#ill write something today

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – chapter one

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

status: ongoing

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two]

word count: 2.9k

The darkness lurched and a sensation of falling brought you back to your senses. There was a momentary confusion–as was the case after leaving the half-conscious state–but it didn’t take you long to piece the world back together. A shudder disturbed the panel beneath your feet and you felt the running tremor that followed accompanied by a low rumble you could barely hear through the stressing pressure in your ears. You blinked your eyes open and there was a rawness to them that made you squint, taking in a familiar scene that greeted you past the window as you did. 

A deep purple tint veiled the brilliance of the sun, casting the world into the cool calm of dusk, as the remainder of the day streaked the horizon with its fading light. You recognised the sloping silhouettes of the mountains that stood tall in the distance, seeming all the more greater against the early evening sky, comfortingly familiar and inviting in their grand stillness.

The intercom played a three-tone melody followed by a voice that filtered through the static.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Barcelona. The local time is six hours ahead of the Newark area, and it is currently approaching six in the evening. Please remain seated with your seatbelts on until the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign has been switched off. It has been our pleasure to serve you on this flight. Thank you, and a very good evening.”

In the moments that followed, chatter erupted all around you. Tearing your gaze away from the window, finally, you unbuckled your seatbelt but made no move to get up, opting instead to rest your cheek on your hand. 

The thing that made window seats great–apart from the view, of course–was the fact that people who were in no rush to get off the plane wouldn’t feel compelled to move to avoid obstructing other passengers. And you, who was normally eager to stretch your legs after a particularly long flight such as this one, very much needed another moment to gather yourself. So you watched on as the other passengers stood and shuffled about, opening and closing the overhead bins to retrieve their luggage.

A restlessness crept over you. It erupted from somewhere deep down your gut to your limbs, and the feeling had you longing to jump out of your seat–to run–but you stayed put. There you waited, drumming a rhythm with your fingers against your thigh as your other leg bounced to the same chaotic pace. And without any bidding, the scenes you’d thought of before you sank into the nap you’d just woken up from flashed through your mind, relentless in their effort to tear you apart again.

You craned your neck to the side to see through the window. Somewhere at the far side of the airport, a yellow light flashed from a parked plane. It reminded you of fireflies and–

No.

You halted the memory and instead resorted to counting the number of times it blinked to keep your mind occupied.

“Excuse me, is everything okay?”

You blinked.

Turning away from the window to the direction of the voice, you saw an attendant looking at you with a curious expression. 

“Yes,” you stuttered out. 

Behind her you noticed that all of the seats were empty, and probably for quite some time now, so you gave her a quick apology when you stood to gather your belongings. You began for the exit after closing the overhead cabin but the stewardess stopped you again with another question. 

“You’re a professional footballer?”

You looked at her over your shoulder. Your surprise at her question must have been clear on your face because she looked down at your duffel bag and then back at you with just a hint of amusement by the way her brow was lifted.

Oh. You forgot about that.

You hefted your Barça bag over your shoulder as you replied, “Uh, yeah. Are you much of a fan?” 

“I love it. Love watching and playing it whenever I can. I’m more of a Madridista, though.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at your dry humor but without any hint of offense.

The both of you continued to the exit. 

“What position do you play?”

“Keeper.”

“Very cute. How long have you been playing for Barça?”

“I’m just newly transferred, actually.”

By this point, the both of you had arrived at the plane’s open door.

“Oh, really? Well, I wish you all the best for your season. And I hope this doesn’t come across as unprofessional but is it okay if I asked you for a picture?” 

“Thank you. And no, not at all.”

After you posed for the photo, she thanked you. You felt her fingers brush over yours as she took back her phone before she sent you a playful wink. Her beauty attracted you, yes, and years ago such blatant advances from a fine woman would’ve been received warmly by you but not anymore–especially not today. So instead, you gave her a polite, almost apologetic, nod and parted ways with a small smile as you shuffled out of the plane.

It was a haze, your journey through the gates, the baggage reclaim zone, and the checkpoints. The lights and images melted together in one big blur, the noises coalesced to a low drone, before the world focused again when your phone screen lit up. 

‘I’m in the arrival hall,’ it said.

Despite yourself, your heartbeat picked up upon seeing it and a familiar restlessness made you shiver. You shook your head, rolling your luggage towards the arrival hall, tapping your thumb against the handle of your roller, the strap of your duffel bag clutched tightly in your other hand. 

With every step, your heart jumped in anticipation. 

You turned the corner and your chest stilled. 

And at the sight you beheld, you were gone. It was like you were seventeen all over again.

To you, it was as if the world became brighter, the colors and shapes now sharper, and she was the light that made everything that much clearer. 

A thought rang clear in your mind, Oh, god, she’s right there.  And she’s so beautiful.

She was leaning back against one of the columns that lined the terminal, the darkness of her outfit a stark contrast against the white paint which made her all the more easier to spot. Her eyes were trained on her phone as she tapped away at it with a small, soft smile adorning her face; that, for some reason, made your heart ache. A few locks of her hair escaped the hold of her ear and they framed her face in such a way that made her look inviting and at the same time accentuated that air of untouchability that seemed to be always present around her. Some people recognised her as they walked past, their heads turning and fingers pointing, but none of them seemed to be inclined to disturb her, which you were grateful for.

Just one more minute, one more moment. You wanted to take her in as she was for just that bit longer. 

It was as if she sensed you because, not a second later, she looked up to scan the crowd briefly, and then you were locked in her gaze. There was still quite a distance left between the two of you but even from where you stood, you saw her face lit up to a beaming grin as she met your eyes. She tucked her phone into her back pocket and gingerly pushed off from the column to approach you, sidestepping the people in her way with ease. 

The next thing you knew, the familiar scent of wintergreen and mint, mixed with the faint sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla, washed over your senses. And the warm weight of her arms and body was all you could think about–could feel. Then a peck branded your cheek that left them feeling heated despite the dampness of her hair against your skin there.

Squinting through the sudden rawness of your eyes, you wrapped your arms around the strength of her, looping them around her waist as your hands found purchase on the small of her back. You hid your face in the safety of her neck, just like you’d done many times over the years. Like this, it was as if the two of you were still best of friends. Like you still knew each other like you used to. 

“Hello, pretty girl,” she breathed against your ear. “Welcome back.”

As she said this, you knew in your mind–believed–that you were finally home. And the thought was enough to steal and return your breath to you.

You whispered.

“It’s good to be home, Alexia.”

———

The car ride was silent. It had started to drizzle not long ago and it had grown heavy enough that Alexia needed to turn the windshield wipers on. The wipers made a steady rhythm when they met the hood of the car and made a slight squeaking noise as they moved up and down the windshield–two of the few sounds that made the air in the car bearable.

The world outside the passenger side’s window had devolved to blobs and blurs from the droplets that clung to the glass. Still, you kept your gaze there as guilt gnawed at your gut the same way you worked your lower lip between your teeth. 

The thing was, the walk to the car wasn’t bad at all. The both of you had chatted while Alexia led you to where she parked her car, your duffel bag hoisted casually over her shoulder despite your protests. But the moment the doors of her car slammed shut, so did you–it was as if all the weight of the past few months–exacerbated by the restless plane ride, finally hit you. 

And to Alexia’s credit, she’d done everything she could to remove the silence. She asked you about your flight (again) and when that didn’t work, she began to talk football. She asked you about your last season, about how you won your league and wondered about how that must’ve felt like for you. Alexia briefly turned the topic to Barça and sprinkled in some funny stories she hadn’t told you over the sparse messages you’d exchanged that you reacted to. You were just about to settle into the conversation when she inquired about your negotiations with the club and how you felt about returning to Barça; she solicited the reason that made you inclined to come back. At that, you clammed up again. Alexia didn’t seem to notice because she began to mention things you used to do or like–things she didn’t know you didn’t do nor like now–in the quest to get you talking.

For each question she asked, you’d given her back the same kind of nothing: a yes, a no, a hum. The simple drizzle had turned to steady rain pattering against the roof, and the calming sound did nothing to ease the growing tension in the car. Despite the desire to engage in a conversation with Alexia, it was as if all of your thoughts–or at least the capacity to string them together–were hiding behind the dark curtain of your mind, the heavy veil tailored from the same fabric that weighed in your chest. Weariness pervaded your bones and your soul, and it exhausted you past the point of exchanging pleasantries and niceness, a task now seemingly impossible.

So you excused yourself from the conversation. You told her it was jet lag. Alexia nodded in understanding, but the light in her eyes had dimmed, and she trained them on the road with deliberate focus, her lips tightening to a line fit for silence. 

Despite not having spent time with her like you used to the last two years you’d been away, the language of her face and body was still familiar to you–and how could they not when they’d carve themselves into the tissues of your mind?–enough to know that she wasn’t convinced at all with what you said. Because maybe, just maybe, you were to her as she was to you: familiar.

The thought provided little comfort, and the guilt felt heavier, another stone dropped into the pitcher.

And the feeling gave way to another thought, unpleasant in the way it told you what you already knew. Alexia took time to drive you to your apartment instead of resting for tomorrow’s practice, and this was how you treat her? How nice.

Then another.

Just like how you treated Olivia, right?

Your eyes closed from the sting that followed, a stitch torn from a newly-sewn wound. And you tried to prevent yourself from crying, but the darkness only served to rub salt to the cut as it made the fleeting images clearer and the words ever louder.

“I’m so stupid! So stupid…”

“Go. Please, just go. You won’t find happiness here.”

A touch to your arm startled you back to the present. The jostle from the gasp you let out was enough to make a tear fall, and you turned to Alexia who already had her eyes on you; her face graced with concern and a question. 

The car had stopped, and now parked outside of your apartment complex.

“What’s wrong?” Came the gentle question. 

Your heart lurched at the look she laid upon you, followed by an ache, a longing for the old times–back when you used to tell each other everything. But how could you tell her about this? About what led to this? When the fire from that night remained, glowing patiently as an ember in the dark, waiting for the wind to call her name again–to set her aflame again?

Another tear escaped your eye before you could turn away, which you brushed off with the back of your hand before you met Alexia’s gaze again.

“Nothing. I’m just–I’m sorry for being a bitch.” You said with a small, apologetic smile. 

Alexia traced some invisible path along your face, regarding you with a pensive look. The moment took long enough that you considered she’d press you for information. Instead, she teased softly with a half-smile, “Don’t worry about it. What else is new?”

Your shoulders eased down a bit.

“Still a smart-mouth, I see,” you laughed with more than a bit of air, “Indeed, what else is new?”

At that, Alexia chuckled with you but the pressing silence returned. 

Then Alexia sighed.

“How long has it been since we’ve played together?” 

Her brows knitted together at her own question as she leaned back against her seat, putting her hands behind her head which pulled the sleeves of her shirt up just enough to reveal the tattoo on the underside of her arm.

You casted your eyes aside, your gaze fleeting to the unlit window of your apartment.

A memory intruded your mind again.

“I’m not sure,” you half-whispered. 

“Two years.” Something in her tone told that she knew that you knew, but she didn’t call you out on it. But it seemed she was more inclined to call you out on something you said a long time ago. “I hope you’ve made peace with whatever made you leave all the way to the States of all places.”

You looked at her. Alexia’s brow was raised in silent expectation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on.”

“‘Come on’, what?”

“You were offered a place in Lyon–in Bayern. Bayern! When I heard you were leaving, I went, ‘That’s it. Bayern has her’. Imagine my surprise when you said you were going to America.” Alexia scoffed as she gestured in the air with her hands for emphasis. A pause before she continued, “Now, tell me why you really went away.”

“I already told you.”

“Yeah. What was it you said? ‘I’ve always wanted to see what the competition is like there��? For someone who talked about Neuer and Bayern all the time second to Barça, it always made me think how and when the NWSL crossed your mind.” 

Guess you don’t know me that well then.

You bit your tongue before you could say it. Instead, you shrugged and sighed, hunching forward so you could rest your elbows on your knees, fingers clasping together as you twiddled your thumbs. “If you don’t want to believe what I said, that’s up to you. I stand by it.”

Alexia regarded you with that same deciphering look she’d been giving you the whole night. And as if she finally understood that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with you, she shook her head and sank back down in her seat.

“Indulge me, then. Tell me, what’s the verdict?” Alexia drawled, dripping with thinly-veiled sarcasm. 

It wasn’t like home.

“Really appreciate the judgment all over your tone, Alexia.” You replied drily then added, “And it was great, thank you very much.”

Alexia tilted her chin up to release a laugh. A strand of her hair fell out of place and she brushed it back with a finger.

“Well, you should tell me more about how you enjoyed yourself, then. I’m sure you have a lot of stories to tell.” You heard the unspoken words, ‘Stories you never bothered to tell me through the phone or during the instances we’d met during the time you were away.’

I would’ve enjoyed it better if you were there.

“Where do you want me to begin?” If Alexia heard the weary sigh in your tone, she made no indication she did. 

“I don’t know. Where do you want to start?”

I went away because of you.

“At this point, we’ll be here all night.” You laughed.

Alexia chuckled, and then softly she said, “Just tell me anything then.”

Distance didn’t work. My heart is still yours.

You hummed, thinking of a story, as you finally eased back on your seat and then you began. 

“Well…”

[delta-piscium]

Steddie | 1.7k words it is (swedish) midsummer so I wrote this based on my favorite old tradition because I can and will make anything steddie, so like glad midsommar (happy midsummer)

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he follows Eddie to the hallway where he’s frantically putting on his shoes. 

“I almost forgot,” he mutters under his breath not acknowledging Steve at all.

“Forgot what?” 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says a little louder, more adamant.

He does look up at Steve then and almost looks surprised to see him. As if he’d forgotten he was there, as if they haven’t been hanging out for hours. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uhm,” he squints at Steve who waits for him to continue, to explain. He doesn’t.

“Yes?” Steve implores because he would really like an explanation. Eddie had just abruptly stood up halfway through telling Steve about some folklore he’s using in his new campaign, just cut himself off mid-sentence and walked off. Steve doesn’t think it’s especially weird or demanding of him to have questions. 

“Did you have other plans that you just now remembered?” Steve frowns, starting to feel unsure when Eddie still isn’t saying anything. It’s just past eleven at night and Steve doesn’t know what plans those would be but he had showed up unannounced earlier in the evening so it’s not impossible that Eddie had plans that Steve interrupted. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie assures him finally breaking his silence, “it’s- okay it’s a little silly but I read this thing researching and I want to try it.” 

And well, okay then.

Steve raises his eyebrows and waves his hand gesturing for Eddie to go on. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light pink and he resolutely looks somewhere above Steve’s shoulder instead of at him. 

“Midsummer, which is today, is supposed to be this magical night and there are all these traditions and old myths about it.” 

Eddie glances at Steve and he smiles. Tries to show he’s listening and wants to know whatever thing Eddie read about. 

“And well, okay so there’s this one tradition where you pick seven different kinds of flowers before you go to bed and then put them under your pillow and you’re supposed to dream about who you’re gonna spend your life with.” 

Steve blinks, wasn’t expecting that and doesn’t know what to say about it, so, he blinks again. 

“Maybe it’s dumb, but with all we’ve seen magic and folklore don’t seem so far-fetched and,” he shrugs, “I wanna try. And like, it’s close to midnight and I don’t know if that’s a rule but I don’t wanna risk messing it up.”

“It- huh,” Steve frowns slightly and looks at his shoes then back at Eddie. “Yeah alright, let’s do it. Can’t hurt right?” 

His voice is light, like it’s not a big deal and just a fun thing Eddie read about because that’s what it is, isn’t it? But something about it settles deep in Steve’s gut. Makes it feel important in a way he’s not sure he could explain if he tried. Maybe it’s just the fact that Eddie is getting so worked up about the possibility of dreaming about the person he’s gonna spend his life with when Steve maybe a little bit wishes it would be him, but like, only a little. 

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes like he didn’t expect Steve to want to join, like maybe he expected Steve to make fun of him for wanting to do it. But then something seems to switch in him and a slow smile spreads over his face and he gives Steve an exaggerated once over. 

“Looking to find your true love huh, Harrington?” 

“I thought you said it was the person you spend your life with, not the same as true love necessarily.” Steve quips back because technicalities are easier to argue over than answering that question, especially when Eddie is the one asking.

Eddie shrugs. “Different sources say different things, sometimes it’s true love sometimes it’s who you marry.” 

“Well, then I guess we’re both looking to find our true loves?” Steve hedges, drags Eddie down with him if they’re gonna go there. 

A soft look passes Eddie’s face before a responds, voice quieter. “Guess we are, yeah.” 

They pick their flowers in silence, something about the magic being broken if you speak. Walking around the edge of the woods behind Eddie’s trailer a couple of feet apart, every once in a while coming together or crossing paths. 

After, Steve stands in between Eddie’s trailer and his own car. Holding on to his bouquet of seven flowers unsure what to do. He could go home, he should go home, but he doesn’t want to. He did have some beers hours ago and if he was allowed to speak he’d use that as an excuse to not drive and ask Eddie to crash on his couch. Right now he can’t though so he sighs inwardly and turns to his car. 

He makes it about two steps before a hand reaches out and grips him around his free wrist stopping him. When he turns around Eddie is giving him a look that very clearly says ‘stop being stupid’ and jerks his head towards the trailer silently telling Steve to go with him. He doesn’t let go though and uses his grip on Steve to drag him along like he can’t be sure Steve will actually listen and follow. As if Steve would ever not follow Eddie. 

They quickly get ready for bed. And again when Steve walks toward the couch Eddie grabs him and shakes his head. He waves his arms around a bit like that’s supposed to explain anything but Steve isn’t too bothered about an explanation anyways and easily follows Eddie to his bedroom. 

They’ve shared a bed before but always when they’ve been drunk or high so this feels different. Steve is a little glad they can’t speak or he’s sure he’d blurt out something way too revealing about it all. 

He avoids looking at Eddie as he tucks his flowers in under his pillow, knows Eddie is doing the same next to him. Is aware of it only being an old myth from a region halfway across the world but there’s a weight to it. Something real and tangible. 

He expects it to take a while for him to fall asleep like it always does. For him to twist and turn and lay awake until the early morning. For once though, that doesn’t happen. With the weight of Eddie next to him and to the sounds of his soft breathing and small movements, Steve falls asleep.

And he dreams. He dreams of big brown eyes and bright laughter. Of wild hair and warm arms embracing him. He dreams of growing old next to someone and how every wrinkle on their face tells a story of their shared love. 

He wants to stay in the dream forever, desperately tries to hold onto it even as he floats into consciousness. He turns and groans, gets a mess of someone’s hair in his mouth and nose and that’s enough to startle him into full wakefulness. 

Eddie grumbles next to him, clearly also just waking up. Steve looks at him, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes that are slowly blinking open and of course. Of course, it was Eddie he dreamed about.

Their eyes meet and Eddie freezes. Eyes widening as he looks back at Steve. 

“Oh,” he says. 

And yeah, oh.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, unsure of how to bring it up, to ask about it. If he even should? 

He puts on a teasing smile, even though he feels like goo inside, but making it lighthearted is all he can think of because what if he’s taking this whole thing way too seriously? Jumping to conclusions? 

“Dream of anyone?” 

Eddie nods and looks away, “I did.” He says it simply, voice careful. 

And maybe it isn’t just Steve.

“Who?” He asks, dropping the teasing tone. 

Eddie swallows and looks back at Steve. “The person I wanted to dream of,” he says and it’s not really an answer but he’s looking at Steve so intently he thinks it still might be. 

He thinks about Eddie’s quiet but delighted surprise at Steve wanting to join him yesterday. About Eddie dragging him first into his trailer and then into his bed. How they’re so close on Steve’s side of the bed and Eddie must have drifted towards him in his sleep.

He bites his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide, there’s still a chance he’s misinterpreting things, “yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And who would that be?” Steve asks, leaning in even closer until he feels Eddie’s small puffs of breath across his face. 

“You,” Eddie whispers but Steve hears it clearly. 

He takes a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over him before he responds.

“That’s good,” Steve tells him eventually and Eddie’s eyes are so wide and open, and so pretty, “because I dreamt of you.” 

He knows it’s cheesy so he doesn’t give Eddie time to respond, just leans in and closes the remaining gap between them. Slots their lips together. Eddie gasps into the kiss, grabs Steve by the hair, and pulls him in. Makes all these cute noises that make Steve want and want and want. 

He shifts, goes to put his leg in between Eddie’s to move on top of him and get a better angle. But he only gets halfway before Eddie grabs his hips and twists them around. Pushes Steve flat on his back and straddles him. 

He grins down at Steve. 

“You think the Scandinavian magic worked or was it just dream psychology and wishful thinking?” 

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, way too earnestly. But like, they’ve just spent this whole time doing some true love magic so he thinks it’s fine, “got what I wanted.” 

“It’s forever though,” Eddie points out, bending down to bite at Steve’s jaw, “if we believe the old Norse people.” 

Steve hears the question there, thinks this might be Eddie’s way of asking what this means to Steve. His way of telling Steve this isn’t just a hookup for him.

“God yeah,” Steve exhales, “I fucking hope so.” 

He feels Eddie smile into his neck and grabs his hair, uses it to pull him back and steer him into another kiss. 

[triglycercule]

yall who cast reverse animal themes on my horror and dust,,, why we got BUNNY horror and PUPPY dust

ok but on a real note i was DYING drawing this. i cant believe its my first time drawing the 1 of the trio in a maid dress!!!! id like to thank underfella and calvateyla for inspiring me; i wouldn't have graduated from shit art college without you guys ❤️💜 (inspo) (SOMEONE GET THIS DOG OUT OF HERE DUST HAS A FUCKING CHAINED COLLAR???? 💀💀💀)

i didn't know what to do for the background either so i just added funny photos. HERE. yes its a coincidence the memes are both horror and dust themed i totally didn't plan that

[shywhumpauthor]

Whump aesthetic of the day: a Whumpee having a coughing fit, but it’s so bad they can’t manage to inhale which makes it so they can’t cough right which only makes them need to cough more so they’re stuck in this awful cycle of choking on their own spit and breath

[taradactyls]

Progress Update: Trying to Tread Water

TLDR: Hopefully an update tomorrow night.

I was so certain I was going to get SOMETHING out tonight, but the toddlers decided tonight was the first time in weeks that they would not go to sleep. It's 10pm. We just got one to sleep. The other remains awake.

IMMEDIATELY after writing that the awake boy climbed over the bed head and tried to do a somersault on top of his sleeping brother. Sleepy boy somehow slept through it, and fingers crossed the awake boy will allow himself to fall asleep this time. He's SO tired every time we go back in to resettle him but he just isn't having it tonight.

Which is about how the last few hours have gone. I haven't even been able to do one full proof read without having to stop a child trying to climb the blinds, pull their mattress off the bed, or escape their room.

So, basically, keep an eye out for something (not as much as I had hoped) tomorrow night.

[dnangelic]

list of my personal canon divergences because i feel like this'll come in handy in the future. for somebody!!

--- i don't take anything from the anime. i can't emphasize this enough. what i write has nothing to do with the dn anime. even if you remember literally nothing else about my portrayal at least remember this. the anime didn't do anything particularly interesting that i care to implement heavily into my portrayal so i don't. the exception to this would be recognizing the anime-verse as a separate universe as the decade drama cds did, which i'm happy to involve for the sake of duplicate interactions. dupes are canon to dn, but the dn anime is not canon to my blog.

--- this one's in my rules but my daisuke is single by default. he still confessed, transformed, and was turned down by risa on his birthday, but he's past the point of overly pining for her for a bit like in canon and has finally accepted in his heart that risa will never like him in that way. they are still friends, (daisuke doesn't hate risa, there isn't any grudge between them, i'm firm about this,) and any interactions with any riku that happens to show up will also be taken as a friends first basis rather than auto-shipping. the same applies to dark; i'll let him string risa along similarly to the way he does in canon, but nothing can ever become 'official' between them for as long as daisuke isn't taken into account by risa herself.

--- likewise many canon events (such as the manga's towa arc or azumano land date arc) can be reframed and adjusted to be platonic happenings instead of expressly romantic. towa, argentine, baku, (alongside other non-manga canon artworks/characters like idea, the snowqueen, as well as sagami + maho) are included in my portrayal. i do not adhere strictly to 'one' line of canon and consider the light novels' and drama cds' happenings as varied incidents across the manga's overall timeline; my daisuke can and will recollect these incidents and bring them up if thread circumstances call for it.

--- my daisuke's transformations are triggered by all forms of love in tandem with his heartbeat, ie platonic, sensual, not just romantic or from just 'one person'. i put a lot of emphasis on daisuke being an agape lover so this is a particularly important divergence to me. personally. for the themes.

--- ^ going with that all canon homophobic dark is nixed from anything i write. idk why sugisaki was shopping for homophobia in the visual kei aisle but it's stupid. it's stupid and outdated. 'oh but he's a perv and has to focus on extending the niwa family line with descendants it makes sense he prefers women and is homop-' IT'S DUMB!! LEAVE THAT IN THE 90S!!! that being said my portrayal of dark in particular is x-gender. my pronoun usage for him is usually only he/him solely because he is, first and foremost an ore-sama character and it's funny to have an ore-sama ojou-sama in my head. his feelings of romance are also nigh expressly controlled by daisuke, junko/dn light novel style. he might seem to have a verbal femme lean but trust us if daisuke decides a guy is hot dark has no choice but to say okay i guess we're kissing boys now and he will enjoy it

--- along with that i don't really care for how sugisaki seemed to waffle so much with deciding whether or not dark was his own individual or a proper part of daisuke in the manga, so i lean towards junko's style of handling them instead. dark's feelings are either outright echoes or inversions of daisuke's, daisuke's feelings are either echoes or inversions of dark's. they're always in sync at their core and share bodies, feelings, memories, struggles, etc, and heavily, HEAVILY influence one another in operation whether they're individually asleep or conscious. 'daisuke' will always hold 'dark' within him and his words and actions just as 'dark' will always hold 'daisuke' within him and his words and actions. this is one of the most difficult parts of my muse to explain, but basically: they ARE the same singular character at their depths, just not always superficially.

--- in canon dark immediately disappears and goes to sleep after a niwa's romance is fulfilled, thereby 'lifting' the niwa curse. for my portrayal, dark doesn't do any of that and lingers on with daisuke even after any reciprocation. even though this can be easily explained in-verse by saying that daisuke and dark have already inextricably 'merged' into one another, (and… because daisuke was truly the first niwa to wholly accept and understand dark into himself/give himself and his life up to dark, they really have,) it's really mostly because i don't think any sort of extended interactions rp-wise with daisuke stuck missing dark from himself constantly would be any interesting, and i like it better for both dark and daisuke to be accepted as they are; as in, each other. del toro vc the monster doesn't need to turn into a boring fucking prince to be loved. i also just think it's rlly funny to watch people put up with the most embarrassing bf in the world (dark.) sugisaki was afraid of having a monster bird boy bf polycule in action but frankly i'm not. you get two in one.

--- my dark's appearance is (arguably?) canon divergent. his eyes will always be "daisuke's red" (instead of occasionally...randomly... purple) to go along with the fact that he and daisuke are meant to 'look at things with the same eyes([in the same way.])' his canines are sharper and pronounced giving them a fanged look, his eyes are always slit,(unless it's daisuke simply in a wig/disguise) and he does have the natural ability to extend his nails into talons/claws. he doesn't have fingerprints, his palm lines are faded/removed giving his hands a marble statue-like appearance, and his body temperature is always extremely cold. this is another important divergence to Me and it's not just to make him freaky monster hot (though it does do that yes tru) but also to put more emphasis on his operation as a beauty and the beast, beast archetype character. he is very NOT human no matter how deceptively close he gets to looking it; this is sad for both him (who wants to be human) and daisuke (who doesn't want to be a monster.)

--- for the wings in particular here's my wing meta. tldr though, wiz can still be used as a spare set of wings like in canon, but dark/daisuke have their own. in canon they're magic so they can just kinda materialize at will sometimes, but in my portrayal, they're very real and come from daisuke's back splitting open in a freak fashion. they can be touched, they can be held, etc, etc, love and gently brush your weird bird boy today.

--- daisuke being able to properly isekai and world jump (even through the arts) is technically canon divergent, but it works so well with him thereby becoming thematically a literal 'fallen angel' from 'another world' that i refuse to give it up. here's shoujo satan from my middleschool romance manga come to rapture your fine arts back to heaven/hell azumano.

--- this one's moreso for the future and i'll come back to revise this post depending on what ends up released, but if sugisaki decides to fuck around with post-canon for her new upcoming series, i probably won't care. my post canon verse will very likely remain as it is.

[satorisoup]

UWAHHH hello friends !!ヾ(*'▽'*) i am officially back from my hiatus !! thank you soso much to everyone for the kind wishes, i love you all soso dearly !! <3

i’m sending all of you so many warm hugs and big smoochies !! :3 i hope you all have the bestest day, and if u are able to, you get to see some pretty fireworks !! MWUUUUAH !! <3

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

(A little continuation of Muscle Memory, anyone?)

-

The day went well, more or less - only one little ol' fire, and it was put out practically right away! Honestly, Tango probably wouldn't even have remembered it happened if not for the way Jimmy's brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down as he frowned at the scorch marks inside the microwave.

"I don't know what happened! I could have sworn I - " Jimmy turned his head and coughed into his elbow. "I really thought the pizza was already in there. Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay!" Tango nudged Jimmy's shoulder with his own. Skizz glanced over from where he was locking the door and flipping the sign to 'closed' before grabbing the mop. "You did amazing. We would have been in so much trouble without you."

He expected Jimmy to smile. He didn't expect the smile to feel so weak, to fail to reach those bright hazel eyes that were usually so determined.

"I could have been a lot faster," said Jimmy. "Forgot what I was doing a couple of times, and that definitely slowed you down. You and Skizz work so hard, and I just - "

Skizz leaned the mop against the wall and took Jimmy's face in both his hands, squishing his cheeks. "You stop that right now! You are an integral part of this kitchen, an excellent chef, and - woah, you're kind of hot, dude, are you okay?"

"Heh." Jimmy's smile was a little more genuine now, but the flush on his face wasn't from Skizz's words. "Bro, right in front of my rancher?"

It was Tango's turn to frown, mentally kicking himself for not realizing sooner that something was up. When Skizz let go, Tango put a hand on Jimmy's forehead, confirming for himself what was wrong. "You should have said something if you weren't feeling well. We could have done without you for a little bit. I mean, not well, because you're a superstar, but we could have managed."

"I'm fine, really," Jimmy insisted. "I'm just a little, tiny bit - um. Maybe a lot bit dizzy." He let his head fall forward onto Tango's shoulder. "Didn't want to be a bother," he mumbled.

"Hoh boy. You wanna get him home while I finish up here, Top?" Skizz looked as worried as Tango felt.

"I can still help clean up!" Jimmy straightened back up, trying to look as alert as possible, but whatever illness was about to hit him was catching up fast now that he didn't have the urgency of a busy restaurant to keep him moving. "I can't leave you to do all the work when you two already do so much more than - "

"Jimmy. You work just as hard as we do, maybe harder," said Tango firmly. "You are not a bother. There isn't much left to do, and Skizz can handle the rest of it just fine, okay? Let us take care of you."

Tango knew from his own experience that telling Jimmy to stop thinking like that would be ineffective. He knew from his own experience that it might take him a while to truly believe the compliments, if he ever did at all - but it didn't matter. Tango would remind Jimmy of his worth a hundred times a day for a hundred years if he had to.

"Okay," said Jimmy in a small voice. "Can - can we get some ginger ale on the way?"

Tango smiled. "Yeah, we can do that. Wanna veg on the couch and watch some bad movies?"

Jimmy nodded, looking absolutely miserable now that he wasn't trying to hide it, and Tango wanted to have him bundled in a blanket ten minutes ago. Skizz shooed them out, assuring Jimmy that he would be fine, honest, he just had to finish the mopping and a couple of dishes and he would be right behind them, and if Jimmy didn't stop fretting and leave right now then he was going to be carried home.

"Gosh, I think he means it," grinned Jimmy, letting Tango take his hand and pull him out of the restaurant.

"Oh, he does," said Tango with his own grin. "Impulse tried the same thing as you, once. And I do mean once. Skizz scooped him up like a sack of potatoes and dumped him in bed. The look on his face was priceless."

His grin faded a little when Jimmy's laugh turned into a cough, and it wasn't long before he had him safely home and tucked against his side while they flipped through TV channels. The restaurant would have to be closed for a few days - Skizz could handle closing up on his own, but running the entire place by himself was too much to ask. Tango was sure Jimmy would insist he was fine on his own, but he wasn't going to hear of it, and he knew Skizz would agree.

"You're not a bother," he whispered against Jimmy's forehead, even though Jimmy had dozed off at least three cheesy plot developments ago. A hundred times a day, if he had to; whatever it took to re-train the muscle memory of Jimmy's self-depreciation into self-worth instead.

}{ Part Three }{

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[sophiethewitch1]

far distant and incredibly vague spoilers for www but putting it under the cut anyways

realising for some reason that at some point in all 3 wips im currently working on you get imprisoned. i would say i dont know what that says about me but i do i really do know what it says

[shhroomer]

Dude! Please I gotta hear more about your little lady 🤲

☆ Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

☆ Who would your OC say is their best friend?

Dude !!! Always happy to see you in my inbox 🫶 ahh thank you sm for the enthusiasm!!

oh man these are some hard questions!! im still trying to figure out the characterization for some of them, so the dynamics might be subject to change. Regardless, oh boy you might have to brace yourself for this one, I fear it's going to be long......... (i havent written it yet but im going to preemptively cut just in case)

☆ Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

that someone is Craig!! He wouldn't like Hanh at first because she's often involved with the M4's shenanigans, and assumed she was either a. a wimpy pushover because of her shy nature or b. just as bad as them lmao. On the other end, Hanh thought that Craig was nothing but a troublemaker with how often he got sent to the Principal's office and assumed he was a meanie with how often he'd clash with her friends. She'd misinterpret his direct and pragmatic comments as being malicious, and while she does agree with a lot of his points, she thinks that his words could use more tact.

However, over time they'd both realize that they had misconceptions about each other: Hanh would come to realize that Craig's reasons for being sent to the principal's office is usually never on purpose or for malicious reasons, and that he never actively looked for trouble. That, and that most of the time, his criticisms towards her friends were completely justified LMAOO. Meanwhile, Craig would find out that Hanh's not as much of a pushover as he thought she was, and that she reprimands the M4 just as much as he does.

which, segues nicely into:

☆ Who would your OC say is their best friend?

also Craig!!!

After they get over that little hurdle, they come to learn a lot from each other! I imagine that Hanh would often give Craig advice on how to talk to Tweek, esp when it comes to the more emotional situations where Craig's more prone to problem solve, and over time he'd learn how to be gentler and kinder in general! On the flipside, Craig would teach Hanh how to be more confident in herself by getting her to be more direct. Craig's honesty is also something Hanh will always appreciate, because it's something she can always rely on without second guessing herself or look for any double meanings. She can always reliably trust that his monotone and deadpan ass will always tell her the truth.

I imagine Craig would ask Hanh what she sees in Stan's gang, only for her to reply with "they make me laugh."

I kind of headcanon that Craig to be this super tall, stoic, kind of intimidating (mostly thanks to his height) kinda guy that people are kinda scared of and avoid. In reality, he's just as much of a loser as any other guy. And with Hanh being short af (standing at a whopping 153cm/5 foot), I think it's a pretty funny visual contrast lol, especially with their very differing personalities (imagine that one picture of the guy going "someone will die" and the other person going "of fun!" thats them)

I also love the headcanon of Craig having braces, so I wanted both of them to share the pain of wearing braces together!! I imagine Hanh being self conscious of having to come to school with braces. She'd probably get a bit of teasing, but then lo and behold: Craig Tucker with braces, to which no one has the balls to say anything about it because he can and would fuck you up (i mean he boxed tweek after all!!). So, by proxy, no one made fun of Hanh for her braces either! Anyways they bond over shared pain and the wires tightening their teeth <3

oh and he also taught her how to flip people off and swear at people lol. the guys made a bet to see who could get Hanh to swear (bonus points if she flipped someone off) and he was the one who ended up winning 30$ that day.

Now, this is where I predict it's going to be long because Craig's not her only best friend: there's also Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Wendy!!

For Kyle,

They both respect each other a lot! Him and Hanh both have very strong moral compasses, and often times they'll find themselves on the same side and agreeing with each other on a lot of things, seeing as they're both very compassionate and caring people.

Although she's usually non-confrontational, whenever it involves Hanh's friends getting hurt unjustifiably, it's like there's a switch that gets flipped. She'll turn a complete 180 and make sure whatever needs to be done gets done (even if it means getting into a fight), which is something Kyle really appreciates about her. Especially if it's moments where she'll defend Kyle from Cartman's comments that go too far. If there was to be anyone he'd have a lot of respect for and find to be on equal footing with (other than maybe Stan and Wendy), it would be Hanh.

Similarly to Craig, I imagine that Kyle would try his best to help build Hanh's assertiveness and support her in her studies, and Hanh would in turn help keep Kyle's cool and give him advice on how to manage his emotions. They've both got each others' backs, essentially.

Whenever Hanh falls asleep in class due to staying up late, Kyle will often take notes for her

I think she'd also help Kyle be a little less uptight at times. Granted, she's guilty of this too and is often very prone to overthinking/freaking out, where just one thing going wrong in her schedule could derail her whole day. Despite this, she also has a very silly, goofy and happy-go-lucky side to her, so whenever that comes out it helps him loosen up a bit haha

They're also both the most studious out of Stan's gang, so they often do study sessions together. There's definitely a very small rivalry between them (which is completely one-sided on Kyle's side, btw. I imagine that he's at least the littlest bit competitive over grades, but Hanh does not give a fuck lmao). Sheila loves it when she comes over. Most of the moms, actually. They think Hanh's the right influence the boys need to balance out their stupidity lol

Speaking of stupidity, they're the most likely to take the responsibility of making sure their group doesn't get hurt/into trouble. Sometimes, it's just Kyle (though those moments are rare). And smetimes, it's just Hanh who takes on the role of the girl who's surrounded by a bunch of idiotic, immature guys, lol. Even Kyle can sometimes be susceptible to "boys will be boys," guys.

She also adores Ike! Hanh loves reading bedtime stories to him and playing Minecraft with both brothers! So that's bonus points in Kyle's book. Hilariously, I think it would be the funniest thing if Kyle was just terrible at Minecraft, so both Hanh and Ike would just dunk on him for being bad at the game HAHAHA

theyre both level 106 in hay day

I think Hanh would also really trust Kyle's judgement. He's not the smartest kid in class for nothing, after all. I'm imagining moments where if she's ever skeptical on joining on one of the M4's escapades, usually all she needs is Kyle's approval before begrudgingly sighing and tagging along HAHA

He's also much bossier than she is, so she's ok with just passively and silently following orders from him (from the others too, but Kyle's especially because of what I said above). Though, the same goes for Kyle as well: He trusts Hanh just as much as she trusts him, even if he doesn't actively show it.

They're both incredible yappers, Kyle moreso than her. Though, she doesn't mind taking on the listener role that much.

Both of them would also relate to kind of being the "outcasts" in the sense that they're always missing out on the thing that's mainstream (see: Kyle always being late to the Chinpokomon trend and him going against the metrosexual trend, etc.). I think it'd be the funniest thing too if both of them didn't know how to dap people LMAOOOO so they just spend a whole evening practicing how to dap each other up, only to realize that they can't even get a good dap up because both of their hands have hand sizes that are too different from one another.

I also think it would be super cute if they bonded over their "weird" lunchbox foods (on days where they don't buy from the cafeteria). Totally not me projecting my second generation immigrant experiences.

oh and he's the type to hug her right after a basketball practice: sweat and all. very gross, as intended.

As for Stan,

they'd bond over hating their dads, lol

Because both Stan and Hanh are very emotional people, they have a very close bond, often feeling like they're the only ones who can understand each other. They'd both be able to vent to each other about school, their issues, their depression, etc.

They also both get to see each other in their cringiest phases: for Stan, it was his goth phase, and for Hanh it was her weeb phase LMAOOO (they both tease each other about it constantly since they've both seen each other at their lowests and they know they're both losers anyway)

Speaking of goth phase, Hanh helps him paint his nails black!! he reluctantly asked for her advice because she has a lot of experience painting nails (thanks to her mom working at a nail salon), and she decided she needed to take it upon herself to teach him how to apply it the nail polish cleanly LMAO

They're both also very creative!! Hanh will often go over to Stan's house where they just hang out in each other's presence, where Stan's working on a new song and Hanh's just doodling something. Sometimes she'll use Stan as pose reference.

Stan would teach Hanh how to play some of his favorite board games (albeit with a lot of struggle), and she'd give him tips on how to better paint his Warhammer figurines.

both of them are also hoarders, lol

I also headcanon Stan as being pretty chronically online, so doomscrolling, on discord, the whole package. On late nights when Hanh's writing an essay that's due the next day, she'll often text/call him on discord because she knows he'd be awake super late.

THE BIGGEST CRIMSON DAWN FAN!!! absolutely gives her 100% when it comes to supporting his artistic endeavours, and also thinks his music and the concept of being in a band is just the coolest thing in the world.

Always sending each other new songs that they like, even if they both have vastly different tastes haha

Her and Kyle often have studying sessions along with Stan (and sometimes Kenny if he decides to tag along) where they both struggle to teach these two lol

Stan's more of a listener than a yapper, but they both have long back and forths. He prefers to be the listener more often though.

And then Kenny, oh sweet Kenny.

Hanh always tries to include Kenny in the conversation, because she notices how often he gets left out and she knows what it's like to feel left out!! it sucks!! It's something he always appreciates a lot about her

And despite being a huge yapper, Hanh always makes sure to get Kenny's input and encourages him to talk more! Especially when it comes to his own issues, because she notices that he often keeps his problems to himself and internalizes all of it, and she wants him to know that she can someone he can lean on.

He also makes her laugh the hardest. And she hates that she laughs at everything he says because sometimes it's the stupidest shit ever LOLL especially if it's stupid perverted jokes

Loves loves loves Karen. Absolutely adores her presence and often encourages Kenny to let her tag along so they can hang out!

Hanh's also a huge gift-giver, and she'll often bake stuff for her friends, but she always gives Kenny more to take home!

Always her treat when they go out to eat! Especially when it's Kenny, it's not something she wants to make a big deal out of. It's never out of pity, and it's always just because she loves sharing food with her friends! Sometimes she'll even pack extra in her lunch to share with him.

Calls Kenny "Princess" even outside of the Stick Of Truth larping game they play, because it's cute!!

Both Kenny and Hanh are very selfless and kind people, and it's something they appreciate about the other.

And then finally there's my girl, Wendy!!

Something something, girls with black hair who can fuck up cartman gotta stick together.

I don't think Wendy and Hanh would be as close as the other boys, but there's definitely a strong bond between the two, for a lot of the same reasons as Kyle.

Wendy's a girls' girl!! So of course it's only natural. Lots of bonding over feminism and the likes. Y'know, just girl things <3

Wendy would be the one to teach Hanh how to do stuff like makeup along with Bebe.

Ahhh I need to think more about their dynamic, especially she's my favorite girl in the show!! Even if they don't always have the same interests, one thing's for sure: they've always got each others' backs!!

This is also just a general thing that Hanh does, but she loves being physically affectionate with her friends!! So expect a lot of handholding and hugs for everyone! (which ends up leading to a lot of funny mutual pining shenanigans lmao)

[oceanmaxxing]

randy but shes a girl ❤️ like she was meant to be

[holographicbutch]

I love abe as a character so much. They picked the most socially awkward pushover to be their resistance leader

[lupismaris]

..

[mirrortouchedsea]

You don’t have to say anything, Icchan, we can just enjoy the sunset if you want. Yes, that sounds nice. The two of them settle in on the grass, awkwardly sitting apart, hands next to each other in the grass, the silence palpable. Shu wanted to say something, anything, why did he drag Ryukun up here again? He should say something. Ryukun-- Icchan--. The two of them looked at each other before breaking out in laughs. Being with Ryukun, even like this, was so…freeing. No expectations or pretenses to be had, they’ve seen each other at their worst, their cringiest, their childish selves. 

Ryukun, can you promise me something? Shu is six years old again, shaking after a particularly bad incident with his bullies. Of course, Icchan, we’re friends aren’t we? Mhm, I know, but…promise me we’ll always be friends? Ryukun laughs and pulls Shu into a hug, his warmth overwhelming and yet comforting. Yeah, Icchan, we’ll be friends forever.