#it's perfectly normal to obsess over my own OCs

[faceless-ghostt]

i got a little silly :)

(click for better quality, ramble under cut)

So I am currently working on a Comic(preparing for making the comic and ironing out some of the wrinkles in my ideas) and I wanted to test out how I will actually format the comic, so I made this little thing. I definitely got lazy during it but I like it nonetheless

The characters in it are Shine(not his real name but the one he was given while I was making this) and one of the main Characters of my comic Warden! They very much have beef and are constantly at each other's throats, but they would (probably) save one another in a burning building. I guess there's a nameless reporter there two... idk he's just there to stir drama

For context btw they are Magical Boys! Shine is kinda a guest in Warden's city so he is not happy to hear slander against his arguably good name! Shine is an OC that was made with split custody to @gasps-inspanish who I feel the need to thank!

if anyone is curious about me making a magical girl/boy/anything for them please reach out, I'm still working on the design rules of my story and making other people OCs is a fun way to do that(within reason of course ToT)

I've mostly been drawing characters from this story for a while now so I will probably be posting more short little comics with them as I get used to the feel of paneling and actually making somewhat decent art

so uh, rambles over, see you next post ig?

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

What if...they met in college? (1)

Instead of being forced into espionage, Kat and Nat grew up in society like normal kids. But fate always forces them together. As roommates in college this time. One popular girl and one nerdy girl.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 4.7k • Warnings: none • A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @nataliasquote !!! This one is for you. The college AU you are so obsessed with. More parts to follow :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

The hallways of the campus' dormitories were chaos. Bags, suitcases, instruments, and people, lots of people, blocked Katya's way as she tried to navigate her way to room 415. They bumped into her left and right, and screamed things in her ear as she parkoured over their stuff, yanking on the handle of her suitcase aggressively whenever it got stuck. 

Move-in day was busy, really busy. She meant to avoid rush hour by arriving early, but she'd gotten stuck in traffic. For two hours. Now her roommate had gotten to their room before she did and undoubtedly claimed the good side, probably leaving her with very little space and very possibly decorating the floor with the world's ugliest rug. 

Katya stopped halfway down the hall to catch her breath, dropping her heavy sports bag to the floor to give her poor, aching shoulder a break. With the back of her hand, she pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed some hair from her forehead. It would have been great to have some help. At the end of the hall, a girl had a whole team to help her move in. Parents, sister or friend, boyfriend or brother. But Katya didn't have anyone, so she had to take three roundtrips to the parking lot by herself.

With a sigh, she hoisted the bag up again and watched the room numbers climb the further she walked down the hall. The girls in room 410 had their door open, a song from fifteen years ago blasting from a portable speaker on their desks. They must know each other, because both their sides of the room were in coordinating colors. One of them caught Katya's nosy eye and gave her an awkward smile.

411, 412, 413, 414…

The door to room 415 was open. Katya stopped and took one last, deep breath before stepping into the doorway. 

She was right. Her roommate had already decorated her part of the room. Her eye immediately fell on the large rug between the beds. A fluffy, really soft looking beige one that looked very tempting for a nap. It suited the rest of the surprisingly calm decorations. 

White bed sheets with various neutral colored pillows on top, the subtle black and white prints on the wall, the beige colored plant pots, the fairylights that emitted a soft yellow glow, and the beige curtains that Katya also wasn't mad about. The only thing that held some color were the pictures on the corkboard above her headboard.

Whoever this girl was, she had good taste.

Katya dumped her suitcase by the unoccupied bed and threw her duffel bag on top, careful to avoid the rug with her shoes. The knot in her stomach unraveled a little bit. Maybe her worries about her roommate had been invalid. She had definitely been overthinking too much. It even smelled nice in here, like her roommate had lit a vanilla scented candle.

''Oh, you're here!'' A cheerful voice came from behind Katya. ''I went to pick up two muffins from downstairs because I was hungry and I figured you would be too.'' 

Katya turned around… and was met with the most stunning woman she'd ever seen in her entire life. 

The same height as her, lean build, fair skin—but that wasn't what Katya's gaze was drawn to. A pair of full, pink lips framed a beautiful wide smile that reached all the way up to her even more beautiful, sparkling green eyes. Her eyelashes were so long they nearly touched her perfectly defined eyebrows, and when she blinked, they brushed over her sharp cheekbones. Her nose wasn't small or pointy, and had a little bump that would make most people self-conscious, but fit her face so well that everyone would be jealous of it anyway.

But somehow, like that wasn't already enough to turn heads, this all paled in comparison to the long, slightly curly hair that fell down her shoulders. It was that kind of bright, deep red that non-redheads tried to achieve but never could. The kind that naturally looked darker in the winter and lit up slightly orange in the summer sun. Everchanging and unique, and part of the reason why Katya's heart was hammering in her chest. 

''I'm Natasha.''

Oh. My. God. 

Katya could not form a single thought. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert in the middle of the summer. She could only stare. Stare at her roommate while she tried to fight off the gay panic that reduced her to a completely useless human being. 

This could not be happening. The girl she had to live with for a year could not be this excruciatingly attractive. Freshman year would be her end. 

Awkwardly, she cleared her throat when she saw that Natasha was waiting for a response, an amused eyebrow quirked up on her forehead. God, she was already making a fool of herself. ''Katya Petrova,'' she said shortly, her smile filled with embarrassment as she accepted the blueberry muffin Natasha kindly got her. Get yourself together, or she's gonna get tired of your weirdness quickly.

It wasn't physically possible, but Natasha's perfect eyes lit up even more. ''Russian?''

''Yeah.''

Her smile turned into a mysterious smirk that sent tingles down Katya's spine. ''Then we're gonna get along just fine,'' she said, and Katya couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of double meaning she was missing. Natasha looked at her like she was a meal, and her nerves intensified.

''Uh, thank you for the muffin,'' she blurted out.

''You're welcome,'' Natasha mused, totally cool as she leaned back against her desk. It was unfair, how she turned Katya into a complete mess while she remained confident and calm. But it was so attractive. Katya shivered as Natasha's green eyes slowly looked her up and down. ''I think I picked right. You look like a blueberry muffin girl.''

An awkward chuckle slipped past Katya's lips. She wanted to get away from that piercing gaze desperately, anything to think clearly again, but it wouldn't let her move. ''What does that mean?''

''I don't know.'' With a smirk—and intense eye contact—Natasha brought her ring finger to her lips and sucked the muffin crumbs off. Casually, she repeated the motion with her other fingers, her entire thumb disappearing in her mouth.

Katya felt her eyes widen, more gay panic flushing her veins until her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Images, ones she would never say out loud, filled her mind. Her lower stomach turned into knots while a blush covered her cheeks. She turned away, pretending to be really busy with unpacking. She swore she heard a soft chuckle behind her.

''I hope you don't mind the rug and the curtains. I took the liberty to decorate.''

''That's okay," Katya answered, having trouble remembering what the curtains even looked like. They were the very last thing on her mind as she rummaged aimlessly through her bag, hoping Natasha didn't notice that she wasn't doing anything.

''Is that all your stuff?''

Katya shook her head, risking a glance over her shoulder. She was relieved to see that Natasha's flirty expression had turned into something more puzzled. ''No, the rest is in my car.''

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Natasha's eyes visibly softened. ''Are you here alone?''

''Yes," Katya answered casually, ignoring the stab in her heart.

It stayed quiet a moment longer than normal, painfully so. These silences were nothing new. She'd started to expect them. On Mother's day, on Father's day, on Christmas, on Thanksgiving, but also moments like these, where she didn't know she would be missing parents until she was in the moment. 

''Does your family live far away?'' Natasha asked carefully.

''Sort of.''

She put her muffin down and uncrossed her arms. ''Let me help you carry the rest up. I can't possibly let you walk back and forth countless times while I take a nap,'' she joked lightheartedly.

''Oh, no, it's okay. Really. You don't have to help me," Katya refused, not in the mood for pity. But Natasha stood up straight and tied her beautiful hair into a perfect messy bun.

''Well, I want to," she said with a tone so definitive that Katya lost all her will to protest. "And I'm not taking no for an answer.'' She looked ready to tackle a big job. Hands on her Lululemon shorts-clad hips, sports shoes on her feet. And those lean arms…they could surely carry a few boxes.

Katya considered it for a moment, and then nodded. It would be nice to have some help. ''Okay then.'' Natasha flashed her a big smile.

Somehow, she faced none of the struggles from before—having to parkour her way through the halls. People seemed to get out of their way for Natasha, driven by some invisible force that must have been her confident aura.

Katya felt entirely unworthy to be walking next to her. They attracted lots of eyes, and the reason they looked at them certainly wasn't her red, sweaty face. Nobody noticed a dull brunette next to a redheaded goddess in gym shorts and a crop top. 

Natasha didn't seem to notice anything. She kept talking to Katya, completely comfortable yapping to someone she'd only met five minutes ago, while Katya tried not to let her gay panic turn into real, uncontrollable panic. She only heard half of what her roommate was saying.

''Hey, Nat!''

They were in the quad, a huge field of grass between the main campus buildings. Today, the main path was lined with stalls full of information and help. If someone couldn't find their dorm or there was another problem, they could visit here. 

A guy, looking older than her, had called Natasha's name from one of the stands, his hand in the air to grab her attention. Katya's first instinct was; football player. He had the build for it.

''Jason!" She smiled, not stopping to talk to him. "How are you?''

He was the fourth guy to greet her like that. Like he knew her. They all looked vastly different—though good-looking—and they all looked older. Some closer to twenty-four than eighteen. It was odd. Where did she know all of them from? Katya was starting to gain suspicions that her roommate may be more well-known around here than she thought.

"So, what's your thing?" Natasha asked suddenly. Katya had been brooding over her roommate's popularity so hard that she didn't realize she'd fallen silent. Or that they were close to the parking lot. 

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"What are you here for?" Natasha clarified, smiling when she still saw the confusion on Katya's face. "Law and dance, that's my thing. Studying law, and I'll be trying out for the dance team."

Katya didn't find this surprising at all. Natasha looked like that kind of person who could do it both. Arts and literature. Body and brains. Someone good at absolutely everything. It also explained her subtle muscles and lean figure. Of course, the gorgeous, popular girl was a dancer. What were the chances she was a cheerleader in high school?

"Of course, you are." Katya paled when she realized the words had escaped her.

Natasha smirked amusedly. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Katya said quickly. Her roommate's need to fluster her all the time was starting to get on her nerves. She fiddled with her car keys, smiling nervously. "I'm not as interesting as you, I'm afraid."

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with something flirty. "You interest me."

Heat rose on Katya's cheeks once more. She kept getting caught off guard by Natasha's simple yet effective smooth-talking. Everything she said seemed to have some sort of double meaning. Her body could not keep up with its reactions.

"History is my thing. History and literature. But the literature is just a hobby," she said awkwardly, trying to hide her red cheeks. Her studies and hobbies always sounded boring to begin with, but next to Natasha's they looked even worse. Katya grimaced. "I told you it's boring."

"No, it's not!" Natasha rushed to reassure her. "I've always envied people who could quote Hemmingway off the top of their heads. Are you one of those people?"

"Kind of." Katya smiled shyly when she realized that Natasha was being genuine. 

"That's cool." The redhead smiled. "Everyone has their own interests, don't be embarrassed of yours."

Katya wasn't used to the conversation going this way. It was a breath of fresh air. "Most people think it's lame," she said as she popped the trunk of her terribly plain and old Honda Civic.

Natasha shrugged, picking up the first box she saw. "People will always have opinions, so you are better off just doing what you like."

"Can't disagree." Katya smiled at her. Would things finally be different? Would she finally fit in somewhere? The day started off with lots of frustration but now the future looked very hopeful. Maybe she would finally feel at home somewhere.

It took the both of them three trips to get everything upstairs, after which Katya bought Natasha an iced coffee to thank her. She was drinking that as she scrolled on her phone and absentmindedly talked to Katya while Katya unpacked her stuff. 

Everything she had was in these boxes, her whole life. She had no family to store anything with, so all of it had to fit within the four walls of this room. There was some odd stuff in some of these boxes. But Natasha didn't ask her about anything. Overall, she had been nothing but considerate and an amazing roommate.

"This campus is full of disgusting boys."

Katya jumped. She had her back turned to the door, and with the business in the hallway hadn't heard someone stop in their doorway. It was a small blonde with her hands in her pockets. She looked annoyed, bored and disgusted all at the same time, like a moody teenager. Questionably, Katya looked at Natasha.

The woman sighed and put her phone down. "Kat, meet my little sister, Yelena. Yelena, this is Katya, my roommate."

As if she was only now realizing there was another person in the room, the blonde—Yelena—looked at Katya. Then she let out the loudest gasp. "Oh my god, they put you with a nerd." She laughed.

Katya blushed and looked away. That's not the first time she's heard that. In fact, people all throughout her life had taken the liberty of calling her that. It wasn't her looks per se—she didn't wear braces, outdated clothes, or thick-rimmed glasses. She was a normal kid, in normal clothes, with a delicate, modern-looking pair of glasses balancing on her nose. And, if Katya might say so herself, she wasn't ugly.

No, it was the things she did and liked that put a sticker on her. First of all, her introvertness and her shyness. It had gotten a lot better with age. She didn't stutter or stumble over her words as much anymore, but her shy nature stayed. It made that she never quite fit in with anyone. She didn't have big friend groups or hang around the popular kids. She usually had one good friend who she could sit in peaceful silence with.

Then there were the books, the literature, the movies she watched. Katya realized very young that she was different from the other girls in her class. She preferred the works of writers long gone, liked her movies black and white, and would rather spend her Friday afternoon reading than going to parties. They bullied her for having her lunch break in the library, reading alone, for getting an A on every test. Her interest lay with history, not with the latest Hollywood gossip. 

It shouldn't get to her, but in their cores, everyone wanted to belong, to be liked. She couldn't simply turn off her human instinct.

Natasha's hands curled into fists, and it looked like she was going to explode on her sister, until an older woman stepped into the room. Her hair was so dark brown it nearly looked black, and her face held a stern expression. She was also incredibly gorgeous. "Yelena Belova! That is not how I raised you!"

Yelena cringed. "Sorry, Mama," she muttered.

The woman's scowl disappeared as she turned to Katya, a warm, motherly smile appearing on her face instead. "Hello, my dear. I'm Melina, Natasha's mother. Please excuse my rude daughter. I promise I raised them both better than that."

A warm feeling flushed through Katya's body. "It's okay, ma'am. Natasha helped me carry the rest of my stuff up from my car."

"Good girl." Melina smiled proudly at her daughter. Natasha rolled her eyes, clearly not at ease with her family around a stranger. "If you don't need us anymore, Yelena and I will be leaving."

"Yes, please take her out of here." 

Anger flashed across Yelena's face. "I sacrificed my free day for you, you ungrateful—"

"Girls!" Melina sighed, shaking her head. With pity, she looked at Katya. "I wish you luck with her, my dear—"

"What does that mean?" Natasha exclaimed.

"---and be nice to each other. Natasha, if you need me, I'm just a call away."

"And just a town away." She rolled her green eyes again. "No need for emotional goodbyes."

"Well, I am gonna miss you."

"I'm not," Yelena mumbled under her breath, smiling innocently when her mother glared at her.

Natasha sighed and started to walk them out the door. Like a dog herding sheep. Katya tried not to laugh as Melina and Yelena stumbled over each other into the hallway. "Mhm, goodbye now. Thank you for helping me today." Natasha closed the door in their faces, locking it for good measure. A pleasant silence filled the room. "I'm sorry about her."

"It's alright." Katya shrugged, though her brain was still trying to process what just happened. "I'm used to being called a nerd. It's not an insult."

"She meant it as one. She's a dick." Natasha chewed on her lip, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of her sister's behavior. It meant a lot to Katya that it mattered so much to her.

"It's okay, Natasha, really." 

The redhead smiled carefully. "Melina is probably yelling at her now, though."

Katya laughed. "Their faces as you pushed them out the door..."

"If I hadn't, they would still be standing here, arguing." Natasha returned to her bed, falling back into the same position as before they were rudely interrupted. It already felt so domestic, so comfortable. They could exist together and do their own thing without bothering the other.

"Your sister is completely different from you, isn't she?" Katya asked as she continued her unpacking.

"Yes and no. She's more moody, sassy, rude." Katya chuckled when Natasha rolled her eyes. "But she's driven, hard working, and incredibly loyal to the people she loves. She will fight someone for you... Literally… She loves punching people."

Katya laughed. "She sounds like a good sister to have."

"She'll do." Natasha suddenly perked up, like someone flipped the switch of focus in her brain. Smirking, she studied the boxes on Katya's side of the room. "So, in which one of those is your lingerie?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Orientation had broken Katya's brain. She'd gotten so much information at once that she literally had a headache. A bad one. Add that to a bad night of sleep—only four hours in total because of her new surroundings and anxiety—and she was ready to crash.

She unlocked her door and stumbled into the room, not surprised to see it empty. Natasha's shoes were gone and her bed was made. From what Katya learned yesterday, she seemed to know a lot of people, so she was undoubtedly chatting with every person she ran into. Maybe she wouldn't even return until late. At least Katya had her number.

She took advantage of Natasha's absence to take a long shower. Then she drew the curtains closed and laid down for a nap, her headache already subsiding after chugging two glasses of water. Her eyelids were so heavy, sleep tugged on her brain… 

When her phone rang. 

Katya let out the loudest groan, hurting her head in the process. Who dared to interrupt her nap? Ideally, she would have ignored it, but it could be Natasha or somebody else important. Blindly, she felt around until her fingers wrapped around her phone, her eyes squinting against the bright light to read the name on the screen. 

Tony.

Yep, that made sense. That man always had the worst timing. 

"What?" Katya snapped.

"What a way to greet me. Are you busy?" He gasped dramatically, then lowered his voice. "Wait, are you finally getting laid?"

Katya sighed, the tips of her ears burning. Ever since he stopped seeing her as a kid, he was trying to get her laid. Unsuccessfully. "No."

"Then you got time for me. Did you get settled in?" 

"If you were actually here to help me, you would have known," she said accusingly. "But you're too busy slutting yourself out in Miami."

"Going on holidays is important," Tony said casually. Katya rolled her eyes. He wasn't vacationing, he was partying and drinking. Club music boomed in the background of the call. His classes didn't start for another week. "You know what's also important? If your roommate is hot."

Katya groaned, reaching for the curtain to tug it open. She was so glad this was not a FaceTime call, or he would have seen how red her face was. "I'm not entertaining you with an answer."

"So she is." His stupid grin could be heard in his voice. She wanted to slap him. "What's her name?"

Katya hesitated. Whenever she told him about her crushes, Tony would go and mingle. It wouldn't be the first time he scared one away, but if she didn't tell him now, he would show up next week on her doorstep. Even worse. "Natasha," she answered reluctantly. "You wouldn't like her, she's ginger."

"Wait. A Natasha with red hair? Does she have big tits and a great ass?"

As much as Katya wanted to yell at him for objectifying women, she couldn't help but blush. Of course, her gay ass had not been able to resist taking a look at Natasha's body. Subtly and respectfully, of course. Her thoughts had not been subtle or respectful though, but they were safely inside her head so it was okay. She wasn't that kind of person.

"She looks great, yes."

Exactly at that moment, Natasha freaking Romanoff herself burst through the door, looking incredible as always. Denim shorts, tank top, messy ponytail—Katya's heart skipped a beat. Nobody should look that good after a full day of walking around in the late summer heat. God, she was a mess for her. 

"Who looks great?" Natasha smirked, dropping her bag to the ground. "Some girl at orientation already grabbed your attention?"

"Uh—I…no. There's nobody," Katya stammered, watching wide-eyed as Natasha took the hair tie out her hair and shook all those gorgeous curls loose. Her biceps flexed subtly when she fluffed it up.

"Uhu. Better give me a chance too before you set your sights on someone," Natasha teased.

Katya's breath caught in her throat. Was she dreaming? "Y-You?"

"Yeah. Unless you're not into girls." Natasha smiled smugly when she glanced at Katya's stunned expression. "I thought so. Me too."

If this were a cartoon, Katya's eyeballs would have bulged out of her head. Surely, she was dreaming now. There was no way this was reality. "You're gay?"

Natasha shrugged, grabbing a towel from the cabinet. "I'm a little bit of everything. As long as it's hot and kissable, I'm kissing it." She smirked, and then she closed the bathroom door behind her like she hadn't just turned Katya's whole world upside down.

There was an error in her brain. Her brain had flatlined. Open-mouthed, Katya stared at the door her roommate had disappeared through. She was sweating. Did Natasha seriously just say that she is into girls and she wants a shot with her? Was her headache actually a stroke and was she hallucinating? 

"Shut the fuck up. Your roommate is Natasha Romanoff?" 

Katya jumped. She'd completely forgotten that she was on the phone with Tony, and that he just heard everything. Her heart was racing in her chest. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

He sighed. "You're hopeless. You need to get out more. She has a reputation for crashing college parties since she was 15. She's basically a legend."

It all made sense now. The guys who knew her, her popularity, why she knew her way around campus so well. She cuddled up with college guys while she was still in high school. 

How in the world did Katya, a nerd, get matched up with someone like what? Some funny forces were at play here. Someone up there must be laughing very hard.

"Okay, bye now." She just caught the start of Tony's protests when she cut off the call. She loved him, but she needed a moment to process these developments, and his endless yapping in her ear did not let her think clearly. 

He came into her life at a time where she needed someone the most. Orphaned since birth, Katya grew up in orphanages across the country. The last one she lived in, from age thirteen to literally last week, she met him. He'd protected her on the first day, when some older guys bullied her, and from there, he'd become her big brother. She saw him as that, too; family. Did he know Natasha personally?

Katya panicked when the shower turned off in the other room. Like, had a full-on silent panic attack. Not enough time had passed to process anything or to calm down. She couldn't face Natasha again. Not yet. What if she continued the conversation where it left off?

Quickly, she dived for her laptop and headphones, and put on the first TV show she could find. When Natasha came out of the bathroom, she didn't even spare her a glance. It was possibly the best performance of her life, pretending she was interested in her show and her heart wasn't pounding in her ears.

But Katya looked at her from the corner of her eye whenever she could, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing. Natasha seemed to be getting ready for something. She did her makeup and spent at least ten minutes in front of her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Katya's eyes widened when she came out of the bathroom in a short, tight party dress later. There were curves and skin everywhere.

Frowning, Katya slid her headphones off. "Are you going somewhere?"

Natasha smiled over her shoulder, slipping her earrings in. Her eyes looked incredibly bright with the dark eyeshadow around it. Mesmerizing. "There's a welcome-back party in the Kappa Delta Psi house." 

"Aren't those for older students?"

Amusement flickered across the redhead's face. "I have a fake ID." She grabbed a pair of heels from under her bed and slipped those on too. They made her toned legs look incredible, miles long. Katya tried not to drool. "You should come."

Katya quickly shook her head, her anxiety surging at the thought of a college party. "Oh, no, thank you. Parties are not really my thing."

Natasha chuckled, a beautiful sound that sent the butterflies in Katya's stomach into a frenzy. "Alright. I'll be back late. Don't wait up." She swung her small purse over her shoulder and set out for the door. Her beautiful hair swung left and right over her exposed back, her pale skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. She looked ethereal. Katya called her name before she decided to.

"Nat?"

With her hand hovering above the doorknob, Natasha looked back. "Yes?"

Katya wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful. That her hair was amazing, that her makeup was flawless, that the dress fit her perfectly. That she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. But the moment she opened her mouth, she chickened out. "Have fun."

A bright smile curled on her dark red lips. "Thanks."

[blackmoonowl]

give us a vampire fic

"𝕬𝖉𝖒𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖗."

ꨄ Pairing: Santos Kleij (Vampire oc) x reader

ꨄ Summary: An undead painter is completely obsessed with the image of you..

ꨄ Word Count: 831 words

Candles lit the old decrepit home.

Santos wasn't exactly concerned with the upkeep of the structure; he had better things to do. Your beautiful eyes needed to be recreated perfectly, he'd accept nothing less. His long black hair flowed over his shoulder as his deep red eyes stood wide. His hand was steady as he mixed paint to match your eye colour. The paintbrush stilled before it could touch the canvas. His lips pursed as he lowed his hand once more. The idea of messing up your facial features was unacceptable. Santos glanced to the other paintings, where your face had been depicted so many times before. Not remembering your face... it was an excuse, but that didn't matter to him.

The tall man rose to his feet, a frustrated look on his face. That wouldn't do, he needed to get a better look at you before he finished anything, for his own peace of mind. . Adjusting his old-fashioned velvet red V-neck shirt, the remarkably tall man stepped out into the night. Santos knew your schedule by now. He promised himself he wouldn't overstep by stalking you, he reasoned with himself.

It was a foggy night, the faint glow of the streetlamps illuminated your figure. Santos knew you'd be out late today, as you did every two weeks. Santos stuck close to the shadows, his eyes nearly glowing a deep red as he hid himself in dark alleys. You were foolish to be out on your own, he thought to himself. His eyes were narrowed as he observed every delicate detail of your face. If his heart still properly worked, it'd be beating out of his chest.

You were shivering, cold breaths of air escaping your lungs, dissipating in front of your face. Santos admired the shape of your lips, your slightly imperfect teeth and how your face scrunched up. Normally simply laying eyes on you satisfied him enough to go back to painting. But that gnawing feeling didn't go away, it wanted more... he wanted more. A shuddering, unneeded breath came from the vampire before he stepped away from his hiding spot.

"Goedenavond."

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the voice emanated from behind you. Snapping your head around you saw a tall man stood over you. His clothing style was strange and old fashioned, and he was unnaturally pale. Seeing your wary and panicked expression, he flashed you an awkward smile.

"No, no. No need to be afraid of me, I simply came to ask for directions," he assured you, raising his hands in a placating manner. He could tell you were cautious, and you were right to be.

"Directions..." you began, trying to calm your heart rate. "To where exactly? It's pretty late."

"I need to find to find the local hotel. I am staying there for a local art convention, you see." It was a lie, but you seemed to buy it. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, but you still seemed wary.

"Oh, uh... that's on route to where I'm going, I'll walk with you," you replied, forcing a small smile. Letting someone out of town wander around alone probably wasn't the safest. Santos did everything in his power not to grin. He would have been satisfied with a small interaction, but this was so much better.

"I very much appreciate that, you have my gratitude," he said, bowing slightly. The gesture caused you to raise a brow, and he cursed himself. New times, new mannerisms to adapt to.

"No problem, it's not too far off from here, follow me." You tucked your hands into your pockets as the tall man fell into step behind you. The weather seemed to bother him very little. Just looking at him made you feel colder.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be walking around like that?" You questioned, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had fallen between the two of you.

"Are you concerned for me?" Santos replied, a small smile spreading over his face. He was a stranger, and yet you were so worried about him, how sweet. "No need to worry, this bothers me very little."

You nodded slowly, letting silence pass over the both of you. Santos didn't say anything else, he had no idea how to even start a conversation. The walk was silent, with him admiring every part of you once more, looking away before he came off as too creepy. He almost didn't stop when you came to a stand still.

"Here we are," you said, brows furrowed when he almost walked straight past the hotel. Santos cursed in himself, before turning to look at you.

"Right... of course," he forced out, trying to show anything but his disappoint. "Thank you, truly."

"You're welcome," you replied, showing an awkward smile. "Anyway, i gotta get going, maybe I'll see you around."

Santos watched as you made your way down the street, towards where he knew you lived.

"Yes.. perhaps you will."

𓅓 Masterpost

𓅓 Consider supporting me! (Ko-fi)

[chefskillet1]

I have been very nervous about this BUT I AM GONNA BE POSTING MY BLAZBLUE OC SHRAPNEL THANKS TO ENCOURAGEMENT FROM @nkn0va AND I REALLY HOPE THE FEW PEOPLE WHO WILL PROBABLY SEE THIS REALLY ENJOY IT :D

To start off, Shrapnel - also known by her real name, Shizuka Kaji, is a loud, abrasive woman who works as a Lieutenant Colonel in the NOL. She's got quite the mouth on her, ready to just dish out whatever not-so-good insults she could conjure up in her head at the moment. While usually she wouldn't have the bite to make up for her bark, she's used Ars Magus to make these cool little things called grenades, and she's always itching to just throw some out even if it's unnecessary! That being said - she has a serious soft spot for the Imperator Librarius, Izanami, bending to every single one of her whims even if it could cost Shrapnel her own life. Shizuka has a deep love for Izanami, being utterly obsessed with the woman, the entire reason she became Lieutenant Colonel was to get closer to Izanami. Before she saw the Imperator for the first time, she was just a Corporal and a rather quiet girl, keeping to herself and never speaking unless spoken to - but the moment she looked at death itself in all her glory, something in her brain clicked, she realized she needed something to change if she was going to be noticed. Thus, she went to brainstorming, eventually landing on the idea to make bombs, and adopting a new persona - Shrapnel. Through the sheer destructive power of her bombs, she managed to climb up the ladder until eventually becoming Lieutenant Colonel of the Engineering Department, something she's not happy about because she has to be around Relius Clover of all people. It didn't matter, though. She finally had the one thing she's craved in her life - control. Her high status in the NOL made her feel powerful, something she's basically never felt in her childhood, she was always so non-confrontational and always just went with the flow, but now - as Shrapnel - she could finally feel like she had atleast one person under her thumb at all times, it was a thrilling feeling to the woman. Eventually, she had scheduled a meeting in private with the Imperator by some miracle, and that's when she had confessed to the woman: how she fell in love at first sight, how she's basically changed herself beyond recognition for this oppurtunity, etc etc. When the Imperator reciprocated, she was over the moon, her life was finally complete! But because I don't like my OCs being happy, she later felt pretty miserable in this relationship - while she didn't know Izanami was unfeeling, she did know Izanami didn't really love her, Shrapnel was more like a dog to the Imperator, something she could just command and it would listen perfectly, not even questioning her master. Shrapnel just can't seem to pull herself away however, the Imperator's soft, sweet voice always manages to just keep her locked into the relationship, Shrapnel was just utterly enchanted by this woman because in all honesty - she does love her, she does want to be in a relationship with her, she doesn't care about the Day of Reckoning or whatever, this woman was literally perfect to her. Which is why she wants to use the power of The Azure to make her relationship with Izanami stop being so one-sided, so that Izanami could finally love her as much as she loved Izanami. Perhaps, with the power of The Azure, they could even get married...

Now enough of that ITS TIME FOR GAMEPLAY STUFF!!!

Health: 11,000

Drive: Party Tricks

Shrapnel's D normals will fill a bar called Frenzy. The Frenzy Bar is segmented into 4 parts, each requiring a certain amount of explosions to fill. Frenzy is built up when a grenade EXPLODES, meaning she can freely throw out her D normals and so long as she's not hit during them, she'll build up Frenzy, all of her Specials and Distortion Drives cost varying amounts of Frenzy. With each stack of Frenzy she gains, the gets new buffs:

4 explosions/1 Segment = faster walk speed

6 explosions/2 Segments = faster run speed

8 explosions/3 Segments = double air dash

12 explosions/4 Segments = her A, B and C normals have a faster startup and are safer on block (anywhere between 3-5 Frames depending on the normal)

Her grenades can be deflected back to her, in which case her opponent becomes immune to the deflected grenade while Shrapnel will take damage, Shrapnel can hit it back to send it to remove her opponent's invincibility while regaining her own, which can lead to fun games of hot potato with your friends. Even if you do get hit by your own grenade, you still build up Frenzy!

Overdrive: The Big Boom

Her D normals now hit twice, meaning they account for 2 explosions instead of 1, so she fills her Frenzy bar faster!

5A = a rather unique 5A in that she takes off her tie and just whips you with it

5B = ELBOW THE FACE!!!

5C = just fucking socks the other player in the jaw lmao, travels forward a bit, fatal counters

5D = travels backwards and throws a grenade that explodes shortly after, it is NOT grab immune like a backdash

2A = a poke! like, a LITERAL poke, not an actual poke-

2B = just your standard low, she kicks at the opponent's feet

2C = a sweep where she uses one of her bandoliers to trip the opponent!

2D = throwing a bomb into the air! ...this move anti airs if you couldnt tell

3C = a sweep thats just better than 2C where she explodes a grenade rather than tripping the opponent, it does cost 1 Frenzy though

6A = slap.

6B = sol5K.jpeg (except its nowhere near as good because its basically just ragna's jesus kick)

6C = she takes off one of the bandoliers and just whips you with it, if you do 6[C] she'll do it multiple times but be pretty minus

6D = throws a grenade to the ground that explodes later, supposed to be used on hard knockdown!

J.A = youre not gonna believe this but... SHE DOES A PUNCH!

J.B = conks you over the head with one of her grenades

J.C = making azrael proud by using her cape to smack the opponent

J.2C = a "divekick" where she just nosedives straight into the ground

J.D = drops a grenade straight down

Throw = grabbing the opponent by the neck and then just throwing a grenade straight at their face (its inactive)

Back throw = after the grab lands, she leaps over them and then gently nudges them backwards, making them fall over

Air throw = she wraps one of the bandoliers around you and then as she whips it to the ground it quickly unravels and forces you straight down

Counter Assault = same animation as 6B

Crush Trigger = when charging she reels her fist back, even comically lifting her sleeve up before just diving into you like kaguya's 3C in uni

Taunt = sits down, pulls out a blank grenade, painting its features on while insulting you

SPECIALS:

Yale Dive

236B = Shrapnel throws a bomb behind her that quickly explodes and sends her flying towards her opponent, can be cancelled into any 5A, 5B or 5C. Costs 2 Frenzy

Macrae Strap

214A = a short range move where she straps one of her bandoliers onto her opponent that will explodr after approximately 180 frames have passed and Shrapnel hasnt taken any damage. Costs 2 Frenzy

J. Rains Launch

623A = Shrapnel's best launcher, throws 3 grenades below herself and the opponent which sends them both flying into the air, allowing Shrapnel to string together air combos. Costs 4 Frenzy

Mills Bash

236D = Shrapnel jumps into the air and slams her fist into the opponent, at the same time a grenade rolls out of her sleeve and explodes. Costs 3 Frenzy, is an overhead

Vyacheslav Ruin

42136D = a VERY potent command grab where she grabs them by their arm, uses the same trick from her 2C, except she sets all the grenades on the bandolier to detonate. Costs 6 Frenzy

DISTORTION DRIVES:

Burning Phillips

236236B = a reversal super where she kicks her opponent back and then jumps on top of them, all dumping all the grenades from her pockets until her and the opponent get shot up into the air from all the booms, knocking them all the way back to midscreen. During OD she throws one of her bandoliers in there for good measure. Costs 7 Frenzy and 50 meter

Cluster of Butterflies

214214A = Shrapnel jumps into the air and lingers there, spinning around as grenades fly all over the field under her, exploding one by one as a whiff punish, during OD a massive explosion occurs under her. Costs 9 Frenzy and 50 meter

Whitehead Phosphorous

632146D = Shrapnel decides she wants to commit a war crime and use the highly painful white phosphorous on her opponent, this super will lock down an area and linger over wherever it was planted, which can force an opponent to block while also taking chip, during OD it just gains more hits and deals extra chip damage. Costs 10 Frenzy and 100 meter

ASTRAL HEAT:

Li'l Oppenheimer

Shrapnel throws a grenade at the opponent's head, knocking them unconscious. Afterwards she straps a bandolier to them, making sure it's wrapped extra tight so they can't move, then after that she drags them to a forest, waiting for them to wake up for her special surprise. Once they wake up, she leaps down from a tree branch, all the grenades in her bandoliers and her pockets falling down. Once she lands, she quickly runs off and remotely detonates all the grenades, marvelling at the destruction she has caused, thinking about kissing her lover in front of the newly made wildfire...

The namesakes for all the moves:

Robert Yale the father of the smoke bomb

Macrae Strap is named after Stuart Macrae the inventor of the sticky bomb

Gabriel J. Rains invented the landmine

William Mills made the frag grenade

Vyacheslav Ruin is named after the inventor of the molotov cocktail, Vyacheslav Molotov

Burning Phillips is named after Phillips Petroleum Company who patented the C-4

Cluster of Butterflies was named after both cluster bombs and butterfly bombs

Whitehead Phosphorous is named after both white phosphorous and the inventor of the torpedo Robert Whithead

The name for the astral comes from the localized name for the JoJo stand Aerosmith, which is Li'l Bomber, and of course Oppenheimer

May or may not make one of these for my uni2 oc next :>

WIN QUOTES:

Ragna: "Y-You... The Imperator has VERY clear interest in you, and I'm telling you, don't try anything."

Jin: "God, dude, you're even worse than boring - you're just an ass..."

Noel: "YOU are coming with ME! The Imperator will be so proud once I present you to her!"

Rachel: "Y'know... I was never really a fan of people like you, sitting in your mansion, looking down on all us commonfolk... you sicken me."

Taokaka: "Will you shut up?! Your voice gets tiring to hear really fucking quick!"

Tager: "I hope you know I was fearing for my life here, even more surprised that you haven't broken my spine yet! You're like... 700 kilograms or something!"

Litchi: "I wonder what else you do with that pole! Hehe..."

Arakune: "Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, they're crawling on me! They're fucking crawling on me! Get 'em off!!"

Bang: "EVERY. DAMN. WORD that comes out your mouth feels like you're trying your damnedest to be some kinda main character. Hate to break it to ya - but you're not!"

Carl: "Isn't it like, way past your bedtime? Haul your ass over home before I make that toy of yours go boom!"

Hakumen: "Blah blah white void something something cold steel, do you always have to be so pretentious?"

Nu-13: "Woah... you have the Imperator's face... it's kinda freaky, to be honest."

Lambda-11: "You've also got the Imperator's face! But like... actually, not even gonna ask, probably a coincidence."

Tsubaki: "I gotta respect your loyalty towards our beloved Imperator! But sadly, I'll always be her number 1~"

Hazama: "You're quite the slippery, slimey little guy, aren'tcha? Well, doesn't matter, just makes exploding you so much more rewarding!"

Mu-12: "Uh... don't worry, I'm not peeping..."

Makoto: "Awww, your love for your friends is so heartwarming! Don't worry, though! They're next."

Valkenhayn: "Y'know, seeing how old you are, I really expected you to pull a muscle just reeling back your fist to punch me, not whatever the fuck that was!"

Platinum: "Can you like... stop talking to yourself? It gets a bit spooky after a while..."

Relius: "Words can't describe how much I want to blow your face off right now! You're SO LUCKY I don't have orders to just kill you right here, you sick son of a bitch!"

Izayoi: "What kinda power is this? It's... actually pretty rad. Not as rad as my bombs, of course - but still sorta cool!"

Amane: "Don't worry, man, we live in a more accepting world, you can just say it."

Bullet: "So like, how are you NOT worried or tired of men staring at your ass? Those jorts look more like butt floss rather than pants!"

Azrael: "Man, I didn't know I was going to a zoo! I'd bring a banana if I knew that the monkey enclosure was nearby!"

Kagura: "You dare disrespect the Imperator?! By flirting with her future wife?! I must say, you are quite the despicable man!"

Terumi: "Wow, y'know - we really aren't that different! You act about as unhinged as I do, it feels pretty nice y'know? Wish we could talk more."

Kokonoe: "Your inventions are hurting my brain, can't you go with something simpler?! Like, I dunno, enough bombs to start a wildfire? Or one big bomb?"

Celica: "You're so... pure. I... I don't think I've ever felt this way after attacking someone. What am I feeling right now...?"

Hibiki: "Well if it ain't Kagura's little puppy! Don't you ever get tired of being all leashed up by him? ...'Bout what I expected. You're pretty miserable..."

Nine: "You have no idea how lucky you have it! The Imperator chose you to be under the Mind Eater, and you throw such a gift away?! How could you?!"

Naoto: "God, you remind me a lot of... the man that wants to steal my Imperator away from me. Stay. Away. From her. Final warning."

Izanami: "My sincerest apologies, my beautiful Imperator! Please, I-I didn't hurt you too badly, did I...? ...Not to worry about it? Well, if you say so..."

Susano'o: "That's right, you don't know one thing about destruction! Now, bow down to me as the new Goddess of Destruction!"

Es: "You're really milquetoast, dunno what I expected from a robot... Whatever, I'll find some other chew toy to play with."

Mai: "You were quite the fun prey to chase around! Gotta say, you work wonders with that spear. I look forward to our rematch..."

Jubei: "I'm sorry if this is personal but... can I pet you? No? Aw, damn shame... I really like cats, but I can respect if they don't want any scritches."

Overdrive:

"IZANAMI!!"

"FOR THE IMPERATOR!"

"My love, forgive me..." (vs Izanami)

"DO *NOT* TOUCH ME!" (vs Relius)

"You. Cant. HAVE. HER." (vs Ragna)

"CAN YOU GET ANY MORE BORING?!" (vs Jin)

"YOURE COMING WITH ME WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!" (vs Noel)

"YOU TOOK THE IMPERATOR'S BLESSING FOR GRANTED!" (vs Nine)

"Hey, do you eat rats like an actual snake?" (vs Terumi)

"Pretty SMOOTH!" (vs Hazama)

"I'M THE ***REAL*** GOD OF DESTRUCTION, BUCKO!" (vs Susanoo)

"RRRREGINALD! MORE TEA AND BISCUITS, PLEASE!" (vs Rachel)

"IM VERY CONFLICTED ABOUT THIS!" (vs Jubei)

"You really need to lighten up, dude..." (vs Hakumen)

"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, YOU'RE DISTRACTING ME!" (vs Makoto, Mu-12 or Mai)

"Nice to see someone so loyal..." (vs Tsubaki or Izayoi)

[childhoodgrave]

👁 for eliza ⚠️ for enzo 📓 for ezrah... realizing now that all your ocs have a z in their name. ozzie and fritz do too. not brunhildy though

well thats because brunhilda is my special little angel and it is better and specialer than all my other ocs. butserioudly my oc names sre so repetitive theres even another guy i have named RENZO though he actually existed way becore i came up with enzo so hes actually the derivative one in this situation..

👁️ How do other people perceive this oc? How close do their first assumptions come to the truth?

very very few people even know about her whole situation the way she “currently” exists so ill start with how she was when she was alive. ill start by saying that a biig thing with eliza is she unfortunately (and entirely unintentionally on her part) tends to attract people who deify and obsess over her to various levels of extremity. even the person who killed her was a fan who fell madly in love with her. so most people view her favorably, mainly highlighting her musical talents. she was very personable, and throughout her entire life she was very well loved. i would say most people had a fairly accurate “superficial” understanding of her as a person. you wouldnt really recognize it but she kept many people at a distance in regards to how much they actually knew about her true feelings and especially her difficulties and her grievances. i think most people tended to think of her as a “perfect” sort of person, like someone whose untouchable by normal issues everyone tends to go through.

the way she is now, there are 2 people who know that she isnt even dead anymore. pygmy DEFINITELY still falls into the pattern of people becoming obsessed with the “idea” of her. really he knows next to nothing about her, and has fallen in love with the version of her that perfectly complements himself, and his own interests.

the resurrectionist, on the other hand, views her as a stereotypical zombie with little to no awareness of whats happening around her. exactly how accurate that assessment of her cognition is i like to leave vague. LAWL

⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be?

INSTALL MALWAREBYTES

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

yessss infact he has an entire playlist of songs i associate with him HEHE. in particular i think this song in its entirety is a very apt summary of a lot of his Deal. but this bit from the frontier index by silver jews i also think abt with him alot mwahaha

[tiredassmage]

Sorry if this sounds weird, but I hope it makes sense: Day, Formal, Wardrobe for Imp Leo vs Pub Leo

I GOT CHU, I GOT CHU! I think, at least, so let me take a swing at this. I am. so sorry it's taking me 800 years to get through everything. This semester be kickin' my butt, but I have been sitting on so many Leo questions for so long. Come back into the light, my favorite little smuggling goblin child...

[character design oc asks]

DAY - What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

I think even in just casual wear, Leo felt a lot of pressure from particularly their parents growing up about what kind of image they were putting out as a family to the rest of Imperial society. That probably meant still a fair bit of neutral colors - gotta love those Imperial grays. And probably a lot more long sleeved shirts, partially because of the cold periods on Ziost, but also because it means Leo could fidget with the ends of his sleeves. Things were likely a bit more properly fitted in contrast to now that he's defected and running his own life (not... always well, but... running!), he definitely prefers things that are maybe a size too big. He wants to be comfortable. I could totally see him as a band tee kind of kid. Assorted graphical t-shirts for the win.

Also, not exactly a part of any of this set, but... I do imagine he was also a lot neater with how he wore his hair when still Imperial, at least around family. If only because Vivienne and their mother probably fussed over him almost obsessively before letting him out anywhere and he grew tired of hearing about it all the time. He's picked up the habit since defecting (unintentionally) of keeping a stock of hair ties around his wrist. Not actively because he needs to use three at a time, but because he habitually abandons them on any flat surface when he lets his hair down and then forgets about them, so he ends up collecting them as he finds them in an effort to try not to forget them again.

FORMAL - What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

Leo would... actually cringe if you ever suggested him wear a suit ever again. As much as I'd love to see him in maybe a dark blue vest or something at least because it'd probably look very nice with his eyes, I think some kind of suit look tended to be the default to please the family. Or at least a sort of... business, fitted top and... honestly probably a bow tie. Can't see this man in the long neck tie to save my life. He probably knows how to do one, but blood of the Emperor would it kill his soul to wear one kdanflsadfnlsfd.

He has very little in formal wear these days. He's... glaringly lacked the need to since his defection and he's quite happy to keep it that way. You'd literally make him pout like a petulant teenager if you asked him to dress up. He hates it. (Because it is so buried in ties to the expectations his father had of him to live up to the family name and their standards and impressions of what he should do; a lot of it is from his father's expectations, but his mother and older sister contributed a fair bit, too.)

I'm so sorry to Dash that Leo still preens over Dash like... Leo could have bangs falling in his eyes while he's trying to perfectly part Dash's hair and just shrug off this glaring hypocrisy. Which is... something in there about Leo's perception of himself being not all that great (and thus having a bit of a hard time necessarily seeing whatever Dash might see in him as far as positive and admirable qualities) because the Family Disappointment syndrome, but that's.... a whole other thing to unpack dfkladsnfls.

WARDROBE - How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

Listen. Leo probably has a selection of like five shirts that he loves to bits and, no, mending garments is not one of his little skills. He will wear things down and he'd also probably be the type to wear the same thing for several days straight because he got behind on laundry or just... because he was comfortable and not particularly seeing people. He still might honestly try even if neither of those things are exactly true. I don't think he... likes the idea of fashion shopping in general, given the connotations for him. And, again, for as much as he can preen about others, he's... not particularly always on top of his own appearances. He's... shit at taking his own advice, frankly. Including the bit that the way you dress yourself can affect how you think and feel about yourself. It's not necessarily about affording things, he just... has mixed feelings about the shopping bit. Sometimes it is liberating to add more one-size-too-large graphic prints to his collection by the handfuls and others the simple idea of having to replenish and update the wardrobe seems like the most insurmountable, horrible, terrible task you could ever ask him to do. How could you do this to him.

[superstardestroyer]

So I had a portfolio review years ago that seriously harmed me mentally, and I've spent years trying to solve how and why it did so. As professionals, we're never supposed to let anything get under our skin, but as human beings, we do have certain topics that will no matter what we do.

I'm on meds now, and for the first time in my life they're actually working. I also understand now that I don't just have social anxiety, I also have capital-O Obsessions. And I don't even really know why I want to share this online but the spirit of LiveJournal-era me feels like liveblogging psychoanalyzing myself is the way to do it.

I wish I could recall the rest of the review. I wish I had recorded it - it happened over zoom, and I had been so careful to record all the physical reviews I had. I find going back and listening to what they ACTUALLY said is much more helpful than the notes I take, because in the moment you misinterpret the actual point someone is making sometimes about your work.

But I didn't do that for this one, and as a result I have only remembered a single piece of critique I got for years. That piece of critique is the one that has haunted me, and for years I've thrown every question and answer I could at it to solve why that one is stuck in my brain. I've asked all my friends. I've very narrowly avoided asking total fucking strangers. No answer has solved it, the mystery has only deepened until now.

He said that all my characters look like me, and told me to stop referencing myself. I was confused, because out of my portfolio none of the faces are referenced off my (horrible) face. I told him as much, that I only reference poses and hands from myself, and I recall he specifically zoomed in on a painting and called it out as looking like myself. I recall wanting to die. (How could I have ruined the beautiful model enough that it looked like that?)

But he had a point - artists always return to their own faces. For years I've noticed artists I like, even if they ref from some other source, stick parts of their own nose, their own eyes, their own cheeks in paintings. (I realized in horror that some fingerprint of myself was in there, and I had to find it.)

For years I kept asking people what it was. People would point to my Mary Sue OC and it was like no no there's no pictures of him in my portfolio, that's my personal Mary Sue and he is actually referenced off photos of me. (I do not think he looks horrible. A big, pretty dude with some of my features is fine. Sometimes he looks too much like me but its mostly fine.)

I'd ask people to find the features that matched. They'd say the eyebrows, but I'm a strawberry blond. I draw my eyebrows on in the first place, so all you're catching is how I only have one style to draw eyebrows in. Same thing for people saying my cheekbones - those are also drawn on with contour. You're just seeing my personal style tastes showing up in how I draw on my face. (You have to find something that's actually original to my horrible face. If he could see it, everyone can.)

Eventually I found all new reference models for some of the characters in my paintings, made 3d models of them all, and tried to stop thinking about it quite so much, but by then I'd already decided to quit art because financially it just didn't make sense to leave a bank job with great benefits on the hope of emotional fulfillment in art. Even if the pay was the same, the comfort of a regular pay check was more important to me.

So I guess I just kind of thought I'd never solve the mystery. But I was looking in the wrong place all along - I was looking for what made him say what he said. I wasn't looking for what made me irrationally grossed out by what he said.

I took for granted that the revulsion I felt was a perfectly normal reaction to what he said. Until this morning when I realized I was no longer feeling that revulsion, and it led me to start pulling that thread, to see what it connected to, and what had hitched a ride on it for years.

I realized about a year ago that deep down, I think that there is something fundamentally repulsive about me, and that like most people who are horrible people it shows in tiny little ways all the time if people are sensitive enough to it. Like how when you're talking to someone out loud and typing and you switch the two for a second, I'm always checking everything I write for the signs of it. I know it's so loud inside me, so I think it must always be twisting everything I do in tiny ways that I can catch if I'm vigilant enough for it. This realization is what eventually led me back to trying meds again.

I guess the best way I can explain it is the things in the ()'s weren't jarring and creepy to me before this dose of these meds. I just thought them alongside the rest of it, and it was part of the horrible secret I must not let anyone know. That my face was awful and wrong and shouldn't be seen by others was just something I took for granted. That it being in my art was a poison that was infecting everything I touched, every escape I had from real life where I had to be my monstrous self. That I could never escape it, it was silently lurking in everything I did.

That everyone but me can see it, they are doing their best to keep the repulsion down long enough to talk to me out of the goodness of their hearts.

That guy had no idea what strange things would hitch a ride to that idea in my head. I had no idea what was in there. It felt like when you pull a hairball out of the drain and it just keeps getting longer and longer, attached to something bigger and bigger and more vile and its been in there for years. You've been standing right next to that thing for years.

It seems embarrassing to talk about. But it also feels like I need closure on finally finding this thing that has haunted me for years because I was looking always in the wrong direction.

"What a freak I am for thinking all that," its tempting to think. But in a lot of ways, that's still the same type of thought.

I miss LiveJournal.

[vilonnie]

mmmmmguh thinking about ocs again. have some trivia

spice tolerance: as a fire mage marcus has a high tolerance to heat in general, but also a high tolerance for spicy foods :) he loves all kinds of spice and prefers flavors with at least some kind of kick to it i.e. his favorite tea is chai and his favorite fruits are citruses. you can give that boy a bottle of hot sauce and he will literally just chug it like a glass of beer and be fine lol. but please don't do that. on the other hand his sister nina and their friend chester have perfectly average and respectable spice tolerances. however miss katie "loses spicy food eating contests to a white boy" marrows has the world's worst spice tolerance it is so embarrassing <3 she can't put any spice on anything or she will be completely red in the face and the others love to rib on her about it (affectionately)

diets in general: marcus also has the biggest appetite among the group! he will be on his fourth sandwich and nina will be like "dude slow down" but he never does. what can he say the man loves food and needs lots of energy! ...to sit still in a dusty library all day and read books without moving ? well. katie is probably second though lol. you can find her in the kitchen in the middle of the night trying to covertly sneak a huge plate piled with pizza rolls and cheeses and meats back up to her room (and failing). the fact that she does not sleep is not healthy but she is incorrigible. in contrast chester bizarrely only eats a few times a day despite the fact that he should definitely need more fuel as an athlete. nina has to watch him hauling heavy equipment around everywhere like "why tf are you this strong all u eat is leaves."

actually most of these are binge eating because katie just plays video games for hours straight and then forgets to eat until it's stupid late/early in the morning + marcus gets really obsessive about his work and then crams in enough meals for three people all at once + chester overworks his body and then just Forgets. like he just Forgor. nina will also later develop her own overworking habits later on in the story and ironically her friends will be there to remind her to eat the same way she used to do for them :) other than that nina is the only one who's normal about it lol. except during holidays! she really goes all out because she LOVES the vibes she LOVES the carefree unity of everyone celebrating together it is so so addicting to her. if it's a special occasion you can always depend on nina to show up HARD and start feasting <33

favorite foods: nina lovessss sweets so so much! she also loves seafood :) nina also really dislikes vegetables and also oddly does not otherwise eat that much meat? and obviously as previously mentioned marcus is mr SPICE SPICE SPICE 100% >>>> but he will also eat his veggies. and unlike his sister he despises sweets lol marcus is the type of person that will fake a bite of cake at a birthday party and then sneak it to the dog under the table. he's also a soup fan, and will not eat fish, again unless the fish is in a soup. idk what it is with this boy and soup. katie's favorites are savory meats! she also has a bit of a sweet tooth herself, although for her she tends to prefer the richer sweets such as chocolates over anything too sugary. her fave flavor combo is chocolate and cheese! so obviously she's a fan of fondue. she's also known to eat a lot of junk food, sometimes she can be the "gamer girl" stereotype of "locked up in her room eating only potato chips and mountain dew"

gynawis: ok sorry I'm done talking about food lol. dlagynnawis is my (lazy, extremely barebones) conlang :) it's a foundational language that many other languages developed out of, was originally the language of dragons, can be found in many older documents and historical sites, and can functionally be considered this world's equivalent of latin* (in terms of how it is used and some of the areas in which it is studied.) gynawis is notable for it's lack of subject pronouns and emphasis on possessive pronouns, meaning that it has a different grammatical structure that doesn't make any sense if translated directly into english i.e. the common way to say "I walked through the park" would translate like "the walk through the park was mine" or sometimes just "my walk through the park" even though the latter reads as incomplete to us.

*however I do not think it can be considered a dead language

because dragons are highly respected and are still alive, although in extremely isolated communities, and because the language is still highly utilized (in science, law, religion, etc.) gynawis is a common second language taught in schools. katie is the most fluent of the group and often acts as a translator when they come across usage of it in the wild. marcus is decently fluid in it, at least enough to be comprehensible. chester is as well, but he has a heavy accent. nina's gynawis is complete dogshit lol my girl can only say like ten words <3 she was not passing that class

[ravewing]

beefscrap, i just wanted to thank YOU for sharing your incredible ocs and story with us.

i first saw your art on my dash in i think july, and i was immediately captivated by it. your artstyle is absolutely gorgeous and charming and i love how every individual character is unique and your usage of shape language and colors and fluidity is breathtaking.

i normally dont (and never really have before) get into other peoples ocs/fanfics, so i sort of put off reading tbofs until the tail end of october, but once i started reading it i literally got so sucked into it. i love your storytelling, i love all the characters, i love how well thought-out it all is; genuinely i have never felt so attached to a cast of characters that aren’t my own.

i just cant get over how much care and thought you’ve poured into this project. its so clear how much love you have for these characters and their story, and its absolutely infectious. your little characters have wormed their way into my brain chemistry and now my teachers have to see stupid doodles of sheephead and all of my friends know all the lore because i literally cannot stop thinking about it.

i absolutely think that you have every right to call it a fanbase– if tbofs has no fans then i am DEAD !! truly i cannot get enough of your ocs and your story, everything is put together so perfectly and with so much love and care that its impossible not to be obsessed. your work has genuinely inspired me in so many ways, and the fact that you’ve built something so captivating and impactful is such an achievement, and you absolutely deserve all the love and excitement your fanbase brings. keep doing what you’re doing because its absolutely brilliant !!

thank you so much for putting your little ocs and their story out there for us to experience :)

I say “maybe someday” but I get scared someday never will come. So I’ll be brave and speak

“A dream come true” is a phrase I’ve said here before, but that doesn’t even graze the surface. I’ve been writing stories and drawing since I was very young. It’s all I’ve ever done. And for years, one of my biggest wishes was to collect a fanbase for at least one of my stories. Calling my followers a “fanbase” seems really intense, though. I hesitate to call my readers a fanbase because I don’t feel I deserve it. “Fanbase” feels like it’s for someone who made something AMAZING.

I started making TBoFS at the beginning of this year. I’d work on it whenever I got sad, and it turned out to be often. It was just for fun, and something to escape to. Every time I make a story I think to myself ‘I’m sure it’ll pass’, because they usually do. It’s hard for me to finish things in general. So, I thought nothing much would come of it. I never would’ve imagined it’d get as much attention as it does.

No, maybe it’s not a LOT. No way in hell I’d call myself popular, or anything CLOSE. But there are people now who comment, react, interact, theorize, make art, etc for this story. I’ve never felt so special. I never felt like anything I’ve done ended up with any significance. Even if it’s a small amount compared to other online creators, I feel like I have a fanbase. If it’s not considered one, I don’t care. To me it’s one of the biggest, most important things that happened to me. If you couldn’t tell I was dramatic before, you’re finding out now!

I started with low hopes and just made shit for fun. This doesn’t even feel like a very GOOD story half the time because it was so casual at the start. Like, what am I doing to deserve what I have?

I still come to this story and these characters when I’m sad. This year was rough. The people here have helped. And I have a little bit of hope now that someday I can make something totally my own that people will like. That’s always been the dream. But THIS is more than enough.

I’m so lucky to have people who care here. And I thank the people who cared when it was only just beginning, too

I’m not gonna add tags or anything cuz I feel annoying and am a little embarrassed 😭 if you see and read this then hopefully it wasn’t too weird

[marshmallowloves]

Zelda OC #2 - Ixchel + Seracia

>> (list of posts for other OCs)

(just a forewarning - even with the read more, this one is gonna be lengthy 😂)

After being introduced more to the Zelda series by my friend, I excitedly went home and attempted to play through the few games that I owned. I got the farthest in Oracle of Seasons - or at least that's the one I played the most. I can't really remember. But, eventually I moved and was forced to change schools, so I kind of fell out of the hype that my friend instilled in me, and I didn't really touch the games for a long while.

Fast forward to… somewhere around 8th grade, when I was around 13. I couldn't pinpoint the year because to be perfectly honest, most of late middle school to early high school is a complete blank in my memory. Anyway, my mom bought me Twilight Princess for the Wii (I know, I know, put down your pitchforks, none of the local stores even sold the GC version at the time - and we weren't about to pay extra to get it shipped to our broke asses) ...and instantly, I was enamored. Now that I was older, I felt I could actually appreciate the games for their content instead of just going "oh haha hee hee, I am playing the Zelda game! I am into the Zeldas!"

I don't even think I finished the game in its entirety before I chugged out an OC, specifically for Twilight Princess. And this time I was determined to make an OC that would put the cardboard-cutout of Saria Kamia to shame. With the OC Remix "Ancient Hero" playing on repeat on my orange iPod Nano, I scurried over to a now-defunct dollmaker on DeviantArt (thanks, adobe) for ideas, and out came Ixchel and Seracia.

Unfortunately, I do not have the original screenshot from said dollmaker. I do, however, have an old notebook drawing of the first Ixchel (pronounced "EESH-tuh-shell") - she went through a major redesign, but we'll get to that.

(with my real name oh so hastily blurred out kjdhfg)

Ixchel was a name that I found while on Behind the Name - I don't remember what criteria I was searching for, but Ixchel was the name of a Mayan goddess and it supposedly means "rainbow lady." And I do love me some rainbows and names with unusual letters in them! So I wrote it down, butchered the real pronunciation, slapped it on my OC and called it a day.

Ixchel was, for all intents and purposes, a normal Hylian girl (yes I know the "race" part is blank, I know she's a Hylian though dkfjdf). Sure, I slapped on the heterochromia because I needed to make sure she wasn't too plain, but because I was so obsessed with avoiding the Mary Sue clichés, I made it a point to keep her as "regular ol' person" as possible... Well, except for the fact that I later gave her a choker that could literally paralyze people if they made eye contact with her during a very specific phase of the moon. Y'know, normal Hylian girl stuff.

I finally shipped her with Link - because what self-respecting, basic-bitch Zelda fangirl didn't want to jump into Twilight's pants after seeing the first sumo wrestling cutscene? There was no substance, though. I don't remember giving her any distinct personality, nor was there any story as to how they met - I only had daydreams and maybe one or two doodles in which she thinks about him in a romantic context but doesn't say anything. This was at a weird point in time where I kind of knew what self-shipping was, but not by name, and was coming to terms with the fact that I had a crush on a fictional character while being a whole-ass teenager, and not being 9-10 years old and innocently thinking Ash Ketchum was cute - so I think I danced around the ship with Link out of embarrassment, but it was so long ago that I can't be too sure.

Anyway, thanks to this image, I was able to redraw her several years later, looking much nicer and probably much closer to how I intended for her to look. (and here's an extremely rare occurrence - this drawing has a date on it! May 17th, 2016.)

However, this is the last we see of this version of Ixchel. After a while, I decided that she was rather basic - actually more of an "anti-sue," really - and should fit a bit more into the Zelda universe, rather than just be some normal chick with pointed ears. So I did what any loving creator would do - ditched her on the side of the road, appearance and personality and all, and created a whole separate OC with the same name.

The new and improved Ixchel was, in retrospect, hit-and-miss. This time around, my Zelda OC actually had a personality! She was a plucky young adventurer who loved exploring and testing her mettle through battle. She had a very casual attitude, and her thrill-seeking ways sometimes got her in over her head, but she was kind at heart and wouldn't hesitate to help someone who needed it. Her design wasn't bad either, I think - the cargo shorts are admittedly a bit modern, but she definitely looks like a fantasy adventurer, which is what Zelda games are supposed to be like. So this was the "hit" part!

The "miss" part comes in the fact that she once again has a fairy - wait a minute, that's the bitch from the last post!! No, wait, this one is orange, and her name is spelled differently… Those things might have changed, but hoo boy, Seracia (shortened to Sera) did not change her bitchy ways. Still snarky, still sassy, and still insufferable, to the point where Ixchel would regularly put her in glass time-out just to get her to cut the sass - and that still didn't work.

Not only that, but Ixchel also had a pet wolf named Olive. Whether it was because I was in the throes of my teenage years and wolves were cool and edgy, or because I was just that in love with Wolf Link's whole schtick, I wanted a piece of that action too, so I gave Ixchel a rideable wolf that I never drew because to this day I cannot draw animals to save my life. Nevermind that apparently in TP (which Ixchel was made for) everyone in Hyrule shits themselves at the sight of an oversized puppy - Ixchel could literally waltz into Castle town on the back of her giant danger dog and nobody would bat an eye. In fact, that was the opening scene to a story I began writing with another friend at the time - but discussing that story at length would require its own post.

Ixchel's weapons were interesting as well. The idea for them came from (hilariously) Jenna's Phoenix Circles in the infamous Zelda badfic My Inner Life - which themselves are vaguely based on real-life chakram. Here, I called them "Dream Rings" and then later renamed them to "Razorings." They had retractable blades and could be carried on Ixchel's shoulder when not in use.

And lastly, a part that is both hit and miss - I shipped her with Twilight Link as well. At first it was admittedly self-indulgent - there's a picture of them smooching somewhere in my folders. However, I later decided to change it so that Ixchel's love was unrequited. Whether I was, again, embarrassed to crush on a fictional boy at that age or if I was just pants-shittingly afraid of falling into the "loves Link" cliché that many Mary Sues did, at the end of it all, Link fuckin' friendzones her and honestly, that's actually great. It's about time Link successfully escaped the thirsty fangirl.

[angelguk]

the one where jeongguk’s obsessed with your scent because he’s your mate but he doesn’t know that until you accidentally forget to take your suppressants one day. alpha!jk and omega!oc. werewolf!au + mates :) this whole thing is about scenting so there’s that. a little bit possessive!jk. 1.5k words. listen to apple by julia micheals. oh mates are rare in this universe.

You have an incredibly nice neck. It’s a bizarre observation to make, Jeongguk knows that. But something in his brain made everything fall away the moment you plopped down next to him, eyes zeroing in on the steady pulse beating beneath your skin. It had made his own prickle, chest tight with a foreign tension. He hadn’t been able to concentrate during that particular Biology lesson. Hadn’t even wanted to if he’s being honest with himself. He’d spent the duration of those fifty minutes attempting to decipher your complex scent, which he failed at miserably. Too many silages melting into each other. Usually, he has a massive aversion to people who smell like that - like confusion. But with you, something in him itched to pinpoint exactly what your scent consisted of. It would be a lot more convenient for him if he could just stick his nose into your neck, learn what made you you in mere moments. And that thought had led to his mild infatuation with said neck.

Which is why during this Biology lesson, instead of focusing on the handout on the process of meiosis that had been dumped in front of him, Jeongguk is staring at your neck.

This is not the first time this has happened. He’s not sure if you're fully aware of it, because you make a point to ignore Jeongguk. Blatantly so too. Jeongguk’s not sure why you don’t like him - maybe it’s the constant staring (which he’s immensely apologetic for but he truly can’t help himself). Or maybe it’s because Jeongguk is a big fat Alpha with an attention span of a fish. Focusing in class with never his forte in his defence. Movement always seemed more reasonable to him. And it’s not his fault that he fits perfectly on the field in his quarterback position while you preferred to attend violin practise and obsessively colour code your biology notes.

(You had never told Jeongguk you played the violin. He’d stumbled on you in the music room one afternoon on his way out of school, feet drawn by the euphonious melodies floating down the hallway. And if he stayed and watched you play, mesmerised by your poised stance and deft fingers skipping over the strings - that’s his secret).

Normally, he would force his eyes away, glue his gaze to the floor or the blackboard in hopes of distracting himself. But today he can’t - at all. You smell so different. And it’s doing his head in.

Perhaps you can feel the intensity of his gaze because he sees you swiftly scribble on a scrap of paper. In a pink pen - one of the many pink pens in that oversized pencil case of yours. Jeongguk will ever understand that all you need in class is a pen and maybe a highlighter, not ten different shades of the same form of stationary.

Stop staring.

It’s written in neat cursive, even though the side look you’re giving him is heated. He has no idea why his heart does a strange little flip.

“We can talk, you know.” His voice sounds strangled to his ears. Jeongguk prays you didn’t pick up on that as he clears his throat. “We’re not forbidden from talking.”

You huff, turning over your handout. Perhaps he likes how your lips pout in annoyance. “Okay then. Let’s talk. We can start with why are you looking at me like that?” You twist to glare at him and Jeongguk feels his heart stop.

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk's mouth isn’t connected to his brain right now. That’s why he admits to it so easily. There are no thoughts inside of his head apart from how prominent your jugular vein is, and how much he wants to bite. It hits him hard, the full force of your scent. One massive sweep that violently drowns him, coaxing him deeper into an ocean he’d be happy to die in.

The quirk of confusion in your eyebrow makes his skin hot. “Sorry - I just - I just - You smell different.”

He reads it in the quick flash of your eye. Embarrassment, dampening the brightness of your gaze. And then he’s floundering over himself, chest tight with the thought that he's unintentionally hurt you. “Not like that! Like - you just smell different! Not a bad different, just different.”

The forceful short smile on your lips makes his heart clench.

“I know I smell strange. I forgot my suppressants today.” The despondency colouring your tone irks him. So much so that he can’t help but blurt it out.

“You don’t.” He says it firmly, hoping to wipe away the gloom falling on your face. “You smell nice. Just different from most people.” And it’s true, you do smell nice. Really nice now that your scent isn’t obstructed by suppressants and blockers. Maybe that’s why you smelled so odd to Jeongguk at first. Because that wasn’t your true scent, that was a crap ton of chemicals masking it.

“Well, I smell strange for an omega.”

That changes a lot inside of Jeongguk’s head. Instantly. He blinks, abhorring the way his body reacts, posture suddenly straight and his chest puffed uselessly. You wouldn’t even be able to see his frame since he’d donned a baggy sweatshirt this morning, the grey in the sky a warning. But he does it anyway, instincts overriding any ounce of rationality despite his best efforts. Jeongguk wasn’t one to overreact around omegas, however, that new titbit of information coupled with the fact that your scent is straight smacking him in the face, has system can't help but go a bit haywire.

The heat that spreads over your face at his not so subtle presentation makes him preen. Like a stupid excited little puppy. He wants to strangle himself. But he doesn’t, words falling out his mouth like a torrent instead

“You don’t. I just can’t make out what you smell like? If that makes sense. It would be easier if I could just scent you.”

“You can if you want to.” There’s a faint smile tugging at your lips and your gaze doesn’t falter when you say that, direct in a manner that makes Jeongguk literally vibrate. He leans in without thinking it over, the tiny nod of permission the only he needed to see before he buries his nose right into the hollow of your neck. And then its fast, a rush of emotion that sweeps through his system. He doesn’t even realise it’s happening, until the sting of his fangs nipping at his lips elicits a zing of pain that he barely registers, because his brain is melting from the overload of heat that consumes him. His body is tingling from head to toe, knees weak even though he’s perched neatly on a lab stool. There’s a rumbling in the distance. It takes him a moment to register that that sound is coming from him - from his chest.

There’s a strong arm tugging him away a second later and Jeongguk can’t help the frustrated whine that slips from his throat, claws already extended to rip apart the person who thinks they have the right to separate him away from what rightfully belongs to him.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is up with you?” The alarm in Taehyung’s tone is what drowns that voice in his head. Taehyung looks terrified, glancing between the two of you hard. There’s a silence filling the room, loud enough to erase the roaring in his head. The heat of his classmates’ gaze slams into him a second later, and suddenly Jeongguk is acutely aware of the fangs biting into his lip and the extended claws digging hard into the denim of his jeans. When he notes the small gasp that drifts from your mouth a second later, his instincts flare again. Vehemently this time, because you sound scared and the only thing that he can think about is protecting you from whatever threat is in the room.

Yet, he fails to discern the only threat in the room is him.

It’s Taehyung that holds him back, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, grip taut despite the struggle Jeongguk puts up. Mr Kim steps in a beat later, intervening fast because the class is frazzled, the violent onset of alpha pheromones sweeping over the room affecting everyone. Jeongguk doesn’t care though. He can’t. He genuinely can’t, brain devoid of anything but the thought of you and your sickeningly perfect scent and how he finds it despicable that his nose isn’t tucked into the hollow of your neck and you’re not perched on his lap, secure in his arms and the fact that you’re so fucking far away from him despite sitting right across from him.

It’s only when Taehyung, Jimin and a few other classmates that he can’t recall names off because his focus was solely on you that he apprehends it. There’s no other explanation for his behaviour and the school maven pointedly states it when he’s folded into himself in the principal's office, head hung in shame and his heartbeat bruising his ribs.

Mates. You’re his mate.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 15- TFI Friday

Summary: It’s Friday (thank f**k), and Frank’s taken the day off work so that he and Fliss can take an early dinner before meeting the Circle of Truth to celebrate Bonnie and Simon’s engagement…but Fliss is struggling with her emotions, especially when it comes to leaving Alex behind.

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s…)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  A lot of fluff going down in this chapter…they deserve it! We also get to see Frank’s version of the events from Done With Nice Guys which was written by @smediumsmeatbae​. Please check it out, it’s adorable!!!  

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 14

This bed is on fire with passionate love. The neighbours complain about the noises above, but she only comes when she’s on top. My therapist said not to see you no more, he said you’re like a disease without any cure, he said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no…ah, you think you’re so pretty…

Frank woke, reaching out blindly for his phone to silence the alarm. He swiped the button across and turned over, fully intending on giving Fliss a cuddle for another 5 minutes or so before he had to get up when realisation crashed over him and he gave a groan. He'd booked the fucking day off so he could take Fliss for a late afternoon-slash-early evening meal and had forgotten to turn off his bastard alarm.

And then it further dawned on him that it didn't actually matter because Mary still needed to get up and ready for school regardless of his day off or not.

But then…it was Friday. Her university day…which meant she wasn’t due in until 10…

With a grin his arm tightened over Fliss’ waist, hand splaying on her belly as he pulled her back into him, nuzzling his nose into her neck, feeling a stirring in his boxers where his cock was already semi-hard thanks to the life of its own it had in a morning. Part of him wanted to wake her for a bit of fun before the rest of the house rose, the other knew she was bound to be tired after Alex had been an absolute horror during the night, but in the end the decision was made for him as he felt her shift a little, before she stretched out her limbs, a soft sigh escaping from her mouth. "Morning Sailor..." Fliss yawned.

"Morning Cowgirl" He said, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into her. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“The alarm did.” She shifted slightly before she propped herself up to check on Alex who was fast asleep "Yeah, now he sleeps" she grumbled.

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed another kiss to her neck. “Yeah he was really not playing ball last night was he?"

"Three times." She groaned "He's a bottomless pit Frank."

"I told you to stay on bed for the third." Frank sighed.

"Once I'm awake I'm awake." She shrugged. "He cries and it’s like my boobs send an alarm to my brain.”

Frank chuckled "Well like your mom suggested, introducing the formula should help. He'll fill up from less and give you a break."

"You mean because I can't feed him what he needs myself." She let put a sigh and at that Frank took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, look at me." He said sternly and she rolled onto her back, her brown eyes blinking up at him, auburn and blonde hair splayed across her pillow. "You checked with the doctor, she said this perfectly normal..."

"Then why do I feel so shit." She asked, tears brimming her eyes "I can't even feed our baby properly.”

"Oh, Lissy, come ‘ere..." He sighed gently as she rolled onto her side facing him, his arms cradling her close as she pressed her face into his chest, sniffling "Honey, you're a wonderful mom. Don't start beating yourself up about something that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me Frank."

"You think he gives a shit whether what he's getting is from you or not? Does he fuck, he just wants food." Frank told her softly, his hand rubbing up and down her back, underneath the sleep cami she was wearing. "If anything the fact you're doing this shows how much of a good mom you are. You spotted something that he needs and you're doing what you have to do to give it to him.” She stayed silent bar her little sniffles and he gently pressed a kiss to her head. "Don't think on it too much Fliss. I know it must feel shitty for you but he'll be fine. That I can promise you."

She took a deep breath and pulled back to look at him, and he gently brushed his lips against hers, the hand that was on her back stopping in the middle of the spine, holding her to him, kissing her lazily. She took it eagerly, allowing him to slowly ease her over onto her back, caging her underneath his body as his mouth moved to her jawline then her neck. She gave a soft sigh, her hands sliding into his sleep-messed hair and he’d just moved his mouth downwards, softly nipping at her chest through her top when, with his ever perfect timing, Alex let out a little whine.

“For fucks sake…” Frank grumbled, his head falling to the valley of Fliss’ chest as she chuckled, swatting at his head. With a sigh he propped himself up and dropped a kiss to her lips. “I’ll get him sorted.” he said. “You take a while, lay in.”

Fliss looked down at her boobs and then shrugged “Well seeing as he fed three times over night they’re not that swollen so…” Frank gave a snort as she looked at him, arching her eyebrows “Hey, the struggle is real, ok?"

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.” He hopped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats, yanking at the crotch as they felt a little tight thanks to the fact he was half hard, and a T-shirt as Fliss leaned over, gently rubbing Alex’s tummy. “Hey.” Frank looked at her as he picked his son up, gently placing a large hand on his back “If you’re swapping over to formula, does that mean Ben and Jerry are gonna go smaller?” he nodded at her chest “Because if so I may be forced to reconsider my stance on the situation.”

“If you didn’t have hold of our son I’d punch you.” Fliss glared and he gave a chuckle before he headed out of the room.

“Couldn’t you have slept for like 15 minutes longer this morning buddy?” he questioned gently as he entered the nursery, placing Alex down on the changing mat. “You totally cock blocked me. Which, for the record, is not cool.”

Alex looked at him, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, you might look like that.” Frank deadpanned, as Alex’s hands curled around his fingers. His little legs wiggled a little and Frank bent down with his mouth arranged in an open smile, causing Alex’s face to split into a little grin, his arms and legs waggling even faster. “Yeah, ok, I forgive you.” Frank chuckled before he changed him into a clean diaper and then padded downstairs to warm his bottle up, juggling his son easily in one arm as he did so.

By now Alex’s fairly decent mood had started to wane as he was hungry. The noises he made were getting louder and slightly more impatient, threatening to turn into an out and out cry.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming pal…” Frank dropped a gentle kiss to the downy hair on Alex’s head “I know, you’re hungry...despite the fact you had midnight, 1.30 am and 4am snack…”

He settled on the sofa, flicked on the TV for the morning news, positioned Alex and gave him his bottle, watching with a soft smile on his face as the baby’s cheeks worked hungrily taking the mix of breast and formula in the bottle. They’d started this just a few days or so ago after Fliss had simply been unable to stop him crying from hunger Tuesday afternoon and called her mom in a flap. She’d suggested doing what Steve and Sian had had to do with the twins, seeing as both of those had been greedy little bastards too so after a call to the Paediatrician, Fliss had reluctantly agreed. Frank did sympathise with her, and he’d been waiting for the inevitable tears which had finally come that morning, but it would be much easier for her in the long run all things considered, especially if as the doctor had suggested she could move to formula fully bar a morning feed.

Supporting Alex in one arm, he absentmindedly watched the anchor and co-anchor on the CNN morning news where they were talking to someone about a Thanksgiving tradition or something, he wasn’t really paying much attention if he was honest. It freaked him out how fast it was creeping up on them. Soon it would be fucking Christmas. Thankfully, Fliss seemed to be on top of it mostly. They were hosting a small Thanksgiving with his mother then heading over to Verity and Bill’s for the usual party, and for Christmas Steve, Sian and the boys were over so they were spending the day at Verity and Bill’s along with Roberta and his mother…which was always fun. It never ceased to amaze him how welcoming Fliss’ family had been to his own fucked up version of one.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jerked from them by a little popping noise and he looked down to see Alex had moved away from the bottle, and to his astonishment there was a small amount left.

“Finally full up buddy?” Frank asked, offering Alex the bottle again but he turned his head away un interested. “Guess so.” Frank smiled, placing the bottle on the coffee table and moving Alex so he was leaning against his chest, head on his shoulder as he burped him. It took a little while but eventually he obliged and Frank chuckled, turning his head to look at him, bright blue eyes staring around the room. He was developing so fast now, it was ridiculous.

“Shall we go wake your sister up?” He asked softly, “Yeah, okay, come on.”

Thankfully, Mary was actually pretty co-operative most mornings, and today being one of her university split days she was in a good mood, rabbiting on to Frank about the assignment she had done. They ate breakfast before she headed off upstairs to get changed and once she was back, he told her to watch Alex for a second whilst he made his way into the bedroom with a plate of toast and a coffee for Fliss, knowing full well she wouldn’t be asleep. And sure enough, she lay on her back, watching the TV.  She beamed at him as she shuffled herself up, taking the mug off him as he placed the plate on the night stand and perched on the side of the bed.  

“Where’s Bean?” she asked.

“Mary’s watching him for a second so I could bring you that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take him with me when I drop Mary off. He likes the truck. I might pop into the shop for twenty minutes or so, the guys haven’t seen him in a while and I like showing him off.” Frank smiled a little bashfully and Fliss’ smile grew even larger. “Imma dress him in his Made In Boston T-shirt…”

Fliss chuckled “I still can’t believe Bonnie and Simon got him that.” “Oh, I can.” Frank nodded “In fact, that’s quite tame for what I expected from Si to be honest.” “Yeah, that’s true…” Fliss conceded “Oh, don’t forget, I’m teaching at two for an hour.” “I’ll be well back before then.” Frank snorted, “It’s not even eight yet.” “I know I was just pointing out you can have some more male bonding time then too.” “Great, maybe I’ll introduce him to Debbie Does Dallas…” Frank teased and Fliss snorted

“Well, we know he likes boobs so…”

Frank gave a laugh before he leaned over and gave her another soft kiss. “I’ll get him dressed and then we’re heading out so I’ll see you in a little while. Love you.” “Love you too.” She smiled, as he bumped his nose against hers and left.

*****

Once he’d dropped Mary off and walked her into her lecture hall where he handed her over to her tutor, he headed back out to the truck, clipping the car seat back in place. He dropped into work, where as predicted the guys on the team all came to say hi, commenting on how big he was compared to last time they’d seen him. He double checked a couple of the rotas for Monday before he headed home, getting back just after 11, by which point Alex was fast asleep. He entered the house, greeting Thor who came bounding down the stairs to check who’d dared to walk into his home.

“Just me buddy.” He said, patting the large dog’s head before he headed upstairs knowing full well that if Thor had been upstairs that meant Fliss was too. And sure enough, he opened the door to their bedroom and heard the shower in the en-suite going. Fred opened his eye and looked at Frank from where he had been lounging on their bed, his tail swishing slightly before he returned to his cat nap, not even bothering to move.

With a snort at the cat’s blatant lack of any fucks to give, Frank placed the car seat on the dresser, smoothing back Alex’s hair as he continued to sleep and then realised that this was a prime opportunity for finishing what he started this morning. With a dirty smirk to himself he opened the door to the bathroom. Fliss’ head was tipped back, face turned to the stream of water, suds cascading from her long hair down her body which instantly had him half hard again in the constraints of his sweats.

Yup, Frank Adler was a big fan of getting dirty in the shower.

“Room for another?” he asked, cheekily, pulling off his T-shirt. Fliss jumped a little as she hadn’t heard him come in and then turned to look at him through the shower screen, most of her body obscured by the frosted glass pattern. She grinned and raised her hand, making a beckoning motion with her finger. In a flash he shed the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the large cubicle with her, his hands reaching out for her hips, pulling her towards him, so her back was pressed to his chest.

“I believe we have unfinished business Miss Gallagher.” He said, feeling her slick skin pressing against his as he nipped at her neck.

“Really?” she pondered, “I don’t recall…”

“No?” he teased, his lips placing another kiss to her wet skin, “Maybe this will jog your memory…”

His hands slid up, tracing the curve of her waist before he gently cupped her breasts, calloused thumbs skating over the nipples. With a reaction that was automatic, she let out a soft sigh as he gently teased her, his palms and fingers working their magic, all the time taking care not to be too rough as he knew she was sensitive. But in the end it was Fliss demanding he go harder as she arched her back, pushing herself into his hands as she felt the aching brewing between her legs. She went to squeeze them closed, anything to help relieve the pressure that was building and she felt Frank’s lips smirk against her neck, one of his hands brushing down her body, slipping between her folds, right where she needed him most.

“Fuck…” she swore, as he gently played her, slow, teasing strokes and before long she was rocking against his hand, seeking friction as she was spiralling higher and higher, Frank’s rock hard dick pressing into the lower part of her back.

“Turn around…” Frank whispered into her ear and she did as she was told, greeting his lips in a filthy kiss as he pivoted her round so that her back was pressed to the wall of the shower cubicle. His mouth moved from hers to her jawline, the whiskers of his beard gently sliding over her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her collar bone before he rather gracefully dropped to his knees. He glanced up at her, deep brown met ocean blue, her eyes full with a heady combination of love, desire and lust and it drew a low growl from his throat as he reached down for her left ankle. With a steady hand Frank lifted it over his right shoulder and gently kissed and sucked his way up her leg, leaving a nip at the apex of her thigh. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the tiles as he moved to where she wanted him the most, his tongue long and flat against her centre as he lapped at her entrance all the way up to her sensitive bud. Her body jolted as she let out a soft sigh of his name which was laced with satisfaction as he set his mouth to work.

As Frank devoured her with the enthusiasm of a man starved, Fliss curled her fingers into his damp hair, the movement a reflex as the other slapped flat against the grey slate tiles. The contrast of his short beard scratching at her sensitive skin to his soft tongue and mouth was sending her body into overdrive. He gently grazed her bud with his teeth which caused her hips to violently buck forward, her nails dug into his scalp and he gave a chuckle which vibrated against her clit causing her to groan loudly.

“Jesus Christ Frank…” she panted, looking down at him. He peeked up from between her legs, a cheeky glint in his eyes as he continued, his tongue flicking into her entrance, before he sucked on her bud and then she was gone. Her knees trembled as her hand pulled his hair, almost to the point it was painful as she gave a loud cry, her other hand reaching to his head as she used both to push him away from her sensitive sex as she clamped down around thin air. With a smug sense of satisfaction at having undone her to the extent he had, Frank rose to his feet, wiping his wet face with an equally wet forearm and he cupped her cheeks, kissing her again, his tongue tangling against hers.

Fliss’ wrecked brain had barely registered his mouth was on hers when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as the water cascaded down on them both. With his hands on her hips, he spun her round, pulling her back, nudging her ankles with his feet to open her up a little more. With one palm on the base of her back he gently bent her forward ever so slightly, took his throbbing cock in his hand and lined himself up. With a gentle, slow movement he slipped inside, burying himself in her heat, the rumble from his throat slipping out of his mouth at the relief of finally being inside her. Once he was fully sheathed his hands moved, one to her stomach, holding her in place, the other up to her breasts as she arched her back, her head back against his shoulder as he drove in and out of her, slowly, deliberately. Her right hand moved back to grab at his thigh, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle as he thrust forward, the other hand flat reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God you feel so good, baby.”  He groaned, his mouth licking a stripe up the side of her neck as her head lolled to the right, tracing her wet skin up to her jaw line, “So fahkin’ good…”

The hand that had been on her belly moved to grasp her chin with his finger and thumb, tipping her face round to his so he could kiss her. It was all Fliss could do to kiss him back, allowing him to control the pace as she was completely gone, the sensations lancing through her body had left her totally pliant to his ministrations, and he fucking adored the fact she surrendered to him, that she felt safe enough to do so.

“Frankie…” she panted softly as he continued to push into her, driving deep, and she gave a squeak as he rotated his hips, his fingers letting go of her face to slide down her body, between her legs and she gave a long wail of delight as he fondled her bud, “Shit…I’m…”

“Go one, come for me baby…” he nipped at her ear “I got you, I promise…”

With a last, silent moan she came, hard, her knees almost buckling, but Frank held her to him as she blissed out completely, the entire world fading around her as she felt nothing but the familiar hot, warm pleasure as her abdomen contracted and relaxed as her walls spasmed around him over and over.

“Good girl…” he praised as he continued thrusting through, the heat in his own belly now beginning to spike even more, “Such a good girl for me…”

She preened at his praise, relaxing slightly into his hold as he kissed her neck once more, picking up the pace slightly. She reached back with one hand to cup his balls and with an almost violent buck forward he came, biting down gently on her shoulder, muffling the noises of satisfaction and pleasure that rolled from the back of his throat.

His hips stilled and neither of them moved, his hands gently flexing on her hips before he gave a soft chuckle of satisfaction and he pulled out of her, taking care to keep her as close to him as he could. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she turned her head, greeting his lips in a soft, gentle kiss and he smiled as she pulled away, rubbing her nose against his.

“You should take the day off more often” she quipped and Frank could do nothing but laugh.

“I fahkin’ love you.” He chuckled and she grinned, giving a shrug.

“I’m a very lovable person.”

“That you are cowgirl.” He nodded, “That you are.”

*****

“Felicity Rose Gallagher, if you ask me one more time if we are sure we’re going to be ok I’m gonna go mad.” Verity glared at Fliss who had just asked the question for the umpteenth time since her parents had turned up for babysitting duty.

Fliss gave a groan and held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You’ve left him with us before, this is no different.” Verity looked at her “No go, go on, scoot.”

Over Fliss’ shoulder, Frank shot Verity a wink as he dropped his hand to the curve of his girl’s lower back. “Come on Lissy, we’ll be late otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I wanna get back to eat.” Bill said, twirling his car keys.

“Maybe I should drive?” Fliss looked at Frank who took a deep breath as Verity made an annoyed noise in her throat.

“If you want to drive, then that’s up to you.” Frank replied patiently as she bit her lip. “Be a shame though, I was gonna treat you to that champagne you demanded. Maybe not quite a swimming pool full but…”

Fliss looked at him for a second before she shook her head “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologising.” He chuckled softly “Lissy, what do you want to do?”

She glanced at Alex who was led in Verity’s arms, happily grinning up at his Nanna before she turned to Frank. “No, you’re right. We haven’t been out for months so…”she nodded. “Let’s go.” “Halle-fuckin-lujah.” Bill mumbled, earning himself a glare from Fliss. “V, I’ll grab us some take-out on the way back.”

“Bye baby…” Fliss crossed the room to drop a kiss on Alex’s head and then turned, taking Frank’s outstretched hand. “We won’t be too late…” she tossed over her shoulder at her mum. Verity shrugged.

 “Doesn’t matter, we’re staying so be as late as you want.”

Fliss nodded and Frank squeezed his hand around hers as they left the room, not before he threw a smile at Verity who gave him a knowing one back. Fliss had been fine all week with the principle of going out…right up until she had gotten out of her second shower of the day that evening, when she’d suddenly had an attack of conscience about leaving him with her parents whilst she went out drinking. Frank was sharp enough to know full well this was linked to her current feelings of inadequacy, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, there was nothing he could do to stop that bar be there for her and give her the reassurance that she needed.

That and simply love her, which was a given, because he did with every single breath he took.

“You look gorgeous.” He smiled at her as they walked to her dad’s car. She blushed a little and glanced down at the dark blue peplum top she was wearing, coupled with faded jeans and a white denim jacket. She’d been over the moon to find out she could fit back in those jeans so he wasn’t surprised she’d chosen them for the evening. On her feet she wore a simple pair of yellow heeled pumps, complete with matching bag. Her hair was down in loose waves, and her make-up was simple, a light dusting of rose gold powder on her lids.

“Thanks.” She smiled, before she eyed him up and down and he grinned as he knew full well what she was thinking, given that he was dressed in his yellow and black palm-tree Hawaiian print shirt.

“You said my shit shits were endearing.” He quipped and she gave a laugh, shrugging.

“You wouldn’t be Frank without them.”

Fliss declined the front seat when Frank offered it to her, instead climbing into the back behind her dad taking the time to check up on a few emails and the yard’s social media accounts. The three of them made easy chat on the way into St Pete’s and thanked Bill for the lift as they both climbed out. Fliss instructed her dad to call them if there was any problems and he simply rolled his eyes and told her to “piss off and have a good time”.

They’d picked to go to Rios for dinner before they were heading down to Ferg’s to meet up with the others a little later on. It had become a little bit of a running joke between Bonnie and Fliss that, as much of a dive as Ferg’s was, frankly the two women preferred it to any of the bars they frequented. It was casual, fun, they knew a hell of a lot of people in there including most of the bar staff, and it held good memories. It suited both Frank and Simon down to the ground, both of them happy to tease their girls about having simple taste until Fliss normally quipped back along the lines of that being the reason she was marrying Frank in the first place. But when he pushed all jokes aside, he was glad she was so down to Earth. He had nothing against Greg or Jake’s wives but man, they were high maintenance.

But not his Fliss.

As it was still early and they wanted to chill out, they had opted to eat in the more casual outside lounge area which sported the roof bar and offered an all evening Tapas style menu, not the full a la carte main restaurant menu. As such they were led through to their table on the veranda. Neither of them had been into this part since the refurb, the last time Fliss came it hadn’t been finished but now, she felt a smile cross her face as she looked around. It was cosy and casual, right up her street. The tables were slightly lower than normal and appeared to all be different shapes and sizes, made out of driftwood and pallets. They were decked with large candles held in jars in the middle and surrounded by comfy chairs and bean bags all of which sported blankets given that the time of year meant sometimes in the evening it could be quite chilly at night. In the middle of the veranda was a large stone fire pit which was covered by an ornamental, wrought iron cage that spiralled to a point some eight feet off the ground, and the bar stood to the rear right hand corner with a few people sat down enjoying a drink.

“Oh my God, I love it.” Fliss muttered to Frank and he looked down at her, nodding.

“This is pretty cool” he conceded.

“The tables and seats…it’s just how I pictured our wedding.” She said as they were led over to their spot at the rear, which was just by the glass barrier of the roof, over-looking the beach and the ocean.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking at her.

She nodded “Rustic, causal, bean bags, blankets…that type of thing…although it won’t be that cold then…”

“If you want blankets, baby, you can have blankets.” He chuckled kissing her forehead as they settled down onto the comfy plush seats which, to Fliss’ delight were also bean bags just shaped differently. The teenage kid who had shown them to their table soon returned with the menus and informed them that as it was the first week they’d opened the terrace, with every bottle of wine purchased, there was complementary charcuterie tasting platter included. Fliss’ eyes lit up and Frank knew why, it was probably her favourite thing to eat in the world and he had to admit, she did a pretty wicked board herself when they were entertaining. With that in mind, he ordered them a bottle of Pinot Grigio and they sat back, Frank’s arm dropping over Fliss’ shoulders as she looked around.

“You know, if this is the type of thing you want, why not take a few photos and then we can start looking around.” Frank suggested and Fliss looked at him, smiling. “You can give Bobbi a call. I know you want to organise it yourself but she’ll probably have a list of suppliers, caterers, that sorta stuff for you to look at.” “I already know what I want for catering.” Fliss looked at him.

“You do?” Frank asked.

“Yup. I want food trucks. Mexican and Pizza.”

Frank cocked his head to one side, smiling as he looked at her “That’s actually a fucking brilliant idea.”

“No fancy sit down meal, if it stays for a couple of hours then people can grab what they want when they want.”

“Love it.” Frank grinned, looking up as their waiter appeared with their bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass and set the ice bucket in the middle of the table, before he disappeared again.  Frank picked his glass up and Fliss did the same, the pair of them gently clinking them together, smiling. “To our first date in…what? Four months?” Frank teased and Fliss shrugged.

“I don’t know, I lost track of time…been kinda busy.” She teased as Frank chuckled, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Their charcuterie board arrived not long after and they then placed their order, opting for the Chef’s Selection, a number of small tapas dishes which as the name suggested, would be selected by the chef for them. Fliss had liked the idea of it all being rather mysterious and as the waiter had asked what kind of thing they liked they’d both listed a few things and he’d nodded, heading away with their order.

Frank reached over for the wine bottle to top Fliss’ glass up and she thanked him, taking another sip, before he saw her bite her lip and she reached into her purse.

“Congratulations.” He said dryly, teasing her a little as she turned to him. He nodded to the phone “You made it like forty five minutes since we walked out of the door without checking up on him.” “I wasn’t…” she began to protest and he gave her a look and she groaned, tossing her phone back in her purse “Ok, fine…maybe I was.” “Honey, he’ll be ok.” Frank said gently, his hand on her knee “Your mom and dad did this all before remember?”

 “I know, I know…” she said, before she reached over for an olive and popped it in her mouth.

Frank then diverted the subject, got her talking about her afternoon teaching and she animatedly filled him in on how nice it had been to get back to seeing some of her clients. The conversation was easy, fun, they laughed and giggled away and a little over half an hour later when their food arrived they’d worked though their first bottle of wine and Frank then ordered them a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut, just as he’d promised.

The food was amazing, Frank couldn’t fault a single thing about it, other than maybe it was a little too good as his jeans definitely felt a little tighter around the waist when they finished their meal because despite the fact he was full he just couldn’t stop eating. As the waiter came to clean the empty dishes away, Fliss then heard her phone going. Reaching into her purse she read the message and smiled before she turned the phone to Frank. It was a picture of Alex, fast asleep against Bill’s chest as he sat in their lounge.

“See.” Frank smile “He’s happy as a pig in shit.”

“Frank!” Fliss scoffed, slapping his arm, “Don’t call our baby a pig.”

“I was talking about your dad.”

“Oh…I’m so telling him you said that.” She said as they both laughed and she shook her head “You’re a bad man.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” He teased and she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” She leaned over, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. She glanced down at her phone and smiled again before she put it away “We did good though. We made a pretty cute baby.”

“Good genes.” Frank boasted and Fliss laughed and he smiled at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before he rest his arm along the back of the soft chair she was in. “Ever think you’ll fancy another?”

“Another baby?” Fliss asked and Frank nodded. “Fuck no.” she spluttered and Frank let out a loud laugh. “I mean I wouldn’t change any of this for the world but, well, he wasn’t exactly in our plans…”

“Good, because I don’t want one either.” He said in between his chuckles as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Well, you know…” Fliss said, mimicking him and picking hers up “There is one way we could make sure it doesn’t happen again…” she moved the hand that wasn’t holding her drink and mimed a pair of scissors snipping the air. Frank choked on his drink, spluttering slightly as the bubbles threatened to fizz down his nose. Fliss roared with laughter as he wiped at his shirt and glared at her.

“Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

“Because…well, just no!” he said, grimacing, “I couldn’t do that to Little Frank.” “Little Frank…jesus…I can’t…”  Fliss’ laughter grew even louder and the familiar snorting that happened when she was laughing beyond control started, which set Frank off again. She clamped her hand over her mouth, slapping his arm and looked away from him, trying to control herself. Eventually they managed to stop and Frank shook his head, composing himself before he asked for the check.

*****

They hit a cab down to Fergs and Fliss squealed when she saw Bonnie, sweeping her up into a huge hug before examining her ring up close whilst Frank shook Simon’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug, slapping his back. They were joined shortly afterwards by the rest of the gang, and when Simon and Bonnie broke their news to everyone there were more loud cheers and a shout of “shots all round” from Jake. Frank kept a careful eye on Fliss, who was already flushed from what they’d drunk over dinner, especially seeing as she hadn’t had a proper drink in over a year now. She downed 2 tequilas and then shook her head when someone asked her if she wanted another, instead requesting a water.

The gang moved to their preferred spot over at one of the tables at the back, round the corner away from the bar area, and they had a good hour or so catch up before the boys wanted to shoot some pool. Together they made their way over to the games area, the girls settling at one of the tall tables by the side.

“So how is the little one?” Greg turned to Frank as Simon and Jake racked the pool balls up, and he beamed in response.

“Ah Greg, he’s fahkin’ awesome.” Frank gushed “I just…he’s great, really great. Other than being a little cock block that is.”

Greg snorted “Yeah I hate to break it to you, but that only gets worse as they get older…especially when they learn how to climb out of their crib and come to your room.”

“Imma get a lock on the door.” Frank stated simply and Greg laughed as they grabbed a cue each, chalking the end.

They shot one game and then Frank said it was his round, so he headed off to the bar. He nodded to Dave, asking for the same again plus another bottle of water for Fliss and as he headed off to get their drinks, the young woman on the seat next to Frank jumped down from the stool next to him. Frank fished in his pocket for his wallet, pausing as he heard a little yelp and he turned his head to the right to see the guy sat two stools down had his arm curled around the young woman’s upper arm. She tried to get free but the guy’s grip tightened and Frank felt a spike of anger in his chest. All he could see in his mind was Fliss and that bastard ex-husband of hers hurting her. And he knew then he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, let this go.

“We’re not done yet.” The guy said loudly, a sneer on his face as he looked at the girl. Frank quickly stepped up behind her, and he looked at the guy and shook his head.

“Yes, you are.” He said, drawing himself up to full height, shoulders tensing, his eyes not once leaving the douchebag in front of him as he kept his voice calm and level “Let the lady go, man.”

“Mind your business, dick head.”

“It became my business when the whole bar could hear your conversation.” Frank retorted, his tone still calm. “Let her go. Now.” 

After a second or so, albeit reluctantly, the asshole did loosen his grip so that the young girl could remove her arm from his hand meaning she could get out of the way. She headed down to the far end of the bar, Frank watching her for a second before he turned back to the man in front of him who was now wobbling to his feet, his fist clenching by his side.

Frank snorted to himself. Was this asshole really going to go there? Sure, the inebriated piece of shit was built, he probably had a good 20 pounds on him, but Frank himself was no push over. He was in decent shape, he knew that, and given his chances against someone who was struggling to stand up straight, well, he’d take them.

“What are you, some kinda knight in shining armor?” the guy snorted. “Fuck you, man!”

Before Frank had time for a rebuttal, asshole had made a run for him and Frank almost lazily sidestepped as the drunk swung a punch at him. Not being able to stop, Mr Drunk asshole pitched forward and smacked into a chair, catching his head on the adjacent table-top. He groaned out in pain as he held his head on the ground. 

“Jeff! What the hell is going on?”

Frank looked up to see a group of guys heading back in from the outside of the patio and for the first time he felt a little nervous. He looked around, and to his relief he saw Simon and Jake approaching.

“Get him outta here!” Dave said loudly “Your friend is drunk and startin’ fights in my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

The guys were fast to act, quickly shuffling ‘Jeff’ out and cursing at him for ruining their night.

“Fucking prick.” Dave shook his head, before he looked at Frank. “Nice going man, this rounds on the house.” “Thanks Dave.” Frank smiled at him.

“Hey bud, you ok?” Simon clapped Frank on the shoulder as Jake eyed the guys leaving “What the fuck?” “Oh he was hassling some girl.” Frank said, shaking his head, “She was petrified.” “What a dick.” Jake mumbled, turning back to him. “She ok?” “Not sure.” Frank said, looking round the bar as Dave placed the tray of drinks down in front of him. He didn’t know whether she had stayed or scarpered but he soon spotted her. She was sat on a chair, her arms over her stomach at the opposite end of the bar. Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, she was clearly here on her own for whatever reason. “Do me a favour and take the drinks back to the tables will you?” he said to Jake and Simon, before he strode over, stopping besides her.

“Hey, you okay?”  He asked her gently.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Thank you for helping me. You’re like my hero.”  She let out a nervous laugh as a pink blush settled on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome but I was just doing what any person would do.” Frank smiled, a little embarrassed at the compliment. “My name’s Frank, by the way. You want some water?”

She offered her name and nodded. Frank turned to Dave “Hey man, can she get a water”?

“Sure.” Dave nodded, reaching into the fridge for a bottle. He passed it over and she took it with a thanks, taking a slow sip before she set the bottle down and looked back at Frank.

“So, Frank. Is there any way I could thank you for your bravery? Maybe treat you to a coffee sometime?” at that she reached forward and put her hand on top of his forearm gently, looking at him expectantly.

Shit. Not another fucking Vegas.

As gently as he could he moved his arm away, coughing a little as he shook his head. “I… uh, thank you for the offer, but not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She blushed again and pulled her hand away.

He smiled kindly at her, but before he could assure her not to worry about it he heard Fliss shouting. “Frank!”

He turned to see her walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, Lissy I’m fine.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple lightly. 

“What happened?” She asked, searching his eyes. “Jake and Simon mentioned there’d been a fight and…” “Just some drunken asshole harassing this lady.” He said, nodding to the woman. “I stepped in that’s all. He didn’t hit me, don’t worry.”

Fliss looked at him, then to the woman and back again as Frank introduced her. The young woman reached out and shook Fliss hand as Frank’s arm dropped to her back, gently brushing underneath her top.

"Well, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for the night.” The girl laughed dryly. “I’m gonna head out. Thank you again, Frank. It was nice meeting you Fliss. You’ve got quite a guy." 

Fliss looked at Frank whose cheeks had flushed slightly and she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I do. Take care.”

They stood watching her leave before Fliss turned to Frank, her hands sliding up his chest “Like a regular real life Captain America ain’t you? Standing up for the little guy.”

Frank rolled his eyes “Your Marvel obsession is ridiculous.”

She shrugged as he dropped a kiss to her lips before they headed back over to join their friends.

***** An hour or so later Fliss was ready to go home, her feet hurt, her boobs hurt and she was quite drunk. She leaned over to Frank who was sat next to her, her hand curling round his thigh and he turned to her.

“You ok sweetheart?”

“No, I mean yeah, I mean…” she sighed “I’m ready to go home, do you mind?” “Course not.” He smiled, giving a little chuckle “I’ll get us an Uber ok?”

He reached for his phone, ordered the car and to Fliss’ relief there was one literally round the corner. They stood up, bid their friends good night sharing a few hugs and the like before Frank looped an arm round Fliss’ shoulders, hers slinking around his waist as they walked slowly out of the bar. Frank could tell she was a little unsteady on her feet and he smiled to himself, pleased she’d let go enough to enjoy herself.

Carefully he made sure she got down the steps ok and they walked along the little path that led down to the front of the small row of beach bars that Ferg’s was at the end of. As they emerged onto the road area, waiting for their cab Frank heard a shout.

“Oi!”

He wheeled round and saw the asshole from the bar, Jeff, stumbling towards him as his friends hastily followed, shouting at him to leave it alone.

“Fuck.” Frank mumbled, “Fliss, move honey, quick.” She looked up at him, then to the guy approaching, and he felt her tense. He stepped forward, his arm stretched out to the side, ready to push her behind him but in a flash she ducked under it and before he could stop her she’d raised her fist and smashed it straight into the approaching guy’s face. Her punch connected with a satisfying crack and he dropped like a stone to the floor, clutching his nose which was billowing blood.

His friends appeared once more, apologising profoundly as they hoisted him to his feet, he was groaning and clutching at his face, as they led him away.

“Lissy!” Frank’s voice was a mixture of shock and awe as she turned to him, shaking out her fist.

“Sorry, oh my God that was so bad!” She mumbled, “Was that bad? Are you angry?”

“Angry?” He looked at her, shaking his head “No. Why would- what- where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?”

“Steve.” She shrugged “Haven’t done it in a while.”

Frank blinked as their Uber pulled up and she made her way towards it. He shook himself out of his shocked stance and strode forward, opening the car door for her. He stopped it halfway, causing her to look at him and he dropped his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Baby, I just want you to know that I’m all sorts of turned on right now.”

She looked up at him and her lips quirked up at the side into a cheeky grin. “Best hope this guy doesn’t take the long way home then.” Frank gave a little growl as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He opened the door fully, to allow her to climb into the back seat, before he hastily followed her in. As the driver set off, Frank leaned forward between the front seats, which wasn’t exactly easy given the bulge in the front of his jeans and he nodded to the driver.

“Extra 5 bucks in it for you pal, if you make it quick…”

**** Chapter 16 Part 1

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.).  [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest? 

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was  a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

[blakelakebake]

Normality (Prologue)

A Natasha Romanoff Story

Summary: Normality has never been in the Black Widow’s dictionary. All her life she was trained in rough conditions and kill from just an order, never having the time for a domestic and simple life. But when she stumbles across a cute guy working in a small coffee shop and her leaving with just a number and a name on a cup, Natasha slowly learns the true meaning of what being normal is like.

Warnings: Fluff, some painful slow burn, okay maybe A LOT of painful slow burn, a bit of angst, language, eventual smut, domestic Natasha (because why not) and some good ol’ wholesome love for the great assassin.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x (Trans)Male!Original Character.

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Azriel Carmel (OC), Clint Barton, Laura Barton, and basically anybody else from the Avengers and some OCs of mine.

A/N: I’ve been reading so much Natasha fanfics to the point where I’m obsessed. This idea came to me a while back, like months ago, but due to being in quarantine with not much to do other than do homework and play club penguin at 2am with friends, I’ve decided - with some encouragement from this really good fanfic that I read - to start this series with high hopes that I’ll be able to not procrastinate on it and actually finish it. Please comment what you think and hope you enjoy!

A Year After The Battle Of New York

"One caramel latte?" The voice, deep and smooth, called out. A woman stood up from her seat near the counter, smiling at the barista while grabbing her small mug of coffee, a thank you leaving her lips. The man smiled back, nodding as he turns back to making a black coffee for another costumer. He grabbed a small mug from the side, putting it onto a white plate as he clicks the portafilter into place, allowing the coffee machine do its magic.

Checking his watch, he sighed, his free hand reaching up to adjust his round glasses. Just twenty more minutes, he thought as the time nears eight o'clock at night, when his shift finishes. He places the cup on the coffee machine, allowing the dark liquid to flow into it. His eyebrows furrowed from a realisation, who's having coffee at this time? Mentally shrugging off the thought, he took the mug once the machine beeped and placed it back on the plate, bringing it to the counter.

"One black coffee?" Just then, a redheaded woman saunters towards the barista, causing him to pause for a bit, taking her appearance in. She was wearing a full black outfit, which wrapped around her figure perfectly, a black leather jacket complementing her even more. He couldn't help it, after all, he is a guy with hormones. But instead of checking her out more, he stopped himself and smiled at her, sliding the mug forward to bring it closer to the woman.

She grabs her drink by the plate, a stiff smile plastered on her face. "Thanks." The man smiled back.

"No problem." She walked back to her table where an open book is placed on top of it. She sat down, sipping her mug before placing it down and picking up her book, her legs crossed and her eyes focused.

The barista couldn't help but stare at her for a bit longer, intrigued and curious about the woman. His head tilted to the side a bit, his light brown eyes taking in her appearance. The woman must've notice, since her own eyes diverted from her book to him, causing him to quickly look away and continue on with his work, his nerves taking over his body as he fidgets around with some equipments.

Natasha looked at him, an eyebrow raised before looking back at her book. She sipped her coffee again, frustration slowly creeping onto her skin as her eyes lose focus from the story she was invested in just ten minutes ago. Ignoring the random thoughts that were trying to invade her mind, she chugged down her cup of coffee, placing her book back down before walking back to the till, her mug and plate in hand.

From behind the till, she saw that the barista had his back to her, his short, curly black hair swishing around as he moved swiftly within the small area, the smell of chocolate making its way into Natasha's nose as he placed the takeaway cup in front of a young girl who smiled at him before rushing out of the cafe.

He exhaled, a crooked, tired smile plastered on his face, his brown eyes slowly moving their attention from the wooden counter to the redhead staring at him with piercing green orbs. Startled slightly, his eyes went wide for a bit before fazing back to normal, his smile never faltering, only lifting slightly.

The barista's feet moved his body quickly to the till with him now facing Natasha once again. He immediately noticed the empty mug, chuckling before he put his attention back onto the redhead.

"Isn't it bad for you to have black coffee late at night." He said with amusement written across his face. She responded with a raised eyebrow, challenging him to talk further. Unfortunately, the man was blissfully ignorant. "Seriously, you won't be able to have your beauty sleep if you drink too much."

Natasha hummed, the corners of her lips moving upwards slightly, but her face still emotionless. "And aren't you supposed to be serving your customer?" The black haired man chuckled nervously, his large hand - not that Natasha noticed, no - moved to scratch the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Embarrassment washes over his face, a slight tint of pink on his light-tanned skin. "D'you want another mug of black?" The redhead looked at him blankly for a second before nodding her head, her hand passing her mug to the barista while her other hand reached into her pocket to grab her wallet.

The man gladly took her mug placing it on the counter behind him quickly before he turned back to face the redhead once again. He saw her waller in hand, and for some odd reason, he shook his head. "You don't need to pay."

Natasha looked back up from her wallet, her eyebrows rising a bit in question. The brown-eyed man mentally winced, almost regretting saying that, but instead of backing out from what he blurted out, he continued on, with less confidence. "Um, it's on the house."

Her face stayed the same. "Since, you know, the cafe's about to close, and there isn't anyone here, and I thought why not make this pretty woman some nice coffee for fr-"

"So I'm just a pretty face?" The redhead cut him off, amused at him nervously ranting in front of her. He was lucky that no one was around to witness it.

"What? No! I mean," His eyes kept on diverting to everything around the cafe except for the woman in front of him. He eventually gave up on whatever he was going to say and instead sighed, his shoulders deflating and his head tilted down slightly. "I'll just go make your coffee."

Natasha smirked, enjoying the fact that she could make any man a stuttering mess. "Two things," She then said, causing the barista to snap his attention back to her. "One, your name."

"Oh, uh..." Surprise was slapped across his face for a moment before he recovered a bit. "It's Azriel. What about yo-"

"Two," She held up two fingers which made the man - Azriel - stop himself from talking any further. "Can I have my coffee to go?"

The black haired man blinked, speechless and confused at the same time. He slowly nodded, his feet twisting him around so that he could continue on doing his work. Azriel placed the mug into the sink as he reached for a take away cup, only to pause, hesitance in his stance.

"Uh..." His light brown eyes met her green ones again. "D'you want a small or medium?" She started at him for a moment, her mind calculating and observing.

"Small." With a nod, the barista went back to work with a small cup in hand. Whilst the black haired man was focused on making her coffee, Natasha began thinking over the conversation. It was weird, strange even, that somehow, out of all the coffee places she could go to and people she could talk to, she just had to stumble across this small, yet comfy, coffee shop where the barista just so happens to be a cute guy that the assassin herself can't help but check out from behind him.

His body was lean, but not too skinny to make him seem lanky. His shoulders were slightly broad, unlike Steve's shoulders, and although his arms were covered by his long-sleeve sweater, she could tell that he had a slight muscle build from the way the material fit perfectly around them.

As her eyes raked over his body, she didn't seem to notice the small detail of Azriel writing some numbers and a few words on her cup once the machine finished making the redhead's coffee. He turned around suddenly, smiling brightly - though his eyes held some bit of exhaustion - causing Natasha's eyes to quickly divert from watching his firm ass (I'm still a woman with desires, she told herself as she forced her eyes to look at the man's slightly round face.

"Here you go." He said, nervously handing her the hot drink. She took it, her lips curving upwards, a small smile plastered on her mouth as she grabbed her drink.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Azriel nodded, his eyes suddenly interested on the counter in front of him, earning a chuckled from Natasha as she walked towards the door. She opened it, causing a chime to ring through the empty shop, her head twisting around so that she could see the cute barista over her shoulder.

With a grin, she spoke: "See you later, Azriel."

"Y-yeah, see you!" He replied with a wave, his voice sounding a little too enthusiastic for a response, causing him to wince visibly after. Fortunately for him, the redhead was already gone, allowing him to sigh in relief. A content smile graced his lips for a bit before it dropped once he saw the time.

8:22pm.

"Ah crap." Azriel huffed in frustration, knowing that he won't be able to sleep for another two hours if he doesn't close the cafe soon. Throughout the night, from when he was sweeping the floor clean to when he finally got back to his apartment, green eyes circled around his mind, never leaving for just a moment.

[sweetness47]

The Shaman’s Choice Ch. 4

Pairing Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Characters of the series include: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Jo, reader’s parents, Reader’s grandmother, Reader’s brothers (Darren OC & Michael OC), Mary, Jack, Apocalypse Archangel!Michael

Chapter 4:

@spnkinkbingo square filled (case fic)

@spnabobingo square filled (Jealous Alpha)

@samwinchesterbingo square filled (free space)

Word Count: 3053

Summary: So this is an SPN fic, but contains a lot of wild AU ideas. Bear with me while the story unfolds, and enjoy it.

Warnings for all chapters just in case: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY! smut, sex, unprotected sex, abo dynamics, knotting, mating bites, claiming, oral, shower sex, sibling arguments, swearing, violence, mentions of brother in love with sister (unhealthy obsession, jealousy)

The entire bunker was echoing as Sam let out a loud “Whoop!!” and kissed his Omega. Well wishes came from all, but none more thrilled than the expectant parents. YN put in a call to her own parents, not giving details, but asking if she and Sam could come by for a visit. (Mom & Dad) were happy to hear from their daughter, and even more thrilled to have them visit.

The four-hour drive was filled with plans for a nursery as well as lots of ideas for baby names. YN made sure to tell Sam about the estate, more specifically the fact that it was quite extensive. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the fact that her family was rich. Sam assured her that he was fine and not to worry.

She worried anyways, because Michael would also be there. They hadn’t spoken or seen each other since that first night she met Sam. Her mind drifted back to memories of when she and Michael were younger, and compared them to Sam’s first impression of her brother. Jealousy.

Sam looked over at YN. “You ok?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, just thinking about Michael. Haven’t seen or heard from him since that first night. Darren has checked in more than Mike. Hell, I’ve heard from my Nana more than from Mike.”

She looked over at Sam and sighed. He sensed her sadness, but he didn’t know what to say. He did, however, want to kick her brother’s ass for hurting YN like that. But he wouldn’t, not without a damn good reason anyways.

She was so pre-occupied that she almost missed the private road. “Turn here Sam.”

He slowed and turned, stopping when he hit a dead end five minutes later. “YN?”

“Apparuistis.” She exclaimed.

Where stood a dense forest now appeared a large security gate. Sam gave a low whistle of wonder as he surveyed the extensive grounds, driving up to the parking area YN had pointed to, and putting the Impala in park. Dean was a tad apprehensive about loaning Baby, but he trusted his brother and YN implicitly. The classic car was in impeccable condition, and would impress everyone.

Both were greeted warmly by YN’s parents, Nana, and Darren. Michael was no where to be found. She asked the question that weighed on her, though in her heart, she already knew the answer. “Mama, where’s Mike?”

The room went quiet. It was Darren who spoke up. “YN, no one’s seen him for days. He disappeared shortly after you and Sam got together.”

Tears fell from YN’s eyes, and Sam wrapped his arms and escorted her to the living room. The others followed, bringing mint tea and some fresh baked cookies. YN felt a bit better after partaking in the refreshments. Her mother sat down beside her, and attempted a distraction.

“So, why the sudden visit, YN?”

YN glanced over at Sam, who smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well…Sam and I are having twins!”

Sam nearly choked on his cookie, his eyes wide as saucers. Shouts of joy filled the parlour as the family celebrated, hugging both Sam and YN. Sam wore a huge grin for the rest of the day, through dinner, dessert, and the entire night. Twins! He wasn’t just gonna be a father, he was going to be a father twice! He made sweet gentle love to his Omega that night, mindful of her newfound condition.

The next morning, both were awakened by YN’s mother, who insisted they come downstairs immediately, nicely dressed. The two showered, and found nice, semi-formal clothing waiting on the bed for them. The clothes were fine silk, and Sam was surprised at how accurate the fit was. YN giggled at her Alpha’s expression, explaining some of her mother’s gifts to him. She had a knack for size and clothing creation, it was similar to how a photographic memory worked. YN stared at her dress, intricate beadwork adorning the neckline and the bodice. These were wedding clothes, or her tribe’s version of them.

The ceremony itself was short and simple, and YN wasn’t really surprised that this was planned. Sam wasn’t complaining, and neither was she. In reality, she liked this better…no big crowds, and no dress shopping. YN’s father escorted her down after her mother had escorted Sam down. Nana was standing in the parlour, waiting as (father’s name) brought her to Sam, putting her hand in his. Nana took a white silk ribbon and bound their joined hands while chanting, “Benedicite, amare, uxor, cor.”

Then, once the ribbon was secure, Nana looked at the couple and smiled. Raising her hands to the sky she whispered, “Ut benedicat haec duo sunt matrimonia iungeremus.”

The family stood. “Benedicat eis!”

YN smiled at Sam, who looked ridiculously happy, but mildly confused. “This is the kissing part.” She whispered, and Sam dove in, his mouth claiming hers as every one gathered to wish them well. The happy couple received numerous hugs and congratulations, and were thrilled beyond belief when they saw Dean and Jo, who had been invited over by Darren.

The feast lasted the better part of the day and evening. Sam and YN did manage to sneak off for a few minutes here and there, returning with slightly disheveled attire and both were blushing furiously. Everyone just acted as if that was perfectly normal, which it was for newlyweds. Darren had brought his Omega, Nikki as well, one of YN’s best friends, for the celebration. Sam, YN, Dean, Jo, Darren and Nikki talked and laughed for a better part of the night, becoming great friends by the end.

It was 5:00am when YN felt something strong, it was power, but from where she couldn’t guess. Quietly she slipped from the bed and peeked out the window to the grass below. Movement caught her eye. It almost looked like Michael, but the darkness made identifying him difficult. Stupid dickhead! If he’d gotten involved with drugs or some such shit, she’d kill him.

As quietly as she could, she slipped on joggers and a tee, carrying her runners so she wouldn’t make noise. She almost made it to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going, Omega?” came the groggy, yet commanding voice of her Alpha.

“Outside for a minute. I thought I heard something. I’m going to check it out.” YN whispered.

Before she could even blink he was there beside her. “Half truths are almost the same as lying YN. Talk to me.”

‘How can I? It could take you away from me! From our children!’

Her thoughts cried out to him, but she remained silent. Forasmuch as she wanted to tell him the truth, there was too much risk. Or was there. If this was to do with Mike, and her gut feeling, then she needed to keep Sam as far away as possible.

Still, despite the prophecy, he could end up involved or worse, killed. Tears fell from her (eye color) orbs, and she allowed Sam to hold her as sobs broke out. Sam soothed her with gentle words, stroking her hair, until she was able to talk.

“Oh Sam, I am so afraid of losing you, that’s why I haven’t said anything. Please stay here. I couldn’t bare it if you died because of me. Please Sam!”

Her Alpha sighed. He could sense her fear and the truth behind her words. But he had vowed to protect her, to keep her safe, and that wasn’t going to happen if she went by herself.

“Omega, look at me, please.” YN brought her eyes up to meet his. “I made a promise to your father and mother, that I would protect you, and I intend to uphold my promise, and my vow to you. I’m coming with you, and there’s no talking me out of it.”

He held her close, nuzzling her neck as he always did. It brought her some comfort, his scent had become her own personal calming agent. Besides, at least this way she could watch him, and ensure his safety. Plus, there were the pups to think about now, she really couldn’t blame him for wanting to come. She just didn’t want to lose him either, so right then she decided to dig her own path, and stray from the warnings.

“Ok, Sam, but I need to tell you something first. Please don’t hate me.” YN’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I could never hate you.” Came his reply.

He pulled her onto his lap as she began to speak, telling him the whole story: the prophecy, the powers, the mark…all of it. Once finished, she closed her eyes and waited for the yelling and hurt feelings that she was so sure would follow. Instead, Sam stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

“We’ll be ok YN, promise.” He whispered. “I’ve got your back always.”

She wanted to believe him. Her mind blocked out the negative as she and her Alpha made their way outside. She had to believe his promise, or she wouldn’t be able to do this, whatever this was. Michael had disappeared from view, but his scent was strong, too strong. Mike was in a rut, a bad one. Sam noticed it too, a low growl escaping his chest as he followed his Omega closely, senses on high alert. Brother or not, if he made any move toward YN that Sam perceived as threatening, Sam would tear Michael to shreds.

The scent continued deep into the woods. Sam held YN’s hand, never wanting to let go. He had a bad feeling, one that only intensified after hearing YN’s story, and hearing about the prophecy. And now with Michael in a rut? That just added to the excitement.

YN motioned for them to stop, so they waited and listened. Voices, two distinct ones, Michael and one she didn’t recognize, were coming from the clearing. Then light flashed, bright enough to blind the eavesdroppers briefly.

The light faded as Michael’s voice rang out, or at least it sounded like Mike. But YN knew her brother well enough. Whoever was talking, it most certainly was not her twin.

“YN? Come closer. Bring your mate. I know your there. Don’t make me come find you.”

Sam squeezed her hand with some reassurance, and the two stepped into the open. The man before them smelled like her brother, and yet it didn’t smell or sound like him. The saw his eyes, and Sam knew what had happened.

“Michael.” He said quietly.

YN looked at her Alpha with even more confusion. “Sam, what…?”

Sam stopped her. “No YN, not your brother. The Archangel Michael.”

Michael stepped forward, and Sam bared his fangs, growling deep in his chest. “Stay back. You touch her and I’ll rip you apart.”

The Archangel-turned-Alpha flicked his wrist, expecting to send Sam flying against the nearest tree. But he didn’t.

Instead, at the same moment, YN’s voice rang out.

“Clipeum!”

Sam stood as the force went around his form, shocking him but his anger never waivered. YN wasn’t even close to being done, however.

“Ignis!”

Michael was caught off guard at the sudden attack, and his meat suit went flying against the nearest tree. His clothes were slightly charred, but still intact. He wasted no time, and gained the upper hand while YN was focused on the offense. He lifted Sam into the air, slowly constricting his airways.

YN cried out. “No! Leave him alone!”

Michael pondered this, his mouth turning slowly into a smile that made YN shiver. “Why should I? He and his brother have been thorns in my side for a while now. Plus…, he added, “This one took you as his mate, before your brother could claim you as his own.”

YN visibly paled, but she stood her ground. “Michael please. You know he’s my soulmate! Leave him be. Please! I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt him.” Tears fell as she begged the Archangel for mercy.

“Be careful what you promise, YN. Here’s the deal. I’ll leave your Alpha alive, hell I’ll spare all the Winchesters if…” his smile turned dark, and YN felt nauseous, “You renounce Sam and take me as your Alpha.”

“NO!” Sam screamed, his eyes read with anger. “YN, don’t! Live free! I’m not worth that.” He stared at his nemesis/brother in law. “You can’t trust him.”

YN’s heart was torn. Her love for Sam, and her desire to keep him safe, versus an eternity of misery in a loveless union, with her own flesh and blood as her Alpha. She felt sick inside. What kind of choice was this? The outcome sucked either way. If she said no, Sam would die. If she said yes, Sam would live but she would no longer be his. Sam was right though. There was no guarantee Michael would keep his word. Then she had another thought.

“If I say yes, Sam, Dean, and all their family and friends live. You don’t touch them, you don’t hurt them in any way. And when my pups are born, Sam gets sole custody of them, his to raise. That’s my condition. If you go back on the deal, our union is void and Sam becomes mine again.”

“YN! Don’t worry about me! Let me go. Don’t give in to that monster!” Sam cried.

Tears fell hard. “I love you too much Sam. I can’t watch him kill you. Promise me you’ll take good care of our pups. Please!”

Sam nodded, and YN turned to Michael. “Do we have a deal, Michael?” She held her hand out to her brother-turned-angel.

Michael stepped forth to grab the hand, eager to seal the deal. “We do indeed.”

YN’s hand closed around her brother’s hand and smiled. “NOW SAM!”

Michael frowned and went to move, but realized quickly that he was frozen in place. Then fear filled him as Sam spoke an all too familiar verse:

Omnipotentis dei potestatem invoco

Omnipotentis dei potestatem invoco

Aborbe terra

Hunc angelum omne obsequendum

Domine expuet

Domine expuet

Ut deum ad empyreum remittat

 YN, still holding his hand, clarified. “See, you are smart, the whole plan was actually pretty good. But, both you and my dumbass brother overlooked a few things.”

Sam stood up, no longer in Michael’s power, and came to stand beside his Omega.

YN continued. “My brother and I are twins…identical twins. Near impossible, I know, but our DNA will prove it. We share a special connection no one else does. Telepathy. I knew the moment he came to you. I knew all of it, all the betrayal. I wanted so hard to believe that my own brother wasn’t capable of that. I tried to find a way to bring him back to us.”

Sam spoke then. “YN told me everything. The reason you can’t move? Her palm has an angel trap on it, bound with her power. She is indeed very powerful, I’d venture more powerful than you. And…”, he leaned in close, teeth bared, “she’s mine.”

YN let his hand go then, and Michael, the archangel, began to leave her brother’s body. But in a parting shot, the angel went to send Sam flying against the nearest tree in an attempt to kill him, but YN felt the thought and pushed Sam out of the way, the blast sending her flying, crashing against a large pine. Bones shattered, and YN cried out, her body crumpling to the ground. Sam screamed her name, his rage directed at Michael, incinerating him and his host. He ran to his Omega, his beautiful YN, checking for a pulse.

He found none.

Sam’s grief was great. His voice howled through the woods as he mourned his loss. As he lay his head on her chest, tears covering her shirt, he stroked her hair and kissed her, then he covered his face as sadness consumed him.

There was movement, but none that he noticed at first. Sam’s tears began to glow, and disappear into YN’s skin. Then his eyes snapped open as the shattered bones of her spine began to pull themselves back together. Her lungs drew breath, and YN coughed as her eyes opened, the oxygen flooding her system.

Sam’s jaw dropped to the ground, staring at the miracle that had just happened. He wasted no time in gathering her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. She moaned, partly from pain and confusion, and partly because she was enjoying the attentions her alpha was showing her. She knew partly the reason for the emotional overflow…she’d died…and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was sitting up and breathing. That’s when she felt it, or rather them…her twins! They had used healing power on her, which was near unheard of. Most infants, no matter their lineage, didn’t have that kind of knowledge.

Sam’s power though, she knew where that came from. She’d given him the ability to share her powers when she had left her mark on his shoulder, in other words, the mating bite she’d bestowed upon him. The prophecy. She shook her head as everything fell into place.

Then there was her twin…the one puzzle piece she had wanted to be wrong about. His behavior made sense now, but it was still alot for her to process. Sam helped YN to stand up, supporting her until he was sure she wouldn’t fall, and together they started back to the house. She had no idea what she was going to tell her parents or Darren, but at least now she felt safe, felt at peace. There were no more threats or immediate danger to her or Sam.

[arty-e]

Heya! I’m back with more world lore and Ocs! This is just a post on Hearts and i guess my thought process on the whole thing. All this will be under the cut if you guys are interested at all! :)

A brief sort of explanation and thought process about my world (Cards). I was getting kind of bored and somewhat fed up with fantasy worlds that focus on western medieval times (don’t get me wrong i’m weak for the aesthetic) so when i started developing my world i wanted to combine cultures with one another. also i love the 1700s-1800s aesthetic the most. Another important thing i need to add is that this world though appears old to us is actually around 11,000 years, with the Fae having been a heavy influence on how the world changed really slowly, so slowly guns don’t exist. Since Cards it is so old it has been fully integrated and it’s perfectly normal. Racism is not a thing but xenophobia is, i just need to clear that up right now. Now that’s out of the way i can focus on talking about Hearts! :)

Hearts: I’ve based Hearts on Indian (Primary) and American (Secondary) cultures. Admittedly sounds like a strange combination but i felt they like fit with Hearts sort of theme of emotions (I’ve always felt that America as a nation was sort led by emotions and India’s culture and fashion always spoke to me emotionally (vibrant and colourful)). With these two nations combined i must add i combined three cultures, India, America and Native American cultures. Originally i had just based it on ‘white’ America but the more i thought about it i realised the importance of representing Native American culture in this. Hearts fashion is mostly based off of India but i have taken some creative liberties as this is still a fantasy world of my creation. Hearts is a much more practical nation and values practicality and comfort over style and fashion. Jewellery is not often worn (only on special and grand occasions) and clothes are loose and easily movable in. 

Royals:

As Hearts is an egalitarian society, men and women are equal to one another and succession only matters if you were born first.  The second picture you will see there is a royal portrait of the Royal family (the third shows them next to the Cards they represent). I’ll explain them left to right.

First up is Prince Mercury Cor, the Ace of Hearts. He’s the main character in my story hence the reason for me making a timeline of him growing up. His mark is on his right cheek. I’m not going to talk about him much here as i will talk about him in his own post.

To the right of Mercury is his father, the Queen of Hearts, King-Consort Alvis Wilson-Cor. He was born a Heart (via his mark on his neck) however he was born in Spades. His mother (Camilla Ennis) was a Spade Common while his father was a Heart Noble/Number (Four). He married Mahira three years after their eldest son, Adrian, was born. He is a very sickly man (from being poisoned) and has a damaged lung from the Deck Wars hence why he is confined to his wheelchair, he can walk but he can’t do it without his cane and he can’t do it for long before requiring his chair again. Out of the rest of his family he is much more level headed and is well respected in Hearts Court. Alvis’ main goal is prevent a war like the one he had fought in ever breaking out ever again and takes a stronger interest in foreign policy than domestic ones.

Standing just behind Alvis is the King of Hearts, Queen Mahira Cor. Known as the Warrior of Hearts she became the King of Hearts after her father was killed during the Deck Wars, she has a fierce and serious personality that scares most people who aren’t very close to her. She hates dressing up and prefers much more practical clothes. Mahira’s moral code is simply the law and believes everything is black and white and nothing is ever grey. Luckily for the rest of Hearts her husband takes a much more pragmatic approach when making decisions which she listens to. She has a small hatred for Nobles because of how they had conspired against her husband and tried to kill him with poison as they had considered he was unfit, now she only ever listens to him and the Nobles must go through him before they can even convince Mahira on certain matters.

Prince Adrian Cor is the Jack of Hearts and heir to his mother’s title. He is a lot like his mother as he is quite keen on a fight or two and prefers to take action than sit around and talk about the problem. This has lead him into getting into a few fights growing up but nothing too serious. He is obsessed with his family and loves them endless, especially his little brother. In the picture he is 17 years old (he gets a growth spurt suddenly and he gets taller than his mother (by 1inch but that’s a lot considering she’s 6ft tall)). Anyway he’s a good boy who is a bit of an idiot at the same time.

Nobles/Numbers:

The Nobility in Hearts is deeply unpopular with their King and Queen especially after they had attempted to kill Alvis before he could marry Mahira (purely for xenophobic reasons (he’s half-spades)). Despite this the nobility have come to respect him. One of the only Nobles that aren’t hated by the Royals is the House of Six. Moriel Harjo had not been involved in conspiracy and had been the one to reveal it to the couple. As in all the Kingdoms the Houses of Six always become the Royals tutors. Moriel has been teaching Adrian since he was six years old (he has been a handful for the poor man) while he has been tutoring Mercury since he was four years (insisted on joining his brothers lessons). He cares deeply about the two boys as if they were his own sons. (He is important to Mercury’s past) Moriel has two children of his own, his youngest being Latifa. As she born with magic (something very rare and respected within Cards (only 1% of each kingdoms population has magic)) she was sent to a monastery of Masou to be taught to control her magic and Masou’s teachings. When she turned 20 (she’s two years older than Mercury) she was free to leave and she was first introduced to court. She became good friends with Mercury and Adrian. (She and Adrian become romantically interested in one another later).

The last picture is of a glass stained window of Masou that would be seen in a monastery. Each segment of the picture is supposed to represent Hearts and what Masou is Fae of. (on the top right is the Hearts Palace)

Anyway that’s all i’ve got for Hearts at the moment! I hope you enjoyed this! It was a rather large post i hop you guys don’t mind, i just really like talking about my worlds and ocs!

I hope you enjoyed! See you all later! :)