#mostly just scar practice tbh

[konjkitkatty]

of Many only They Remain

[bakvrue]

his room

genya x reader: wc 1.7k

a little smut, nsfw, established relationship-ish, eating out, feelings, very hot, i think i out did myself tbh, selfship coded. divider by @/saradika

Your heart slams in your chest with each step you take. You shouldn't be awake this late. You shouldn't be tiptoeing down the hallway. You shouldn't be wrapped in a robe with nothing underneath.

And yet…

The floorboards creak, almost as if they're laughing at you. Shaming you into going back to your room. But you've already gone two nights wishing you were doing what you're doing now. Tomorrow both of you go out on new missions, it has to be tonight.

You reach his door and slide it open, step inside, and close it before you can second guess yourself. 

The room is small, very similar to yours down the hall. A small window lets the moonlight in, bathing his futon in a cool glow. The night breeze makes the small candle on his table flicker, and shadows jump across the wall. 

And then there's him. 

His back is turned towards you, his shirt, halfway unbuttoned, slides down his biceps. His upper back, his shoulder blades, his traps, his scars, the rippling muscles that have been trained and honed for years… you take a sharp breath in.

He looks over his shoulder, you don't know what he was expecting but his scowl quickly turns into surprise. His eyebrows raise, his mouth slightly parts, and even in the dim light you see the dusting of pink completely wash over his face and neck.

He doesn't turn towards you, instead standing perfectly still like you're a ghost. And you don't move either. As bold as you were feeling before you didn't think past getting through the door.

Your face warms. 

The man in front of you opens his mouth and closes it, his mind reeling at your sudden presence in his room.

The two of you are together, you've never called him your boyfriend out loud, mostly because he feels like more than that. You've battled together, you've cried together, you've kissed and pledged to protect each other no matter the cost. But tonight you crave something different, something more. There's a heat inside of you that only burns for him and you want him to feel it. 

You whisper his name, “Genya…”

It wakes his body up and he finally moves. He adjusts his pants as he turns, his shirt still clinging to his biceps and your hungry eyes devour him. The scars across his chest and his pecs, and his abs and his collarbone.

He finishes taking off his shirt, his forearms flexing when finally freed. 

You press your legs together. He can not have you this bothered from just the sight of him. A sight you've seen before, you remind yourself, but here you are practically dripping.

“I know it's late,” you start but he immediately jumps in.

“It's okay.” There's an eagerness hidden in his voice. 

You take a step deeper into his room playing with the hem of your sleeve, “Tomorrow we're both leaving on separate missions, and—” you look up at him “—I need you.”

His face turns red, deeper than you've ever seen, but you reach out for his hand and he gives it to you. You pull him closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours almost as if he's trying his hardest not to look at the rest of your body. 

Your hands start to sweat, “We don't have to do anything you don't want to. I can go back to my room if this is too fast.” 

God, where is the confidence you had walking down the hall?

“No! I mean, no. I don't want you to leave.” 

“What do you want then?” you try to ask as sultry as possible but the crack in your voice exposes just how vulnerable you feel.

His hand holding yours tightens, begging you not to go, but no words come out of his mouth.

“If you can't tell me what you want, can you show me?”

His shoulders relax and he exhales. He pulls you closer to him with a small nod.

He guides your hands to his chest, laying your palms against his warm skin and you can feel how fast his heart is beating. 

Your fingertips glide down his sternum until they reach a scar. The knotted skin is proof of a battle won, proof of how strong he is and how hard he fights. Your lips gently press against the scar and Genya groans. 

He's looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. Their path tracing from your eyes down to your lips. His hand gently cups your face, he's so careful with you always, and he leans down to you. Stopping himself a breath away from your lips.

“Kiss me, Genya. Pleas—”

His lips capture yours and your eyes flutter shut. Your back arches, pushing your body into his and you both moan. 

It's sweet at first, a small push and pull. But each second gets hungrier, more passionate. His tongue licks along yours as you wind your arms around his neck. 

His lips are so soft. The drag against yours is intoxicating, and you can feel your head start to spin. Each touch makes your hotter, every push and pull has your body grinding against his. Wanting to be closer. Needing to feel more.

You bite his bottom lip and playfully pull away, taking a step back. 

His chest is heaving, each breath moving his whole body and his pants are struggling to keep him contained. 

His head spins as he looks down at you, and the robe that you're wearing. The knot around your waist has loosened, the neckline no longer tight against your neck. It's slipped down your shoulders.

And it's then he realizes that there's nothing underneath. The only thing between him and your perfect naked body is one measly piece of fabric. 

You pick up the two ends of the bow tie and hold them out in front of you. Offering them to him. His mouth goes dry, and every word disappears from his brain, along with every other brain function. He forgets how to breathe.

He falls to his knees in front of you, gently taking the ends of the bow from you. But he hesitates. 

“Genya,” he wishes to hear you say his name over and over again in that sweet tone. Your fingers run along the side of his mohawk, down the back of his head and then around to his chin, gently lifting it up. “I want you to see me.”

He bites his lip. God, does he want to see too.

He pulls at the bow, watching as it slowly unravels. He pulls the knot apart, and with it the robe reveals you to him as it falls off of your shoulders to the floor.

His mind and body are unable to comprehend the beauty that you are. The curves of your waist, the thicknesses of your thighs, the small dips in your hips, the soft curls between your legs, and then that's not even everything. His eyes trail back up to your breasts, perfect and round and beautiful and he's going to explode. 

“Beautiful,”  he whispers, his lips aching to kiss every inch of exposed skin.

You step closer, running your fingers through Genya's hair. 

“Yours.” 

A shiver runs down his spine. He can’t speak, he can barely breathe. But he’s never wanted anything more in his life. The need to touch you, to feel your skin under his hands. To kiss and touch and devour.

His hands pull at your hips, he needs you closer. Needs every inch of space between your bodies erased. 

His breath is warm against the bare skin of your thigh and it sends a shudder to your core. He kisses up your thigh. You can’t take your eyes off him, the drag of his lips gets slower until he’s ravenous and his eyes become fiendish. He’s getting drunk on the taste of your skin. The promise of ambrosia soon coating his lips has shut his brain down and his body, his instincts, are taking control.

Calloused hands slide up your leg, and he bites the inside of your thigh as he guides one of your legs over his shoulder. He pants when he sees the way your folds glisten for him.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself before looking back up to meet your gaze.

The darkness in his eyes makes your heart pound in your chest. You’ve seen a similar look hidden deep in his irises when killing demons, but this is something entirely different. A need to consume, to drown, to never see the morning if it means that this paradise is lost to him. 

You try not to lose your footing as his tongue pushes through your folds. You moan his name and his hands wrap around your body, holding you in place, anchoring you as he goes deeper. Every swipe of his tongue makes your heart beat faster and faster until your hands fall to his shoulders. The thick muscle moves under your palms as his greed destroys you.

You want to feel him deeper. You want to take every inch of him into your body and pray to the gods above that sent him to you. Your hand grabs onto his hair, balling it up in your fists as you wait on the edge of release. You can’t believe you waited this long for him, to have this man between your legs, to give him the final piece of yourself. You’ve always belonged to him, mind, body, and soul.

The band inside of you snaps and stars blot your eyes. You say his name over and over and over until your throat is sore and your body stops shaking. Your legs can barely hold you up as you come down from your high.

Genya smirks against your skin. Your release coats his lips and you can tell he’s very proud of himself. Especially when his hold tightens and the room is suddenly tilting.

Your back is pressed into his futon and before you can say anything he climbs over you, and kisses you. His tongue swipes along your lips asking for entry and you savor the taste of your release on his lips. 

His body grinds against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck. You can feel the heat of him, the weight of his body against your chest, the hardness of his cock pressing into your stomach. All of him, you want all of him. 

He anchors himself on his elbows, taking another look at you splayed out below him. His eyes search your face before he descends upon you again and your hands discover every dip and valley of muscled back until the candle in his room drowns itself in wax.

[femboyhorror]

🌲 pines family headcanons ✨ click the read more for more in-depth headcanon stuff!

this started out as a little silly edit of ford, then i decided to do one for stan as well and once that happened i knew i had to do edits for the pines twins as well. i might end up doing others like soos, wendy and pacifica but for now we have the main four pines.

🌲 dipper has glasses but prefers not to wear them. he thinks they look nerdy but wears them more often with the support of mabel and his grunkles. 🌲 bisexual disaster. 🌲 dipper will always be a transboy in my head. struggled with gaining acceptance from his parents but knows he always has a place where he can be himself in gravity falls. 🌲 CW SELF HARM IMPLIED: his dysphoria and dissociation from his body ends up worse for a while after sock opera. for a while turns to… not so great methods to remind himself that his body is his own. 🌲 became clingy after weirdmageddon, either clinging to his sister and grunkles before going back to piedmont or just staying by mabel's side often after. 🌲 probably has pierced ears but would wear very subtle earrings, to mabel's displeasure.

🌠 big decora kei vibes. so many stickers and hair pins. she also will often wear mismatched socks! 🌠 is the one to suggest she and dipper get a matching hair streak. blue was the only color dipper would agree to. 🌠 mabel gives me big pansexual vibes. starts to discover her own identity around the time dipper does, and ends up dating candy and/or grenda for a hot minute. 🌠 wholly supported dipper when he came out as a transboy and was his biggest ally growing up. 🌠 after weirdmageddon she asks ford for drawing lessons. the two bond over arts and crafts. 🌠 CW MILD ED suffers from a sort of survivor's guilt after weirdmageddon, guilt over being tricked by bill and almost staying in mabeland manifesting mostly in the form of being a people pleaser, forgetting to eat and sleep. the other pines thankfully notice this and put a stop to it.

🎣 i love long haired stan. i like to imagine after the series the guy feels comfortable enough to grow his hair out again. 🎣 stretched earlobes! 🎣 is a transman and also gnc as hell. he also is insanely good at using makeup. (dipper and ford don't really use makeup and mabel just likes to be Silly with makeup.) 🎣 (tbh i can also imagine stanley as being transfeminine as well, they're just That Gender.) 🎣 as soon as mabel saw his "glorious mane" she was practically begging him to let her braid it. he pretends to just go along with it for her sake but he secretly loves having her do his hair. 🎣 the adhd to ford's autism. he definitely suffers hard from rejection sensitive dysphoria and tends to panic if it seems like someone is upset with him. (i.e. ford confronting him over the broken machine, mabel upset with him for lying in the land before swine.)

✋ his sweater is a huge comfort for him. in general he likes heavier clothes to ground him. ✋ i like to imagine him with plenty of earrings and tattoos. earrings mainly themed around space and stars and ends up getting some tattos on his wrists to cover the burn scars from weirdmageddon. ✋ a touch of the tism. has a hard time distinguishing tone. (i.e. not being able to tell if wendy was complimenting him ironically or not.) ✋ while he doesn't mind if people see him as a man, he himself doesn't feel all that attached to the idea of being male. fine with any pronouns but probably likes to use neopronouns. (maybe star/starself?) ✋ achillean, mainly attracted to enbies and men. tried to date a few girls growing up to try and be "normal" (comphet's a binch) but at around high school enough bad experiences made him avoid dating for a while. ✋ he loves loves loves space and astronomy! it's sort of his hyperfixation. used to name constellations with stanley while spending nights on the stan o war and they bond over this on the stan o war ii!

[ladymarlin]

Total Drama Headcanons 🤯🤯🤯

Mostly Heather tbh

Heather cuddles w ppl by like, laying on them. Like if Alejandro's sitting down she'll lay on him

Like these cats

After Heather has dance practice ESPECIALLY rlly long ones, Alejandro gives her massages so she's less sore

Lindsay and Justin matching Juicy track suits (they're besties)

Heather gets VERY jealous and she's rlly sensitive abt stuff like that bc she's so used to being hated so whenever someone loves her and does ANYTHING that makes her jealous she's like "ok u hate me?"

Heather is a middle child with 2 older siblings and 2 younger siblings (one of which is her "evil younger brother" Damien)

Heather is Japanese and can speak almost fluently in Japanese

Heather has beef w/ her parents

-her relationship w her mom is complicated. She spent more time w than her dad bc he's just a lot but really her and her mom didn't rlly get along

Heather kinda hates her culture bc it reminds her of her mom

-She'd end up more immersed in Alejandro's culture than her own

Courtney either still has her tattoo or has a scar from getting it removed

Duncan and Courtney's tattoos were tramo stamps (@m7nd3w's hc)

-Courtney wanted it to be somewhere her parents wouldn't notice, so Duncan suggested lower back (my hc)

Alejandro cooks but like Heather can also cook he just INSISTS he does all the cooking

Sometimes Alejandro and Heather dance together like on their living room. Mostly when Heather's upset abt something and he's trying to calm her down

Heather has really strong legs (and arms but mostly legs) because of dance

Alejandro insists on getting the nesquik with the "authentic Latin flavor" bc it's better. Nobody knows if he's joking or not

Courtney and Heather besties fr

Courtney is mixed (South Asian and Hispanic)

Heather hasn't been able to eat jelly since tdi and even the sight of it freaks her out

Heather is bad at genuinely flirting w ppl she's ACTUALLY interested in bc she's never actually had to flirt she's such a babe ppl always flirt w her

Courtney's parents are strict.

Heather is high achiever (kinda canon) but her parents barely acknowledge her achievements

Heather kept her gold tooth in

Heather was rlly mean in elementary school. In middle school she was quiet most of the time

Alejandro carries Heather a lot. By choice.

Anne Maria gets duck feet nails sometimes

Anne Maria has an Ed Hardy tracksuit

Heather doesn't like storms

Anne Maria's tan isn't completely fake

Courtney felt really bad about herself after the show

Heather is very independent and hates having to rely on others

-she's also very protective of herself

Alejandro is always warm, Heather is always cold (to the touch)

Heather sometimes does things as reassurance that she doesn't need other ppl (like cooking)

Heather was really close with the family cat. She's a major cat person, she loves them

Heather and Alejandro moved in together asap.

- Alejandro only really keeps in contact with his mom, but Heather has minimal contact with her family only going over during parties/holidays.

-Alejandro got Heather a cat bc she missed hers.

-Heather's family throws a lot of big parties and stuff like that bc they're rich and that's just what they do. They have Heather show up for appearances because it's all only really to make the family look good. She hates these parties and usually ends up talking to Alejandro away from everyone else. He does most of the socializing.

-When Heather moved out her room got turned into a storage room. She still hangs out in there sometimes, anyway, if she goes over and wants to get away from everyone.

Courtney's the lactose intolerant person who actually takes it seriously, with few exceptions

Heather really likes movies with deeper meanings, especially horror movies

[redactedgender]

redacted audio headcanons: elliott & sunshine edition

im in my elliott & sunshine era rn it seems. i cant stop thinking abt them. so heres some of my hc for them! the sunshine hc’s are specifically for my oc (charlie, he/they), but im keeping it neutral so others can apply it to their oc’s/sunshine hc’s maybe :0

!! CW FOR MENT. OF SUNSHINE’S ACCIDENT. ALSO SOME 18+, MINORS DNI !!

; t4t elliott & sunshine. i don’t make the rules, i just enforce them

; following that thought, sunshine, geordi & guy were all elliott’s caretakers after he got top surgery

; elliott & aaron’s last name is hawkins, but elliott is technically elliott lewis-hawkins. his last name is hyphenated because ‘lewis’ was the name of his first foster family (they were the best one he had had at that point, but when the mom got pregnant they realized they couldn’t support two kids), so he uses their name to remember them by

; sunshine has a prosthetic leg from their accident. they walk with a forearm crutch or sometimes use a wheelchair during extra bad pain days. they also have lots of small scars from the glass across their body, mostly arms

; elliott has called sunshine “sunshine” since they first met basically. but, when guy heard sunshine call elliott “dreamboat” one random day, he made the joke that their ship name would be “daydream”. since then, whenever guy talks about the two of them, he refers to them as “daydream” (ex: “yeah i’m just in a call with geordi and daydream, what’s up?”)

; they have matching yellow lego charms that make a heart when you put them together (like this but yellow)

; (18+) they both have horrible oral fixations (canon but still). they both could live between each others thighs. the 69 position is one of their favorites because of that

; sunshine and cutie used to go to school together, but after cutie’s powers manifested they kinda stopped hanging out. sunshine never really liked cutie tbh. they aren’t aware that cutie is empowered

; sunshine and treasure are cousins, and treasure was the first person sunshine told about their (completely obvious) crush on eli when they realized they liked him

; eli’s favorite color is lavender, and also loves lavender scented things (he has the lavender & iris spray from bath & body works and practically douses his bed in it. it smells divine btw)

; elliott had a wattpad account. what he read on that site is between him and god

; elliott is a lord of the rings nerd. you mean to tell me the guy who made a whole-ass fantasy d&d session dreamscape with his partner featuring a full-ass dragon isn’t a tolkien nerd??

; elliott also loves d&d. he hasn’t played a lot, but has enjoyed it when he did; he once dm’ed a one shot for his friend group and it was a crazy ass story. he likes worldbuilding and character backstories the most

; sunshine collects cds from thrift stores. even from artists they don’t know anything about

; besides their house, elliott and sunshine have also discussed getting animals together. they decided on a dog named thor and a cat named mercury

; honey is elliott and aaron’s cousin. they don’t know elliott is empowered. honey and aaron are the two cousins who would disappear when they both got overwhelmed at a party

; elliott loves watching competition shows like “blown away”, he eats that shit up

; (18+) sunshine is a big reader, and absolutely eats up all different kinds of genres. sometimes elliott likes to “punish” them for not paying attention to him by using him mouth on them while they read erotica & edge them until they finish a specific number of chapters

; elliott hates tuna. like, haaaaates tuna. can't stand the smell, taste, texture, anything about it. the only thing he can handle about it is when its alive and intact; he can't even handle it in sushi

; in pjo, sunshine would be a child of apollo, and elliott would be a child of hypnos

; sunshine didn’t tell the group about the accident until they had a panic attack over a car crash in a movie. they had told elliott bits and pieces before that (and obviously he had seen their nightmares), but they felt as though they didn’t want to burden elliott and the rest of the group with their trauma

; OK SO. elliott and sunshine’s favorite movie collectively is “tangled”. i mean its their absolute fave. they watched it together on their first official date, it’s their comfort movie, they have matching jewelry of the sun symbol, theyve cosplayed/gone as flynn and rapunzel a bunch of times for halloween, etc. like these guys LOVE tangled. and apparently there’s a new disney ride of the lantern festival in disneyland tokyo. so, in a world where the balance didnt separate them, and theyre together and happy and healing, i like to imagine they decide to visit a disney and go on the ride if they have it there. and id like to imagine that when theyre in the lantern section, they both reach into their pockets and pull out boxes. and, with tears streaming down their faces and the biggest fucking grins imaginable, they propose to each other (and ofc they both say yes) <3

; the couple that are stoners together stay together <3 elliott likes to shotgun sunshine

; elliott is always the big spoon. he likes knowing hes protecting sunshine in both their dreams and in real life

━━━━

im so normal and regular about these two i promise (<- lying). i will add more as i see fit. also i might have a fic idea based on one of these headcanons, hehe :3c

[mana-jjk]

I would love to hear your thoughts on inuokko post-shibuya. like how toge goes through the acceptance of his injury, how yuuta would help and be so supportive of him and also their reunion…just want to hear your thoughts on it! go wild! I love inuokko <3

oh my gosh anon thank you i have so many thoughts !!

feel free to send more asks about canon or au’s !! i have so many thoughts it’s insane i an incredibly not stable about inuokko and it’s a little scary tbh.

Post-Shibuya

• so i think it’s important to establish that the time between shibuya and gojo’s unsealing was 19 days. let’s just sit on that for a few moments, just a little more than two weeks.

• what gets me is that a week after toge’s 17th birthday, he is traumatically amputated and alone.

• i do think yuuta was the one to find him, having arrived at around 1:30 a.m. to shibuya. it’s heartbreaking in itself to consider, because even unconsciously if toge calls, yuuta will come barring nothing.

• yuuta is immediately dispatched to shibuya and everything with the culling games is happening so he doesn’t even know if his friends are okay and that’s the hardest part.

• waking up brings a numbness, quiet acceptance that’s been beaten into him since he was a kid. it was inevitable that he was going to severely injured at some point in his life. that’s why he didn’t cry or scream or even feel angry. he was just numb.

• going with the theory that his wraps were meant to contain curse residuals/poison, there was severe nerve damage that extended from the now stump to his shoulder and even a little down his abdomen. shoko tried her best to help him learn how to move again, but she was overbooked.

• every morning, afternoon, and evening, he was forcing himself to move and learn how to maneuver without his arm. he mostly fought with his legs and cursed speech, so he was grateful that he hadn’t lost either. no matter how much inwardly his heart wished otherwise. losing an arm did throw him off-balance so he practiced a lot in learning to fight without the weight.

• no matter how much shoko tried to convince him to rest, he couldn’t force himself to sit still, every time he sat down, he thought of yuuta and maki and panda fighting out there alone. the dead civilians stared back at him in his dreams. the feeling of a thousand cleavers sinking into his flesh pulsed. he couldn’t sit still, so he did what he’s been doing since his parents gave him up. he trained, he fought, he prepared to sacrifice what was left of his body.

• when they called forth everyone willing and able to fight, toge didn’t even hesitate. despite being a traumatized teenager just learning how to tie an empty sleeve, marching towards death was as natural as breathing.

• stepping into the meeting point, he’s in the mind of the soldier, focus on nothing but the next fight, trying to ignore the way his shoulder aches from phantom pain.

• surprisingly, it’s maki who sees him first. while she knew from yuuta what had happened, it still ached her own scars to see him. yet, boldly as everything else she does, she comes up to him and grabs him into a forceful hug. panda isn’t far behind, even with his reduced height. for a moment toge can do nothing but blink.

• yuuta is a breath behind, a mixture of overwhelming relief and devastation all at once in the blue of his eyes, wanting the other to be thousands of miles away but unable to shake his last memory of digging through the shredded remains of civilians, praying to find him whole.

• toge sees him, sees the distress in his eye and reaches out. his hand encloses around yuuta’s, and the distress melts into relief that spills down his face, a crybaby as always. at least that’s how it goes in his mind, past the way his shoulder spasms to do just that. it isn’t relief spilling from yuuta’s eyes, it’s a quiet understanding and grief that tears his heart apart.

• not so long ago, his presence brought relief, his strength was depended on, and he had the ability to at least wipe the tears from his friend’s eyes. all at once it hits him, the scars on his shoulder burn, the feeling of a thousand cleavers on flesh no longer there, the sight of maki’s burns, panda so much smaller, yuuta crying over him, always over him. his own bloody hand tying his tourniquet, not knowing where his friends are, not knowing where he is, alive or dead, hands digging through the debris, strangled breath, pain, burning, darkness, blood, smoke, debris, dead eyes, everyone was dead, why wasn’t he dead?

he didn’t save them.

he couldn’t protect them.

and after everything, that was what broke him.

• he cries, and as everything it’s quiet. the hitch of his breath is enough to send tears streaming down all their faces, just as he feared he’s inevitably cursed them again. it’s only a moment before maki steps aside and warm arms are wrapping around him. he cries until his face burns and his throat hurts from the hitched sobs, but yuuta with tears streaming down his face accepts every curse with open arms.

Recovery

• when everything is over, toge doesn’t really know what to do with himself. all he’s ever known was to fight and sacrifice and part of him thought he would die in the war. now that it was over, he couldn’t wrap his head around actually living.

• he spends his days trying to relearn everything he forgot, having been so focused on learning to fight that he hadn’t even considered what it meant to learn how to cook or write or even properly sign with one hand.

• through it all, yuuta is there, sometimes unbearable in his presence and persistent belief in toge. always watching, yet forcibly holding himself back from intervening after a stern talking from maki. toge failed in the simplest tasks, again and again, and sometimes he could only kick in frustration. but through it all, yuuta never left, never looked at him with pity. sitting and waiting like a golden retriever waiting for the word.

• the few times toge cried, like when nobara complained of being hungry and toge tried to shape rice but couldn’t get it right. he stood in the kitchen, tears blurring his vision, fingers twitching violently, unused to so much use. yuuta had walked in, took one look at him and wrapped his arms around him. strong and so familiar to the way he lifted him from the rubble. he didn’t say anything or trying to pull him away, he just held him as they stood in the kitchen, rocking gently on socked feet and smelling of fresh laundry. eventually toge stood back and tried again, producing a slightly bumpy but edible riceball. yuuta tried to make his own and sent toge into tears again over how absolutely clumsy and misshapen it was. with his single arm, he guided yuuta as best he could and returned the bashful grin yuuta gave him with something almost like relief.

• toge eventually got a prosthetic arm, one he could funnel cursed energy through, but the domain had left a number in phantom pain. a consistent poison stopped only by sigils and yuuta that felt like a thousand knives in his nerves. sometimes it was unbearable and left him wandering at odd hours with gritting teeth and pulsing nerves. he never liked waking anyone up, so yuuta ruined what little sleep schedule he had to ensure that rika always listened for the others footsteps.

• toge never told him, but yuuta’s reversed curse energy was different from shoko, where shoko was practiced and efficient like a bandage, yuuta felt like a warm hand over the injury that pressed until it was absorbed entirely. he never had a mother to wipe away his tears or even a sibling to pick him up again, but the way yuuta wiped his pain away made it seem as though it didn’t even compare.

• the first time toge cooked alone, yuuta cried at the first bite even as toge teased him for being a baby. later, he would gently hold his shaking hand that twitched with exertion with a reverence that shook toge to his core. sometimes the care he treated toge with scared him, so afraid to give yuuta, warm and kind yuuta, the broken pieces of himself. but sometimes yuuta made him feel like he wasn’t broken, that he was something precious. kindness and love that so warm and encompassing, it terrified him.

• it’s through shoko he hears that yuuta is considering going abroad again. despite everything he’s been through, the idea terrifies him like nothing else. still trying to learn how to live, he never considered a life without yuuta in it.

• so he hides, shutting down with all the willpower he had to recover disappearing with yuuta. every time yuuta knocks, he burrows deeper under his covers, willing himself to disappear like he should have before.

• he should’ve known that the people around him never seemed to understand why it would be for the better. maki shoves open his door, drags him out, and drills in his head once again that he lost his chance to escape the day he stepped foot in the school. he loves them, loves them more than any word could describe, and their love in turn aches like an open wound but at this point he can’t imagine living without them.

• yuuta finds him later, sitting outside in the garden he always found comfort in. it’s quiet when yuuta kneels in front of him, taking his hand with a kind and dopey eyes with a soft smile that he must know always strikes a cord in the other, “i am considering going abroad again,” he says, a juxtaposition of healing and breaking him apart again and again.

• “and i want you to come with me.”

• toge was a weapon as far back as he could remember. what the higher ups demanded, he obeyed. he lost his entire life to being that weapon, destroying himself and learning to never yearn for more. he never imagined he’d get to experience what others did, never thought he’d see the outside of japan. never thought he’d live long enough to consider it. but here yuuta was, offering him not only to shatter the perception of what his life should have been, but offering to spend his own proving that idea wrong every day.

• there was no sign or words to convey that feeling, the fear and hope that settled heavily on his chest. the weight of the world crushing him a little more everyday. the coward in him told him to shake his head, to stay where he knew and never leave. but didn’t he have to eventually? well into his third year, he never considered what came after.

• nobara and maki were getting an apartment in the city, permanent partners in missions, in life. panda was continuing yaga’s work, learning how to live on his own for the first time, navigating a world not built for him. yuuji and megumi were still figuring out how to live through their trauma, but they had each other and talked frequently about finding their own place after graduation. everyone was moving on, even if they always had a place for one another.

• “you’re the reason i can wake up everyday and believe that it’s okay for me to be alive,” yuuta says as if he doesn’t already have his heart in his hand, “please let me convince you the same.” and toge was helpless but to agree.

[possibilistfanfiction]

For a prompt: honestly, I’d love to see more of outsider’s perspectives of Ava and Bea, like you did with the shopkeeper and her wife.

[tbh this has basically everyone u would want to see!! lol - 10k ao3 here]

//

yasmine

camila and beatrice have been video chatting often lately, and have figured out something encouraging,  you think. you try to understand everything, but it seems like, especially when jillian is on, they're speaking a whole different language. sometimes you're a little blown away by the both of them still: camila is brilliant at anything to do with technology, and kind, and funny; beatrice is brilliant at, well, just about everything, and, even though she's been working steadfastly to research how to get ava back, she still has sunkissed skin now, light hair and freckles. sometimes you see a flash of a tattoo on her wrist.

it hadn't really surprised you, to see ava lean forward while the whole entire world was ending and kiss beatrice — a little awkward, for you, but mostly achy. you haven't ever cared about sexuality, but you definitely don't when it comes to the two of them: because there's harm and then there's duty and then there's love.

one day you're sitting with camila, pretending to read more than actually reading, when beatrice facetimes. you know this because, honestly, sometimes you're a little nosy. it's fine; you helped save the world and sometimes the ocs, with incessant and constant training, gets kind of dull.

when camila answers, beatrice is crying. from what you can see, she's in a sports bra, you're pretty sure; you're scared, for a moment, that she's hurt, or that something really bad has happened, but then she's laughing and say, 'ava's here; ava's here,' and camila starts to cry.

'she's — she's okay?'

and then, a literal fucking miracle, ava's face — the same as you remember; so pretty and with a friendly smile — pops up on screen.

'holy shit,' camila says, and then she's laughing too, her eyes filling with tears. 'hi, ava.'

'hey,' ava says, then crams in next to where beatrice is sitting on the couch, practically on her lap, but you can't really begrudge them. beatrice is in a pair of sweatpants and, indeed, a sports bra; ava has, ostensibly, changed from whatever outfit she came back in, because she's wearing a big soft t-shirt and a comfortable pair of shorts. maybe that's what she wore in — wherever she was, but you're pretty certain those are beatrice's clothes. 'yasmine too, hello.'

beatrice is still crying and smiling and ava leans into her side, runs her fingers gently under her eyes to dry her tears.

'— how?' is the only thing camila gets out: are you okay?; do you remember us?; do you want to kill us now?; how long have you been gone?; are you still the ava we know?; what is going to happen to this world now? sits in your chest, but ava just shrugs.

'i heard bea, all the time.' beatrice blushes slightly, but she just tucks her face into ava's arm from a moment. 'and all of you too. but, bea, the strongest. i think it had something to do with her being in the ocean, maybe? and the city of angels.' she turns to beatrice. 'a little on the nose, don't you think?'

'oh yeah,' camila says, 'that's it, definitely the only reason.'

beatrice rolls her eyes but ava just smiles. 'and because she loves me, i suppose.' she scoots even closer to beatrice, who sighs happily. 'something just — spit me out, i guess. right in bea's living room. which, if i do say so myself, is way better than cat's cradle, no offense.'

another miracle in a series of miracles beyond belief. 'wow,' you say, and there's a beat of silence before everyone is laughing again, camila wiping tears.

'anyway, maybe you can come to us, tomorrow?' ava asks. 'i don't — i would like to stay here, if i can. if that works. at least for a few days.'

'you're — you're healed?' you can't help but ask.

ava nods. 'lots of scars,' she says, but then shrugs, and beatrice runs a gentle hand up and down her spine. 'but yeah, i'm good, as far as i can tell. not old as fuck, either, which rocks.'

'we can come tomorrow,' camila says, then starts crying all over again. 'i can't wait to see you. both of you.'

ava grins. 'yeah, don't come too early, though. i have plans.'

beatrice really blushes then, coughs into ava's shoulder.

'i will be sure to let beatrice know before coming,' camila says.

ava's smile is way too bright, all of a sudden, and beatrice groans and you kind of want to cover your ears before ava says, 'that's what i'll be doing tonight.'

'goodbye, ava,' camila says, even though she laughs. 'i love you, so much.'

ava leans into the camera, like she wants to reach through it. 'i love you too. i am — there are no words for what i feel, seeing you all again. and how much i missed you.'

'well, have fun tonight,' camila says. 'please don't tell me any details when we visit tomorrow.'

'this one time, i'll spare you.'

'thank god.'

//

keiko

you meet her on an otherwise unremarkable monday afternoon. you're running through your forms before the advanced adult class you teach, and when she walks in, you notice her immediately: muscular in a cutoff tank, in a way that's unassuming and speaks to years of training specifically in martial art, a calm expression on her face. her hair is back in a meticulously neat bun, and, when she sees the wall of bo you've spent a few years collecting, her shoulders relax and she lets out a big breath. vanessa is at the front desk and, while she's the best to go out in weho with, she's not the most knowledgable.

'hi,' you say, stepping up beside the desk. 'i'm keiko.'

she offers her hand and shakes firmly, calluses similar to yours. 'beatrice,' she says. 'pleasure.'

'can i help you with anything?'

'i'm hoping to join a dojo.'

'well,' you gesture to, in fact, the dojo behind you, 'you've come to the right place.'

she grants you a small smile.

'we have classes, all levels. would you like me to show you around?'

'that would be wonderful, thank you.'

and you had shown her around; you had sold her a monthly trial membership — a few advanced adult classes and some time for open practice — and a gi and obi — she'd calmly informed you that she's a black belt, and when she came in the next afternoon for the advanced class you teach, you had felt immediately embarrassed when she runs through forms with the kind of power and ease you had only seen a few times in your life, even at the olympics and world championships.

'that was a great class,' she says, far too kind a compliment for someone who is probably the one person you've met since you retired a few years ago who could beat you in a competition.

'you are — incredible.'

she shoulders the compliment with reluctance. 'i haven't trained in quite a while.'

'that is honestly insane.'

she laughs, after a moment. 'a much needed mental health break,' she says. 'but it felt good, to return to this, in this way.'

'do you — i saw you looking at the bo the other day,' you say, and you don't miss the way her hands twitch. 'would you like to use one? i have to clean and close up, anyway.'

she hesitates, but then, 'are you sure?'

'absolutely,' you say. 'pick any one you want; you can train over there, it's got the best view of the ocean.'

'that's very kind.' she's solemn, and a little quiet. 'thank you, keiko.'

she walks, barefoot and at home in her gi, and runs her hands gently over each bo. she picks a medium length one, black and sleek and heavier than your favorite, and then takes a deep breath and starts moving so beautifully you can't even quite follow it. it's mesmerizing, and you watch until she slows and then sets the bow on the ground and, to your surprise, sniffles. she wipes tears off her cheeks and you quickly start cleaning, granting her as much privacy as possible. she takes a deep breath and then takes the bo and walks back over to the wall.

'if i find one of my own,' she says, 'can i store it here? it's all right if not, of course.'

'you're more than welcome to do that.' you don't quite know what to say to her, the most talented martial artist you've ever seen in your life, who never competed at any events you know of, randomly in your dojo, who had just cried running through forms with a bo, small and coiled tightly. 'and, honestly, you don't have to feel like you need to come to classes. you're more than welcome, but i think you're beyond anything i would have to teach you.'

she laughs after a few seconds. 'i really did enjoy it.'

'maybe thursday we could spar? i'm here in the morning.'

she seems to weigh it, but then she nods. 'that sounds fun. thank you, keiko.'

you get to know her quickly: the way she moves and her favorite forms and the first time she throws you, you lie on your back in a little bit of shock: you haven't lost in years. she just stands calmly and offers you a hand. 'who are you?'

she just laughs.

you get to know her, as the days go along. you get lunch, one day, and you flirt with the host and the waiter — 'i love cute boys,' you say, 'what can i say?' — which amuses her.

'my partner is a flirt,' she says, but the smile slips from her face before she can stop it. she clears her throat. 'she's very sick, right now,' she says, quickly, as if to avoid your questions. 'but, still,' she says, sitting up a little straighter, gathering herself, 'a flirt.'

you learn not to ask about her partner; you learn that she surprisingly loves pepperoni pizza and beer; you learn that she's rich and lives in a beautiful house on the beach, but she's generous and lowkey, especially compared to everyone else in los angeles. she works in tech for a firm in spain — the details vague, but that's tech anyway — and, when you offer to let her teach a kids class, she smiles gently and accepts. she's patient and seems to enjoy correcting their form and teaching them kata one step at a time; she encourages them and makes sure to teach, quietly, that the goal is never, ever to harm, only to protect. she's one of your best friends, quickly, and is also impossible to beat whenever you spar. she goes out with you and your friends in weho one night, gets very drunk and turns down what feels like an entire club of women, and then tells you, on your couch at home while you give her a glass of water, that her partner’s name is ava, and that she’s kind and smart and beautiful and loves to dance. she doesn’t cry, but she curls up, small and sad; you haven’t mentioned it since.

one day, beatrice texts you, early in the morning, Hello! Ava's treatment worked, so she's back with me now, for the foreseeable future.

it's very businesslike, but she's always a stiff texter, and you know how excited she must be, how relieved.

Hopefully forever, she sends, and you know you're right.

you meet ava a few days later, hanging onto beatrice's side when she comes to the dojo after a few days off. you realize, in one flash of a moment, clear and sacred, that you really have never seen beatrice smile before — not until ava looks at her when she takes her bo off the wall with the softest expression. devotion; adoration. love. beatrice blushes and returns it, a smile in full force so powerful it knocks the air out of you slightly.

you also realize that you've never seen beatrice show off before, and you decide, right then and there, you're never sparring while ava is watching. you can lose, sure, but being humiliated is not on your to-do list. when you tell ava that, as she watches beatrice in a little bit of a daze, she just laughs. 'she's incredible.'

'yeah,' you agree as beatrice swipes the bo along the ground so hard you think she could break an ankle, then stands without a breath in between. 'she is.'

//

ray

the second time you meet ava, she's in a tiny bikini, bright orange, with a wispy gossamer coverup that you're sure beatrice bought just for her. it kind of makes you laugh, and it's barely warm enough to be out without a sweater, let alone in a bikini, but ava waves when you come in from the whitewater. bea is still waiting at the outer break, exhausted this morning for reasons that made her blush and you had laughed, delightedly.

'your girl is taking forever to catch anything today,' you say.

ava almost glows, you think, at your girl. 'we didn't get much sleep last night,' ava tells you with a wink. you grin and high five and then offer her a spot on your towel after you unzip your wetsuit and pull it down to rest along your waist.

ava is beautiful. you had wanted to know her, for months, and finally, she's here — young and so, so pretty; small and surprisingly muscular. you would never say anything, but you know she had been sick, and there are scars all over her body, puckered and angry still, shiny and pink. you know bea doesn't care, and you don't either, but ava moves a little gingerly and you fight the urge to ask if she needs help. she settles, eventually, legs stretched out in front of her and her palms behind, leaning back into the sun, face turned up toward it. she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in, then slowly lets it out.

you notice beatrice about to catch a wave, and you're happy when ava seems, like a sixth sense, to open her eyes just in time. bea is talented: balanced and strong and had learned to surf on a short board and relatively big swells quicker than anyone else you'd taught; when she’d shown you her bo one day — mostly because it was just out on her coffee table — you had been both very turned on and a little terrified. she’s the most gifted athlete you know, and so it’s no surprise when. she rides the biggest wave of the day all the way in, kissing the lip a few times, and ava sighs.

'she's so hot, jesus christ.'

'no comment.'

she laughs. 'we didn't get a ton of time together, really, before i... got sick.' she pauses, looking at beatrice collecting her board in the whitewater. 'she was scared. but now, it's like —' she shakes her head — 'i just love her so much.'

'yeah,' you say, a little teary for your friend. 'i can tell you, without a doubt, that she loves you too.'

ava grins, then stands and walks toward beatrice, who lets ava pull down the zipper of her wetsuit with gratuitous hands, a kiss to the nape of her neck, and then grabs beatrice's hand and laces their fingers together. 'wanna come over for breakfast?'

'i would — yeah,' you say, 'i would really love that.'

you step in, quickly, once ava cracks an egg so hard it goes all over the counter and beatrice only looks on in adoration.

'you're a disaster,' you tell her, but she just shrugs. ava is still in her bikini and cover up, and beatrice's hands sit on her hips while you fry some eggs and chop up vegetables to make a passable pico. she smiles into the crook of ava's neck and they make you a little breathless: a happiness that quiet; a love that big.

//

ayanna

you've been working at this coffee shop for a week now, and every morning, the hottest woman you've ever seen walks in, clearly just from the beach, and orders the same thing in a british accent that makes you want to groan. you're new to this part of los angeles, which is bougie as hell. it's mostly white influencers who order overly complicated drinks for no reason, but the pay is above minimum wage and your manager has worked with your class schedule easily enough.

plus — beatrice.

she's quiet, exceedingly polite and always tips at least twice of what her drink costs. she smiles and has freckles and you burn your hand more than once sneaking a glance at her strong arms and tattoo on her wrist and, eventually, a new one on her shoulder and collarbone that you had seen because she's decided to make your 6:42 am better by wearing a cutoff tank and shorts today.

'good morning, ayanna,' she says, and it's fucking electrifying that she knows your name, even if you have a nametag on your apron — it still counts.

'hey, beatrice. how were the waves this morning?'

she leans against the counter, just slightly, and you will yourself to keep your cool. 'how much do you know about surfing?'

'nothing, really.'

she laughs, not unkind. 'well, in that case, the outer break was far, which means i had to paddle a lot, but the waves were beautiful. can't regret it.'

'uh,' you say, super smooth, 'regular order?'

'yes,' she says, 'and can you add a chocolate croissant? oh, and an olive oil coffee cake. thank you.'

beatrice doesn't seem like the kind of person to eat a croissant and a coffee cake for breakfast, but who are you to judge: that sounds awesome, frankly. you tell her your total and she tips, like always, excessively, and then collects everything with a kind smile.

'have a great day,' she says, and you're too flustered to say anything other than an extremely eloquent, 'same.' mohammed laughs at you from where he's unpacking more to-go cups and you flip him off before you greet the next customer.

/

it's a few days later when your routine gets broken by another beautiful woman, who seems a little in awe of this stupid, trendy coffee shop, but beatrice wasn't in yesterday and it's already 7:19 and she hasn't been in today. it's not that you expect her, really, but she is the best part of your shift, so, whatever. you can have a harmless crush if you want.

'hi,' this new person says, and then reads your nametag. 'ayanna, what's up?'

your mind blanks, because you're pretty much face to face with an angel: she's small and lively and has pretty, delicate features and her hair is pushed back beneath a bright pink beanie, just at her chin. her hands, playing with a small, elegant black wallet, are delicate too. 'nothing,' you get out, 'just, you know, work.'

she smiles. 'yeah, i'm a bartender. opposite end of the day, but i get you.'

you glance down at your screen, just to have something to do other than stare. 'so, what's your order?'

she gets out her phone and reads off iced coffee with cold foam, and then locks it and inspects your pastries. 'can i get one of each? i want to try them all.'

you laugh, something fond and a little ridiculous about that, but you say, 'sure thing. what's the name?'

'ava,' she says. 'thanks.'

mohammed rolls his eyes at you while he gets the iced coffee ready and you put each pastry neatly in a to-go box, because ava is right there and you certainly hadn't needed to get her name. but whatever, she's gorgeous and it's early. ava tucks the box of pastries under her arm. 'ava, tell me which is your favorite the next time you come in.'

ava seems delighted by this. a good sign. 'sure thing,' she says, and then waves.

/

the next morning, it all comes crashing down. there's horrendous traffic, even at 5 am, and you barely make it on time. there's a rush of rude ass customers way too early, and you spill a shot of espresso down your apron.

but, then you see beatrice, and it's wonderful, and perfect, and so great: you're ready today, to ask for her number; you can do it. but then you see ava walk in right behind her after holding the door open, and it's like slow motion when ava bumps into beatrice's side and laces their fingers together and places a sweet kiss to her shoulder. you know there are flowers that sit there, under her hoodie, gorgeous in their greyscale, and ava seems to know as well.

'ayanna,' beatrice says, the biggest, most contented smile on her face, 'good morning.'

you nod and smile, although you're a little crushed. 'hey, beatrice. and hi, ava.'

'hello!' it's way too early for this kind of cheer but it's a little infectious.

'this is my partner, ava,' beatrice says, as if it wasn't horrifically obvious.

'back from quite the business trip,' ava says, looking at the pastries again. 'very remote, no sweets. gotta make up for lost time, you know?'

beatrice blanches a little but ava looks at her sweetly and she recovers. 'can i get my usual, and whatever chaotic order ava wants?'

ava laughs. 'my favorite was a tie,' she says, 'between the chocolate croissant and the olive oil coffee cake. which, i know, beatrice, you had said, but whatever, okay?'

beatrice smiles. 'okay, ava.'

they both, despite their bickering, are so tangibly happy your spirits lift. you'll take the L, if you have to, for people to have what they clearly do. they overtip, as always, and then take their leave.

'ouch,' mohammed says. '0 for 2 this morning.'

you sigh. 'more fish in the sea, i guess. gotta keep the faith.'

he laughs. 'that's the spirit.'

//

jillian

'okay,' ava says, sitting up as best she can with a grimace, 'if bea can't get into bed with me, what about you?'

you spare a glance for beatrice, who only rolls her eyes in amusement and underlying sadness: ava is in pain, to the point where she can't walk, can barely sit or lie down. she's on muscle relaxers and pain medicine so she's comfortable, but it's complicated and tedious, to try to fix her spine — or, more realistically, stabilize it — without killing her.

'how about we see how you're feeling after surgery?'

ava groans. 'that's so boring, jillian.'

you walk to her bedside and take her hand, squeeze it gently. 'ready?'

ava takes a deep breath, braver than anyone you've ever known in your life, time and time again. she looks at beatrice, who bends down and kisses ava gently. ava tucks a strand of beatrice's hair behind her ear and then cups her face. 'in this life.'

beatrice nods. 'in this life.'

'i love you, bea.'

beatrice kisses ava's forehead, eyes closed in reverence. 'i love you, ava.'

ava looks at you and then nods, teary and afraid. 'ready.'

other than your son, you have never been as determined as you are now. you control all of the tech to make sure ava is fully sedated but still alive, that the halo is dormant enough to allow the surgeons to work on her spine without it healing their interventions immediately. it's kind of a miracle, you think, that it all works — but, then again, it seems that ava is prone to miracles. it goes smoothly, without a hitch. ava will have chronic pain and limited mobility, at least some days, during flares — but it will be manageable. it will be livable.

beatrice is asleep when you bring ava back into the room, wheeling the bed as quietly as possible. she stirs, exhausted, from her chair, and you get to tell her — and then, after, a crowded room of ava's people, ava's family, waiting nervously — that it had gone as best as it could. you were sure she was alive, and that she'd wake up, and that, as far as you can understand, her pain would be significantly reduced. ava deserves more than that, much more, but it's what you can give.

you wake beatrice gently, a squeeze to her shoulder. you tell her first, because ava loves her: 'she did great. everything went as perfectly as it could.'

beatrice sniffles and then stands and hugs you. 'thank you,' she says, strong and calm and trembling with the force of it: the love of her life, safe and cared for.

'hot,' ava rasps from bed, and beatrice laughs and lets go of you and hurries to ava's side, takes her hand.

'hello, darling.'

ava lifts her hand and cups bea's cheek, and then wiggles her toes under the blanket. she grins up at beatrice, then grins at you. 'it worked?'

'yes,' you say, and it can't bring back your son and you can't fix the world, heaven or hell, but this — this — you can do: 'it did.'

//

mary

'hey,' you say, softly, when you notice beatrice start to stir on the couch. she presses her nose into the pillow behind her head, then the couch cushion, and then reaches up and rubs her eyes, scratches above her ear, and scrubs a hand over her face and blinks dazedly.

'a new shift?' beatrice looks around at the walls and windows darkening, trying to gain her bearings. she's in a hoodie and shorts, comfortable and soft, a pair of pale pink socks on her feet, her broken leg in its brace propped on a few pillows. ava had carefully draped a soft blanket over her, but beatrice had thrown it mostly to the side in her sleep.

'we're not working, beatrice.' you say it kindly, though, and offer her a glass of water with a metal straw ava had shown you proudly in one of the drawers in their kitchen. she sips greedily, without any embarrassment — maybe she's on pain meds enough to not care; maybe she's known you for so, so long it doesn't matter; maybe she's been shown a degree of love you have known only once.

she pats your hand. 'i know.' she wrinkles her nose. 'where's ava?'

'i threatened her to take a walk.'

beatrice laughs. 'glad to know she still understands who the best of us is.'

you want to argue with her — you're the best of us, beatrice; you always have been — but her head lolls to the side on the cushion and her eyes are fluttering open and closed. 'i like your haircut,' you offer instead. you wonder, with pride, what she's learned about herself, what she's let come forward that she's always known.

she smiles softly. 'yeah?'

'yeah. you’ve got a great soft dyke vibe going on. looks good on you.'

you’re not sure about the word, but you love her and you understand. and — she grins. ‘that’s the goal. androgynous and comfortable. i — i’ve grown into what i want, i think.’

'speaking for myself, i love to see it. it’s a whole vibe.’

‘yeah.’ she looks down and fiddles with her phone case for a second, not coordinated like usual. 'hey, so, feel free to tell me to fuck off forever, if you want, but one of my best friends is... basically the best.' she squints, focusing so intently and still producing a mildly incoherent sentence. it’s charming. 'i know there's no one that could — i know, mary. i know. but i think you'd like her.'

your heart aches, because beatrice lost ava but she came back; because beatrice has hurt all the same. and shannon wouldn't have wanted you to shut yourself off from the world. 'she's hot?'

beatrice laughs delightedly, pushing herself to sit up further. 'very, very hot. if you need backup, just ask ava.'

'ava thinks everyone is hot.'

'true. but, most of all, me.'

she says it with such stoned confidence it's hard to even tease her. 'okay,' you say, 'when should i meet your friend, then?'

beatrice gets out her phone and slowly clicks through a few screens, then squints. 'she'll be here in twenty minutes for dinner.' she holds her phone close to your face, not at all steady, but you do make out your name and then ray making the best birria ever (for ava) one right after another.

'should i stay for dinner, then?'

she grins. 'i think i'm falling back asleep. so you should definitely stay. she could use some company.' she stares into space for a minute. 'let me send ava a voice note so they know not to pester you when they get back.'

'maybe a text?'

beatrice just shrugs and sends a meandering three minute long voice note, sort of explaining the situation but mostly proclaiming her undying love, and so you follow up with a coherent text saying, beatrice wants me to meet your friend. if things are going well, can you not third wheel? you owe me, and ava responds with a, FUCK YEAH!!!!! you're the best and ray is the best!! bea is a genius, and then, i'll make up so many totally valid excuses to leave you two alone, and, finally, the patio is very romantic. dig into bea's stash of very expensive wine and whiskey too, in my honor.

you laugh, and tell beatrice that ava was excited about the idea.

'speak of the devil.'

ava puts her tote down when she gets in the front door, a bouquet of flowers poking out from it. 'mm, not quite.' she kisses bea on the top of her head and then proceeds to do the same to you, although you swat her away. 'try god's favorite angel instead.'

'i will never.'

beatrice looks at ava, adoringly, too much for you to stomach sometimes. 'want to go to the balcony? i can nap out there just as easily as in here.'

'totally,' ava says. 'mary, have fun with ray. you can text me when the birria is finished and i'll just pop by to grab some for us. but she really is awesome, even just as a friend.'

'a spontaneous blind date,' you say, although you do have a few butterflies in your stomach. it doesn't feel wrong, to go on a date, although you do feel sad, and longing, because you had something beautiful and it didn't last. but, still: 'this better be as fun as you promise.'

'it definitely will be,' beatrice slurs, and ava looks at you amusedly.

'okay, you're way too high to be trusted in this situation. let's go.'

'i don't need help,' beatrice says, although it's a full task to watch her sit up and get her crutches from their resting place against the side of the couch. but she does it, slowly and unsteadily, and ava puts a careful hand to her low back when she wobbles. but then all is well, and beatrice tries to wink at you and fails, and it makes you laugh. 'have so much fun, mary.'

you promise to try, and you pick up the book ava had been reading earlier, pretending to do something with your hands as you hear them bicker as they very, very slowly make their way up down the hall, but eventually a door closes and it's quiet. hey shannon, you pray, as you often do, i might kiss someone else soon. sorry. but i think you would be happy in this life, especially if she's hot. ava is annoying, but so good; you would be proud of her. beatrice you're always proud of, i know it. i love you, in the next.

it settles something inside you, and when ray lets herself in their front door, your breath catches a little: she has a mess of black curls cut to her ears, and tattoos down both arms, a linen button up only fastened halfway up her chest, a few chains sitting there. she's smaller than you, and she tucks her sunglasses into her shirt and then smiles.

'hey,' she says, 'i'm ray. she/her pronouns. beatrice sent me a very incoherent voice note that her "hot friend mary" was here, finishing out a business trip, and that i should woo you by making dinner tonight.' she holds up her grocery tote. 'hopefully you're mary, because you are in fact very hot.'

you laugh. 'well, i don't know about the last part, but i am mary. beatrice and i go way back.'

'amazing.' she settles, familiar, at the kitchen island. 'do you like to cook? beatrice and ava are disasters.'

'i love to cook.'

she grins. 'good,' she says. 'birria is their favorite, so it's good to know, if you'll be around for a bit.'

she's beautiful, and her forearms are strong and her hands quick when she starts to lay out the ingredients. you tell yourself to be brave: beatrice and ava and their big house full of love, overlooking the ocean. so you stand next to ray, elbows bumping for a moment, and she smiles at you in a way that makes you feel electric. 'i think i just might,' you say.

she nods down at the onions she's setting aside, but her smile doesn't fade at all. 'well, if you want help looking for a place, let me know. unless you want an insane house like this, in which i can't help at all.'

you laugh. 'it is beautiful, though.'

'yeah,' she says. 'i love it here.'

you think, as you let ray explain tasks and her great-grandmother's recipe, as you open a few windows and hear ava's laughter waft in from outside, like the sweet spices you add to the meat, as ray squeezes your hand, just once, after you finish chopping cilantro.

you might kill ava when she comes in to get their plates a few hours later and quips, 'oh good, you're already betrothed. congrats!' before walking away. you throw a chip at her that falls disappointingly short, but she laughs, and you think you just might love it here too.

//

angela

you're finding a table on the patio of your favorite wine bar when you see beatrice sitting at one near the railing, alone, writing in a journal. there's a part of you that doesn't want to interrupt but she's quiet, whenever she stops by for lunch with ava, and she reminds you a little of noel.

she looks up when you stand near, and then genuinely smiles. 'angela,' she says, and stands very properly; it's a breath of fresh air to see young people with manners still. 'what a nice surprise.'

'i can see you're busy.' gesture to her journal. 'so please feel free to say no, but would you mind if i joined you?'

'not at all,' she says, and then pulls out a chair for you before sitting back in her own and closing her journal. 'to tell you the truth, i haven't even ordered any wine yet.'

you laugh, charmed immensely already. 'well, shall we split a bottle? they have my favorite chardonnay here, if you like that.'

'i — yes,' she says. 'ava is working this afternoon, so that would be wonderful. i appreciate your company.'

she's a kid, you realize, all over again with a pang in your chest: when ruth had told you that she had invited someone in her early twenties to come to water aerobics, but then you had met ava and all of your frustration had gone by the wayside. 'likewise.' the server comes, one of your favorites, and asks happily if you'd like your typical glass. 'a bottle, instead, tommy,' you tell him, and he salutes with a grin, which makes beatrice laugh.

'you like this spot?'

'i do,' you say. 'it gets good light.'

she seems to understand what you mean, because she leans back and lets the sun rest on the planes of her face peacefully. ava hadn't stopped talking for days about beatrice cutting her hair, months ago, even more excited than when she herself had shown up with pale purple hair — ridiculous, in a way, but she had been happy and young and so you grant her it all. beatrice's has grown out a bit by now, which ava still talks about, and her muscles, and the freckles across her nose, all exuberant young love — but you can tell, you've always been able to tell, when someone feels comfortable in their skin. the utter joy of being a space where someone can become.

'i love the light here,' she says. 'i grew up in london, and then switzerland, so i've come to appreciate the sun.'

'my wife wanted to move here for that reason alone.' you laugh. 'we met in oakland, but she was so set on los angeles.'

beatrice seems deeply unfazed by wife, and thanks tommy for pouring her wine after you taste yours. 'how long were you together?'

'fifty-four years,' you say. 'married for fifty-two of them.' you roll your eyes. 'legally, for eleven, but i never cared much for that distinction.'

'of course,' she says. 'and, not to sound trite, but i'm sorry, for your loss.'

and it had been a profound one: you had no idea how to get up each morning, until ruth had dragged you to this ridiculous water aerobics class. so you smile, gently. 'noel was a light in this world. the breadth of that love — i wouldn't trade a single minute.'

she swallows, glances down and swirls her wine. 'i can only hope to have the same, with ava.'

you reach out and squeeze her hand. 'if it's all dependent on love, i'm certain you will. ava adores you.'

she sighs, looks into the sun again. 'i used to be a nun.'

you can't help but laugh. 'did you really?'

beatrice nods, and waits a moment before she laughs too. 'it seemed like the only thing that would keep me safe, from — from myself, i suppose. but then, of course, i met ava. a divinity, i suppose, more than i could've ever imagined, really.'

'noel was a reverend,' you say, and remember the benedictions she prayed at your feet: her neat suits and short hair and round-rimmed glasses as she got older, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled.

beatrice smiles. 'would you like to tell me about her?'

you would, very much so, and so you do: you met at a protest when you were nineteen and she was twenty-one, and you kissed her two nights later underneath an apple tree just starting to blossom. she put you through law school, working three jobs, and when you finally got a job at a firm and ferociously worked your way up — for her — she went to divinity school. you had many children — beautiful boys in love with each other; beautiful girls in love with themselves — pass through your home, often showing up at noel's church with no family anymore. you fed them, and you had to watch so many of them die. and then — and then the world healed itself, in one particular way, and it was never easy; it has never been easy. you married noel once, in your garden, with your friends, and you married her again in her own church, years and years later, the rainbow flag outside and the stained glass the same kind of holy. it has been hard, and sorrowful, but it was worth it. the joy was worth it.

you see the gentle set of beatrice's shoulders, the way her chest is flat beneath her shirt, and you know she understands.

she sniffles and wipes under her eyes and then squeezes your hand tightly. 'i don't quite know what to say, but — thank you, for sharing. what a beautiful love.'

you clear your throat. 'yes. but, noel made me promise not to live a boring life, or to withhold any of my love. so if you have any aunts who might be interested —' you wiggle your eyebrows — 'please let me know.'

she laughs. 'unfortunately, i don't. but i'll be on the lookout.'

you make a big show of acting disappointed. 'well, i know you're taken — not that that has always stopped me before — but i'll take pity on ava. i like her.'

beatrice blushes, all the way to the tips of her ears, and you grin.

you finish your bottle of wine together, and she tells you about judo and aikido and about ava's new interest in geology; she asks about your greyhound rescue, malcolm, and his newest sweaters. she pays the bill, despite your protests — it's a particular joy of mine to use my homophobic parents' trust fund for queer gifts and adventures.

'bring ava, for dinner sometime,' you say. they have a house on the beach and a love that's so safe, so bright — but the world harms and harms and harms, and they are your children too.

'i would love that,' beatrice says, quiet and grateful. 'i would really love that.'

//

dakota

training service dogs is, in your opinion, the absolute best job in the world. your organization focuses on multi-purpose dogs, for medical and psychologic assistance, often both. it's a challenge, especially if handlers aren't fully equipped. but sometimes, it's your favorite thing ever.

when you first meet ava — and beatrice — you're charmed immediately. ava has a cane but sits down on the floor without hesitation to take korra into her lap, who immediately pinch bites but nuzzles into ava's arms anyway. 'bea,' she says, 'oh my god.'

'her name is korra,' you say, and beatrice laughs, just once, when ava perks up. 'she's small enough that you could change it, if you wanted to, but —'

'i love legend of korra,' ava cuts in. 'bisexual heroine! sick back tattoo. hot brilliant rich girlfriend.' she soots beatrice a wink, which makes her blush. 'i am not changing a perfect name for a perfect girl.'

'well then,' you say, 'do you mind if i sit with you and walk you through the plan?'

'oh,' ava says, 'i can get up. i just got excited.'

you wave her off. 'i like to play with her too. she's so sweet.'

'bea,' ava says with a grin, relieved that your decision was exclusively about the dog and nothing to do with her disability, 'you wore your old jeans just for this occassion.'

beatrice sighs, but she sits without any hesitation and melts, a little, when ava puts a squirming korra in her arms. 'hi, sweet girl,' she says, and runs her hand along korra's soft head and her feather-light spine. then she looks at you, 'do you mind if i record you? just audio. i know you'll give us all the instructions, but i find it helpful to have all forms of processing available so i can understand best.'

ava shoots you a glance sideways, trying not to laugh, but you keep it together. 'sure.'

beatrice and ava come in every session, five minutes early, with korra making incredible progress. eventually, ava comes by herself and happily explains that she's learned how to drive with hand controls on the days she needs to, which is fucking awesome. when you tell her that, she laughs and nods.

korra is a rockstar with her positive reinforcement training, and ava reports every time some new milestone she's reached. you'll work with the both of them for at least another year, but — 'you've done such an incredible job already, ava.'

ava shrugs, scratches behind korra's ears where she's happily sitting by ava's chair, calm and panting a little because she'd just worked on some difficult commands. 'i love to learn.' she shrugs. 'and i really love korra. i guess it's just — it is what it is, right? life and pain and whatnot. and, anyway, she helps.'

korra licks your hand when you offer her a small bite of a hot dog, and you swear she smiles at you. 'yeah, i know she does.'

//

marcus

Just do me a favor and look over the project before you roll your eyes at me, ekugbe texts you. admittedly, she is one of your favorite architects to work with, but she's also your ex. It's a good friend of mine, she follows up with, as if that's a plus. whatever. It's something you'll find meaning in, I promise.

it's annoying, because she's probably right, you think, and then she's definitely right when you open her email a few hours later and see detailed, gorgeous plans to redo a house on the water so that's it's ADA accessible. it's sleek and all clean lines, perfect materials planned; the owners, beatrice gu-knight and ava silva, you read, had clearly spared no expense in their plans, and, inevitably, ekugbe's mock ups are beautiful. you sigh. I'll meet with them, you text. you type out, But not because of you and then erase it, mostly because you sister keeps telling you that you don't need to send out more negative energy into the world.

you call beatrice's number the next day, and she's very proper and very british, and when you meet her at the house later, you're kind of in awe at how stunning it is already.

'we bought it as is,' she explains, 'but my partner, ava, needs it to be accessible for wheelchair usage now.' she doesn't sound sad, not a single regret at having to change one of the simplest, most well-designed and amazing houses you've ever seen. she's inches shorter than you but commanding still, straight backed and quietly confident, dressed in simple linen pants and a t-shirt, a cardigan thrown over her shoulders, a dark green beanie and lighter green glasses, barefoot — rich in the understated way that some people in los angeles are, palpably and casually, and you know that anything you need will be there for you, right away.

'i'd like to keep the doors to the patio, for sure,' she tells you, leading you on a tour. they space is designed to be indoor/outdoor, with doors that open all the way to a small hot tub and a giant patio. 'i'm sure you saw the blueprints ekugbe drew up — and, by the way, sorry, i know you have a complicated past, but she really did say you were the best, especially with projects like this.'

'it's totally fine,' you tell her, and when you see the release of tension in her shoulders, you genuinely mean it. she explains that they'll want to move the primary bedroom and bathroom onto the first floor, down a hallway that currently has two offices. you've contracted on many houses this big before, so the space is something of a blessing. 'that won't be a problem, especially since it doesn't look like the wall between them is load bearing.'

'great,' beatrice says. 'that's what ekugbe told me, so it's good to make sure.'

you go through the rest of the house: they'll need a wheelchair lift along the stairs, which won't be hard to install because it's just one staircase, straight up to a big enough landing that there won't be any issues. she wants to redo their kitchen and bathrooms entirely, so that everything will be reachable and safe. it'll be a huge project, but one you feel — even though your head is spinning at changing a house like this — is important. is a labor of love.

'ava and i will be here for the next two weeks, and then in europe for a few months. what do you think a reasonable timeline is for you? i would like to set up a rental for us, if you need longer than that.' it's not snooty, although the words are. it's matter of fact, just a series of tasks and logistics.

'as long as materials come on time, especially if we order them now, i should be able to do it in that timeframe.'

'wonderful,' she says, and clasps her hands in front of her chest, an endearing gesture. 'well, please send over anything to sign and payment methods, and let me know a start date.'

'will do.'

'also, marcus?'

'hmm?'

'can i help you blow the wall out?' she grins. 'i've always wanted to. i have four black belts, if that helps.'

you just laugh. 'yeah, sure. why not?'

/

ava sits in her chair, pretty, in the same linen pants that beatrice had worn the other day, which is kind of funny and kind of sweet. she looks significantly more sad than beatrice about the state of their house, though, as you lay down tarps in the office to protect the floors.

'i swear i only agreed to this because bea promised you'd let her use a sledge hammer.'

'it'll be beautiful, when it's done.'

she sighs. 'i really do believe you. just, a bummer, you know?'

'my brother uses a chair,' you tell her. 'i like projects like this. and, plus, this house is amazing no matter what. your patio almost brought me to tears.'

she laughs. 'yeah, we fell in love with it right away.'

beatrice walks in in a cutoff tank and work pants, practical boots, and ava groans.

'best roleplay of my life,' she mumbles, and beatrice rolls her eyes.

'thank you for letting me have a little fun, marcus.'

'of course.'

'do i need a hard hat?'

'definitely not,' you manage without laughing, and hand her a sledge hammer.

ava watches, riveted, as you and beatrice go at the wall a few times, and then beatrice pauses and looks toward ava. 'want to get a few hits in? it's very cathartic.'

ava hesitates.

beatrice just pauses, patient, and then says, 'unless your back is hurting, i know you'll be strong enough. it's not that heavy.'

ava grins and wheels forward eagerly, lifts the sledgehammer and then nods. beatrice offers her her safety glasses and then backs away to the threshold of the door. ava swings, just fine, and gets a good chunk of the wall to break off from where beatrice had already been working, and she laughs and looks back at beatrice with a happy, relieved expression.

eventually, your crew takes over, and beatrice and ava take their leave to a rental for a few nights before they go do whatever they're doing in europe. the house comes together beautifully, it really does.

at the end, you call ekugbe, maybe for drinks.

it surprises you, the light you're able to let in.

//

mari

'do you think i'll be faster than bea?'

you laugh, show ava where to put her hands on the wheels of the racing chair for maximum and most efficient torque. 'with practice, for sure.'

'gross,' she says. 'why not right away?'

'it just takes a little getting used to. but i'm certain you will, if you enjoy it.'

'well, you're ripped, so i'm enjoying it so far, that's for sure.'

you roll your eyes; you know both beatrice and ava well enough to know that ava's flirting is fun and entirely harmless. but, still, she's beautiful, so you allow yourself to preen nonetheless.

ava lets out a big breath. 'okay, let's fucking go, right?'

'i'll ride next to you for now, and then you can race beatrice.'

'sick.' she pushes a few times and picks up some speed, and you watch exactly what you'd felt yourself the first time you'd gotten into a chair like this: a big smile spreads across her face as she rounds the corner of the track without any problems. when she slows down you do too, and you're worried for a second before she just sniffles and wipes her cheeks. 'this is... this is so fun?'

'yeah,' you say. 'it's kind of the best.'

'as a kid, after i got hurt, and then, you know, after things started to get worse for me lately, i — i didn't think i could do this, ever. it's just — i feel so full. and so fast!'

'i didn't think i'd get to do this either, after i got hurt.' you'd had a complete spinal cord injury, when you were twenty, a car accident that wasn't your fault. your whole life had changed, in a split second — a track scholarship and rock climbing and snowboarding and judo evaporating, just like that, when you woke up from surgery, or at least that's what you thought. but your big sister had sat by your bedside and researched inpatient rehab, and financing, and outpatient rehab, and then, a fucking miracle in your life: paralympic racing. it's led you to do everything you loved before, just creatively, and, 'now i have four gold medals, so, here we are.'

'yeah,' ava says. 'here we fucking are!'

you reach over and high five her, and you look over to where beatrice is sitting on the bleachers; even from far away you can see her gay ass little smile at ava's joy.

'also, the gold medals?' ava says. 'extremely hot.'

you laugh. 'do you ever stop?'

ava shakes her head. 'hardwired, i'm afraid.' she frowns. 'unless, of course, you're uncomfortable, in which case i will stop immediately.'

'oh, no,' you say, 'keep going. it's fun.'

'i'm an excellent wingwoman, at any time. you just let me know.'

'i'll take you up on that soon, i'm sure.'

she laughs and takes off again, getting the hang of her form and how to lean into turns. eventually, she calls beatrice down from the bleachers; beatrice is probably one of the most terrifying athletes you've ever met, but ava's pretty fast already. they race a few times, laughing by the end, trash talking incessantly, beatrice eventually leaning down to kiss ava, both of them sweaty.

'last one back to the bleachers has to do the dishes tonight,' ava says, and takes off full tilt. she barely stops in time before ramming into the stands, but beatrice is laughing too hard to come anywhere close. it's joy, you think, in the hot sun. real joy.

//

mother superion

'so,' ava says, fidgeting in front of you, shifting from one foot to the other, rocking up on her toes. she's gotten older, a few years enough for you to be able to tell the subtle differences.

'yes, ava?'

'okay, i know this is stupid and antiquated, but, well...'

'is this a crisis of any kind?'

she shakes her head.

'then just breathe.'

she takes in a deep breath and lets it out, then sits on the bench next to you when you pat the space. 'i love beatrice.'

'i know.'

'i, well, i guess i'm asking you if i can marry her? i want to propose, and i'll do it, whatever you think, but — it would mean a lot, to me, to have your blessing.'

you hold out your hands and wait for her to take both. there is something holy in her back, something that you had thought was the most sacred thing in the world until you met her. but there is something holier, consecrate, in the way she loves — beyond the highest order you have ever known. in the way she loves you all, and life, but especially in the way she loves beatrice, one of your favorite people in the world. she died for it. you know, in a way that makes you ache, she would do it again.

but the war is over. the war is over, and you have watched them both become.

'there is nothing in this life that would make me happier than to bless your marriage, ava.'

'oh,' she breathes out, runs a hand through her hair, long now, with the tips dyed pink — just for fun! — and then smiles. 'okay. well, great. just gotta get bea to say yes then.'

you don't want to be unkind — you can feel the halo humming with ava's very genuine nerves — and so you don't laugh. instead, you ask, 'do you have a plan? a ring?'

ava lights up, and the halo's hum shifts to comfortable, warm. they'll go to switzerland, she tells you, and pulls up a picture of the ring on her phone — simple and elegant and handsome, all at once. she wraps you in a hug as you tell her so.

'i love you, ava,' you say.

she sniffles. 'i really love you.'

you feel the halo against your hand, through her sweater. 'please send me a save the date.'

//

'ava,' you say, as ava paces around their bedroom. 'bea is going to be right out there, waiting for you. after everything, you cannot possibly be nervous about this.'

she shakes her head. 'about marrying bea? definitely not.' she's in her dress, flowy lace and cotton, off-white because i'm certainly not a virgin, she had said while she was looking, and than had laughed and winked as you had rolled your eyes. 'i'm worried about the halo going off.'

you want to laugh, so hard, but it actually is an issue: most of ava and bea's friends and family don't know anything about the halo, mostly for their protection. 'i'm sure you can get all the glowing out on your honeymoon.'

ava does laugh, then, relieved. 'that's for sure.'

and it's beautiful: you get to stand in front of the altar your friend built for her partner, and you get to pray for their whole lives to be full of this stunning, soft love. they say their vows, and beatrice cries the entire time, which eventually makes ava cry, and then you cry, and then you all laugh.

'by the power vested in me by god, and the state of california,' you say, 'i now pronounce you wives.' ava laughs, delighted, and turns to bea, then looks at you impatiently. you roll your eyes. 'go ahead,' you say.

ava wastes no time, leaning forward to capture bea's lips in a sweet kiss, which beatrice lets linger long enough for a few good-natured wolf whistles from the crowd. ava kisses bea's forehead and they smile, alone in their own universe, before turning to everyone. there are cheers and you're pretty sure everyone was crying.

you get drunk on champagne at the reception and cry even more when you see beatrice in her tang jacket, when she tells you that you were right: there's no shame in loving ava; there never has been. and, a miracle, ava is hers. there are things more certain to you than faith.

'your marriage is going to last annoyingly long,' you tell her. 'i'm sure of it.'

she holds you tight. 'i'm sure of it too.'

//

salma

your aunts are the fuc—freaking coolest. not only do they visit often, but you get to visit them in california, where they live in a big house on the beach and sometimes take you to disneyland. your aunt bea teaches you to surf, and your aunt ava teaches you how to make a bunch of virgin cocktails — which you find very fun — and they both sit and do puzzles with you whenever you want, even if your brother gets bored.

your grandmother — you guess, you never met her and you've never even talked to her, but she was your dad's and beatrice's mother — dies one day. you don't really care; she apparently was a huge asshole to your aunt when she was little. your dad picks you up from school like normal, and you wait impatiently for asaad to make his way out.

your dad takes you to get ice cream and then tells you that she died. you don't care, which is maybe bad, but you don't owe her anything. people can be mean for no reason, to someone like you, to someone like your aunt bea, so you don't care.

your dad is quiet for a few days, and then your aunts visit. you do a little double take when your aunt bea takes her beanie off and her hair is shorter than you've ever seen it, but you hug her quickly, as tight as you can, your head reaching the middle of her chest — when your cat died in third grade your mom had taught you about grief, how it lasts a long time and it's okay to feel, how different cultures have different ways of expressing it. you hug your aunt ava too, and she ruffles your hair and cups your cheek. 'what's up, beautiful?' she says, and it makes you feel it, from someone so pretty: beautiful.

when you get older, your aunt bea will help you change your pronouns, and pick a new name — peace, you decide on — and she calls you her niece, which you love. when you get older, she'll be even more amazing to you, the way she's so kind in a world that hasn't been, the way she loves your dad and your brother and your mom, the way she loves your aunt ava.

for now, it's late and your aunt ava is asleep in the guest room, and your dad had kissed your forehead and gone off to the bathroom he shares with your mom. you go downstairs to get a glass of water, and you see your aunt sitting on the couch, peacoat rumpled and very still and, if your dad's breath was anything to go by, probably pretty drunk.

she looks up when she hears you, and then smiles gently, a little unfocused. you sit next to her, rub your hand along her buzzed hair with a laugh, and it gets her to laugh too. 'you look cool.'

she kisses your forehead. 'that's very kind.'

you play with her fingers, with the ring there, warm even though it's cold outside. 'you know,' you say, 'you've made the world safer for me.'

the sound that leaves her is between a laugh and a sob. you want to be smaller, just for a moment, so you could climb into her lap like you used to when she was little.

'i'm really sorry your mother sucked balls.'

then there's definitely a laugh: 'did aunt ava teach you that?'

you grin into her shoulder. 'i can neither confirm nor deny.'

she tugs you to her, buries her face in your hair for a moment and then wipes her cheeks.

'i'm glad i'm like you,' you say, the best you can for now.

'oh, darling,' she says, then swallows so she doesn't start crying again, you're pretty sure, 'i'm so glad. you are such a light in this world. don't let anyone let you believe you aren't wonderful.'

'i won't,' you say, a prayer, like you kneel and understand with your mom; a promise.

'and, you can always call me.'

'ew, on the phone?'

she laughs. 'or text, if you must.'

you burrow into her side even further. 'i'll call, aunt bea. i always will.'

//

g-d

of course, if there's anything you know, it's blessings.

you know beloved; you know holy. people call you by different names, all falling short, all trying to grasp at you. you know beloved, and worship, and belief.

you look down on them sometimes, because you can. ava — her name the familiar of eve; the meaning in a sacred language, life; something divine against her will in her back; one of your children who had faced more cruelty than she should have — laughs, every day. even on days that hurt for her, she smiles and she laughs and there is a love there: for your world, for its waves and the sun and stars and moon; she, too, sees that it is good. beatrice, gentle and unsure and certain, prays to you still, and to ava, which you don't begrudge her. she worships every day, the most faithful on earth.

of course, there are things you let run their course, the small joys and small miseries: swimming in the ocean, chocolate cake, the first fall of snow; traffic jams and broken wrists and lilith. there are some things even you can't entire shift: ava's broken back and the heaviness in beatrice's mind sometimes. but you watch them, from time to time, in their house on a beach that brings them wonder, when they visit the mountains and fall asleep in front of a warm fireplace, listening to a record that skips before you step in and turn the machine off.

you'll let them grow old together, of course — greying hair and ava's impatience with politics and beatrice's stiff knees in the cold. there's time, for the halo and for all of it, but ava died to save the world, once. ava died for love, and she lives for it too.

in this life, they say to each other, quietly and often. you let things run its course but you step in, from time to time: you will give them peace. they'll want more of them, greedy, and perhaps you'll let them — and the next and the next and the next.

but, of course, this life, this life — you make sure it's a good one.

[maluspumilaa]

word ramble about the southerngothic farcille au bc im too tired to draw rn + i want to get better at talking about my fandom stuff on here !! below the cut since im still a bit shackled by cringe

so i had an entire whiteboard but its gone now because i am Not paying for premium but thats okay

this is pretty unstructured but i really like chewing on this au brainstyle

i think that imogen and laudna met on the island after separately being adventurers for a little bit (personally i think laudna wouldnt have had the best luck getting jobs, with the whole scary/off-putting thing about her, but still would be scraping by) – no magic academy, sorry farcille lovers

in terms of the bells hells: im honestly not sure !! i think that it would be cool to have them just be an adventuring party and all have ventured down to save laudna but i dont know how that would work, since it gets dangerous to adventure with a party larger than six or so... maybe someone joins after laudna dies, senshi style? i dont know how much meshi will be in the dungeon meshi au tbh

a lot of this au is me building around the fact i went "what if lesbians from one fandom were the lesbians from the other one" tbh

the treant that laudna is chimaeraed up with is definitely meant to do the same job as the red dragon from dunmeshi . im thinking about a crazy large treant btw. like a hulking monstrous mass of gnarled branches that shambles with alarming speed. bark so thick it seems like fire doesnt do anything except anger it. all that

also !! @/sharkodactyl 's comments on my first art post about this au made me insane (/pos), i def think that the imagery of replacing some of laudnas bones with parts of the treant is awesome... something something it ground up some of her bones to use like bone meal for itself and its not like they can just fix that damage

so they use parts from the treant in the ritual hoping that the absorbed bone will be okay to use . and it turns out fine (no it doesnt) !

ABOUT THE RESURRECTION: i think mashing the dnd and dungeon meshi resurrection scenes would be beautiful to me. i deeply enjoy laudnas resurrection in c3, maybe with the ancient magic ritual there has to be some calling of the spirit to beckon it forth or something?? i just want imogen to talk to laudna before the ritual . feels like it raises the stakes or something

also!! if you look at my au art youll see that laudna still has her ear cuff things. that is because i gave her different trauma for this au ♡

until there was some event like what happened in falins backstory, but after laudna was an adult, leading to worse, more direct treatment from her village/city – i was thinking that due to the general anti-elf/anti-magic attitude in her village, individuals deemed especially "dangerous" or suspected of practicing dark magic would have their ears cut to resemble elves (similar to the canaries but. worse i think)

from what ive gathered, a lot of tallman communities in dungeon meshi (specifically what ive seen of laios and falins northern village) are to some degree intolerant of magic, not super open minded, and to me laudna hails from a village or city around there (or somewhere similar to there) and ended up leaving because, like falin, she had an affinity towards seeing ghosts and performing magic and suffered for it

generally, she was a little bit of an outcast even as a child because she was just kind of scary? she had that weird girl swag but nothing that made her stick out all that much

SO BASICALLY thats why she has those ear covers. she doesnt like looking at the scars . maybe they also tried to hang her ? i dont know

also alsoo imogen in this au does have her lightning markies. frequently i forget those. i think theyre more subtle generally (to the point of looking like really pronounced veins) and restricted to mostly her wrists/hand area but they do glow when she uses magic (not a lot ! maybe a lot during the resurrection scene but thats for my enjoyment more than anything)

her lighning markies + hair color is still from her being ruidus-born. it has some sway over ley lines/mana in some way but the attitude in this au is very much the same as in exandria in cr (represents negative things to people, not seen as a good omen, and generally isnt focused on). it still flares and such, but the flares affect stuff with magic – something something it makes magic more volatile/is linked in some way to ancient magic

i think imogen (+ her mother) would have been fairly ostracized by the small village she grew up in (but not as severely as laudna) due to their unique appearances as a result of being ruidus-born. liliana still leaves relvin and a young imogen but not before introducing lifespan angst into her daughters mind

i think. ruidus flares fuck with peoples lifespan. generally elongates them by a good bit? since it has that connection with ancient magic which is from a time of longer lifespans and such

anyways. imogen ventured out from home to find out where her mother went + learn more about her ruidus-born status and such. she came to melini (or. the exandrian equivalent to it?) for research reasons, maybe to make money before setting off on her travels once again or something

and then met laudna and was charmed a normal amount by her on first meeting and decided to stay dungeon diving with her (and bells hells? for a little while after)

also dont ask about pate i dont know either. maybe he is just a little inanimate puppet made out of dead things or maybe hes a regular rat that wears a bird skull sometimes . maybe he has wings . hes a familiar he can do what he wants

if you made it this far, thank you for reading !! i would love interaction about this au :3 sorry if any of this got really long or ramble-y i have many thoughts LOL

[doorrobloxstuff]

I’m back on the prooooowl, these bitches better have my moneeeeeey—-

Backdoor entities headcanons!! + a bit of au lore

Blitz

He/She/it, Bigender

Rush’s sister/brother (goes by both!) + littermate, was separated from from it before they were 14 or so after a certain..incident.

Was Raised by Rush’s sire, who was in a QPR with Rush’s mom.

He never stopped looking for them.

Makes a lot of SHEEEEEEEIT jokes because of her pronouns.

They are only funny to her. (And Rush. And Sally because she’s a daddy’s girl.)

Holds a lot of confusion and a tiny bit of resentment towards her mom.

Currently sharing Lookman w/haste (polycule with Lookman as the hinge.)

Curly fur/fog but in a raggedy way. Torn lookin almost. With less scars then her brother and Gray-ish.

Teethers are a lil crooked.

So, interesting thing about bbg is she has heart issues. Worse that her brother does, so to counteract this, she has this funky collar thing that buzzes really hard and then injects her with this funky glowing red liquid that makes her stop and take a breath and THEN injects her with an even FUNKIER green one to keep going.

Has a lot of strain on his heart, takes a lot of naps with her brother/with Lookman.

Curi + Lookman made him the collar <3 TCL loves technology and Lookman added the comfy parts to the collar so it’s ez to wear.

Bbg is VERY pain resistant.

also has a tiny vision issue (one of her eyes is bigger then the other).

Makes up for both disabilities with extreme, EXTREME sheer aggression.

Will barrage people with near constant attacks. Exhausting them.

Rush and her don’t meet for AWHILE, and when they finally do it’s a bit confusing but then it’s super happy and they pretty much just cuddle like they were never separated at all!!

They still do have their “oh yea we were separated for several years” moments though.

They look at eachother autistically.

Very touchy. Loves to preen Lookman with his teeth.

She loves Sally and Dupe, gives them little rides in her fur and frequently dashes around with them on her back.

Has insane reaction time, would be awesome at rhythm games.

Simultaneously is extremely observant and yet has the attention span of a gnat.

Lookman

It/he

Nicknames includes looksie loo, Looker, Looks, Lookie Cookie.

In a polyamorous relationship with Blitz and Haste, with himself as the hinge.

Extremely skinny, moth-like creature with long, thin wings, fucked up glowy eyes, and just, slenderman lookin headass.

Drinks up blood and fat primarily through its fucked up proboscis straw mouth, but can also drink nectar and would actually prefer some fruit tbh.

Kills you via the large spots on its wings, which by looking at them. They’re not really shaped like eyes, more so like the big red star things you see in game.

Very persistent, and arguably the best hunter right next to Haste. Practically on you for the entire experience.

Was romanced by Haste with some raspberries it picked for it outside the hotel.

Loves having its wings massaged and Blitz is happy to oblige.

Has long antennae with little balls at the end of them.

Squeaks like a deathhead hawkmoth when excited, anxious or hungry.

Baby of the group, the other two take good care of him.

Really Chill, all things considered.

Probably the most normal out of all of them.

Haste:

He/Him

Formerly human.

In a poly relationship w/Lookman and sharing him with blitz

Really violent, he probably did something bad while he was a human being.

Has an alarm clock that Curi has to reset the seconds via levers to keep that mf asleep.

As soon as he hears BEEP BEEP BEEP that guy is GONE.

Emits a really toxic gas that kills a human being in minutes.

Makes the person sees red, makes them bleed from the eyes as he speeds over to finish the job that the gas and his teammates started.

He’s very good at it, and kept the other two fed through the famine.

Works well with Blitz and Lookman, hunting-wise anyways.

Mostly just gets along with Lookman outside of that. He’s okay with Blitz because she’s dating Lookman too so-..mean as shit except to literally two people in existence.

Able to throw his head at people.

He’d bully you if you if he were a real person.

Very spiky

Smells rotten.

[transwicky]

Farm Boy Wicky has clearly hit y'all somewhere deep and accepting and I'm pleased by it.

So some headcanons:

Ollie visits the farm for winter break Year 2.

He loves the animals dearly, but mostly he loves how excited Wicky is with introducing him to every single animal.

Wicky can make jerky out of just about every kind of meat imaginable because he uncle taught him.

His mother taught him how to milk the goats.

He HAS in fact artificially inseminated a cow or 2 before (fascinating process btw)

He has also assisted in castrating a bull before (His cousin is a vet and her assistant was sick, so he helped her. No, it is not in fact legal. Nobody discusses it).

Ollie has walked to help Wicky collect the eggs but they pass the goats and find one of the bucks mounted on a nanny goat (based on the 3 times I've gone to the zoo and found the tortoises fucking)

Wicky assures him that's normal.

Ollie is scarred for life

Wicky owns a pony that he spoils absolutely rotten with affection.

In Year 3, Ollie resigns himself to the fact that he is, in fact, going to propose to Wicky on their anniversary, and he's accepted he's going to marry a farm boy and hopefully they can plan a good future around a bunch of cute, albeit smelly, livestock.

Year 4, Wicky brings a whole ass live chicken to Samwell and Bitty is torn on following the no animals bylaw and letting it go due to the fact he gets free eggs now.

Nursey is deathly afraid of the chicken whose name is Henny (like Penny, get it?)

The coaches have no idea how to react when Wicky shows up to first practice with a handful of eggs and just. Gives it to them.

They're so confused but Wicky was always weird when it came to animals.

Tango regularly sits and cuddles with Henny.

Ok tbh once the "brings a chicken to school" headcanon happened, the rest became crack headcanons but also I'm not wrong

[tricobicoart]

Tf2 Rothena!! Original & redesign!! She became my tf2 si after(under the cut):

I made a whole au where she was on a warp pad & some enemy activated it or destroyed it when she was trying to activate it to help, and she got transported to the tf2 universe (more game and non-story-comics-based one) and gradually gave less shits until she gave up(once she realized there was no way back home) on way more morals than dan vs or tf2 mae, and after busting out of jail one too many times, she accepts a job from the Administrator's corporation for protection of her & some one-sided(on her side)friends, and her fate is cemented there. Also she has the same default scars as tf2 & danvs Mae but i didn't draw them in bc i was focused on getting the new damn 'render' done. Less scars in general tho bc of her unique half-gem-full-human nature, it was easier to incorporate her into the respawn system.

Their team role is officially The Understudy, but she calls herself Cannon Fodder, Expendable, other self-deprecating terms that the team members she didn't gel with went along with(Soldier, Spy, Scout occasionally, Medic bc he thinks it's as funny as she does, same for Sniper) at the beginning. She usually picks or is assigned to(read: the rest of the team draw straws or fight w rock-paper-scissors to determine) one team member throughout the match, assisting them in their job as backup or cannon fodder/actual scouting (its okay bc she respawns & is gets good at not dying eventually). okay discord copy pasting abt her under th ecut

Rothena joins red team starting out being completely herself: adhd, gen z suicide jokes, talking abt how much she loves women, etc, unlike how she usually acts when meeting new people. She figures "it's the 1960s, if i'm gonna get like hate crimed i better do it before i get attached, put all my quirks out in the open" & being so open abt herself actually endears some of the mercs to her (& makes others think she's nuts/has to self-preservation which. true lol) However this makes soldier her worst enemy bc she keeps talking abt how much she hates america. Despite being american rothena: i want free healthcare soldier: you want handouts!? rothena: no, i just don't want to pay 10,000 dollars bc some rando got me sick & i needed to be hospitalized

eventually they settle the fighting with "america could be improved but it's our home & we should stand for it & support it to improvement" but before then, HOO boy they're like in the "can i PLEASE get a waffle" vine: rothena & soldier: *fighting abt america* engineer: can you stand on the point?? rothena & soldier: *get more violent* engineer: can you PLEASE stand on the point?!?

Rothena does godawful at her first day on the field--she's only worked with sitting-duck or inexperienced targets w miss pauling, & the team dismisses her as a liability, so she does her best to stay out of the way bc she thinks so too (and tbh she kind of is, it's like if a casual/beginner jumped into a competitive match in tf2). But heavy takes pity on her and takes her under his wing, having her practice when he has free time he's willing to sacrifice, and having her shadow him during battles!! And the team sees her become more useful and eventually more of them start asking her to shadow them, earning her first positive class-based nickname, (Little) Shadow! Maybe medic sees her potential to learn and observe when she picks up a stray medigun and uses it on him without ever being taught how to!! And from there the trust builds!!

how tf2 rothena started: "blue hair" by tv girl (sad/melancholy) how tf2 rothena is going(canon): "using you" by margo (bittersweet but mostly happy) how tf2 rothena will end up(post-canon): "lifetime achievement award" by lemon demon or smth w similar resurrection themes (driven mad from love and care, unwilling to let go of mortal friends, medic is in on this)

[soundwavereporting]

Do you have a headcannon for what Soundwave looks like under his mask? Your "more or less normal face" made me snort in your previous fic, but also made me curious about your take.

tbh I go with what he looked like in the canon RID and OP comic flashbacks but I simply do not agree that he has a peelable removable helmet. He’s 100% Frighteningly Average Guy (with maybe a scar or two, idk) under there.

Venturing into headcanon territory, I’d say that in between his head being fully rebuilt in phase 1 and his reformat in phase 2 he didn’t have a mouth, just an intake port—mostly out of practicality: they were canonically short on resources and he couldn’t speak anyway, so…what’s the point? (and maybe a tiny bit of shockwave just being petty.) But when he got rebuilt/reformatted it got added back on.

Going even further into headcanon territory (since we’re talking about faces and I’ve wanted to mention this for months) I’ve headcanoned him as occasionally having the same problem Rung did in the “Signal to Noise” MTMTE text story; when Rung first awakens after having his head shot off, he’s unable to distinguish people from the background. I doubt shockwave would’ve gone through the effort of helping soundwave with it like First Aid did with Rung, so he had to relearn how to see on his own—it’s not a constant problem by the time he’s on Sanctuary, but it flares up on occasion.

[neverhangd]

Anne Bonny in Baldur’s Gate

Since the brainrot is in full swing and there will likely be more forthcoming, here’s some assorted verse info! Character sheet to follow later.

Anne is still a pirate. She was adventuring out in the Sea of Swords, serving as boatswain (mate) of the Ranger; shortly before everything went to shit, she and Jack had a final row and agreed to part ways when they docked in Baldur’s Gate. The ship never quite made it to dock, though, and Anne ended up abducted by the mindflayers. Anne’s primary motivation sans-tadpole is to make a name for herself apart from Jack, as it so often is with her; unlike usual, however, she’s open to making that name for herself through any means possible (rather than exclusively through piracy).

The nitties and gritties are below the cut, for convenience’s sake!

Race: Human (half-elf but the dumbass doesn’t know it)

Class: Barbarian

Subclass: Wildheart (bg3) or Totem Warrior (5e)

Background: Folk Hero Legend (if you know bg3 more) or Sailor/Pirate (if you know 5e more)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral to Good, depending current company

Appearance: 6’2”/186.96 cm, well-defined but not built-out; long red hair; freckled, sunburned, and scarred - mostly old bucks and bruises; there is a J branded into her back left side near the shoulder blade; pale green eyes.

Age: 24-28

Questline: The Dread Pirate. Highlights include a quest to find and kill (or at least maim) her ex-husband (could be either one tbh), find a way to get her a captaincy (which is A Route but not the preferred one) or otherwise help her establish herself as her own living legend (her ultimate goal and one achievable through a number of routes!). There are several romantic scenes as well, including one early on when your character can overhear another party member loudly saying a drawing “looks nothing like [pronoun],” and on choosing to investigate will find a flustered Anne trying to hide an open journal from the party member and now you. She will loudly complain that she “just don’t know how to feckin draw” and it’s “a way to practice for better cartography,” but it’s definitely supposed to be you. There’s a cute sidebar to this scene where if Astarion is in the party, even if as the romanced party, he’ll see a sketch of himself and may comment on it without realizing it’s a sketch of himself. When triggered, Anne will use that as proof that she’s an incredibly bad artist and this is all just practice for something practical and not her working through her feels at all.

In The Past

Anne’s (5e, pirate variant) background is that she served as the second in command to a pirate captain, her ex-husband Jack Rackham. She is a capable sailor, but ultimately a much better fighter.

Her (bg3) background is that she served specifically on the Ranger, and was Calico Jack’s right hand woman. Few people realize/know they were married, but most assume they were “bunking together.” Anne’s questline goal as The Dread Pirate is to find a way to recapture her folk hlegend status, this time for herself.

Going further back, Anne was the daughter of a minor lord from a kingdom in Laerakond, which they fled for Faerûn when Anne was quite young. She grew up a wealthy attorney’s daughter before eloping with her first husband, James Bonny, and trying her luck at sea. Their marriage…ended poorly. Despite his threats, Anne’s father never disowned her, and now lives in Baldur’s Gate—facts which Anne is unaware of.

This is around the time where it’s revealed that Anne’s genuinely a half-elf, her father’s bastard child, instead of just being a human with some weird but ultimately explainable similarities to elves (which is just some yada yada tbh). This can and will break Anne’s heart, who’s always believed and behaved like a human and who will now realize the likelihood of outliving all of this and who will probably break for a little bit at this juncture. H/C at its angstiest. Depending on your party makeup, this could ultimately serve as the less-tragic conclusion, as it ultimately allows Anne more time alive to pursue her/your/the party’s goals.

Anne is “surprisingly smart for a barbarian” largely because her youth was spent independently studying as a clerk in her father’s law firm.

In The Party

Anne is a wildheart/totem warrior (way of the bear) barbarian. Despite this—and because of her snobby upbringing—Anne trained for some time before going to sea as a fighter. It never fully suited her, for obvious reasons.

Anne is a reckless idiot and will fling herself bodily between you and danger if she decides you’re someone worth fighting for. If you’re someone worth fighting with, don’t worry: she’ll smack whatever caused the danger real hard for you later. She’s the first one in the fight and the last one out, given her way.

She has a dry, snarky manner about her that trends towards the hurtful and the obscene; charisma is her dump stat, and it shows. In spite of this, getting to know Anne is well worth the struggle, as she is a loyal, reliable, hardworking person at her core and only needs to be set upon some new direction to power through even the worst of circumstances.

Anne approves of decisions honoring free will and autonomy, favoring risky or violent behavior, and being insulted in return/being taken inoffensively when she says something in her less-than-congenial way. Anne disapproves of decisions honoring any form of forced servitude or action taken without prior permission/consent, favoring passive or deceptive behavior (with disadvantage if she has to act and her approval isn’t won first), and people being offended by her blunt and vulgar manner.

Thanks to years of backstory abuse you don’t need to worry about, Anne’s perception and insight are exceptional, and thanks to piracy she rolls with advantage on intimidation despite her low charisma.

Anne will refuse to be the “face” of the party as often as possible, as she prefers to lead fights, not conversations. (Despite this, it’s advantageous to have Anne in your party when having run-ins with most legal entities—she’s good in a fight, verbal and physical.)

In Play

Anne favors two-handed axes. (-insert swings both ways joke here-) She favors an unarmored/lightly armored approach and likes to throw things that’ll really mess up someone’s day—an unexpected weapon, a heavy item, an AOE thrown weapon, whatever.

Dexterity is Anne’s second lowest stat. Whenever possible, she’ll rely on brute strength or snap observations to get out of trouble.

[natsuterubrainrot]

HELLO DO YOU HAVE ANY NATSUTERU HEADCANNONS YOU CAN SHARE WITH ME?🤗

YUXWSUXWSNUXJNSWXUJN I’m actually so glad that someone appreciates them as much as I do,, (also seeing u rebloog all my stuff is just so ( T_T)＼ thank u sm) ,,, but yes!! I do have some hcs for them :3

- Teru is non-binary (she/he/they) bisexual while Natsuhiko is genderfluid (he/they) pansexual :33 

- Since Natsuhiko follows teru a lot Sakura has pointed out how he’s practically a puppy, now teru can’t get that imagine of Natsuhiko out of head 

- Teru is definitely more jealous than Natsuhiko, he will go out of his way to death glare someone that is too close to her bf , but will never admit to Natsuhiko especially if he notices the behavior 

- Natsuhiko absolutely loves Teru’s silky hair and plays with it a lot, teru let’s him since it’s “relaxing” (when teru leaves Natsuhiko house his hair is always in braids)

- When Natsuhiko found out that teru doesn’t have a lot of time he doesn’t shop for clothes he made it his job to give  some of his clothes to him every month (teru enjoys it a lot, even made it a habit to steal some of his clothes that he really likes)

- Teru can fall asleep in an instant when cuddling with Natsuhiko , Natsuhiko finds it adorable, when teru wakes up he gets very defensive and makes excuses of why he feel asleep so fast,, (Natsuhiko finds that even cuter ♡)

- Teru is very touch starved due to their isolation while Natsuhiko has too much love since he doesn’t have anyone to give it to , they balance each other very well

- Natsuhiko has very butchered English and teru helps him get better (quality time :3)

- Natsuhiko cooks for teru (Natsuhiko isn’t a bad cook at all)

- Sometimes when Natsuhiko flirts Teru flirts back, it surprises Natsuhiko every time (teru finds it cute how he reacts)

- Tiara has mention to Natsuhiko about how teru talks about him a lot ( a lot !!!) ,, Natsuhiko brought it up to teru and his face got bright red in embarrassment  (*´ω｀*)

- Natsuhiko loves giving teru kisses while he has lipstick on teru doesn’t mind at all

- Natsuhiko has too many thoughts on random things so he always text teru about them even though teru won’t respond until hrs later, when he does respond he answers most of his questions with his best ability 

- ^the same thing happens when they r on call (teru listens and Natsuhiko talks) :3 so cute

- It takes teru long to respond to texts like hours since he always has his notifications off but ever since he started talking to Natsuhiko he does check his phone more often ♡

- Natsuhiko bought matching rings for him and teru,, teru refuses to take it off and wears it every day (Natsuhiko sometimes forgets and feels guilty when he sees that teru had his (T ^ T) )

- Teru dresses more androgynous and feminine than masculine, Natsuhiko dresses mostly masculine (they both enjoy each others style)

- Natsuhiko loves giving gifts to teru,, teru appreciates it dearly but doesn’t show it a lot

- When teru is done with her patrol he ends up going to Natsuhikos house (most of the time it’s closer than his actual house) and stays for the night , Natsuhiko doesn’t mind and feels it’s just a way for them to spend more time together 

- ^ Natsuhiko does find it worrying how late teru works though (＞＜)

- Natsuhiko introduced Taylor swift to teru (pop in general tbh),, the song lover by Taylor swift reminds teru if them and Natsuhiko ♡

- Natsuhiko traces teru scars (when he is showing them) to calm teru,, teru enjoys it a lot ,, it makes him feel better and less insecure about them :3

That’s all that I can think of rn,, sorry it took long for me to respond (ノ_＜) but writing all this out made me realize how much I yhink of them :33,, sorry if my writing isn’t that good btw English isn’t my first language (¡¡¡Natsuteru 4ver!!!!)

[ragsy]

stillness! for mandog, change for all of them since theres not that many?:3 I love seeing character evolutions

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Mark is SO nervous and SO fidgety-- Drumming his fingers, adjusting his glasses, hands in and out of his pockets. Often, he'll have his arms crossed and head lowered, like he's trying to blend into the wall. Shame he's a dog man and not a chameleon man, tbh. He's just generally a person who looks and acts like he's extremely uncomfortable in his own skin!

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Mark: A FEW TIMES, YEAH LMAO

I actually drew something similar to this earlier this month:

He spent several years extremely depressed while working at a watchtower in the middle of the woods while ALSO unknowingly possessed by an evil dog spirit that would transform him into a rampaging quasi-werewolf state (the horrors part 1) but he cut his hair about a year before the horrors part 2 when he met his gf Emily. In the horrors part 2, he learned about the evil dog spirit, had his soul fused with aforementioned spirit, and is now partially transformed at all times (the man to dog ratio depends on how stressed out he is at the time)

Emily: Emily has been settled into her current style for years now, but as a kid she experimented with her look a LOT. She would go to school one day dressed in pink hearts and sparkles, and the next day in full Renaissance faire garb. And because it's been forever since I've drawn her, this is what she looks like:

Currently she's been mostly gravitating towards practical comfy clothes (but still in bright friendly colors) due to the nature of the monster hunting project management business.

Sloane/Agent Hill: She's never really had a lot of resources or autonomy to change up her look on purpose-- going from a scrappy street kid to an indentured servitude to what is essentially the SCP foundation has left her without much avenue for self expression. She channels that by means of her snarky personality instead. She's acquired a fair number of nasty scars throughout the years though, which she carries with pride.

Fishwoman: She's perfect just the way she is :)

also she doesn't remember looking any different anyways, so what does she care

Arji: Quite a few wardrobe changes, actually! Comes with the territory of being my dnd character of going on seven years. Most recently, he went from this:

To this. Which is to say he got a different coat and that's it

Sir Dillion: I dunno! I haven't exactly settled in an exact design for him yet anyway. But, he did just buy some plate armor in game, so I should design him SOMETHING...

[thedeathwitchescats]

What if we took out the manipulative and borderline abusive aspects of neil and andrews relationship in cannon??

These are just the major things that I think made their relationship really toxic

1) practically kidnapping and then drugging neil

2) andrews overtly controlling nature

3) andrew choking Kevin

4) neil grabbing andrew without his consent to look at his sh scars after andrew was literally brutally assaulted

5) andrew pulling knives on his family anytime they piss him off

6) andrew almost punching neil after neil was fucking kidnapped and tortured bc he was upsetty spaghetti

Now how do I think they could have had the same impact without being fucking abusive?? Lets go point by point

1) instead of Andrew fucking blackmailing neil he could have just, fuck, asked???? And also I really wish the drugging thing had been more of an overtly nikky thing bc even tho I firmly believe andrew would have killed nikky had he known he had kissed neil noncon it was explicitly stated that andrew told nikky to drug neil and aided in him being drugged. Had that been a nikky exclusive thing that would have been a big step in overall giving andrew more sympathy points. I know he was protecting his family and thereby the rest of the foxes too, but he went about it in a really shitty way and then for this never to be later addressed is just icky

2) so yea by book two neil more or less goes along consensually with andrews chaos but it is very much implied that andrew would not be taking no for an answer ((outside of intimacy)) if he didnt feel like it. If the "I asked" thing neil has went both ways that would have taken the controlling shit right out and that would have been really good for andrew bc the upperclassmen would see that he isnt forcing neil to do shit neil doesnt wanna do, neil is just insane

3) if the upperclassmen see that andrew is willing to choke Kevin when, as far as they know, Kevin isnt directly tied to where neil is then wtf are they gonna think about what he might do to neil???? This is very much just a, looking in this seems sketchy, type deal but i think the upperclassmen really didnt get treated like actual characters half the time and this was one of them. They basically just went "well its andrew so meh." Had andrews whole "dont touch my things" persona been just that, a persona for the outside and internally he was just concerned about keeping the monsters, and to a smaller extent the upperclassmen, safe then that would have severely improved him. And Andrew not choking Kevin the fuck out would go a long way for that

4) so overall yes andrew has the mostly abusive tendencies and, no, I dont think this was abusive it was just, rude??? Like if people fucking look at my scars I get pissed let alone when people touch them??? I have and will continue to throw hands. Let alone in the situation andrew was in??? I am surprised he didnt kill neil. I think this would have been far more rational had he simply looked at andrews scars and internally thought things in his own skull. Andrew could have been like "staring" and neil could have looked the fuck away and it would be much less gross tbh.

5) andrew pulling a knife on nikky for harassing neil was fine. No comments or concerns. But we see later in the series he oddhandedly pulls knives on nikky and kevin ((not so much aaron)) whenever the fuck they piss him off and thats just ew. If he pulled knives on other people thats one thing, but on his family??? Wtf no

6) I like to pretend this didnt happen. Not only bc contextually it makes no fucking sense but bc it really damages not only andrews character but the perception EVERYONE in the room should have. Again, the upperclassmen arent being treated as characters in this scene so its a little iffy but realistically this should have been a damaging point in andrews character and the fact that it wasnt is ridiculous. Either way, had this small detail been taken out it would have been a lot more of a heartwarming scene like it was supposed to be