#my jottins

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

hey what if the drones in murder drones were dragons in tayrun’s universe

Throughout my time observing and studying the creatures of my world, I have encountered many species with fascinating connections to one another. Though, there are two in particular that often come to mind. 

On an expedition, I observed a trio of a rare breed of dragon known as Goldenwing Assassins. These dragons have a silver and white hide, and are easily distinguished by their multitude of piercing yellow eyes. They are not particularly large dragons, but are quite fast and agile. They possess scorpion-like tails that inject a corrosive acid, and not only are their claws exceptionally long and sharp, but similar claws also protrude from their wings.

These creatures commonly hunt in packs, and the trio I observed consisted of a male and two females. The larger female seemed to be the alpha of the pack, while she and the other seemed to frequently exert their dominance over the male, who acted quite docile in comparison.

Curiously, their only source of food seems to be another dragon species known as Droneified Bog Drakes. These dragons live in large herds, and the group I observed seemed to have built some sort of defensive barrier around their territory, assumedly to protect them from the Assassins - though the predators have managed to catch those drakes who would venture beyond their defenses. After a successful hunt, the Assassins would drink the blood of their prey and leave the corpses uneaten, forming them into a strange pile. 

Even stranger about these dragons is how closely they resemble their chosen prey, save for the wings and considerably larger stature. A convergent species, perhaps? A close relative? It is nothing quite like I have ever seen. Something else may be at play, and I cannot shake the feeling that it may be some dubious, perhaps even… sinister form of magic.

[shoshiwrites]

[slides my last three prompt list reblogs across the table like I’m not a girl who doesn’t have a laptop until Sunday]

[crazylittlejester]

I am literally bombarding your asks recently and I apologize profusely I am just a bored little guy and I need some way to just scream out the things I want to and, you are the best candidate so...

this is a question this time around because I've wondering how people think about this (and because I might need feedback for a fic I'm thinking about writing..)

BUT ANYWHO my question is, how do you think the LU links would interact with HW Link? (NOT Warriors) it's been an idea I've had on my mind for literal months and I've struggled with ways to execute it because I'm so clueless on how all the characters would interact 😭

I appreciate your feedback!!!

nah man don’t apologize!! I love to hear from ya :)

i wanna start off by saying im sorry it took me so long to answer this. i was thinkin about it at work all day and kept jottin’ stuff down and then i thought i posted it but accidentally just saved it to drafts alskdkddl 😭

ok so you said HW Link, not Wars, and I’m interpreting that as biblically accurate, as god intended, no headcanons applied to him Hyrule Warriors Link, who is like 17 and doesn’t speak. I think right off the bat, a MAJOR difference would be biblically accurate HW Link NEEDING Proxi there with him so he could communicate with the others. Also if you’d be throwing him in there as a 17 yo, I think his role in the group would be very different. He may be a captain used to leading, but the way he’d look to his allies for support (especially after he got HUMBLED) leads me to believe he would look to Time more so as a leader like the others do and recognize him as someone who’s older and has more life experience (not WAR experience, LIFE experience), instead of how I think Warriors looks at Time as someone equal to himself. Like I think HW Link would respect him in a different way, from a different perspective (THIS IS ALL ASSUMING WE’RE NOT COUNTING MASK AS CANON- If we ARE, well then that’s still his shit little brother, but I think it would be VERY weird for biblically accurate 17 yo HW Link to see Mask being in his 30s)

HW Link in his game really comes off as someone who’s very quiet, just because of how he’s kinda just 🧍‍♂️in the back sometimes while the girls are arguing, (fighting for my life to not throw any of my headcanons on him rn) and because of that energy he brings to the table, I think he’d be closest with Four. Four, who is equally as dramatic, but also on the quieter side. And both of them greatly value their alone time. I think they’d be very similar

I also think he’d like Twilight and Sky still, but where I can see Warriors as the instigator of the chaos in the trio, i think HW Link would be more subtly insane. Like he’d still go crazy with them, but not in such a bold way and HE certainly wouldn’t be the one starting it. Twilight and Sky wouldn’t look up to him the same way either, because he’d be younger than them

my brain is slowly melting its so hard to separate biblically accurate HW Link from the special little blorbo he’s become to me, BUT HOPEFULLY THIS IS COHERENT AND HOPEFULLY THIS HELPS!!!

@hyruledwarriorr

[ahoneesan]

kebs game update - oct '24

jottin down where im at with the handful of games i consider myself, rightly or not, to be playin rn.

final fantasy 3 (ds) - very fun and well put together game! love the look, love the sound, love the weird double history of it (classic ff game obv, but also part of the prehistory of a strain of classic console rpg revivalism that eventually results in bravely default) but man i am not in the mood to grind rn. there can be something soothing about the structure of go to dungeon, make it a floor or two down, get nearly wiped by one too hard miniboss, teleport out, run back to town to heal and restock, repeat, but now is not the time for that. for me. also the job change waiting period or whatever can huff my shit.

death stranding - just picked this up, toolin around in ch2 but tryin not to get too hung up on stuff bc i know the game can sprawl if you let it. not a terrible game and not a terrible idea (walking simulator with Mechanics) but a little too esoteric for me at the moment. one of the things thats great about metal gear is its grounded in real world adjacent stakes (terrorists take over a nuke facility and you have to stop them) and fun characters (too obvious to list). DS so far has neither. im hopeful that ill get more invested as i go along but for now its a real "well huh how about this thing" feeling from me.

ffxiv - im actually taking a break from goin hard in this after the expac, just in time for me to miss the HEY A NEW PATCH IS COMING OUT festivities theyre throwing rn lol. was fun to grind for a while and im sure ill pick it up again outside of the obvious patch releases, but for now ill let my girl rest. and like, turn an island into an extractive robo capitalist utopia or whatever they fuck this shit is.

ffvii remake - good ass game but due to it being a collective play w me and the girls progress has been slow goin, which has dulled my enthusiasm for it. still obviously a great game, id like to finish the main story before monhun comes out but i did also just pick up DS soooooo we'll see!

system shock (remake) - I DO WANNA PLAY MORE OF THIS but the return stream needs to be splashy. by some definition of splashy. maybe in the next few weekends here i can spin it up again, along with more regular tomboy tuesday streams. lots of things i could tie into this, actually. here's hopin!

umineko - with ep8cast out its time to mosey on with the wrap up pods. unfortunately the GT squad is out of commission until one of us has a home to live in again, so it may be a bit before we can get to it. i'm hopeful to have one lower effort (but still very fun!) thing out before the end of the year.

thats everything as far as i can remember! not very interested in goin back to majora, would like to grab the new zeldy in time for holiday travel, and basically im in a sort of gaming stasis until monhun comes out next year and i vanish inside of there for a month or two. other games that are on my sort of immediate backlog: ffxvi, tomb raider 2010s trilogy, the rest of the ff's as i get to em, that new layton when (if) it comes out, maybe a dread replay, and i should pick up dmc again sometime. thanks for tuning in to this irregular check in.

[honeybeeblush]

To Teresa,

So, I'm not exactly the most like, touchy-feely guy in the world anymore and you, definitely fuckin' know that above anyone else in the whole shit ball of a world, being…open, like this, for, who knows how many fuckin' people are gonna read this with you, it's a difficult thing for me to actually get up and do for once, but, I guess, for you, I'm really willin' to do anything.

And I guess the sappy-shit that's right to actually do this lovey-dovey deal right, is to, just, really, really, really lay it on about how much you mean to me. Like, a fuck ton more than I think you'll ever fuckin' get, baby. You make this life I'm stuck with now worth a damn anymore, the reason I wanna get up in the mornin' cause it means it's a whole 'nother day where I can turn my head and see you curled up next to me sound asleep like you ain't huggin' someone whose hands are just, always fuckin' messed up with blood and a soul so fuckin' dark you'd get lost in it. Although, you never did. You saw through it like it wasn't even a fuckin' problem to you, and it blows my mind to this day that you did that without even tryin', like who I was didn't even matter to you, but, it did, at the same time, I, I hope that makes sense, listen I'm not a fuckin' Shakespere okay?

The biggest thing though, that I actually just had to get off of my chest to you, cause it's a whole hell of a lot easier takin' a pencil and jottin' it down instead of doin' it to your face…ya know how people super into one another always says that thing about some weak ass shit like, "I'd kill for you?"

Well, I wouldn't. I'd stop killing for you. The very fuckin' second you wanted me to stop all of the terror, the hurt, the pain, everything that I'm capable in doin' to another person…the second you told me to stop, I would. And you know, carebear, I can do a lot of horrendous shit to someone, so much so they end up lookin' like just a pile of meat on the ground, but, I'd give all of it up, the second you wanted me to. You mean that much to me. And I, I love you, Teresa.

And I swear if Rayne gets this and reads it I'm shovin' one of Azrael's skinnin' knives up her ass-

-Simbako (PS, you still showin' me Animal Crossing tonight??)

PLEAAAAAAAAASREEEEE IM GONNA FUCKIN SOB THAT IS

IM

I LOVE HIM

SO

SO MUCH AND THIS MAN WILL GET SO MANY KISSES IM

LEMMEHOLDHIMANDPLAYACWITHHIM

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

Go wild >:D http://ammonitetheseaserpent.tumblr.com/tagged/my-jottins

http://ammonitetheseaserpent.tumblr.com/tagged/my-jottins

A persons fanfic tells you a lot about them, i , a fanfic writer, realize in terror

[heart-stomper]

Unspoken Trust, Unspoken Fears

Gathering my thoughts on Sasha and Marcy’s dynamic before S3 proves me wrong shows us what’s going on with these two.

It’s time to look at The Dinner and Battle of the Bands, and then use it as a guide to read the room in True Colors.

No worries! You just gotta speak their language. - Sasha, Reunion

Or in this case, know when to stay quiet. 

Sasha gets really really frustrated this episode. Like, so bad, that if that Volcakeno didn’t erupt, she might have been the one to end the friendship. Even Marcy and Grime couldn’t calm her down. But that’s the thing, before this point, they were the only ones to get through to Sasha without provoking her.

Grime keeps Sasha in line; she rolls her eyes and is clearly annoyed every time she has to hold herself back, but her willingness to keep it cool shows she ultimately agrees with Grime’s plan and sees it as the best path to success.  When Marcy chimes in, it’s with a helpful answer to Sasha’s question. She reminds Sasha of why they stopped Doing Thing by explaining how their plan failed. She avoids judging Sasha for it, and frames it as the repercussions of their actions, as a group. Marcy is on Sasha’s side, so Sasha doesn’t put up any defenses. When Sasha decides to avoid arguing with Anne however, it isn’t for Anne. It’s for the plan, for her and Grime.

Marcy has enough faith in Sasha to believe she’d never want to purposefully hurt Anne, but is careful about broaching the subject. Sasha feels attacked very easily, and will quickly trivialize or downplay things if she feels the other person is being unreasonable or doesn’t ‘get’ her.

And that is the only time Marcy speaks up besides The Big Argument. She only jumps into actual conflicts if things get too heated. Otherwise, she just lets Sasha do her thing, and lets Anne argue with Sasha... sort of.

This isn’t collaboration. It’s a hostile takeover. Why do things always have to be your way?

Now, for the bait and switch. Let’s talk about Marcy’s behavior in Day at the Aquarium and New Wartwood, and Sasha’s in Toadcatcher and Barrel’s Warhammer… while tying it all back to Battle of Bands!

You didn’t tell me you were writing a song! Let’s do it! I mean, if that’s okay with you, Sasha.

In A Day at the Aquarium, Marcy’s first instinct to Anne saying she’s going back with the Plantars is to make a plan. To show that it isn’t actually what will benefit Anne’s Goals. She doesn’t even consider opening up as an option, and avoids saying anything that could cause conflict. New Wartwood, Marcy tries to chat with the citizens of Wartwood and get to know them. But when that doesn’t work, she decides that impressing them with her knowledge and usefulness is bound to make them like her. It has to.

It does seem simpler.

Trying to win people over by claiming a plan is of mutual interest and necessary, carefully choosing which words to use, viewing relationships as a puzzle to be solved… this isn’t the sort of thing Marcy needs to do to get along with someone like Anne. It’s how Marcy copes with Sasha. Sasha lashes out and belittles bad ideas. Sasha has to be convinced the plan benefits her, suits her. Vulnerability and love aren’t enough to make her care, so Marcy does what she can to prove she’s worth being around. She might even sometimes wonder if Sasha actually likes her, or just likes what she can do for her. She rather not find out.

Whenever she’s afraid of people not liking her, or is worried that she’ll lose them, she dives right into those bad habits. She can give her opinions, but they aren’t supposed to get in the way of what Sasha wants. She’s supposed to say “That’s amazing! What do you think Sash’?” not “Let’s do it!”

Listen. There’s another reason why I’ve been training so hard. To protect the one person I know I can count on right now. You. You’re right, I already lost one friend. I’m not about to lose another. - Sasha, Toadcatcher

In Toadcatcher, there’s that scene, where Sasha looks at the BFF picture and the wind cuts off Anne for a second so it’s just her and Marcy. This is where Sasha is at. Anne might have rebelled, but when Sasha reunites with Marcy? Oh, she’ll show Anne, one way or another. They’ll get her back (like, joining the team or revenge wise, depending on Sasha’s mood.)

Listen here you buffoon! What’s it gonna take to prove that you should follow us? - Barrel’s Warhammer

Aaaand Sasha freaks out royally when she learns the two are alone together and doing just fine. On some level, she fears Anne and Marcy “getting along without her” because it means they might decide they don’t actually need her to make plans; that she isn’t necessary to have fun. In the The Sleepover to End All Sleepovers, we see that isn’t as big a catastrophe as Sasha seems to think it’d be. As time goes on, the girls do gain a healthier relationship to their feelings about Sasha, but that doesn’t mean they’d want her gone even if they don’t need her there. But Sasha doesn’t know that, she doesn’t even consider it till reuniting in The Third Temple. All she knows for now, is that she can be a bit... much... so if she isn’t in control, if her way isn’t “the best”, why would Marcy put up with her either? 

Listen. If things get too wild out here, just give me a signal and I’ll call the whole thing off. 

 For sure, teach it to us Anne. 

Every Sasha plan starts with an empty reassurance. So much of Sasha’s dialogue follows a pattern where she says stuff like “we’ll call it off” (she did not call it off) and “for sure, I don’t mind” (she did mind) that it could be it’s own game. Sasha talks the talk, until it gets in the way of what she wants.

Sorry guys, but we’re way to close to bail. I am not going back empty-handed.

It’s good. I just have a few tiny notes that I think could make it even better. ... Boom! Fiixed it! 

If they just follow her lead and let her fix it, everything will work out. They should believe in her and trust her. After all...

That’s not true! Besides, we did it. ... You’re not actually gonna throw this all away are you?

I just wanted all of us to succeed. I was just being a good friend. Why couldn’t they see that?

It all worked out, right? Percy and Braddock made it out okay even if she didn’t follow through on her promise. They won, she’s reliable. But of course, Sasha lost something more important than their belief in her abilities, she lost their trust. In Battle of the Bands however, Sasha recognizes that Anne and Marcy don’t want to follow her ambitions and will be pushed away by them just like Percy and Braddock were. So she takes it upon herself to end things, accepting that she’s lost.

Sorry it took so long.

Except this time, she manages to realize that maybe “what she wants” is to be there for her friends. Sasha’s finally had the space to relax and really think about what she wants, at least a little. This isn’t a real battle after all. Doing things her way all the time isn’t as important as she thought. Maybe she should trust in her friends more. A change of pace isn’t “wrong”, just different. It’s fun.

Sorry we lost, Sash’.

Just like Percy and Braddock, Marcy knows Sasha is capable. She understands that Sasha just wants the team to succeed. That’s why she apologizes when Grime beats them in the competition. She wants Sasha to know she appreciates what she did, but keeps it a bit indirect. She gets Sasha probably didn’t want to push them away. Marcy tried to catch herself and back Sasha up, but when Sasha had her argument with Anne, she stayed quiet. She couldn’t bring herself to go against Anne. 

That was ultimately for the best, as Sasha learned a valuable lesson. Except... She’s in too deep with the rebellion to back out now. This is the episode she’d spill the truth and give up on the whole thing, except... Grime. A part of her knows leaving would make Grime her enemy. She can’t risk that. So, she keeps going with the plan. She decides she’ll somehow win it all back. Because the thing she’s actually most afraid of, is losing another friend. 

Sorry things got a little crazy back there. You guys good? ... Sheesh, don’t be a sore loser. Look, I’m gonna stay here and get this toad regime off the ground, but I can totally send you two home if you want. Or, you can stick around and give me a hand! So what’d’ya say?

Sasha’s final offer; the last chance she’s giving the girls to stop acting weird and go back to being her obedient friends who do what she wants. Sasha lost at Toad Tower, but now she’s won. So Anne should go back to normal, she’s supposed to, like some unspoken “rule”.

And Marcy is supposed fall back in line too. The offer and apology are just as much a plea directed at her. Sasha’s trying to be generous, in her own awkward way. She has bit her tongue so far. She’s thrown a temper tantrum or two, but she hasn’t been this forward in asking Marcy for help till now. She wants Marcy to say that everything’s okay. Make it clear she doesn’t think she’s the bad guy, and that she forgives her and wants to be there for her. That they’re on the same page again. She wants Marcy to help make Anne look overly dramatic and silly for making such a big deal of all this. Sure, if Anne figures that out by herself, that’d be great, but if Marcy could just speak up.

But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.

Marcy’s too busy worrying about Anne’s reaction. Knowing that she’ll be upset about this. She doesn’t dare side with Sasha, and is disappointed and betrayed that she actually did something like this. Marcy already has her own secret plans, so when she finally tries to calm things down, all she can give is a non-descript “we can still fix this”. And then, she’s once again shocked when she sees Sasha threaten Anne and the Plantars. Seeing Sasha act so willing to actually hurt people rather than just push them around... it finally hits her just how serious “tried to kill them” was. And of course, losing Anne or being sent home with her would completely mess up her own plans.

Sasha’s isn’t a vulnerable person. She’ll go on about loving her friends if it makes her look good, but she actively avoids doing anything that could be seen as “weak”. She wouldn’t dare ask Marcy to drop Anne and choose her. If Marcy isn’t speaking up, she can take the hint. She still isn’t on her side, and so she gets sent to the dungeon along with the rest of them.

Marcy accepts that Sasha has become an obstacle, but a part of her still hopes the three of them can work through all this. If they do things her way, nobody has to get hurt. She'll figure out a way hold everything together, fix everything, like always.

And then Andrias betrays her.

Yeah, what plan?

Sasha stops talking once she realizes what’s going on. Quietly fuming as Marcy explains herself. The music box, the suggestion to take it back to Andrias... that wasn’t Marcy being the sweet, supportive friend who Sasha thought she could always rely on, who believed in her... that was Marcy using her. It was never going to become their plan; Marcy never trusted her and was actively working against her. Sasha lost Anne, and she never had a chance at getting Marcy back, either. 

Sasha smacks Marcy away when she desperately tries to justify herself. She doesn’t want to hear it anymore. She’s furious that Marcy thinks they could be friends after something like this, after she’s manipulated them and claimed it was for their sakes. This whole time, her goal had been avoiding the move with her parents. And coming here has only torn them apart even worse.

Marcy reaches out to both girls. And when Sasha rejects her, she clings to Anne, hoping at least she’ll find it in her to forgive her. That she’ll understand she cares about them even if she messed up. Marcy knows they’d probably never pick her over their families or ambitions, so she told herself this place offered those things too. Made them all better people. But as she says her excuses out loud, she can’t find a single one that feels right. She was just afraid of losing them, and now, she’s managed to hurt them on top of that. 

But the thing is. After all that. Despite how betrayed and hurt and angry Sasha was, she looks like this:

Sasha realizes this must be exactly how Anne felt about her betrayal. It isn’t just an abstract “hurt” or “bad thing” anymore. She can also sympathize with how Marcy feels and why she did it, at least a little. She can’t imagine being able to forgive this, and yet... when she looks to Anne with that apologetic look, she isn’t just hoping Anne will forgive her. She’s also asking for permission to forgive Marcy. Pleading that they all still have a chance to move past this together.

[idvmercenary-remaking]

i need au ideas...i want 2 think thoughts abt idv characters

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

Hehe

Thing I wrote from this. small but very vivid scene idea that’s been floating around my head. I imagine this to be like. a scenario where Doll’s tracking our current trio and N goes out to confront her

Idk if I’ll do more w/ it so I’ll just toss it out there as is

One question remained: could she outpace such a persistent adversary?

Doll skirted the clearing with her teleportation - only to end up face-to-face with a pair of outstretched wings and a set of furiously bared teeth.

Well. That answered that.

N sliced his clawed hand through the air, backhanding her with so much force that she was knocked across the ground.

Doll kept her eyes locked onto the approaching Murder Drone. “What do you want?” she muttered darkly.

N’s visor flickered, the X shifting aside to reveal one eye. His voice broke with weary anger as he yelled back, “I want you to leave us alone!”

The X flickered back into place as he replaced one hand with a rifle and continued his attack.

[bullsh1tterz]

His nose scrunches up at the pronunciation - something about it irks him. Maybe in a weird sort of déjà vu sense or perhaps simply because it's irritating and a little too posh and 'dainty' for his liking - but, either way, it has him glowering as he uses the bookshelf to gently push himself ahead with some momentum.

"Blow me. I see what you're doin' with that question. Throwin' me a yes or no 'n knowin' my mouth ain't small enough not to comment on it. I'll bite. Moron takes the bait." Moron also realizes Crane won't be easy to sway from venturing to understand him. Although he reckons it's the enticement of the puzzle which might drive his type, not some superhuman empathy towards the troubled. Adam'll need a different approach with him.

"How's this for an answer: I don't believe myself to be shit." He shrugs, sincere with his words but still maintaining the aggression in his tone. "I don't know what brand o' 'cause' I am and, here's the kicker for ya," a wink, "I don't care ta know! You wanna know why? Curious little psychiatrist head o' yours wanna grope my shitty brain? It's cuz I don't want to be fixed - I don't care to be. And, no, I don't wanna elaborate or sit down and process it over a cuppa joe." A smile of contempt as he shakes his head. The truth of it is, Adam was screwed up well before the incident. All it did was perpetuate what he'd already suffered from and tack on a couple of extra new traumas. He knows himself with issues, never without. Why would he risk losing his sense of self, too, when his sense of purpose is already in shambles?

"You can't fix someone who doesn't wanna get better. Now you can try makin' me worse, hell, I'll comply, ruin me," index uncurls to point at the other, "but don't wag your pretty little poker face at me and imply for a second that I don't know I'm refusin' ta help myself. It's an active decision, fucker."

He approaches Crane's desk, tapping the edge with his palm and mulling over something for a moment. Gaze turning up to look at the man and that very palm now pressed over his notebook to get his attention, he makes a choice. "How about you go ahead and answer your own question, now? Flip this on yourself a little instead of jottin' the obvious down in your notebook there." he tells him, mimicking his head tilt with a certain mockery. "Otherwise 'm afraid none o' your other lame boring stupid dipshit questions're gonna get an answer after this."

by the time adam uncrosses his arms, crane has already looked away, focused instead on the document lying before him. quietly, he writes through the ensuing rush of verbiage.

immediate indication of hypersexuality; poor defense mechanism.

weaponized advances suggest internalized homophobia.

rejects authority. self sabotage.

crane's beginning to understand why jigsaw must have chosen him. the click of adam's fingers draws his gaze back with a slight furrow of his brows.

❛ not quite. ❜ he stiffly punctuates both words, the t's practically popping. but it isn't all bad. past the word vomit onslaught is information. the inevitable betrayal of thoughts, complex feelings contained within the tiresome charade. and they've only just begun. crane cocks his head to the side. fixed. what an interesting choice of words. crane slowly draws in a breath.

❛ ..do you believe yourself to be a lost cause, adam? ❜ can you even be fixed? and, more to the point— can you be broken further? at least the toxin might render him silent, once and for all. then crane might find some peace. ❛ refusing to engage is a refusal to help yourself. and it certainly won't make the nightmares go away. ❜

[tsukishumai]

pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn word count: 3.2k summary: In which Osamu finds that the stranger lurking outside his store window has a connection to his restaurant that he could have never expected.

Osamu remembers every single face that has walked through the doors of Onigiri Miya since the day they’ve opened. He has yet to hire another worker, manning all stations of his business himself. The rush hours always provided him with a bit of a heavy work load, but Osamu has learned a lot about diligence and patience. Business had been good enough; traffic was steady throughout the day, and he had his fair share of regulars whose orders he had already memorized.

The stuffy, salt-and-pepper haired man in the pressed three-piece suit always ordered two umeboshi onigiri and a medium iced green tea. The kind old woman that ran the shop across the street would come in for his salted salmon, and if he had extra, Osamu would throw in an extra tuna mayo. She’d always smile and give him a pat on the shoulder, her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Osamu of his grandmother.

It was when the shopkeeper had slowly walked out of his establishment and back to her own that Osamu noticed you standing a few feet away from his storefront. You had been wearing a face mask, but Osamu could see that you were staring at his sign. Your eyes squinted at the block letters that looked down at you, before they trailed down to land directly on Osamu. You seemed a little startled at the fact that his eyes were already staring at you, but you were standing outside his restaurant, weren’t you?

Before he could lift a hand to wave you in, you quickly turned and walked away.

Every few days, either during the dinner or lunch rush, Osamu would catch a glimpse of you outside of his restaurant. You’d stare at his sign for a few seconds; maybe glance at the menu board that stood a few feet away from his entrance, or look at the pictures of his full menu taped to the restaurant window. he would see the way you studied each item, yet you always walked the opposite direction.

It bothered Osamu. Why didn’t you want to come in? Did his menu look boring? Was his sign uninviting? Is his decoration too traditional? Should he have made it look a little more modern? He grumbled to himself about it each time you peeked in, and walked away. Why do you bother coming so often if you didn’t want to try his food? Osamu huffed.

It wasn’t until four weeks later, when Osamu had posted three brand new flavors on his menu board that you finally deemed his restaurant worthy enough to step in.

You had stopped by a little bit later than usual today, the dinner rush had come and gone, and the only ones left in the restaurant were you and Osamu. He stood patiently waiting behind his counter, desperately trying to look busy and as if he hasn’t been waiting for this moment for weeks. 

He waited until you were close enough to his counter to say his greetings. You nodded at him in acknowledgment, taking a seat at the bar in front of him. He handed you a menu, and your eyes roved over the words as if they hadn’t done so dozens of times prior. 

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” He asked, and you took off the baseball cap you had been wearing, setting it down on the counter beside you. Your finger hooks along the ear loop of your face mask and Osamu realizes he’s seeing your face for the first time. You place the piece of cloth in your pocket, and Osamu fights the heat across his cheeks. 

“Just water,” you said, and Osamu was quick to set a fresh glass down in front of you. 

“What’ll it be?” He asked after a few moments, adjusting the bill of his hat and settling his hand on his hip. 

You hum a little, tapping your finger against your lips before you reply. “I’ll have the combo #2 with the gyoza.” 

Osamu nodded, “What two flavors onigiri would you like?” 

“For the first one, I’ll have your most popular flavor,” you say, before closing the menu and handing it back to him, “I’ll let you choose the second one.” 

Osamu raised an eyebrow at your odd request, but nods anyway, putting the menu away and walking back to give his hands a quick wash. 

He begins to gather his ingredients when he noticed you take out a notepad and a pen from your bag, placing it on the counter in front of your water. 

“So,” he says, starting the process of making his number one seller (salted salmon), “What was it?” 

“Excuse me?” You asked, pausing the drink that was half way to your lips. “What was what?”

“Well, ya stood outside for weeks, so I gotta know,” Osamu said, placing the delicate filling into the ball of rice he was kneading in his palm, “What made ya decide to finally come in?” 

You tightened your lips, awkwardly setting the cup back down on the counter and placing a palm on your forehead. 

“I was that obvious?”

“Were ya trying not to be?” He laughed, looking at you expectantly. 

“It was the flavors on your board,” you finally replied, leaning back in your seat, “There was one that my grandfather used to make.”

Osamu smiled to himself, wrapping his first finished onigiri in the seaweed he had roasted earlier that day, placing it gently on a serving platter and moving over to make the next rice ball. 

“That’s a coincidence,” Osamu said, “Your grandfather must have had great taste.”

“He used to own a restaurant,” you blurted out, and Osamu hummed. 

“You’re kidding,” he said, “Whereabouts?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, shifting your eyes side to side as if debating on whether you wanted to divulge him in your greatest secret. Eventually, you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the counter and placing your chin in your palm. “Actually, it was this one.”

Osamu’s fingers froze. “Ya don’t mean—?”

You nodded excitedly. Osamu lets out a scoff. “Now you’re just messin’ with me.”

“No, I swear!” A bright smile erupted across your cheeks as you jumped a little in your seat, “My grandparents used to own this restaurant.”

“I thought this was a boutique before I bought it?” Osamu questioned, putting his final touches on the second rice ball. 

“It was,” you agreed, taking a sip from your water, “They owned this place until I was in high school, and sold it before they retired somewhere in the mountains. It’s been a few different stores since, but this is the first time it’s become a restaurant again. I was pretty surprised when I first saw it.”

Osamu felt an odd sensation of pride began to brew in his chest, shown in the way he sprinkled his sesame seeds a little extra forcefully. 

“Well,” he said, placing the plate of two perfect onigiri right on the counter in front of you, “I hope I do this place some justice.” 

You smiled, and Osamu found himself smiling with you. He pointed out the shake on the left, and the surprise flavor on the right. You nodded, intrigued, picking up the onigiri lying on the left side. 

Osamu makes the gyoza while you take your first bite, nearly pumping his fist in victory when he sees you close your eyes in satisfaction, the tension he didn’t even know you carried slowly melting from your shoulders. He sees you quickly jot down comments on the notepad next to you, and Osamu tries to peek at what you wrote when he gives you the gyoza. 

“Ya jottin’ down comments about my food?” He joked, and you jumped a little at his voice, “Got any suggestions, then?”

You smile sheepishly, “It’s just a little hobby of mine.”

He nods, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter that he had just used. “Well, ya let me know if ya need anything else.” 

“It’s just you working tonight?” You ask, grabbing your chopsticks and picking up a piece of gyoza. 

“It’s just me every night,” he chuckled. 

Your eyes widened as you chewed on your food, swallowing with a loud gulp. 

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?” You ask, quickly jotting down your notes before diverting your attention back to him. 

Osamu just shrugged. “I poured my everything into something I didn’t love half as much as cooking. This is just how I know how to do things.” 

You tilted your head to the side, “What did you do before this?”

Osamu takes a deep breath as he lifts his hat up a little bit to ruffle his fingers through his hair. He flips the cap around and puts it on backwards, his vision no longer half covered by the bill of his hat and he can now look at you fully. He almost wants to laugh because no one has ever asked him that version of this question before. It was always, ‘What are you going to be doing after volleyball?’

He hated the fact that any answer other than ‘I’m going to play professionally’ was deemed a shame, or a waste. For Osamu, he didn’t want to waste another second not pursuing his passion.

So it was refreshing to tell you about volleyball as if it was just a footnote in his food journey; something that he had done prior to finally recognizing his actual potential.

You gawked at him in disbelief, “Volleyball? Were you even any good?”

Osamu actually recoiled in offense, “I’ll have ya know I was on a team that went to nationals three years in a row.”

You raised your eyebrows appreciatively, and Osamu straightened a little.

“So why food?” You question him again, and Osamu wonders if you’re always this inquisitive. He’s answered this question hundreds of times, swore up and down that he would shoot the next person that even dared to say ‘Why food?’ in front of him. Yet for some reason, he felt more than happy to divulge you. 

“Because food is more than just something ya eat when you’re hungry. It’s coming back from a long trip, and it’s the warmth that spreads through your body when ya eat your mom’s cooking for the first time. That taste of victory that spreads across your tongue when ya go out for a meal with your pals after a game. The sensation of closing your eyes in satisfaction when ya take a bite out of a fresh onigiri after a long day,” you pause your scribbles at that moment, looking up to shoot him a playful glare. Osamu chuckled and continued, “It’s laughter shared around the table, and memories made over a plate that makes food more than just nourishment for our body, but also for our soul.” 

Osamu feels his cheeks heat up as he finishes his speech, embarrassment beginning to sink in at the end of his long tangent. You looked at him with a soft look on your face as you finished the last bite of your first onigiri, and dusted your fingers from any stray grains of rice.

“Words to live by,” you commented, lifting your glass of water up in agreement before tilting it back for a drink.

He let out a breath of relief that lasted only a second when he saw you reach over to pick up the onigiri with toppings he picked out for you. He held his breath as you took a bite, not expecting to see your eyes widen so fast, snapping your head down to the innocent rice ball that now sported a bite mark.

“Shio kombu cheese?” you say hurriedly, holding the onigiri closer to your face.

Osamu steps forward, “Do ya like it?”

You take another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavors as they melded in your mouth, and your eyes nearly begin to water.

“I never thought someone other than my grandfather would be weird enough to come up with this,” you laughed, scarfing down the rice ball in less than two seconds. “Yet here it is.”

“It’s not weird,” he defended, “It’s refined.”

You laugh as you dive into a story from your childhood spent sitting in this exact restaurant. Osamu listens intently as you recount how many different failed recipes your grandfather had forced you to ty and review, helping him decide what to put on the menu, or which combinations would bring in the businessmen that always seemed to just walk passed the restaurant.

He tells you of the tantrum his brother threw when he told him he was quitting volleyball, but still, Atsumu was his first sale. You pester him about his secret ingredient, and give him an incredulous look when he says it’s the rice. (“My old volleyball captain is a rice farmer.” “… what an interesting volleyball team.”)

The furniture was different, and the lay out was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere around Osamu’s counter had brought you right back into your childhood, reminding you of all the reasons why you loved what you did in the first place.

Long after your plates had been emptied, and the hour hand on the clock had extended way passed closing time, you finally paid for your meal, stood up from your seat and prepared to take your leave.

“Thank you for the meal, and the conversation,” you lean forward to read his name tag, “Miya-san.”

“Osamu,” he corrects, and raises an eyebrow at you.

You tell him your name, and Osamu repeats it in his mind over and over again.

“Come back soon,” he calls out his usual greeting as you walked out the door, but it felt different when he said it to you.

“I will,” you smile, waving a hand before stepping into the night, leaving Osamu with a dizzy head and fluttering stomach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the following weeks since his late night encounter with you, Onigiri Miya had ceased to be a simple stop along someone’s route to work, or an afterthought on the way home.

One could imagine Osamu’s surprise when he arrived an hour and half before he was due to open, and already a line began to form down the sidewalk. He thought, perhaps it was a fluke, or maybe there was some sort of business convention in town nearby – something to explain the sudden spike in popularity.

Yet day after day, the crowds of people came to him by the dozens, climbing over each other to get a taste of his cooking. He couldn’t stop to wonder how long this was going to last, barely having the time to stop and give himself a break.

He finally realizes it’s not merely coincidence when the lines get longer, yet the faces he sees stay the same. Osamu remembers every single face that walks through the doors of Onigiri Miya, and it’s the ones that he sees over and over that truly give his restaurant its meaning. 

The last customer of the dinner rush left thirty minutes ago when Osamu’s phone rang.

“‘llo,” he greets, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he sweeps the floor, thinking about how he needed to start looking for someone to hire.

“Hey, asshole,” the voice of his twin comes through loud and clear, “When were ya gonna tell me ya invited that food blogger to your restaurant? And how the hell did ya get them to like your garbage cooking?”

Osamu stops in confusion, grabbing the phone and holding it up himself. “Did ya finally get hit in the head a little too hard at practice? What the hell are ya talking about?”

Atsumu curses at Osamu, telling him to hold on a second as he sends him the link.

Osamu pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, quickly pressing on the blue url that popped up from Atsumu’s chat bubble.

It took a second for it to load, but when it did, Osamu’s jaw dropped

ONIGIRI MIYA IS AN ONIGIRI MUST HAVE by L/N Y/N

Beneath the obnoxious title was a photo of his sign, shining brightly against the wooden panels of his building, looking very much like a beacon for those searching for the perfect plate.

“Your shop is all over the internet and I had to find out about it on my news feed?! What the hell kinda brother are ya...”

Atsumu’s voice faded into the background as Osamu read the flattering words you had written about his restaurant. You complimented the decoration he had been insecure about, and he chuckled at the way you had described the fluffiness of his rice. He was captivated by your use of prose, painting the perfect picture of exactly everything he wanted his food to convey.

It wasn’t until he got to the last paragraph when he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Though the years have passed, and the season have changed, the sentimentality of this particular shop had never lost its meaning for me. For the first time in years, I felt the soul of my grandfather, the curator of my inspiration and passion, all around the atmosphere of what is now Onigiri Miya. I have every faith that the new owner has already done him justice.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

Osamu tore his eyes away from the screen, the very author of the only review that will ever matter to him stood a mere few feet away from his counter.

“Call you later, Tsumu,” he said hurriedly.

“Hey, wh—“

Osamu slips his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to you. You had a cheeky smile on your face as you waited patiently.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya,” he says dryly, and you laugh at his tone.

“Should you be on your phone while you’re on the clock?” You joke as you settle in the same seat you occupied the last time you paid him a visit.

“I don’t know,” Osamu crosses his arms, “Should ya be writing articles about people without telling em?”

You winced a little at his words, holding your hands up in surrender. “You saw it then?”

Osamu nodded.

You looked to the side, rubbing the side of your arm. “Did you like what I wrote?”

Osamu smiled, uncrossing his arms and walking to the back to wash his hands. You watch him curiously as he walked back to you, and pointed to a spot on the wall directly to your right.

“That’s where I’m gonna put it,” he said, “when I print it out and frame it.”

You laughed at the seriousness of his face, and he smirked in satisfaction.

You ordered the combo #2 with a side of gyoza, letting Osamu pick the two flavors. You mentioned how you tried to visit a couple of times, but the line was always so far out the door. He realizes that he has you to thank for that, and you blush deeply when he sincerely tells you so.

“So,” you say as you munch on the honey garlic pork onigiri he prepared, “Aren’t you glad you did this instead of boring, old volleyball?”

Osamu nearly chokes at the insult. “Volleyball is not boring.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let me take you to a game some time. We can eat something other than rice balls.”

You look up from the half eaten onigiri at the chef who made it so carefully, looking so bashful and nervous you couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I would love that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

thank you for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated <33

[lebuc]

thought stress

* under the impending gaze & thought stress heaping praises on & astride an unwinding tautness, to seek & find faults - not in the stars, but  far-off maws immortalized in bars or verses - should you veer toward the very literary, lyrical be damned; i'm sitting, scarfing cereal, green eggs & pink ham with caffeine - shot by 'presso shot, 'drenaline jottin’ 'spits' between jolt hits , stringed bits & what not - so, what've *you* got?

...to ease our tease into subliminal sleep, steady peepin the criminal creep 'makin the beepin in my jeep that's in all ways amiss, dissing bliss, fraying a life half-blitzed on legal scrits, parlay splits & tumblr’s greatest hits...

anywhoo - least a third of this turd word list, should well be about you - cause the world does exist outside my bed, post-waterloo, beside interiorized existential dread & realized essential empathy for the non= credentialed heads in naturalized crowns; folk steeled 'gainst keeling, tho 'dey ben a- pressed down' - good people, like weebles, who may wobble - but don't stay hobbled, cobbling on fleek one ‘ekeend at a time, & the sublime they be finding in squeezes of lime - over veal, fish or fowl in any dish dried by air or hand towel;  favoring stewed food over fried, flavor-imbued - yess!  & with pride - love-prepared, so don't misconstrue; the rarest of faire that’s been 'savoired' far  away as ‘Buktoo, (as globe-trotters do...); tell 'em this so & so let you know  & you won't be bereft if asked or tasked to re-stan on what’s left of this unreeling heft on ye olde digital cleft not quite yet swiped left... * 9/21 - lebuc - thought stress    

[okayohay]

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too (Chapter 2)

I wanted to post the second chapter of my fic here, because not everyone uses Wattpad. Please let me know if you would like me to keep posting it! If you want to read ahead - you can find the story on Wattpad here

Hope you guys enjoy!

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

Chapter Two

Van

I needed a change...

We ended our soundcheck with Overlap because I was sick of playing the same song every night. I was sick of singing about things that mattered when I was sixteen but didn't matter to me anymore. I wanted to do something different, so I did what I do best, jump into things unannounced. There was no warning to it. Bondy slid into the opening chords like usual and I cut him off with a riff.

He raised his eyebrows at me as I played the chorus of Overlap instead of Tyrants. Steve crossed his arms over his chest from the lighting platform in the middle of the floor and narrowed his eyes at me, a smug look on his face.

"I want to end with something else." I didn't wait for anyone's response, I just started singing the first verse, forgetting half of the words.

"Whoa, whoa, why Overlap? Why not something else?" Benji scratched the side of his face.

I kept playing the riff on a shrug. "What else?"

"I don't know man...something off of two? Something the fans already love?"

I strummed my guitar again and hummed the words. Overlap meant something to me, that's why I wanted to play it, but I didn't want to tell them that. I zoned out the questions and continued playing, even when the rest of them stopped.

Steve crossed the floor and stood in front of the barricade by the stage. "I like that you're ready to retire Tyrants, but you're going to play something people connect with."

"They'll connect with this if you give them the chance." I heard the edge in my voice.

Bondy cleared his throat and shook his head at me. I knew he was silently telling me it wasn't worth it. Overlap wasn't worth pushing Steve and I into another fight.

"You'll end with Cocoon." Steve said bluntly before he walked off with a flick of his wrist. My jaw locked into place as I ground my teeth together.

"Van, leave it." Bondy whispered.

I shook my head and flicked my hair from my face. "We'll play it now for good measure. I want to hear it live." I spun my finger around signaling the start of the song. Bob struck his drumsticks together and Benji and Bondy exchanged glances I pretended not to notice.

The song started slowly, just as it did on the album, and by the chorus, Bondy's smile returned and he was clearly enjoying playing something new. Even Bob's snare sounded different, a little bit more life to it, perhaps. Steve paid us no mind as he continued to fiddle with the lights and the soundboards, but the few roadies watching in the back seemed to enjoy the change to the set.

I sang the last lines out quickly, adding a few more words in here and there, and dragging out the last sentence rather than cutting it off. We finished and were met with a round of applause from the back. Steve looked up then, taking notice of the compliments and then pausing as he shook his head at me.

A few people walked toward the stage, a mix of roadies and local radio station DJs who couldn't wait to nab another piece of us during an interview. I rolled my eyes, noticing one girl holding a camera and scratching down words on a small black book. She stepped into the blue glow of the lights Steve had been working on, and I froze as she neared the stage. I was in no state of mind to do an interview right now, and I definitely wouldn't be having an interview with a girl looking like that. Her long hair wasn't blonde or brown, but somewhere lost in between the two, and it hung in loose waves over her shoulders. Her eyes were dark, maybe even a little too intense. I glanced at Steve for backup. He hadn't told me anything about a scheduled interview today, and I surely didn't want to go into one prior to a gig.

She said nothing as she stood by the barricade and jotted a few more sentences into her notebook. Bondy glanced at her a few times but shrugged his shoulders when I motioned to her. She looked young, mid to late twenties maybe, and she never said a word to any of us, just kept scribbling quickly into her book. I frowned. If she had something to write about me, I'd like to be the one giving her the information.

She looked up and locked eyes with me then, a shudder rippled through me. She was dead gorgeous, but I've learned to never trust a writer, despite their looks. Never trust a writer at all; trust me.

I jutted my chin at her as I sat my guitar down. "Can we do ya a favor or somet?" My accent was thick, spewing out half word phrases from back home, something that only happened when I was mad, or full of feelings I couldn't get out.

Benji looked up instantly, recognizing my tone and how many times it preceded an argument or a shitty interview. He glanced from me, to the girl, and back to me.

"Van..." he raised his free hand at me but I shrugged it off.

"No, no, no I want to know what she wants from us. She's bloody good at jottin' it down in her book, I just want to know what she's gettin’ on at before I read about it in some magazine or on the internet later."

The nameless girl's face reddened, and she closed the black book and shoved it behind her into her camera bag. She didn't leave though, she just kind of stood there keeping her sites on me, like I was a ghost on the stage and she was looking right through me.

"Van, lad...ease up a bit. It's not what you think. That's her; Barns' girlfriend."

My gaze shifted back to the girl, leaning into a roadie and speaking in his ear. Well fuck.

I bit down on my lip, jumped off the stage and stood next to the barricade. "Sorry love, who did you say you were?"

She pressed herself into the barricade and began pulling her hair into a pony tail. "I didn't. I think you were too worried about me being a journalist to care."

I said nothing, which was a rarity for me. She picked up on my hesitation and sighed. "I'm Ellie." The redness returning to her cheeks.

"You're not a journalist?"

"Legally no, but in her free time she writes damn good articles for a blog." Barns stepped beside her and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hard. She flinched at first, until she realized it was him and relaxed. I turned away and raked a hand through my hair.

Barns Courtney had been opening for us on and off for months. At first, it was all fun and games, whiskey and beers after shows, sitting around after gigs getting high on shitty weed he'd pull from his pocket. But it escalated into moments of him shattering the glass of a hotel window, or getting in a fight with Larry. It was shortly after that when Steve caught him with more than just weed. He dug him out of several moments of chaos and kept him out of jail in Dallas, but none of that calmed him down. He started bringing more girls around, and that's when I found out he had a girlfriend. I kind of shut down the friendship at that point. The drugs, the girls, all of it...I'd already lived that life and let it ruin me. I didn't need it to happen again. There was enough of me that liked the wild side too much. I'd spent too much time dabbling in hard liquor and cocaine, and it cost me my better judgment. That cost me a relationship, and my anger from the relationship ending cost me any chance at a friendship. I'd lost my way a bit, lost a lot of things, and I swore I'd never do that again.

Barns made me nervous. He had too much of an edge for me to want to be around. His words were stale and full of poison when he tossed them at me or any one of the lads. Watching him kiss the girl he'd been cheating on for weeks felt wrong. It all felt wrong. My stomach churned.

When he finished with her, he shifted his weight to his other leg and smirked. His signature red leather jacket was hanging loosely off him, no shirt underneath. "This is my girlfriend, Ellie." His tone harassed me, the corners of his lips pulling upwards. "She writes for a music blog, I told her to use whatever she wants from the tour."

I shifted my gaze back to the woman who was now biting at her fingernails nervously. "You're staying for the rest of the tour then?"

She nodded and looked back at Barns casually. Barns smiled at her before nodding at me. "I'll catch up with you in a bit babe, I need to talk to Van."

She smiled and stepped away quickly, turning back once to gaze at us both. She hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth. "You should play that song. Maybe don't end with it, but it's a real barn burner. It'd be good in your set." I blinked a few times as I contemplated what she was saying before she turned around again. When she was out of earshot Barns leaned in and pressed his hand into my shoulder. "Remember our deal, McCann. She doesn't need to know about the shit from last week, or the ones before that. I love her, I don't want to hurt her like that."

I laughed and shook my head. "Some deep love you got there, mate." I removed his hand from my shoulder and climbed back onto the stage.

"Come on, man. Be cool." Barns flashed his perfectly straight teeth at me, but there was no authenticity in his smile. It was forced, he was the big bad wolf and he was in sheep's clothing. This was a threat.

I nodded at him. "Yeah, man whatever."

Barns patted the top of the barricade with his hands and spun around quickly, leaving the four of us to our instruments and the last few minutes of soundcheck.

"What was that all about?" Bondy asked as he wiped down the neck of his guitar and motioned to Barns.

I shrugged as Barns disappeared from site. "Get rid of Rango and play Overlap in its spot. Don't tell Steve, just have Larry change the list."

"You wanna cut Rango?" Bob chimed in from the background, disbelief hanging off the vowels of his words.

I nodded once and picked my guitar up again, the first chords in the song echoed through the empty venue.

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

BWUH????

WAIHT I’M A WRITER TOO

I haven’t written much in terms of MD just yet

BUT. LOOK

http://ammonitetheseaserpent.tumblr.com/tagged/my-jottins

be me

writing fanfic

add a detail about characters eyes containing a glimmer of yellow as foreshadowing

take a break from writing fic

look in the mirror

realise that I have heterochromia?!

realise that my eyes also contain what can only be described as a glimmer of yellow?!

help?!

If my fan fiction is anything to go off, I'm going to die soon?!

[kathuichithouda-archives]

I was thinking of making a tagging system for my specific hcs/interpretations of characters... So they're easier to find if I make drabbles or drawings gravitating towards my ideas moreso than canon? Idk--

I was thinking of tagging Gundham as Son of Winter. (Cuz. Yknow "Overlord of Ice" in stuff. Even tho he's born riiight before winter starts (I should know my birthday is a few days after his on the winter solstice) i know that sounds corny but like I woke up outta dead sleep with idea so I'm jottin it down

[deliciousliving]

Jottin down my plans/ideas/thots:

Villian Deku X Reader

Poly Steve/Buck/Falcon/CA x Reader

Poly Bonnie/Enzo x Reader