys

Never

Okay 

Good night

I love you

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless female oc x frankie morales, nameless female oc x frankie morales rating: m ( mature ) warnings: language, angst word count: 3.0k+ summary: frankie wants to love her the best, but first he must see someone who loved her first to realize it notes: it is has been a hot minute since i wrote something and i’m sorry about this so here is something about my two favorites from the losing dogs universe

i won’t share you 

Frankie swallows his misery down with a gulp of his warm beer, and he watches her from across the room. She stands at the bar talking to someone she had introduced to him earlier that night; some tall, lean man in a nice button up and expensive slacks from another life. 

Brad. 

Frankie wishes he could forget his name, but it’s not so easy. 

Brad stares at her like Frankie’s never given himself the luxury of doing, not in places like this. Brad likes her, Frankie knows, just by watching. He also knows, from his too long observation of their fifteen-or-so-minute interaction, that Brad isn’t married. 

Frankie wishes he would’ve told Brad that she was his girlfriend, but he couldn’t, because she’s not. Frankie had promised himself that if she met someone like Brad—smart, handsome, tall, well adjusted—he would just be happy for her and let it be. Telling Brad that she was his wouldn’t be doing that, even if there was a grain of truth to be found in those words. 

He picks at the label of his beer and averts his gaze to the television on the wall. Some soccer game is on, but he’s too distracted by trying not to feel possessive to really see it. 

He has no reason to think this Brad character is anything more than someone she knows, because up until an hour ago, Frankie hadn’t even known of his existence. For being a good pal of hers, Brad isn’t on her wall photos and never makes his way into her stories. In all of her sordid tales of fucking boys who weren’t good for her, Brad’s not been mentioned once, either. As far as Frankie knows, Brad didn’t break her heart.

But then Frankie frowns, because he thinks maybe Brad is one of those men she doesn’t talk about much with him. There’s a handful of them, and he doesn’t know all of their names, but he knows details. 

There is a man named Earnest, who she fell in love with some time after college. She dated Earnest from when she was twenty-three until she was twenty-six. When she had met him, she thought he was her first step into adulthood. Earnest wasn’t that much older than her, maybe only shy of two years, but he had a real job and he didn’t make her sad in a way a lot of men made her sad. She calls him ‘Earn’ when she talks about him, and Frankie still hasn’t brought himself to ask what happened between them. He hates Earnest, but has done a good job not conveying this.  

Then there was another guy after Earnest. Frankie doesn’t know his name, only that she started dating him after she ran into him again when she lived in Chicago. He thinks she might’ve been in her late twenties by then. They dated for a little over a year, and whenever she talks about this guy, she smiles softly. She told Frankie that it was nice to find love again after Earnest, because she didn’t think she was going to be able to do that. Frankie hates this guy because she’s talked about him so little--so little that he doesn’t even know his name--and he knows that means it’s because she cares so much. 

This is how she speaks about him.

Frankie allows himself to look back at them, just for a second. He catches her eyes and she looks at him. She smiles like she’s really happy and Frankie wonders if this is how she looks when he’s talking to her. 

Remembering the phone in his pocket, Frankie takes it out. 

Going out for air. Be back in a little 

The message conveys none of the jealousy he possesses, and before he can add it, Frankie presses the send the button. He composes himself, because he’s a grown fucking man, and he exits the bar for the air his mind needs. 

——

It takes thirty minutes, but she comes. 

Frankie hadn’t meant to stay outside for so long, but one negative thought blended into another, and he thought it better to sit on the tailgate of his truck and wait it out. A part of him knew that she’d come find him. 

“Frankie,” she greets. 

Her voice betrays some disappointment, but Frankie doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hey,” he says back. “Where’s Brad?”

“Inside.” 

“Hm.” 

She leans against his truck. “It’s not like that with him, Francisco, just so you know.”

Frankie looks down at his feet. He wishes he smoked or something so he’d have something better to distract himself with. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Frankie shrugs. “I’m not in charge of what you do with yourself, honey.”

“Frankie.”

“I’m not mad at you or anything. I swear.”

She inches closer to him and he watches her carefully. When she stands in front of him and puts her hands on his knees, he spreads his legs for her body without thinking. 

“I know you aren’t.” Her fingers dance along his knees, and she doesn’t look up at him. “I was just worried. You said you’d be back soon and your soon turned into twenty minutes.”

“It’s stuffy in there.” Frankie shrugs. “I’m alright, really. If you want, you can go back.”

She shakes her head and sits on the tailgate next to him. “If it’s alright, Frankie, I’ll stay here with you.” 

He smiles. “That’s fine with me.”

She smiles back at him and leans forward to press her lips to his. Frankie holds her face in his palm when she does, and she holds onto his wrist.

“You don’t have to worry.”

He nods his head before leaning back on his arms. 

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods her head. “Anything.”

Frankie pauses and debates asking, but then she looks at him expectantly.  

“What happened between you and that guy named Earnest?”

“Earn fell out of love with me. He liked me and then he didn’t. Why?”

“And the guy after Earnest?” he says, not answering her. 

“Brad’s the guy after Earnest, Frankie,” she admits. “Brad and I were just kids when we were running around. He’s so different now.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” she mocks, nudging his shoulder. “I don’t care for him like that anymore. I just think about him. You think about people.”

“Like who?“

“Your ex-wife,” she answers simply. Frankie frowns. 

“She’s the mother of my child; of course I’m going to think of her. I see her all the time.”

“Even if she wasn’t, you would. A part of you will always love her, too, because that’s just the way life is. It’s not very fair, but at the same time, it’s kind of beautiful.“

Frankie tilts his head up. The sky is mostly clear tonight and the stars are out, but he’s not really paying attention to any of that. “It would help if he wasn’t so tall and good looking, you know.” 

She laughs in a way that makes him smile, despite how shitty he feels.  “He used to be more boyish and lanky.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better. If you liked him then, you’re sure to like him now.”

“He asked me to go home with him but I said no,” she admits. She leans back on her arms now too, a mirror reflection of Frankie. “I didn’t want to go home with him—I wanted to go home with you.”

Frankie nibbles at the inside of his cheek and thinks about how unfair he is to her. “I had hoped for that,” he says with some guilt wrought in his tone. “I know we make an effort not to speak on things like this, but I care for you a lot.”

He sits with that for a second before adding, “Love. I love you.”

He wishes he could be a little more like Brad. Brad’s loved her once and he wants to do it again. He looks at her like he used to love her—or like he always will. Frankie still tells his friends that she’s his friend. 

“I wish you would use that word when we weren’t in situations like this,” she tells him. She looks down. “Sometimes I sit there with you and you’re looking at me and I think ‘he’s going to say it. Surely he’s just going to say it’ and then you don’t. Then I think about the times you do, and it makes me feel bad, because usually it’s only when you’re fucking me, and then I remember that’s the only time I tell you that too. You’re the only guy I’ve done that with and a lot of them were only half as serious as I am about you.”

Frankie frowns. “Well we’re supposed to be friends. It’s upkeep for the image, I suppose.”

“Friends love each other too,” she says, quietly. 

“Yeah but not…not like that.”

She sits up straight and for a moment Frankie thinks she’s going to leave, but she only hangs her head and begins swinging her legs. “What are we going to do about that?” she says. She doesn’t look at him. 

Frankie doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think she really wants him to. 

After a moment, she turns her head back to look at him over her shoulder. “Do you want to come home with me?”

“Yeah,” Frankie says. He says that like Brad looks at her—like he loves her. Like he’s been waiting all his life for that question. 

When Frankie gets off the tailgate, he turns around to help her down. She takes his hand and she lands close to him. Her hand is on his chest. Frankie leans down and kisses her gently and she lets him, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

He feels like he should do something about this.

——

At her house, Frankie unlocks the front door for her. 

They’ve developed this sort of domestic routine: He drives home, like it’s theirs, not just hers, and she slips him the keys as they make their way up her steps. He opens the door for her, always, and she steps inside and turns on the hallway light for them. It’s like a dance they’ve perfected, each of them knowing their parts so well they don’t even have to look at each other to know what comes next. 

What comes next is always the peeling off of clothes as they make their way to the living room or her bedroom. too. Sometimes they do each other’s, and sometimes they take a long time to get it all off. Last weekend they fought in the kitchen about Thanksgiving before, because she’s going to her parents and she didn’t tell him. She asked him why he cared and he didn’t answer. It took them an extra thirty minutes, but they still had managed to sway themselves in the direction of her bedroom, where they got all of their anger out through not talking about it. 

Tonight, they undo their own buttons. She leaves her jacket on the back of the chair in the kitchen and he leaves his in the seat of it. 

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, opening the fridge. 

“Do you have any soda?”

“Coke and sprite.”

“Nah, actually.”

She turns around. “Those are sodas you like. I bought those for you.” 

He smiles. “I’m just not thirsty.”

She closes the fridge door and moves to the cabinet, where she takes down a shot glass and a bottle of tequila. Frankie watches, furrowing his brow, as she fills the glass up and shot guns it. She never fails to amaze him when it comes to the ease with which she can hold down American alcohol. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

She sits the glass in the sink. “I’m okay,” she responds. “Just needed something to take the edge off of tonight.” 

Frankie leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest. “What happened between you and Brad, honey?”

“Nothing. Just as much as I’ve told you already,” she says simply. “Brad and I met when we were working in Chicago at this really boring executive search firm or whatever, and we got on really well. I was working in the same building as him but on a different floor, and he was a recruiter for them and I was only a secretary. For being so young, he really had his shit together.”

“You liked men like that,” he says. There’s no malice behind that, but he frowns at himself anyways. “Sorry.”

She leans against the counter and faces him. “I did. I do.” She shrugs. “Anyways, we were together for about a year and a half and we stopped seeing each other when he left for California. He got a better job and I wasn’t ready to leave because I hadn’t been in Chicago that long. It hurt for a long time because I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t bring myself to…I don’t know, settle….adjust. I loved him, but I didn’t want to uproot my life for him, even if I didn’t even like Chicago that much.” 

She laughs softly, but it’s void of any sort of mirth. “In fact, after he left, it didn’t take me too long to leave after that. Probably a year. He used to call me for the first few months but I stopped answering. I thought he would get married or something.”

“And now he’s in Florida.”

“Business,” she clarifies. “He said he travels a lot now.” 

She zones out for a moment, looking somewhere beyond Frankie. Then she refocuses her attention. “It doesn’t matter though. It’s a once in a life sort of thing. That’s why I feel so weird about it.”

She gives Frankie a smile that is supposed to convince him that she’s telling the truth, but he knows she’s not. 

“It’s okay if you still have feelings for him,” he says. He feels his heart breaking as he does. 

“I don’t,” she’s quick to say. “I think I just…I think that I’ve just found myself stuck here. With you.”

He goes to say something, but she interrupts. 

“Not stuck. I don’t feel trapped. I’m just afraid to move forward or backwards with you. That’s not fair to either of us.“

“I don’t want to move backwards,” he tells her. He pushes himself off the wall and stands straight. “I…We.” He stops, frustrated at not being able to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. Me either.”

Frankie gives her an apologetic look, something to convey how truly sorry he is. She stands there looking just as sorry. He’s really afraid she’s going to tell him that it’s over. He swallows and tries to prepare himself for what he’ll do. 

He realizes he’s not exactly sure what he’ll do. 

He loves her. That used to be enough, but now it’s not even close. 

He doesn’t want to be like Earnest or Brad. Frankie hates those guys because they meant a lot to her, and he hates them because they were stupid enough to have lost her. He doesn’t want to be one of them. He doesn’t want his name to be a mystery, or to find himself looking at her the way Brad had earlier tonight, while someone like him sits on and sulks in the background. 

“I think we should move in together,” he offers. “It makes sense. I’m here all the time anyways.”

“Frankie—“

“No, I mean it,” he says. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I was never just your friend.” 

She looks at him like he’s lost his mind and he thinks maybe he has, but he doesn’t care, because it’s certainly not the first time, and it’s certainly not the worst one. This might even be the smartest fucking mistake he’s ever committed to. 

“Say something,” he urges. 

She looks dumbfounded. “This is a lot, Frankie. You’re—you’re not thinking right. You’re just scared.”

“I am,” he agrees, “but I’ve been thinking about something like this all night, and it’s apparent you have too. Let’s just fucking do it.”

She takes a moment to think it over, and Frankie watches her with intent. Each tweak in her facial expression has him raising his eyebrows in expectation. His heart beats rapidly in his chest.

“Okay,” she agrees. 

Her voice sort of quivers when she repeats it again, just loud enough for him to really hear her, but she smiles. 

Frankie wastes no time in rushing over to her and gathering her up in his arms. She leans into him willingly and he can hear her sniffle against his chest. 

He leans down to her ear and whispers, “I love you.”

This feels like the breathe of air he’s been trying to catch since he got back from that fucking trip all those years ago. He’s terrified, sure, because it’s been a long time since he’s shared so much of his life with anyone who was over the age of five, but he’s happy. Unexpectedly, Frankie is almost thrilled. 

Frankie presses his lips to hers and she clings onto the sides of his shirt like she always does, and he hopes she knows that beyond being terrified of losing her, he’s doing this because he’s in love with her and has been for longer than he’s said it. And that Brad, no matter how much he looks at her with that loving look, won’t know the depths of it. No man will or ever could. 

These men were phases in her life that have equated into the person she is today, but that’s just it—they were phases. He’s got the whole person, and she wants him too—wants him so much she’ll adjust her life. 

“I’ve wanted to be a grown up with you for so long, Francisco,” she tells him. She pulls back from his chest and he smiles at the sight of her, all red in the cheeks but smiling. “Please be kind to me.”

He gently runs his thumb across her bottom lip before nodding. “I’ll be the best goddamn roommate you’ve ever had, baby.”

How great it is to be loved like this, Frankie thinks, before kissing her again. He never thought he would have this again. 

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing iv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 105

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

Jungkook’s been to a total of two graduations his entire life—one was his middle school’s graduation that seemed more like a farewell party and his older brother’s college one. Now, he can say that he’s attended three. But he’s never felt like this—never felt dread to say a temporary goodbye to a face he’s been so accustomed to seeing.

Maybe that’s why he’s in such a sour mood as his peers hugged their seniors' goodbyes, smiles on their face while they engaged in chatter about the future. Jungkook’s always been hard on parting and today is no different. Especially with the constant reminders at every corner of the hallways, streams of red and blue painting the ceilings with a big fat ‘happy graduation to the seniors!’ Mocking him on his journey to his classes.

He almost wants to slap some sense into himself. Because why was he terrified for the beginning of a new chapter that wasn’t his story to tell? Why was he dreading the moment that the seniors collected their diplomas and walked off the stage; and out of his life?

But he doesn’t do that; because the fear is as addictive as the excitement he feels when he thinks of you. A conflicting and tortuous juxtaposition of the beautiful day for a valedictorian and her younger friend.

“Jungkook!” A voice calls, and when he turns he sees Taehyung barrelling towards him with two people trailing closely behind.

When Taehyung plummets into Jungkook’s chest with an oof, but all Jungkook can focus on; despite the ache in his chest, is you.

You’re so pretty. But that’s nothing new for Jungkook. However, you were smiling, soft and sweet like the person who stayed up during her finals to tutor Jungkook on math concepts and the same girl who supported him through his football trials in junior year.

But you were grown, and the robe was the testimony of your age and maturity—the level of intelligence that you possess only grew with time and now you were walking towards him with a sense of quiet assuredness that he’s always admired you for.

Jungkook’s sure he’s gaping but he’s never been able to control himself around you.

“Can you stop gawking at her already?” Taehyung complains, twisting the skin between Jungkook’s armpit in retaliation.

Jungkook burns but scowls at the older boy who simply snickers in response.

“I’m so glad you’re graduating.” Jungkook snaps.

Taehyung snorts, “If I go she goes.”

Jungkook purses his lips as he readies himself for another retort, but you arrive and the first thing he notices is how gentle you smell. His favourite scent in principle, a whiff of laundry detergent accompanied with the light floral perfume he remembers his mother gifting you for your birthday.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Jimin says when he greets the younger boy with a ruffle to his head.

Jungkook glowers in embarrassment as he tries to fight him off, and despite his shorter stature in height—Jimin was in fact, quite strong.

Regardless of his flustered state, you smile at him warmly and perhaps Jungkook is biased when it comes to you because he’s sure you’ve always smiled the same, but every tilt of your lips evoke an array of different feelings in Jungkook’s chest.

“The two of you are like dumb and dumber so no—not really. God knows he’s finally granted my wish for emancipation.” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung feigns offence with a hand to his chest, leaning his head against Jungkook’s shoulders while he rolls his eyes.

Then he remembers you, the girl who just smiles as the world will always do her good.

“But I’ll miss Noona, though.” He says, and he hopes the shakiness of his voice isn’t obvious. “She’s the only one that doesn’t tease me.”

You grin up at Jungkook, giggling when Jimin and Taehyung gape at the younger boy’s audacity.

“Yah. You call her Noona and not us Hyung?!” Taehyung screeches were loud enough for the group of you to wince at his loudness.

“Don’t forget that you would have never have met her if it weren’t for us, you brat.” Jimin reminds, though not maliciously.

Jungkook does thank the stars for them introducing him to you. Because he doubts otherwise you’d ever interact with him. You were always in your own bubble, tucked away in a safe space filled with your own sense of solace and comfort. And Jungkook admired that.

He liked being alone, but he never wanted to be lonely. You were a breath of fresh air when you taught him the lines between loneliness and being physically alone; and how you learnt to never conflate the two. You were independent and bright, but warm and welcoming—and Jungkook remembers that these feelings weren’t just a floor away anymore.

“Ignore them, Kook.” You sigh. “Gonna miss you too.”

Jungkook feels himself melt because you say it so sweetly and sincerely.

Taehyung and Jimin ruin his love-blurred lenses by gagging at your blatant display of affection towards the younger boy.

“The two of you are so gross.” Jimin groans, earning a nod from his other half.

You roll your eyes when all Jungkook does is flush at the insinuation.

“Unlike the two of you, we make the better and more rational pair.” You chastise. “Don’t we, Kook?”

And the nickname he’s grown to love though he has a love-hate relationship with it slips off your tongue and he finds himself agreeing with you.

“These two idiots are a quarter of a brain-cell combined on a good day,” Jungkook mutters.

You burst out into laughter, rubbing a calming hand onto his shoulder and he feels the dread come in. Because this was no longer something he could reach out to when you went to college.

“Whatever.” Jimin scoffs.

Then the PA system sounds, and the principal calls for the graduates to gather at the hall. And it represents all of Jungkook’s worries in an announcement and he’s not ready to let you go yet.

“That’s our call.” You declare, eyes darting to the other seniors who pull apart from their juniors to rush to the hall.

Jungkook’s eyes widen one last time before Jimin and Taehyung both wrap their arms around Jungkook tightly, murmuring a much more sincere and grateful remark than their previous chides. And he feels slightly bad that he can’t respond because his brain is far more focused on your lone figure, who eyes him with sad yet gentle eyes.

“You’ll come to our role call, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook gulps because all he can focus on is your face.

“Y-yeah. Course’.” He mumbles. He feels the need to say something—do something before people crowd you after it’s over. Jungkook would never stand a chance.

He seems rooted in his feet, Jimin and Taehyung already trailing off with their arms around each other and words of their future in the air. You smile at Jungkook—and it’s the same—but his hands reach out before he can think twice.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can leave, gulping to himself when you stare at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” You ask softly.

No, he’s not, because his heart is beating so fast and he doesn’t want this day to come to an end.

“I-I’m okay.” He chokes, “I just—don’t you have a parting gift for me?” Jungkook blurts before he can rationalise what the fuck did he even mean.

But Jungkook just stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights while you tilt your head at him endearingly. He hopes that his pulse doesn’t emanate from his grasp, but your wrist is small, and it feels just right in his palm.

Your lips are twitching as a grin threatens itself on your expression, and he sees the mischief in your eyes that come out every once in a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a gift, Jeon?” You tease, and Jungkook is so soft.

He snorts, a little glad that you didn’t point out his sudden grip on your wrist.

“But you’re leaving me.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes and take a step closer to him until you’re directly in front of him. And he sees your features up close and God—did he say you were pretty?—well because you’re even prettier up close and he loses all sense of thought when you’re smiling up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m always a call away.” You say softly, gently tugging at his hand; and it’s crazy to think that you were the same older girl that was usually timid reaching out to him in a way that was shy but so you.

Even with the chattering of other students, Jungkook only hears your subdued voice.

“It’s not the same.” Jungkook sighs, and he’s slightly aware that he was whining. But you don’t seem to be bothered.

“You’re probably going to forget about me.” You scoff and it’s light, but he can see the slight furrow of your brows. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. You’ll do great.” You add softly.

Jungkook purses his lips and wants to tell you that it wasn’t possible. You took up space in his life, both in school (well, not anymore) and in his mind. You and your wonderful mind.

“Says the valedictorian.” Jungkook huffs.

You pout, “You know that isn’t long-term. What if I just peak in high school and … you know …” You sigh, shaking your head, “I’m not outgoing like Jimin or a social butterfly like Taehyung. Neither am I as friendly and likeable like you are, Jungkook. I’m just … boring.”

Jungkook freezes because while he knew you were on the shier side; the louder than life tendencies you had were small but abundant. You didn’t need to speak louder than anyone in a room to get your points across, you were soft and empathetic and led people in organisations to see the good in the work they did.

Your genuine nature drew people in, even though you’d flush under attention and praise—and if Jungkook could—he’d scream it out to the world. But you were in front of him, and he figured that was enough.

“Don’t say that.” Jungkook snaps and his tone causes you to flinch as you stare at him with wide eyes, “Don’t … put yourself down like that. You’re great, _____. You’re intelligent and kind. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re boring. There are situations in this world that need people like you. There are people that find comfort in a quiet soul because you’re introspective and thoughtful. People like …”

Jungkook exhales when you stare at him so earnestly, and his ears turn red. “People like me. We need people like you in our lives.”

Your mouth falls open as you blatantly stare at Jungkook with wide eyes; he’s on the border of being absolutely mortified and running away so he wouldn’t be the subject of your obvious ogling.

But then a soft smile makes its way onto your face, and you’re tugging Jungkook by the hand and into a warm hug.

Despite him being younger than you, he’s always been taller and bigger than you were. And it was a sense of security he felt in your presence rather than your physical entity that would never be replaced with anything else.

“You really grew up, huh?” You say, a giggle in your chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but accepts the way you rest your head on his chest. He’s never had you this close before, and he hates that it’s on the day he needs to say goodbye.

“I’ve always been this way.” Jungkook answers. He also thinks: I’ve always been here. For you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You say softly, pulling away even though Jungkook wants to keep you close.

“Anytime.” He smiles widely at you, and a classmate of yours calls your name as you turn to give them a nod of acknowledgement before you’re turning back to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Here’s your gift.” You inform him.

“I was kidding—”

And before you can respond, you’re placing both hands on his shoulder and on your tippy-toes to deliver a kiss to his cheek.

Jungkook is stunned and he isn’t able to process it fast enough. But you’re already offering him an equally flustered smile with the tip of your ears turning red before you’re waving shyly and tittering off to the hall.

Jungkook blinks, and a hand reaches to touch his cheek.

He looks up, and groans—because how the hell was he going to survive high school now?

[nerdferatum]

hiii Sara! 10. shy kisses for anyone that you'd like! 💜

I'm so embarrassed by how long it took me to answer this, I'M SO SORRY 😭 uni and general life was a mess. And I'm also sorry because I ignored the premise of using OCs known to anyone so... Yeah, here you go my unedited 3am airport thoughts.

10. Shy kisses

It was another cloudy day in Paris when I decided to visit Versailles to add to my sketchbook. I had already gone once, not too long after moving to the city, but I didn’t consider it would be such a great place for wandering and drawing. Which was a big mistake, I realised, when I got to the gardens. So I intended to rectify my error, packing my sketchbooks, my portable palette and inks and a brush that contained water and set off. Drawing in public never was my thing, I got too nervous at the idea of judgement from strangers. That day, I was planning to get over that fear too. My art was supposed to be more important than that. But that was what being an artist means, I thought, exposing yourself to others’ evaluation. What a terrifying concept.

I followed the chateau’s route, eavesdropping on the guide’s explanations or audio guides passing next to me. The entry ticket was a big bite from my budget for the month, I refused to pay even more for one of those. My high schools’ focus on foreign languages was paying off. However, it was too crowded to draw comfortably, so, before I could realise, I was outside, in front of the ticket booths to the gardens. The humid weather deterred most tourists from going in just yet, they rather wait for some weak sunlight in the restaurant. I took a deep breath: it was my chance for some privacy in the maze.

It didn’t matter how many times I visited the place, its beauty would still shock me. It was difficult to actually feel alone with so many sculptures populating the place. At school, I wished to become a somewhat decent sculptor, but I was too clumsy, too impatient for it. I settled for the theory, for admiring from afar, marvelling at my classmates’ work, which I would draw when no one saw me.

I knew the maze was designed with passion and treason in mind, but it was the silence that trapped me in. It was the first time I could appreciate the overcast French sky since I arrived in the country. I sketched and inked statue after statue, painted fountains and analysed the delicate flowers blooming around me. It was easy to get lost in there, both literally and metaphorically. I don’t know how much time I spent looking at Achilles, Artemis and Proserpine and Pluto; I don’t know how many times I went through the same passages and I don’t know how long I worked there, in plain sight. It was there when I became conscious of what was missing in my life, the spark that slowly faded away while I tried to hang onto a structured life. I gave up trying to understand any of the maps and just wandered around. That’s when I saw it.

The statue was nothing special, considering every detail was thoroughly planned. I think I didn’t expect to see an actual representation of Galatea in marble, standing there as part of a circle of random deities and heroes. As any other square, it was empty, not even faint sounds of people went through the thick walls of greenery. Her gaze of empty eyes was fixated on me, sending a shiver down my spine. She had a hand up, as if she was waving while playing with her long, wavy hair. Only a long piece of fabric covered her over her shoulders, then draping around her hips. At her feet, two angry looking fish offered her some support. I walked up to her frowning, pulled in by the gentle smile on her round face. I couldn’t say then and I can’t say now what attracted me so strongly about that particular statue. Observing her, that tall, delicate, gracious marble, I could understand Pygmalion perfectly. I thought of all those pictures of people kissing sculptures that would continuously pop up and imagined what my portrait would look like next to Galatea.

I looked around. It didn’t seem that it was a popular route, less so that specific day, so I propped up my phone against my bag and improvised a tripod. I couldn’t stop thinking how stupid I would look if someone caught me there. I would probably get in trouble if security found me. And she was so incredibly tall on her pedestal… I climbed up, hesitant, stopping to rest on my knees. My heart was beating hard against my ribs so wildly that my chest hurt, but, when I glanced up, her eyes of stone struck me like lightning. I was paralysed, the rest of the world forgotten around me. I was unable to move and, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Something cold touched my cheek, giving back an ounce of life to my limbs so I could reach to that contact. Her hand moved down my face and tilted it up to her.

I got up slowly, as if I feared I could scare her away, even though the one looking like a panicked animal was only me. I lifted my hand, but didn’t touch her, not yet, not before she, who didn’t or shouldn’t exist, allowed me to. I caressed her with the tip of my fingers until I could trace the small shape of her lips. I couldn’t bring myself to stop and think, not when she was looking at me. I didn’t want to break the spell, whatever magic was working there, allowing stone to stare at me like that. I close the distance between us.

I don’t know how long I kissed her. I felt my body shivering under her touch, under the hands that lovingly pulled me close. In my stagnant world, she reached her hand to close it around my pounding heart. My chest was about to explode, but I wouldn’t step back. Between the mist, the skeleton of a thought was starting to take shape. Not only I understood Pygmalion and would have given my life away for another kiss like that, but I would never love nor would I be loved like that. My world wouldn’t stop for a kiss again and I couldn’t expect anyone else’s to do it either. I would never have that kind of power, I wouldn’t fit into any story made of passion and magic, of gods who pitied the mortals under them, of kings who achieve their dreams thanks to divine help. I could only hope to not forget the warmth of Galatea’s marble, who kindly granted me a kiss that lasted either a minute or a century, a taste of what I would never have. I was happy with that brief flash of glory.

[luminnara]

Flying On Wings Made From Feathers And Wax | Ganondorf x Gerudo!oc chapter 2

Part one | Part two | Part three

Growing up in the Gerudo Desert is hard. 

The sun is merciless, especially to the small. For someone like Ilula, it is draining, seemingly determined to exhaust her as it beats down on her during the day. It will never stop doing so, but at a young age, she learned how to deal with it. 

The others called her lazy, but she considered herself clever. Just like the lizards that liked to snooze while they sunned themselves, she took naps during the day. It wasn’t that the other Gerudo didn’t—naps were almost a necessity in such a hot environment, and it was common to see be back in an hour signs hanging on merchant stalls—but Ilula simply napped more than the rest of them. 

It concerned her mother greatly. 

Kiluki took her daughter to the best healer in town, the one who looked after the chief and royal family, hoping to find answers about Ilula’s small stature. Just like the Hylian healers, though, this one declared that Ilula was, for the most part, fine, she was just...small. Small, and a bit weak. For Kiluki, a tall, strong vai, who had once been a member of the Chief’s guard, Ilula’s relatively tiny stature and shortcomings were cause for major concern; she knew that many Gerudo never joined the guard, and to keep Gerudo Town running, they needed all sorts. But she wanted Ilula to follow in her footsteps, to become stronger and braver than even she, and Kiluki feared that it was a dream that could never be.

Ilula knew that her mother worked, but what could she possibly do about it? It wasn’t anything that she could control. She spent her days playing or helping Uvira sell her produce while her mother advised the Chief, trying to forget the way that she couldn’t reach things the other girls could. As she grew older, it became obvious that she would never hit a growth spurt, and while Ganondorf shot up like a weed, Ilula stayed at least a head shorter than the others her age. 

“C’mon, pipsqueak!” Ganondorf scooped her up one day, interrupting her midday nap.

“Gan!” She yelped in surprise as he threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” the prince grinned as he ran towards the palace. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got something to show you.”

Even at twelve years old, Ganondorf could carry her easily. He spent his days studying and training, his mother keeping a watchful eye over him and ensuring that her son would become strong and capable. While Ilula had already finished most of her schooling, knowing how to read and write and do simple math, the prince had many years of studies still ahead of him, his chambers lined with shelves full of thick books. Being royalty meant that he needed to know everything about the world, and he enjoyed reading about Hyrule and its politics and history. Ilula didn’t share quite as much appreciation for the Hylian kingdom neighboring the desert, but whenever he was reading, she had a chance to take a nice nap in his incredibly soft bed, and that was something she could absolutely appreciate. 

“It better not be stupid,” she grumbled with a yawn. “Interrupting me on my day off…”

“Day off from what?” He snorted. “You can’t even start real training until you’re twelve. That’s a whole month away.”

“So?” She argued.

“So you can’t possibly be too busy for me,” he rolled his eyes. “Sav’aaq!” He called to the guards at the top of the steps as he passed them. 

“Sav’aaq, my prince!” They snapped to attention, bowing their heads. “Ilula, sav’aaq.”

“Sav’aaq,” Ilula mumbled. She was used to the guards keeping watch over her and the prince, and they had all developed a certain fondness for Ganondorf’s runt of a friend. 

Ganondorf carried her through the throne room, past the chief and her advisors as they pored over a map of Hyrule. They bowed to him as he walked by and he grunted in acknowledgement, too focused on his task to stop and ask what they were doing. 

They allowed him to rush by without interruption. He only had a few years of childhood left before the burdens of leadership would fall on his shoulders, and his mother wished that he enjoyed his time as much as he could. He was growing into a fine young voe, the Sheikah prophecy a distant memory now, and As any voe, he should be enjoying the years of his youth as much as possible.

When he reached his chambers, he threw Ilula down onto his bed. She laughed as she bounced, sitting up to look at him as he grabbed a wooden box from his desk.

“Here,” he said, slightly out of breath as he pushed it into her hands. 

She took it, hearing something rattle inside. “What is it?”

“Just open it!”

With an inquisitive glance up at him, she slid the lid off the box. Inside, something was glimmering, reflecting the light of the desert sun that streamed in through the windows. As Ilula reached inside, she picked up a set of earrings, a teardrop-shaped sapphire hanging from each hook. 

“Oh, Gan,” she breathed, holding the jewelry in her palm as she stared down at it, “these are beautiful…”

He was watching her anxiously. “Do you like them?”

“I do!” She looked up at him with a wide smile. 

The prince let out the breath he had been holding, relieved. “Oh, good.”

“Did you have these made?” Ilula asked, peering closely at the stones. 

“I did,” he smiled. “Just for you. Well, actually, they were going to be a birthday present, but Amira finished them early. I couldn’t hold my tongue for an entire month.”

“This is the best early birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” she beamed up at him. “Thank you, Gan.”

“Oh, they’re not a birthday gift anymore,” he laughed. “I figured out something else for your birthday. These are just normal gifts now.”

Ilula raised an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t be spending so much time spoiling me, you know…”

“Or what?” He laughed. “You’re my best friend, Lula. You deserve gifts.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m not going to accept them,” she grinned at him as she stood and walked to the mirror on the wall. 

“I put a spell on them.” he blurted out. “To help you stay cool in the sun. Sapphires are good for that.”

She glanced back at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I had the jeweler make them and then I enchanted them. I’m supposed to be practicing, and I wanted to try it out…”

“I can’t believe you know magic,” Ilula said as she faced her reflection. “I wish I could put spells on things.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” he shrugged. 

“Shut up,” she laughed. “It’s a super big deal!”

He watched with a serene smile on his face as she took out the big gold hoops she was wearing and replaced them with her new earrings. Just as he had hoped, the bright blue sapphires contrasted perfectly with her fiery red hair…though the thick green band she used to keep it up off of her shoulders didn’t match at all. He made a mental note to add a new, nicer one to the small pile of birthday gifts he would be giving her in a few weeks. 

Ilula admired the way the sapphires hung from her pointed ears. She had to admit…Ganondorf had an eye for jewelry. Maybe it was because he had so much of it himself; as she looked at his reflection behind her, she could count no less than ten incredibly expensive precious stones on his head and arms alone. The perks of being a prince, she supposed.

When he noticed her watching her, he suddenly shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing away for a moment before looking down at his hands. 

“I’m, uh…glad you like them.” He mumbled. 

“Gan, don’t be sheepish,” Ilula laughed, turning to face him.

He looked up at her, hoping that she couldn’t see the blush on his face. She was the only person who ever made his skin heat up like that, the only Gerudo he ever wanted to be around, the only vai whose hand he wanted to hold. It confused him, the way he felt about his best friend, but he was headstrong and determined not to shy away from whatever he was beginning to feel. 

“I’ve never seen a sheep,” he chuckled. “What does sheepish mean?”

Ilula’s laughter grew louder as she plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked up at him. “They’re soft. Hylians cut their hair and make things with it. They look like fluffy little clouds with legs.”

Ganondorf grinned. “I can’t wait until I’m king and I can see all of Hyrule. I want to go to the castle, see the Hylians.”

“It’s a long walk,” Ilula said. “…well, Mama carried me most of the way, I think. I don’t really remember much of it. I know it rained a lot before we got to the outskirts, though.”

Ganondorf suddenly sighed and turned to the window. He walked towards it, placing his hands on the cool sandstone and leaning on them as he looked out over Gerudo Town and the wide, flat desert outside the gates. 

“What is it like there?” He asked, gazing towards the distant mountains that marked the Gerudo Highlands and the edge of Hyrule. 

Ilula frowned at his change in demeanor and stood to join him. “It’s…green. Everything is green, and you can smell all the plants. And there’s so much water, everywhere…when it rains, it isn’t like here. It just rains for a few hours, and then the sky clears up again, and the birds come back out.”

“It sounds…nice.” He admitted.

“It is,” she agreed. “You can just lean down and drink out of a stream if you’re thirsty. And if you’re hungry, there are apple trees all over! And fish in the rivers, and boar in the woods…”

“I like boar,” Ganondorf laughed.

“Yeah, they taste pretty good, I guess. When you add enough spices.” Ilula shrugged.

“No, not to eat!” He looked at her like she was crazy. “I like the way they look. Those big tusks…there are drawings of them in some of my books. I’ve always liked them.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re pretty cool.” Ilula giggled. “There are lots of other animals, too.”

“Life there must be easy.” He commented. “The Hylians have it all.”

“What do you mean?” Ilula frowned. “I thought you liked the desert.”

“I do, I just…wish we had things like grass and trees and forests. I wish we lived more comfortably.”

“You live very comfortably.” Ilula snorted. 

“What do you mean?” He looked down at her, nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Uh, all of this?” She gestures to the room around them. “The palace? You’re royalty. You hardly have to worry.”

“I have to think about our people!” He argued. “What’s Castle Town like?”

“Busy and big.” Ilula shrugged. “The streets are all made of stone, and there’s a big market where people from all over sell things. Mama didn’t let me go there very much, because of the way the Hylians are sometimes.”

Ganondorf looked down at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“They don’t really…trust Gerudo that much.” She folded her arms, hugging herself lightly. “They don’t treat the Rito or the Zora like Hylians, either, but they like them more than they like us.”

As Ganondorf listened, he considered her words. “I’m going to change that.”

“You’re going to change how they think?” She asked skeptically.

“I’m going to show them that they should respect us.” He said. 

“How?”

“Maybe I’ll…send them aid, if they have a natural disaster.” He thought out loud. “Or take a big delegation to visit the castle, or invite them here.”

“The king can’t enter Gerudo Town,” Ilula laughed. “You’re the only voe allowed. Remember, you spoiled prince?”

“Oh. Right.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m going to be in charge someday. I’ll have to figure out this whole diplomacy thing.”

Ilula smiled softly as she looked up at him. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”

He grinned down at her. “Only if you help me.”

She returned the grin. “Deal.”

“I don’t think I could handle the throne without you,” he bumped her with his shoulder, nearly throwing her into the wall. “I still have so much I have to learn.”

Ilula stumbled, but she didn’t fall like the last few times he had forgotten how big he was. “That’s why kings always have advisors. Nobody can run everything by themselves.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighed, his attention returning to the world outside his window. “I’ve got six whole years to figure it out, though.”

“Yeah, and it’ll be fine.” She tried to bump her shoulder into his arm with the same force that he had, but he didn’t budge. “Hey, seriously, are you made of rock?”

He barked a laugh. “No, I’m just bigger than you!”

“Well stop it!” She snapped, only half serious. “If you keep this up, you’re not even going to be able to see me!”

“Maybe you should just start catching up!” He retorted.

“I would if I could.” She rolled her eyes. “My mom keeps making me go to the healers to figure out why I’m so short. I keep trying to tell her that it’s not that big a deal, but she won’t listen.” 

As she spoke, her tone grew more serious, until it had Ganondorf frowning. “You’re fine.”

“That’s what I keep saying, but it doesn’t matter.” Ilula sighed. “She’s always worrying that I’m going to get hurt because I’m fragile. I always tell her that I’m not, and I know I’m not because you’re always throwing me down off the walls or into the aqueducts or whatever, but she just always gets mad and tells me to be more careful.”

“Do I ever hurt you?” Ganondorf asked, his eyes wide in alarm. 

“No, you don’t,” Ilula shook her head. “I’m serious, I’m not that fragile, but all she ever sees is me lagging behind everyone else. That’s why I want to start training with the guards, so I can show her that I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know, if you start training, you’ll be busy all the time…”

“Gan, they train literally right outside your window.” She rolled her eyes. “You won’t miss me. I’ll be right there.” 

“…oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“But I bet my mom is going to be all worried about me training, too.” She sighed. “Until i show her that I’m not some fragile little flower. You know, back in Castle Town, I was always the biggest kid. She didn’t worry as much back then.”

“Do you ever miss it there?” Ganondorf asked, studying her face. 

“Sometimes. I miss everything I could get at the market, and I do miss my father. But…I didn’t fit in there. I guess I don’t really fit in here, either.”

“Yes you do.” He nudged her with his elbow, gentler this time. “You’re Gerudo. You belong here, with your people. With me.”

Ilula smiled up at him. “I know, Gan. I think it’s less about the place, and more about who’s there. You know?”

He looked down at her, his heart fluttering in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah. I know.”

000

On Ilula’s twelfth birthday, she woke to the smell of meat cooking over the fire. As soon as her eyes were open, she remembered what day it was, and she shot out of bed to investigate the main room of the home she and her mother shared.

“Sav’otta, my little desert flower,” Auntie Uvira greeted her as she prepared breakfast over the small wok in the middle of the room. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” Ilula shrugged. “Where’s Mom?”

“Right here,” Kiluki appeared in the doorway, a parcel in her hands. 

Ilula eyed it. “Sav’otta, Mama.”

“Sav’otta, Ilula,” Kiluki smiled, holding the parcel out towards her. “Happy birthday.”

Ilula lunged for it excitedly, tearing the wrappings open while Uvira yelled at her to be mindful of the fire. 

As the brown paper fell away, airy pink fabric was revealed, and Ilula pulled out a bandeau top. Matching pants were next, made of a thin, breathable weave, and as she rushed back to her room to try the new outfit on, Kiluki smiled. 

“How do I look?” Ilula asked breathlessly when she returned, holding her arms out as she spun around to show it off.

“Oh, it’s stunning!” Uvira clapped.

“I think it suits you perfectly,” Kiluki nodded. “How is the fit?”

“I think it’s good. What’s for breakfast?” Ilula was buzzing with energy, bouncing over to look at what Uvira was cooking. 

“This is for later,” her aunt laughed as she sprinkled in some Goron spices. 

“We will be eating breakfast at the palace,” Kiluki informed her daughter. “That’s why I wanted to give you that gift first thing in the morning. You should look your best.”

Ilula grinned. Eating at the palace meant getting to see Ganondorf, and as she rushed to get ready, she wondered what sort of gifts he had in store for her. 

She found out soon after she walked through the impressive archway and approached the throne. The chief sat with her hands on its armrests, her back straight as she looked down at Ilula and Kiluki.

“The prince and queen mother are awaiting your arrival, Ilula,” she said, her voice firm and strong. “I would not keep them waiting. Kiluki, if I could have a quick word.”

Ilula glanced up at her mother in confusion, but when Kiluki waved her off, she was eager to run towards the dining hall. It was her birthday, after all, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about anything. Whatever the chief wanted wasn’t of her concern, and when she saw Ganondorf waiting for her with a pile of gifts, any and all thoughts about what her mother could possibly be needed for flew out the window.

“Happy birthday, Ilula,” Ganondorf’s mother, Mira, said, a smile on her face as she watched her son shove a box into Ilula’s arms.

The Gerudo royal family spared no expense. Ganondorf had given her a sapphire necklace, one that matched the earrings, and a ruby wrist cuff that he said would keep her warm at night when the desert winds pierced Gerudo Town. His eyes lit up at the sight of her happiness, and though he had certainly given her birthday gifts before, he was especially glad to see that all of his hard work and pondering over what to get had all paid off this year. He gave her a new sirwal, the light, baggy pair of pants a bright white with golden accents threaded throughout. Then came an assortment of her favorite candied fruits, a beautiful sand sealskin journal, and the biggest breakfast feast she had ever seen.

By the time the unwrapping was finished, the table was covered in a plethora of delicacies. Everything from platters of sliced hydromelons, to gourmet meats hunted in the highlands, to rare seafood brought all the way from the coast, was piled up and presented to Ilula. It was a lavish celebration, the kind usually reserved for holidays or royal birthdays, and with Kiluki returning from the throne room to partake, the festivities were finally truly underway. 

The adults drank as the children laughed and played. They were nearly too old to be doing so, both nearing the age at which they would begin training for adulthood, and one last romp before it all started seemed to be in order. The day was full of merriment and their spirits were high, and as the two tore out of the palace to get themselves into trouble elsewhere, Mira turned to Kiluki with a sigh. 

“He will be devastated,” she said.

“As will she.” Kiluki raised her cup to her lips and drank. 

“How long do you have?”

“I do not know.” Kiluki lifted her eyes. “Ryla did not say…all I know is that we are to return to Castle Town when she deems fit.”

“Why is she sending both of you?” Mira asked. “I hardly see the sense in taking Ilula away from her training.”

“I believe she wants us to keep up appearances.” Kiluki sighed. “Perhaps by the two of us seeming to return home, the Hylians will be less on edge.”

“Still…” Mira sighed again. “I am sure we will all be focused on our tasks, but your absence will be hard.”

“I only wish I knew when we would be leaving.” Kiluki frowned. “Ryla told me that it could be tomorrow, or in five years.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll be allowed to visit home…”

“I doubt it.”

“Not even if Ganondorf requests it?”

Kiluki pursed her lips. “Perhaps after he takes the throne, he will summon us back to Gerudo Town. I should hope he will see the value in placing me amongst the Hylians, though, and so close to the royal family…”

“Like a spitting sand cobra, nestled right within their own walls,” Mira chuckled. “You must do your job well, for Ryla to send you back again.”

“Yes, I suppose I must. Though it was easier back then.”

“Will you return to that voe?”

Kiluki wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps, if he is willing to see reason.”

“What did you even fight about?”

“Everything.” She shrugged. “Hylian voe have a single use. The rest of the time, they are wholly disagreeable.”

Mira threw her head back and laughed, the hearty sound echoing off the sandstone walls. “That they are! That they most certainly are.”

[oh-three]

Which of your guard series OC's is your favorite? How do you choose which SW races to assign to your characters?

Ooh, this one's tough.

I love them all ridiculously too much. Their personalities are different pieces to a puzzle that works in chaotic perfection (until it doesn't). I love Jurr for his quiet calm wisdom, Tindri in the way that she spices things up and adds event to a routine day, Linaleh in her protectiveness, Brakan in his shy friendliness, Vori for her undying enthusiasm and loyalty, Loktof in his gruff bluntness, and Trohr for his loss of innocence and how he grows to become confident again in the others' presence.

But to choose one of them as a favorite? That really is a touch question. I envy Jurr's wisdom and absolutely enjoy writing him, but writing Tindri is an absolute blast. She has that silliness that I wish I could have, and I envy her as my own character. She's the closest I can get to choosing a favorite, I suppose.

As for the way I chose their races, it was mostly me trying to feel out for what fit each of them best and me trying to go for diversity. I didn't want there to be too many humans, but I didn't want there to be too few of them either. How the three women ended up being the only humans among them, I don't even know.

I spent a lot of time looking at all of the sentient species on Wookieepedia, selecting some of my favorites and opening t hem in new tabs to read further about.

I took one look at the Tholothian species and knew that's who Jurr was. There's one image in particular that looked incredibly gentle, and from that moment on I just couldn't see Jurr as anything else.

For Trohr, I wanted a character with a tough appearance who had a delicateness to his personality. Devaronians fit the picture, and so that's what Trohr became. (Similar case for Brakan).

And, finally, for Loktof- I saw what a Shistavanen was, got excited about a space werewolf, and knew that one of those in Unit Arrel needed to be of this species. With Loktof's personality already written out, it just fell into place perfectly.

I actually came up with each of their races pretty early on, and that influenced the personalities of some of them. It added to Loktof and Jurr and Linaleh, and they all became so much more than I'd already had planned out. This goes for Rakesh as well, though much of him is based off of what we've seen of him in canon.

[leviskokoro]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ROMANCE!｜ACTOR AU

note/s :: In the Twisted Friends server, @rrasado and I keep talking about Actor AU so I figured that it might be good to post here as well

Maria Ambrosio is a new rising star in the film industry and she’s gaining fame quickly with her talent at acting and with Azul Ashengrotto as her manager.

Problem is, she’s rather unsatisfied with constantly being typecasted into “Damsel in Distress” roles or “Protagonist’s Mother that Immediately Dies in a Very Tragic Way” roles. Azul often tells her that taking these roles are necessary to get her name out there and rack up tons of cash. While she wishes for roles where she could be a strong female lead, she just grins and bears everything.

Vil Schoenheit is a veteran actor in the industry who has been acting since he was a child. He takes notice of Mari and realises that she has identical struggles as he did; So, he takes it upon himself to help her out.

Mari obviously returns the favor and they form a friendship built on mutual benefit, wanting each other to improve their skills. Mari tries to help Vil find protagonist roles with happy endings, Vil tries to teach her to have more of a backbone so that she can be more eligible for strong female lead roles.

The media and paparazzi notice their friendship and start mistaking it as a relationship. Azul also sees this and decides to capitalise this. He convinces Vil and Mari to start ✨fake dating✨

His reasoning was that since Vil is extremely popular as a veteran actor, hers own popularity would rise as well. Mari didn’t like the idea of using Vil like that, but Azul said that she could finally get the roles that they want.

He also manages to convince Vil and they start ✨fake dating✨

Azul was correct and their relationship ended up going viral. After that, roles started pouring in for Mari.

Her first lead female role was an angelic warrior and she did so well that that Rook, one of Vil’s makeup artists, had given her the nickname “Radiant Angel” and people started calling her that.

They started getting more and more roles together as the two grew closer due to having good chemistry

On their third movie together, they had to do a zombie movie and Mari had to be killed off by Vil because her character was bitten. She didn’t have any lines during that scene but before Vil shot her, she locked her eyes with his and whispered “I love you...”

The editors decided to keep it because it made the scene way more impactful

Vil started wondering about that line. She seemed so genuine about it and her eyes... Dear goodness her eyes. They sparkled with beauty when he looked at them at that moment.

Later after the movie came out in theatres, fans started to really ship them. One of those people being Phoebe Arrodas, @rrasado ‘s oc

She’s an editor who wishes to see a lot more scenes of those two together so she and Rook, Vil’s makeup artist, form a friendship around that.

Later on, Vil finally confronted Mari about that scene and she finally fully confessed that she’s liked him for a bit but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and accepted that he wouldn’t like her. He said that he’d like to go on a real date and see if her words would be true. Spoiler alert: he did like her a lot.

So the fake relationship turned into a real one and Azul is like hehe all according to plan in his mind. Him and Phoebe still hate each other in this au but he does want to get to know her more. He does and ends up developing a crush on her. Too bad she’s too busy shipping peacockwings together

The two were put in a movie together again amd to everyone’s surprise, they accepted the roles they usually didn’t like. But why could this be? Turns out, the movie is a gothic horror where the villain is a vampire who falls madly in love with the damsel in distress. He picks off her friends one by one and he dies at the last moment because of the damsel but she touches his cursed throne and turns evil, then she revives the villain and they live “happily ever after”

(Art is a commission by KEMM01 on deviantart)

Things are great for a while until the hype over the ship is starting to die down and Azul didn’t like that. So he decides to add more ✨drama✨ to their relationship by putting them in this movie adaptation of a wattpad book.

And it involves Leona. Because he and Leona’s manager, Ruggie, agreed to work together for that extra cash.

It was the typical story with a love triangle where the female lead is a shy and sweet girl (Mari) but has to choose between the Perfect Prince™ (Vil) or The Bad Boy with Baggage™ (Leona)

This all happens while Phoebe is out doing work abroad with Neige so she doesn’t notice. Azul distracts her from the news by bombarding her with peacockwings videos of them being sweet on set.

Mari ends up having to kiss Leona a lot and Vil is trying his hardest to stay professional.

“Did you like kissing him?” “Nooo... He was sloppy and his tongue felt weird.” “YOU USED TONGUE?!”

Mari’s character had a lot more scenes with Leona’s and even ended up choosing him by the end of the movie.

The movie was released later on while Phoebe was returning from abroad. Then— she noticed The Betrayal thanks to Rook telling her all the details, so she unfollowed Azul from all platforms. She only followed him for peacockwings content but she can’t ignore this.

Even more chaos happens between the characters so far. Leona and Mari became trending after the movie and it earned tons of shippers and publicity, which caused Phoebe to start going ham and making fanfiction. She refused to talk to anyone besides Vil and Mari. She also refused to rest.

Mari ended up having to focus on trying to get Phoebe to sleep properly while Vil and Leona brawled in the background.

Meanwhile, other characters have been watching this while eating popcorn.

[random-mha-thoughts]

No Idea (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Anon asked:  "yooo sketch was so cute and he was so in character! if you're taking requests could you write a fic where basically all of 1a is at the dorms besides the reader who's patrolling and she gets attacked by dabi and has to fight him off alone meanwhile 1a and dadzawa watch from the dorms via news channel? bonus points for a water quirk reader! you can match the reader up with either deku or bakugou!"

Genre: Action, angst/comfort

Word count: 2,005

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ 

a/n: Basically this entire ask is describing just a portion of what I’m preparing for my multi-chapter Todoroki fic that I’ve already teased about for my 500 followers special, you can call it maybe an alternate pathway, or a separate continuity that helps to characterize my OC.  And I guess this one is well-timed because I just hit 1K yesterday?? I don’t know how it happened either tbh There will be a special event and a separate mushy post to come, but thank you all so so so much from the bottom of my heart.

This ended up longer than I expected, but that’s okay because I haven’t posted in a few days and I had time today to bang it out in one sitting.  I know this request came from a fluff like Sketch, so I hope you also like angst because that’s my specialty ;) (not to mention I was waiting for someone to request something angsty because I’ve had that photo saved and ready to use it for the LONGEST time).  Thank you for requesting it anon!

"Kinda sucks being out on patrol on the weekend," I sigh to myself, biting into my taiyaki.  "But it isn't all bad I guess."

Mirko had called me out to do a quick patrol this weekend.  This part of the city has been pretty quiet lately, and I don't mind showing my face.  A few passerby's wave at me and I respond in kind.  I like this part of the job, being the hero that everyone knows, respects, and trusts to protect them.  It gives me more drive to save them in time of crises.

"Blue!" a middle school girl walks by and waves.

"Hi, Mina," I smile and wave back.  "Going home from cram school?"

"Yup!" she flashes me a toothy grin.  "Dad's making dinner tonight for once!  It's Mom's birthday!"

"That's wonderful," my smile softens.  "Wish her happy birthday for me, okay?  And get home quick before she worries!"

"I will!" the girl runs off down the sidewalk, waving behind her.

So cute, I think, watching her small figure weave through the crowd of people.  I swallow the last bite of my fish treat and continue on my patrol.  Thankfully, it's another laid back day: I direct a few lost pedestrians to their destinations, make small talk with more familiar faces, help a few elderly carry groceries to their houses, and the like.  I'm content with the mundane flow of a lazy Sunday afternoon.

While talking to a grocery store employee, a sudden explosion in the alley across the street breaks routine.

"Everyone get inside the nearest building or run as far as you can!" I scream out instructions to the citizens nearest to me as I keep an eye on the alley for the next explosion and help anyone within reach to look for cover.  That explosion wasn't normal, I know those blue flames like the back of my hand.

Looks like my Sunday stroll is over.  I dial on my phone as I thread through the frightened crowd toward the alley.  "Mirko san, I might need backup.  There's a very high possibility that the League is involved here, but I'll confirm-"

Right when I'm within a few yards of the alley's opening, another bright blue light flashes, triggering the surrounding crowd to scream and run away faster.  I assist a few others, waiting for the smoke to clear.  A silhouette appears amidst the dark fog, and I know exactly who it is.

"I'm confirming, it's-"

Before I can finish, the shadow stretches out its hand towards me and blasts flames straight at me.  Immediately, I put up a water shield in front of me, then start building it wider so the people near and behind me can get away without damage.  I already know what happens when something - or someone - touches those dangerous blue flames.

"It's-It's Dabi of the League," I force myself to say, the name burning as it rolls off my tongue.  "He appears to be alone."

"Roger.  Try to apprehend him by yourself before I get there!  I'll hurry over as soon as possible!" my mentor responds and cuts the call.

I make sure everyone within the immediate area is evacuated from the streets, scanning every inch wildly for stragglers.  Heat increases around the me suddenly, and darting my head back around shows the fire eating through my water defense without faltering.  Before it completely penetrates my defense, I jump over to the side behind a car, right before a giant hole is ripped in my shield.

I catch my breath calling the water back towards me into my water nodes and compartments in my hero suit.

"Looks like you've improved a lot since the last time I saw you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

His menacing yet familiar voice as he drags out my full name sends shivers up my spine.  Damn it, of all the villains, I had to face him!

"Aw, don't be shy now, I know you're happy to see me too."  His voice moves towards my left.  "We don't even get to see each other anymore."

"I'd prefer it that way," I snap, readying myself for another inevitable attack.

"You better give me a good fight, little one."

His voice-!

At the last second before hearing the crash, I jump out from in front of my cover, the intense heat from the blue flames just millimeters from burning my fingertips.  Dabi had jumped onto the top of the car, his voice being evenly split in both of ears signalling that he had moved from my left to right behind me in the nick of time or else I'd be ashes.

I finally got a good look at his face.  The stitches and staples etched into his face down to his chest and arms are all-too-familiar, along with his raven black hair and turquoise eyes.

"Reminiscing?" his head tilts, gravely voice taunting.  "I don't think you have time to do that."

I sprint off and around for more cover as he throws more fire pillars from his hands, trying to find a fire hydrant of water fountain to give me more material to work with.  Otherwise, I'm only limited to manipulating what's in the air and the stores in my costume.  To my dismay, there's nothing around.

All I have to do is slowly manipulate the water particles around him and condense them over his hands to stop his quirk temporarily.  That's the plan in my head that I'm going for.  But he's way ahead of me, predicting all my moves and constantly jumping to move away from where I've gathered the water particles and forcing me to start over, leaving me to dodge him and put some distance between us.

"I already know all your plans, you can't defeat me that easily by yourself," Dabi mocks me.

I'm at the end of my rope.  It's difficult to keep running and there just isn't enough water in the air to work for a fast attack.  I dodge another one of his attacks and wrack my brain to think of a different strategy.  My mind can only come up with one all or nothing plan, but if it doesn't work, I'll be done for quickly.

It's a risk I have to take.  I slowly start collecting as much water as I can into my suit and immediately around me.  Knock him out as quickly as possible, face him head on.  I take a deep breath.  My body shakes from exhaustion, anticipation, and fear.  I'll have to use my body's own water storage to help me, making this plan dangerous.

Right when Dabi's about to burn me at my new hiding spot I jump out and summon all the water I've stored to mobilize.  Drown him!  A sphere of water forms just around his head.  In his moment of shocked hesitation before he strikes, I force the water to go down his airway to suffocate him.  He catches wind of exactly what I'm doing somehow, raising his hands to send another blast at me.  I summon another set of water from my costume stores to surround his hands to keep the explosion tamed.  Come on, fall unconscious already!

But it's curtains for me.  He's summoning a larger blast to his hands, neutralizing my watery protection around them and I don't have enough stored up to replenish it.  Desperately, I start using up the water inside my body.  Damn it hurry up!  I can't-!

I feel myself reach my limit just as he completely disintegrates my water seal with an explosion, sending me flying backwards down the street until I roll to a stop.  I'm exhausted, I can feel my blood pressure and heart rate dropping, and I'm too weak to try anything else.

Through my dizzied vision, Dabi staggers towards me, coughing and sputtering.  "Damn kid, you really almost had me."

It didn't work, I'm a failure.  I don't have the energy to say anything back.

"Get your hands off her!" a female voice resounds, and stomps reverberate through the ground.

"That's my cue."  I crack open an eye to see him smirk down at me before using his quirk to lift himself off the ground.  "Until we meet again, (Y/n) (L/n)."  He rocket away without a hitch.

Damn it...

After waking up in the emergency ward attached to an IV for my severe dehydration, Mirko tells me Dabi got away and she rushed me right over to the hospital to treat me since I was unconscious.  They won't let me leave until I've replenished all my stores and my urine's clear.

"Also, your teacher's coming to get you," my mentor adds.

Aizawa is going to kill me.

"OI!  WHICH ROOM IS IT?!"

Oh for fuck's sake, I know who else is gonna kill me.

Bakugou stomps in, his head trying to be held back by Aizawa's capture weapon to no avail.

"YOU DUMBASS-!" my boyfriend starts off before the scarf comes over his mouth to muffle his screams.

"This is a hospital, control yourself," Aizawa grits at him deathly and walks next to my hospital bed.  "I guess you did the best you could, but I won't praise you for almost getting yourself killed.  It was a good strategy, it would've worked if you had backup."  He pats my head before smirking.  "Bakugou was about to cry when you collapsed."

"SENSEI!"

"I'll leave you two alone to talk."

Him and Mirko step outside the room, leaving my high-strung boyfriend to rush me.  "Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was, you dumbass?!  You almost got yourself kill, look where you ended up...!"

I drown out his screaming, noticing how bloodshot his crimson eyes are from crying.  He was so worried about me.  I reach my hand up weakly and touch his cheek, cutting his reprimanding screams off short suddenly.  If I had the tears to cry, I would.  Instead, I offer him a tired, melancholy stare of affection.  "I'm sorry," I manage out.  "I know I said I wouldn't use up my own body's water, but I didn't want to die, Katsuki."

The aggression melts away from him face and his hand reaches up to hold mine.  "I guess it was instinctive," he admits, closing his eyes and I feel him start to tremble.  "Why would you face a villain like that alone?"

"I called for backup-"

"You should've stalled for as long as you could!" he sobs out, gripping my hand tighter.

My own body starts to well up, feeling the tickle in my eyes but no tears can escape.  "I tried," is my soft reply.  "I'm sorry."

Bakugou envelopes my body in his, trembling warmth blanketing me with his high emotions.  "What would I have done without you?  When I saw you get hit by that explosion, I almost lost it.  Did you think about how I would feel if you pulled something like that and didn't survive it?"

I feebly return his embrace, tangling my fingers in his puffy hair to comfort the sobs wracking his body.  "I'm here, Katsuki.  I could have been in a worse condition, but I'm still here now."

His trembling and cries slow down to a calming end, and he remains wrapping me with his affection.  "You did well, except the almost dying thing, I guess.  I'm proud of you for holding your own as long as you did against a villain like him."

"Wow, a compliment?  You must have really been shaken up," I poke fun at him to lighten the mood.

"I can be nice..." he mumbles into my neck.  "You better drink a whole ton of water so we can go back together.  Everyone else is worried about you too."

My mind wanders back to Dabi.  I'll have to face him again eventually, and he knows what I'll try to do in the future.  I'll need to be ready.  But until then, I have a hotheaded Pomeranian boyfriend to comfort me from my past and build towards my - hopefully, our - future.

~

Sequel