#part of me wants to sneak this into the backstory of the Tell Me Where To Find Shelter Malk Alice

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 1

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user's post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a 'info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts' collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal' post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

as this post hit a kind of character limit, there will probably be at least 1 more post. :)

Character Creation

CC is vast [source] and immensely detailed [source]

We will enter CC straight after Varric's opening narration [source]

You are given 5 categories to work your way through in CC: Lineage, Appearance, Class, Faction, Playstyle. Each of these has a range of subcategories within them. There are 8 subcategories within the "head" subcategory" in "Appearance" alone [source]

Lineage dictates things like race (i.e. human, elf, dwarf, qunari) and backstory [source]

Backstories include things like factions. Factions offer 3 distinct buffs each [source]

There are dozens and dozens of hairstyles [source]

There are separate options for binary and non-binary pronouns and gender [source]

"BioWare's work behind the scenes, meanwhile, goes as deep as not only skin tones but skin undertones, melanin levels, and the way skin reacts differently to light" [source]

CC has a range of lighting options within it so that you can check how the character looks in them [source]

There are a range of full-body customization options such as a triangular slider between body types and individual settings down to everything from shoulder width to glute volume [source]. There are "all the sliders [we] could possibly want". The body morpher option allows us to choose different body sizes [source]

All body options are non-gendered [source]

They/them pronouns are an option [source]

Rook can be played as non-binary [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Special, focused attention was paid to ensuring that hairstyles "come across as well-representative, that everyone can see hairstyles that feel authentic to them, even the way they render" [source]

The game uses strand hair technology borrowed in part from the EA Sports games. The hair is "fully-controlled by physics," so it "looks even better in motion than it does here in a standstill" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

In CC we will also be able to customize/remake our Inquisitor [source]

A core tenet of the game is "be who you want to be" [source]

There are presets for all 4 of the game's races (human, elf, dwarf, qunari), in case detailed CCs overwhelm you [source]

Story

The story is set 9 years since Inquisition [source]

The Inquisitor will appear [source]

Other characters refer to the PC as Rook [source]. This article says they are "the Rook" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

The prologue is quite lengthy. A narrated intro from Varric lays the groundwork with some lore and explains about Solas [source]. In this Varric-narrated opening section, the dwarf recaps the events of previous games and explains the motivations of Solas [source] (Fel note/speculation: this sounds like this cinematic that we saw on DA Day 2023)

What happens first off is that Rook, who is working with Varric, is interrogating a bartender about the whereabouts of a contact in Minrathous who can help them stop Solas. The bartender does not play nice and we are presented with our first choice: talk the bartender down or intimidate them aggressively [source]

The first hour of the game is "a luxurious nighttime romp through a crumbling city under a mix of twinkling starlight and lavish midnight blue" (Minrathous) [source]. The game begins with a tavern brawl (depending on dialogue options) and a stroll through Minrathous in search of Neve Gallus, who has a lead on Solas [source]. Minrathous then comes under attack [source] by demons [source] (Fel note/speculation: it sounds like the demo the press played is what we saw in the Gameplay Reveal). Off in the distance is a vibrant, colorful storm where Solas is performing his ritual. [source] Eventually we come upon Harding. [source] and Neve. Rook and co enter a crumbling castle, where ancient elf secrets pop up, "seemingly just for the lore nerds". [source] Then we teleport to Arlathan Forest, have a mini boss fight with a Pride Demon, and there is the climactic confrontation with Solas. After a closing sequence, at this point it is the end of the game's opening mission. [source] (Fel note/speculation: So the Gameplay Reveal showed the game's opening mission)

The action in the story's opening parts starts off quite quick from the sounds of things: the devs wanted to get the player right in to the story. because, “Especially with an RPG where they can be quite lore-heavy, a lot of exposition at the front and remembering proper nouns, it can be very overwhelming.” [source]

BioWare wanted to make the beginning of Dragon Age: The Veilguard feel like the finale of one of their other games [source]

Rook's Faction will be referenced in dialogue [source]

Minrathous is beautiful, with giant statues, floating palaces, orange lantern glow and magical runes which glow green neon. These act "like electricity" as occasional signs above pubs and stores [source]

The story has a lot of darkness tonally. These dark parts of the game contain the biggest spoilers [source]. However, the team really wanted to build in contrast between the dark and light moments in the game, as if everything is dark, nothing really feels dark [source]

Our hub (like the Normandy in ME or Skyhold in DA:I) is a place called The Lighthouse [source] (Fel note/speculation: I guess this screenshot shows the crew in The Lighthouse? ^^)

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Decisions from previous DA games will be able to be carried over, it will just work a bit differently this time [source]. The game will not read our previous saves. For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Varric is a major character [source]

Every companion is romanceable [source]

BioWare tried to make each character's friendship just as meaningful, regardless of romance [source]

If you don't romance a character, they may end up romancing each other [source]

There will be some great cameos [source]. Some previous characters are woven into the game [source]

Companion sidequests/optional content relating to companions is highly curated when it involves their motivations and experiences [source]

We could permanently lose some companions depending on our choices [source]

Our choices can influence if characters get injured and what they think about us [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Each class (warrior, rogue, mage) has 3 specializations. The ones for Rogue are duelist, saboteur and Veil ranger [source]. (Fel note/speculation: Veil ranger reminds me of Bellara. Maybe this is her 'spec' too?)

Duelist gameplay involves a sharp combination of dashes, parries, leaps, rapid slashes and combos [source]

Faction-related buffs include being able to hold an extra potion or do extra damage against certain enemies [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Playstyle settings include custom, distinct difficulty settings for options as granular as parry windows, meaning "players who might fancy that playstyle but typically struggle with the finer points of combat can give it a go" [source]

Combat mechanics is a mix of real-time action and pause and play. Pausing brings up a radial menu split into 3 sections: companions to the left and right, Rook's skills at the bottom, and a targeting system at the top which helps get in focus on certain enemies. [source]. In the pause system you can queue up your whole party's attacks [source]

Tapping or holding the shoulder button pauses the game, allowing us to stop the action and issue orders to companions [source]

There is a system of specific enemy resistances and weaknesses [source]. Weaknesses and resistances plays a big role in combat and abilities are designed to exploit these accordingly [source]. An example is that "one character might be able to plant a weakening debuff on an enemy, and another enemy might be able to detonate them" [source]

There is a vast skill tree of unlockable options [source]

You can set up specific companions with certain kits, e.g. to tackle specific enemy types, to being more of a support, or as flexible all-rounders [source]

Healing magic returns [source]

Abilities can change together with elaborate results, e.g. one companion using a gravity well attack that sucked enemies together, another using a slowing move to keep them in place, and Rook using a big AOE to catch them all at once [source]

A shortcut system lets you map a few abilities to a smaller pinned menu at the bottom of the screen [source]

There are class-specific resource systems. For example, Rogue has "momentum", which builds up as Rook lands consecutive hits [source]

Each class will always have a ranged option [source]

Rogue Rook can do a sort of 'hip fire' option with a bow, letting you pop off arrows from the waist [source]

Warriors can throw their shield at enemies, and can build an entire playstyle around that using the skill tree [source]

There is light platforming gameplay [source]

The game runs on the latest iteration of the Frostbite engine [source]

The game targets 60 fps

On consoles it will feature performance and quality modes so we can choose our preferred visual fidelity [source]

The game is mission based [source]. Some levels that we go to do open up, some with more exploration than others. "Alternate branching paths, mysteries, secrets, optional content you're going to find and solve." [source]

Everything is hand-touched, hand-crafted and highly curated [source]

Some sidequests and optional content is highly curated, especially when it involves the motivations and experiences of the companions. In others we may be investigating for example a missing family, with an entire open bog environment to search for clues and a way to solve the disappearance [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc continued, after the above bullet list hit a character limit

There is sophisticated animation cancelling and branching. Gameplay is action-like, and the design centers around dodging, countering, and using risk-reward charge attacks designed to break enemy armor layers [source]

The dialogue wheel returns [source]. It gives truncated summaries of the dialogue options rather than the full line that the character is going to say [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

We can play the game fully offline [source]

There are no microtransactions [source]

The game itself is not as cell-shaded in look as the first trailer looked [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Rafehub.com - Rafe Cameron Plink Library

+18 Minor DNI

Pornstar!Rafe Cameron - P🔗 Library

Welcome to RafeHub.com

This p!link library was made with my lover @rafesthroatbaby

if you love pornstar!Rafe check out the sexy au created by our baby @starkeyisthelastname

The titles were “written by Rafe” to give it a typical porn-esque vibe. The white text is a little backstory 💋

⭐️ Back shots 💦💦💦 🍑Your first video with Rafe

⭐️ stretching u like only i can let me ruin you 4 everyone else

⭐️ i love teasing what’s mine let me play with your pussy while daddy gets you ready for his cock Rafe easing you into it after making you sore from your last shoot

⭐️ Am i too rough? I’m sorry. I’ll take it nice n easy 4 you baby. I’m gonna try to make it all fit i promise. 🤡 cum back for part 2 where i fuck this slut into the mattress

⭐️ two girls one rafe 😈 After a night of partying, you and Rafe bring another actress back to his house to play

⭐️ they love to share me i guess i’ll keep them both

⭐️ Making a mess on the couch. How many times do i make her squirt?? 😜 Rafe’s been stalking your videos since. He didn’t know you could squirt. Now he’s desperate to make you squirt multiple times on camera.

⭐️ Messy girl ❤️‍🔥 gonna need a shower after this shit 🥵

⭐️ Let The Pussy Destroyer satisfy your breeding kink ♥️ The only actress Rafe finishes in unprotected is you. He can’t help but whisper the dirtiest shit in your ear about how he’s gonna end your career because he fucked a baby into you. But what he gets off on the most is how he’ll never have to watch you fuck anyone else again.

⭐️ daddy dicking her ⬇️

⭐️ Let me destroy you - size kink king 🍆 she’s takin this dick like a champ Rafe is clearly obsessed with you and his followers are getting jealous

⭐️ I love using your tight pussy such a perfect fucktoy for me

⭐ What Rafe sends to you after you send him your nudes 📸

⭐️ had to sneak away from her boyfriend to get fucked by daddy. Do you think he’s doin this shit like me?? 😂Shooting with Rafe after he tells you that you can fuck whoever… You mean nothing to him. He didn’t realize how wrong he was ‘til it happened. His jealousy also went into overdrive after he found out that the other actor was an ex of yours. Of course he keeps that shit to himself.

⭐️ you just don’t stop cummin do you?

⭐ mine 📸 Rafe’s petty-ass posting this GIF online and sending it to your ex

⭐️ cum give daddy a hand and stroke me til I’m emptyDenying Rafe pussy because he won’t use his words and tell you how he feels when you can tell he’s annoyed

⭐ covering her with my load

⭐️ atta girl swallow daddy’s dick

⭐️ not gonna lie this chick fucked me look at her creamin on my big dick Fucking Rafe on camera after rumors circulate about him and another mattress actress. He put in an extra effort after getting his feelings hurt and now he regrets it completely

⭐️ she says she hates me… turns out she just needed some good dick

⭐️ she loves gettin slapped and fucked dumb Getting fucked rough after ignoring Rafe’s calls

⭐️ keep screaming for me. You think I’m gonna stop? 😂

⭐️ Babygirl couldn’t wait until the movie ended so i fucked her like the impatient slut she is Rafe invites you over for a movie. When you ask him if it’s a date he brushes you off because he’s too scared to get attached. “Nah, princess. We’re just hanging out. Thought we could relax and shoot some shit when we got bored.”

⭐️ my little anal queen’s so good 💦🍑 clenching and tightening around my dick

⭐️ 🩷My tongue and fingers are magic princess lay back and let daddy Rafe make you feel like a pretty little slut🩷 First video after Rafe finally tells you how he feels

⭐️ Trying new angles while I stretch out that perfect pussy 💯

⭐️ she came 2 play 🥵 little promo 4 you filthy slut. comment below it u want some more ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ You both love money and sex. You don’t want to stop shooting, so you make a couples OnlyFans account instead, putting out a few promos on Twitter

⭐️ 🎀little miss innocent before she met me🎀

⭐️ U got me stroking my shit… can’t stop thinking about you Leaving Rafe for the weekend while you go on vacation with your friends. He’s so pussy whipped you have him playing with himself

⭐ Her 🤍📸 Rafe posting and watching some softer GIFs when you’re gone because he misses his babygirl

⭐️ Had to pull over cause she looked too fuckin good Rafe picking you up from the airport and he couldn’t even wait til you got home

⭐️ she loves that cameron cum 👑 think she’s the one

⭐️ think she likes her new gift ⛓️‍💥😈 Shooting content for your OnlyFans - switching it up with cuffs and masks

⭐️ heard you sluts liked masks

⭐️ look at you all tied up with your legs wide open and your dripping wet pussy throbbing waiting for some cameron cock

⭐️ Be a good girl and cum with Daddy while he plays with your toys 😈

Like, reblog, and comment to show us some love 🤍 @rafesthroatbaby inbox is open for any love you want to send her way as well!!

my masterlist 🔮

[luv4freddie]

The Mark - D.M

Reader comforts Draco after he gets the dark mark

Exactly what you think it’s gonna be like. Tragic backstory, mentions of voldy and war, so sad, angst/comfort, 776 words

Draco Malfoy was tired.

He was exhausted, yes. But he was tired of being the man of the family. He was tired of being a Malfoy heir, of being forced into boxes in order to make his family proud.

And now it was too late.

He laid in his four poster bed, fighting against the tears blooming behind his eyes and the stinging sensation on his forearm.

He shivered— he felt dirty. Disgusting in a way that wouldn’t wash out no matter how many times he scrubbed the spot where bony white fingers had grasped his arm.

He wanted to kick and scream like a toddler, but even now he couldn’t express the emotions building up in his chest— adrenaline, shame, fear, all joining in on his downfall.

He laid unresponsive, too tired to move but unable to fall asleep.

He can still hear his mother crying downstairs. She hadn’t stopped since the Dark Lord had left the manor, and taken her sons innocence and choice along with him.

Draco faintly registers the smell of smoke and a tumbling sound, but he makes no attempt to investigate, chalking it up to a clumsy house elf.

At least until he hears your voice.

“Dray?” It’s gentle in a way that makes all of his emotions perk up, fighting their way to his face as he finally moves; sitting up to face where you stand, freshly out of his fireplace.

He wants to talk— ask what you’re doing here, how you got there, if you still love him— but instead the most embarrassing thing happens.

Draco Malfoy starts crying.

Draco has not cried since third year, but a single look at you has him sobbing out into the stillness of the house.

Within seconds you’re next to him, pulling him into your chest and stroking his hair while you mumble reassurances into his ear.

He cries for a long time, giving his mother a run for her money with the his sobs echo off the walls, the silencing charm you’d put up to shield him from Narcissa’s ears only making them reverberate louder.

By the time he’s finally calmed down his voice is raspy and his eyes are bloodshot.

“They’re monitoring floo.”

“I know,” you hush him, “but that’s for the order members. They won’t care about us. They probably think I’m just sneaking out to smog you.”

He lets out a chuckle, but it’s airy and there’s no real humor in it.

He wants to tell you. But at the same time, he’s terrified that you’re going to be disgusted— that you’d get up and leave him just like everyone else when he inevitably disappoints.

You notice he subconsciously fiddles with the edge of his sleeve, and you grab his hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on his fingers.

“I know already.”

You want to cry with the amount of fear in his eyes when they meet yours.

“You- how?”

“Your mom was talking to mine about it.”

He lets out a scoff, “it’s a miracle she can get anything out with the way she’s been crying.”

You sigh, “can you blame her?”

“I’m the one that got branded, why’s she crying?”

You smooth a gentle finger over his sleeve, hating the way he flinches.

“Because you’re now a part of this war, a bigger part than anyone your age should ever be.”

He buries further into you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and appreciating the way you wrap your arms around him, squeezing just enough to press your bodies into each other.

“Do you still love me?”

His voice is so small and hidden from where he’s laying, but you hear it nonetheless, and your heart shatters into a billion tiny pieces at the vulnerability and disappointment in it.

He’s expecting you to say no.

Instead, you grab his arm, bringing it up to where you can see it. At first he refuses to let you move his sleeve, but he quickly tires, watching your every move with droopy eyes and resigned interest.

He inhales sharply when you do it— roll his sleeve up and press a soft kiss directly onto the middle of the mark, right where the snake winds around the mouth.

“The Dark Lord himself couldn’t make me stop loving you, Draco Malfoy. This doesn’t change who you are.”

He breathes a small sigh of relief.

He was still a death eater, still an heir, and still guilty—but you loved him, and you weren’t going to leave him because of it.

So maybe— just maybe— he could survive this war. As long as you were here

[justporo]

Still more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

You guys seem to really like these, so I'm keeping them going for as long as I can. And - I know I said I couldn't do requests atm - but when (if?) I run out of ideas how about you can send me prompts for headcanons on specific topics?

Here we go though, more small ideas and moments for these two idiots!

Astarion is a tease, always flirting with you (for the most part), always kissing you or touching you, always whispering something dirty directly into your pointy ear; sometimes even doing that flat out while you're out in public... with people around.

Deep down he's always wondering though when the day will come that you don't want to be with him anymore; you know that and you try your absolute best to remind him every moment of every day that you want to be with him forever, slowly working to turn the "when" into an "if" and then making him forget altogether

You are basically a street cat, but Astarion? He's a man of culture! And he loves to take you out and frankly just goddamn educating you

He takes you to museums, telling you in incredible detail about the artworks and the displays because he knows his history, also - he's incredibly smart; you enjoy not only him enjoying himself talking about stuff he likes but also just eat it up, eager to learn about stuff you never had the chance to before

Dancing: That's another thing. He knows all the dances: from the silly court dances Wyll showed you once, to the much more interesting and intimate ones where you're flush against one another's bodies

He teaches you, being so close to him, you can't stop fawning, holding you like you're something incredibly fragile and precious while moving you ever so passionately

You've never done this and are incredibly insecure at the beginning, but "Don't worry, love, let me hold you and I'll guide you, you just look pretty" - but then you pick it up quickly and it becomes one of your favourite pastimes with him

You have artful skills of your own though: since you're a former thief and had to stake out targets and places sometimes for weeks on end, you had a lot of time on your hands and taught yourself to draw a long time ago and drew whatever you had to observe: a nice compromise between keeping your eyes on whatever mattered and still having something to do

So, you finally draw him, something you'd promised him a long time ago when you merely had started travelling together; you spend a whole night just to get the first portrait right and Astarion gets uneasy because can't you just let him have a little sneak-peek?

When you show him the drawing, he's just speechless - "What, even more magnificent than you remembered?" you tease him, but you see how his fingers are tensing holding the paper and there's a single tear on his cheek when he looks and smiles at you broadly "No, love, just flustered about how you don't seem to get my chin right"; you call him a liar softly and he sniffles and draws you in for a really long hug and he thanks you deeply

Ah, I also love using these to sneak in facts and ideas for my Tav and helping me flesh out a backstory and more details for their story and relationship. Also don't mind me sprinkling a little angst on there.

Of course, the drawing idea has been imagined many times before and rightfully so, Astarion deserves it. But it's... I haven't drawn really in a loooong time but he really makes me want to give a portrait ago. I had to get it out for personal reasons.

[ho-for-joequinn-fics]

Display of Death

A/N: Just another Emperor Geta fic, this time inspired by a dream I had. The beginning part and smut wasn’t part of the dream, but I wanted to add some sort of backstory for the reader and extra context for this. Either way, enjoy my fellow Emperor Geta whores. This one is a dark one 😘

Emperor Geta x senator’s daughter!Reader (the reader’s age isn’t specified in this fic, but she can be in her 20s or 30s depending on your personal preference.)

warnings: 18+ only! This fic is not for minors, so DNI! mentions of a character being drugged into a state of incapacitation, psychotic!reader, possessive!reader, descriptions of murder, dismemberment and public display of a human corpse, horny!Geta (he’s into that savage murder shit 😏), unprotected p in v smut, profanity, etc

At first it wasn’t easy for Emperor Geta to choose the woman he wanted to make his future Empress. He had met several candidates over the course of a week and not a single one met the high standards he held, neither of them had the bravery, bold confidence, vulgar display of power, or even the beauty that he was looking for.

That was until you caught his attention.

You weren’t even one of the women that were chosen as a potential candidate, you were just the daughter of a senator who kept you out of the limelight of the Roman Empire your whole life. Of course that finally backfired on your father when you managed to drug him with the sedatives you asked your lifelong caretaker to smuggle in to you so you could sneak out for a night to finally have some sense of freedom.

You were wandering the grounds of Palatine Hill when you unfortunately ran into General Acacius, who also happened to be accompanied by Emperor Geta. You hadn’t met either of the Emperors prior to this, your father made sure to keep you as far away from them as possible, and with reason.

“Y/N? What are you doing out so late by yourself? Where is your father?” The General had a nervous frown on his face as he marched towards you, but you simply rolled your eyes in response. Your father had him wrapped around his finger when it came to making sure you were out of the public eye.

“Is it a crime to go for a late night walk?” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his question regarding the whereabouts of your father, you didn’t need him getting in the way of your plans. “Last I checked, I’m a grown woman who has every right to do what I want without my father’s selfish ass controlling my every move.”

“You know how he feels about you going out--”

“And I don’t give a damn how that piece of shit feels!” You snapped, a fire in your eyes as you stepped towards General Acacius and jabbed your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who the fuck he or you are, if I want to choose my freedom over his ridiculous prison-like rules, then I’m going to! I’m done letting him keep me hidden away like I’m some sort of fucking embarrassment to him!”

“You know that’s not why he keeps you out of the public eye.”

“The other senators don’t keep their daughters hidden away like he does with me. Now why is that, huh? Tell me!” Your anger was rising and patience wearing thin, not paying any mind to the Emperor who was now completely enamored with you and the rage you exuded, you were the full center of his attention.

“I can’t say.”

You laid a harsh smack across the General’s face before forcefully grabbing him by the jaw so you could stare him in the eyes. “Tell me or I’ll fucking kill you, Marcus.” Your cold, dark eyes held truth to your words, which had him swallowing thickly. He knew you weren’t fibbing, he could feel the blade of the dagger you were now pressing against his jugular.

Where the hell was she hiding that dagger?

“He keeps you hidden from them.” His eyes flicked towards the right in the direction of where Emperor Geta was standing watching the whole ordeal play out, but his voice was barely above a whisper so Geta couldn’t hear his answer to your question.

You laughed bitterly at that, sheathing your dagger back into its place before stepping away from General Acacius. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Keeping me prisoner all these years because he’s afraid they’d corrupt me? Well the joke’s on him because he’s the reason I turned into a full blown psychopath!”

You clenched your fists by your sides as you turned away from him, now staring back towards the direction of your luxurious home where your incapacitated father currently resided. “He’s lucky I only drugged him into a coma, I very well could have slit his throat like I wanted to. I have some restraint, you know.”

The General zoomed past you towards your house to make sure your dad was still alive and breathing and you only scoffed before turning to finally face Emperor Geta, taking in the sight of his extremely handsome features for the first time since he became Emperor. The way he was staring at you with a carnal desire made your heart pound away in your chest, but it’s what he said next that filled you with an excitement you’d never felt before.

“I’ve finally found my future Empress.”

~

Thanks to Emperor Geta, you finally earned the freedom you’d been craving for the majority of your teenaged and adult life. He ordered for your father to be arrested for wrongful imprisonment and had him stripped of his senatorial title. Your father begged for leniency, but Geta wasn’t having it. He told your father his punishment was lenient enough because he could have had him killed instead. You wouldn’t have minded that, if you were being honest.

Word spread quite quickly that Emperor Geta had chosen you to be his Empress-to-be and to say that most of the girls who were actual candidates were displeased about that decision is an understatement. They discussed amongst themselves how it was unfair that he chose you instead of one of them and came up with a plan to try and get Emperor Geta to change his mind and pick one of them instead. Little did they know, that plan was going to backfire.

Those girls had zero clue of how psychotic you were, how when something was rightfully yours, you would fight for it to the death, and of course that something in this case was Emperor Geta. The night you two first met, he took you back to his chambers at the palace where you spent the whole night into the morning talking and getting to know each other. By morning it was as though you’d known each other your whole lives, you were officially inseparable.

The girls enacted their plan as soon as possible, deciding they would one by one flirt and be extra friendly with Emperor Geta until he caved and chose one of them to be his Empress instead. Except only one of them was able to attempt their plan before you got your hands on her and showed the rest of them you were not to be trifled with. When you realized what they were up to, it had your blood boiling and thinking about how they had the audacity to try and steal him from you when it was you that he clearly wanted, not them.

After stealing borrowing some weaponry from The Colosseum armory, you stalked the first girl who attempted to flirt with Geta and steal his attention and heart from you, waiting until dusk and when she was completely vulnerable before striking her down. When your time to shine arrived, the first thing you did was repeatedly force your dagger into her spinal cord to render her paralyzed. The maniacal laugh you let out as she collapsed with pained gasps sent haunting shivers right through her.

Your pupils were blackened with a murderous rage as you stood above her, staring down at her with a twisted grin as you unsheathed the sword you had taken from the armory. “You see, this all could have been avoided had you not schemed behind my back to steal what’s rightfully mine. I don’t take lightly to jealous little girls thinking they can convince my husband-to-be into picking one of them over me. There’s a reason he didn’t choose any of you. If only you could have gotten that through your thick skulls so none of you had to die.”

“Please...” She gasped, trying to reach out to grab you but unable to do so due to the traumatic injury to her spinal cord. “You don’t have to do this.” She really thought begging and pleading was going to help her case. How cute.

“Too late. I’m already committed.” You gave her a wicked grin this time before severing one of her arms clean off with the newly sharpened sword, watching with a sadistic sense of pride as blood spewed out of her wound. Her anguished scream had you inhaling deeply through your nose with closed eyes as you relished in the delightful sound, your grin only growing more wicked. “Aaahh I love the sound of suffering in the evening.”

Not another word was spoken from her before you were quite literally hacking her into pieces, your final blow cutting her head clean off her torso. But you weren’t done with her yet, oh no, you had to show all of the other girls the consequence of trying to take what’s yours. The first thing you did was impale her head on a stake and publicly displayed it for all of Rome to see come tomorrow. Then you scattered the rest of her remains around the spot where you placed the stake and used her blood to write a warning on the adjacent wall.

After arriving at the palace not long after finishing your deadly duties, you quickly cleaned yourself up before slipping into bed in Geta’s chambers, finding comfort in his bed rather than your own. He wasn’t there at the moment, he was still unfortunately dealing with some important matters regarding the next gladiatorial contest at The Colosseum, but you were quite content either way. Your adrenaline was still rampant after what you’d just done out of full blown possessive love. You couldn’t wait to tell Geta all about it.

~

Screams of terror. That’s what woke you out of your peaceful slumber and it had you grinning deviously knowing exactly what the screams were about. Geta stirred beside you, opening his eyes with displeased grumbles about how it was too early to be woken by people screaming bloody murder.

You turned on your side to face him with a cheeky grin, reaching to gently brush your thumb against his cheekbone. “That would be my fault, my love. It seems someone’s discovered my lovely display of death that I put out last night.”

Geta gave his head a curious tilt to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean by "display of death"?” He knew you couldn’t have killed your father and put him on public display as a way of getting back at him after all those years being imprisoned in your own home since he was now locked up for life himself, so who exactly did you kill?

“Why those girls who were chosen as candidates to be your potential future Empress were conspiring against me to steal you away from me, so I taught them a lesson by brutally murdering and dismembering the first girl who even dared to try stealing your attention and heart from me. Now she’s on public display for everyone to see and know that their future Empress is just as sadistic and unhinged as the Emperor she’s set to marry.”

Geta’s heart fluttered wildly in his chest at your confession, falling even more in love with you over the fact that you were so willing to kill over him. Grinning widely at you, he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand. “Oh, my beloved, you are so beautiful, violent, and vulgar. I just knew I made the right choice in choosing you to be my Empress.” Immediately his lips were on yours, his other hand cupping your other cheek as he rolled over until he was positioned on top of you, rolling his hips forward to let you feel how hard he’d become.

You moaned wantonly at the feeling of his hard cock grinding against your clothed center, rocking your hips in tandem with his own movements as you reached to start stripping him of his sleep robe. “Please, my liege, I need you.” You murmured into the kiss, your fingers gliding down the center of his bare chest towards his erection where your fingers wrapped firmly around the base.

“Whatever my bride-to-be wants, my bride-to-be gets.” He mused as he brought his own hands down to start ridding you of your own garments, carelessly tossing them to the floor before bringing you into another kiss just as he glided his length through your arousal soaked folds. “Mmm... Already so wet for me?” He pushed into your sopping cunt then, earning a mewl mixed with pain and pleasure from you as your walls swallowed up each thick inch of him.

“Oh my gods, you’re so big.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling into the back of your head once he set a steady rhythm in thrusts, your legs wrapping firm around his waist while your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders. You could already feel the fire within your belly growing, knowing you probably weren’t going to last very long seeing how this was your first time and you had yet to build up your sexual stamina. Your eyes moved to look up at Geta as he fucked into you, your gazes meeting and further feeding the fires growing within both of you.

“You feel so divine, beloved. Buried inside you is my official favorite place to be. Not even the deadliest of gladiatorial contests beats being buried inside this perfect wet cunt of yours.” He moaned delightedly as he kept your gaze, resting each hand at either side of your head nestled against the pillows beneath it, grinning from ear to ear at your pleased moan in response to his words. He dipped his head down after a minute to start kissing and nipping along your throat, then up towards your jaw, working his way back towards your mouth where he kissed you with fervor.

Tongues collided as you returned his kiss with matching passion and energy, your fingers working their way into his hair where you gave harsh tugs as a way of showing how good he was fucking you, the nails of your other hand dragging down the length of his shoulder blade. “Just like that, my love. M’not gonna last very much longer.” You murmured with a particularly harsh squeeze around his length, earning a guttural moan from his throat that sent shivers of arousal right through you.

“I’m close too. You just feel so good, beloved.” He sighed contently, lowering one of his hands to find your clit so he could rub gentle but quick circles into it, pulling a pleased cry from your throat. “Let go for me. Want us to cum together, can you let go for me?” He hummed as he kept up his pace and force in thrusts, applying a little more pressure to his rubs on your clit until you were finally clenching tight around his cock and coming undone with a loud cry of his name, him right there with you as he filled you with a guttural moan of your name.

“Thank you.” You panted, finally breaking the silence after the two of you came down from your highs, Geta’s head lifting from where he had nuzzled it against your breasts with a satisfied smile. For your first time being intimate together, this was better than how either of you imagined it to be, but you knew the more sex you had, the more mindblowing it would become. Personally he couldn’t wait until you were ready for him to make you scream on his cock while he fucked his heir into you.

“Mmmm thank you.” He leaned in to press a softer kiss to your lips this time, pulling back after a few moments with a smile. “Shall we get dressed and check out that lovely display of death you created?”

“I would love nothing more.”

Thank you for reading! I know it’s kinda short and the smut isn’t the best I’ve written, but comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 🥺

Tagging: @userchai @myherometalhead

[pianocat939]

hearing you out on the yan pavitr

YES PLEASE- ok I'm gonna start out this new thing where I separate things for romantic + platonic so people can scroll to different sections. (I'm such a good business person- /j)

I will copy and paste some of the headcanons because they apply both ways. So don't bother reading both unless if you want to because for the most part they're the same (with some light editing)

Tw: hardly any tbh-, delusional softie, uh- and breaking in

Yandere Pavitr Prabhakar

Type: Delusional + Clingy (This is really fucking obv ngl)

Romantic

Listen- He literally gives off so much delusional that I can't even tell you why he's delusional because it's literally written all over him omg. Now, the thing he is delusional about is you love him back. It's not in a malicious way; he genuinely thinks you love him.

He's not in any sort of way problematic or concerning with his actions/intentions. He'll be all caring and constantly giving you support. He's the type of guy who wakes up at five in the morning to go buy you a bouquet of flowers to greet you with when you get up.

If you try to push him away or express that you don't love him he just believes you're a troubled person and need more support in your life. Which means more affection from him. He is your therapist. He will be whether you like it or not because he is a softie and will continue to be a softie.

The only time I can see him getting the slightest bit aggressive is if he gets jealous. I'm not entirely sure yet because we haven't seen too much of any trauma or negative backstory to him (Uncle Ben's death canon event doesn't fucking count). I think he's about a medium level when it comes to how easily he gets jealous. Even then I don't think he would outwardly hurt anyone unless they've overstepped a boundary of his. He'll give them a slight threat or tie them up in webs for a while.

Now if anyone hurts you? Bro is going crazy- he will do everything to make the person surrender or maybe even die (if they've caused him enough anger) He'll worry so much if you get hurt. I wouldn't say he would overreact, but he definitely worries.

He is physically affectionate 100%. He will sneak in your window at night for snuggles. Imagine yourself standing at your window one night, knowing he'll come. He arrives and is about to slip inside when you frown and tell him no. He is going to give you the most heartbreaking face known to mankind.

He WILL call you embarrassing/cringe affectionate names. You can't convince me he doesn't.

"Jasmine flower! Look at the stuffie I got you!" *proceeds to hold up giant elephant stuffie*

Platonic

He literally gives off so much delusional that I can't even tell you why he's delusional because it's literally written all over him omg. Now, the thing he is delusional about is he thinks you wanna be friends with him. It's not in a malicious way; he genuinely thinks you guys are besties and constantly hang out. (tbh I feel anyone would be friends with him???)

He's not in any sort of way problematic or concerning with his actions/intentions. He'll be all caring and constantly giving you support. He's the type of guy who wakes up at five in the morning to go buy you your favourite drink or line up for a limited edition product.

If you try to push him away or express that you don't wanna be friends with him, he just believes you're a troubled person and need more support in your life. Which means more affection and suggesting hangouts or giving gifts from him. He is your therapist. He will be whether you like it or not, because he is a softie and will continue to be a softie.

The only time I can see him getting the slightest bit aggressive is if he gets jealous. I'm not entirely sure yet because we haven't seen too much of any trauma or negative backstory to him (Uncle Ben's death canon event doesn't fucking count). I think he's about a medium level when it comes to how easily he gets jealous. Even then I don't think he would outwardly hurt anyone unless they've overstepped a boundary of his. He'll give them a slight threat or tie them up in webs for a while.

Now if anyone hurts you? Bro is going crazy- he will do everything to make the person surrender or maybe even die (if they've caused him enough anger) He'll worry so much if you get hurt. I wouldn't say he would overreact, but he definitely worries.

He is a clinger 100%. He will sneak in your window at night for a hug and to talk about random things (he giggles a lot). Imagine yourself standing at your window one night, knowing he'll come. He arrives and is about to slip inside when you frown and tell him no. He is going to give you the most heartbreaking face known to mankind.

He WILL call you embarrassing/cringe affectionate names. You can't convince me he doesn't. Like Pookie Bear or just cringe names to call your best friend platonically cuz it's funny.

"My rat! Look! I have- WEBS!" *proceeds to shoot webs like it's a discovery even though he's known for six months*

——————————————————

That's all I got for now-

I still don't like Gwen.

- Celina

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Adrien Agreste and Why Motivation Matters

One of the most important things you can gift a character is a motivation that correlates to their intended role in the story. It's a big part of how they truly come alive. And if they have a motivation that doesn't correlate to their role? That can make them come across as a total ass!

A few days ago I got an ask about Lila. I ended my response with this:

I'm totally fine with complex, master-manipulator Lila, it's just hard to figure out the best way to make her work when we don't know anything about her backstory or motivation.

This got me thinking about motivation in general and how much it plays into the show's poor writing. I talked about Lila above, but I wanted to point out how much it's responsible for Adrien's issues, too.

Motivations are one of the main ways you create strong characters. You come up with the thing they want and then keep that in mind whenever you're writing them. Motivations can be very simple and straight forward (I want to get home) or extremely complex and nuanced (a person wanting to create a new government with a very detailed idea of what that means). A character can even have multiple motivations!

Unfortunately, all motivation are not created equal. There is such a thing as a bad motivation and I'm not talking ethics or morality here. I'm talking about picking motivations that match the character's intended role. For example, Gabriel's motivation is fine! It perfectly suits a villain. On the other hand, Adrien's motivation sucks because it makes him into a terrible hero.

Adrien's motivation as given in the show seems to be this: win the heart of my Lady. Later on, that motivation changes to: date Marinette and be the best boyfriend possible. And that's it. He has no other overarching motivations. Individual episodes might give him a one-off motivation to jazz things up for a bit, but generally speaking, romance is all he cares about. It's why we get baffling moments like this one from Dark Cupid:

Cat Noir: Falling for me already, my lady? (pulls Ladybug down next to him) I need to talk to you. Ladybug: It’s gotta wait. Dark Cupi- Cat Noir: (hushes her) I swore to myself that I'd tell you as soon as I saw you. Ladybug, I-I... Look out! (Cat Noir spins around to shield Ladybug, and is struck by one of Dark Cupid's arrows.)

Or this one from Oblivio:

Nadja:(from a helicopter) Looks like Ladybug and Cat Noir are struggling today. (Ladybug is rapidly spinning her yo-yo to deflect Oblivio's blasts while Cat Noir sits down casually.) Ladybug: And stop calling us a couple!

These are just two out of many examples I can pull from, but they highlight a reoccurring issue: Adrien often doesn't take akumas seriously. He's been shown to happily prioritize flirting over fighting and, as a result, he's put himself, his Lady love, and all of Paris in danger.

It also gives us things like Kuro Neko and Kwami's Choice. Episodes where he quit without any concern for protecting his loved ones or even just protecting the freedom that comes with being Chat Noir, things that he only really cares about in the realms of fanfic. As far as the show is concerned, Adrien doesn't care about his loved ones or his freedom. His only constant driving force is his current crush.

Don't get me wrong, he's going to react if he sees Nino in danger or if his father bans him from going to a party! But in terms of what generally guides Adrien's actions? His father, Nathalie, Nino, Chloe, and Alya are out of sight, out of mind. And being able to leave the house? Well, who cares about that? He'll happily sacrifice freedom for a date. Outside of Origins, I think we only ever see him sneak out or otherwise break the rules so he can have a date.

You'll note that Marinette doesn't really have this problem*. While dating Adrien is a big motivation for her, she has a second motivation: protecting Paris. Sometimes those motivations clash, leading her to make poor choices, but that story never treats this as a good thing the way it does Chat Noir's endless flirting. Instead, Marinette's crush is treated as a character flaw or an interesting source of conflict like Volpina threatening to kill Adrien, making Ladybug having to chose between her two main motivations: love and duty.

This is why I've had several posts where I offhandedly mentioned Adrien needing a second motivation. It's also why I've mentioned that Gabriel should have been claiming that akumas were the main reason that Adrien was getting locked up because that's a really simple way to give Adrien personal stakes in the fight. Are those stakes selfish? Sure, but that's okay because it's a selfish motivation that doesn't go against being a hero. If Marinette was only being Ladybug for the sake of her parents, her motivation would be selfish, but still suited to a hero because it doesn't stop her from being heroic. It actually drives her to be heroic. As written, Adrien's motivations do the opposite. Whenever Ladybug or Marinette are seemingly safe, he will do very unheroic things because romance is his only main motivation and that's a problem. To make him work in his intended role, he needs to match Marinette and have (or discover) a motivation that suits a hero.

*To be extra clear and hopefully save myself a salty ask or two, I'm NOT saying that Marinette never does questionable things in the name of romance, she absolutely does. I'm saying that it's extremely rare for her romantic motivation to get in the way of keeping Paris safe because keeping Paris safe is her second motivation and it overrides the romantic one most of the time. Once an akuma is on the loose, she's usually all business. It's one of the reasons Passion (the episode where Nathalie becomes Safari) is so awkward. They did a full role reversal for Marinette and Adrien and it really doesn't work on Marinette's end because it feels out of character for Marinette to ignore the akuma threat in favor of flirting. She never did that for Adrien or Luka or even Catwalker. The worse we ever saw was a crush distracting her from making the right call, but even then, she was always at least trying to protect Paris. Compare Desperada (Viperion's debuted) to Passion and you'll see what I mean.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

FIFTEEN: STARTING FRESH.

“A little more, sugar,” Geto pants. “C’mon, you can do it. Just give me one more.”  “Deeper,” Gojo whispers to you. “Don’t fight it, darlin’.” 

Sweat gathers on your brow and you grip the nightstand beside you as you press your foot flat onto the ground. “Ow, shit!” you shout, your entire ankle burning. With your other hand, you grip Geto’s hand who gives you moral support while Gojo sits in front of you, ready to catch you in case you fall.��

“And time,” Nanami says, looking away from the clock hanging up on the wall. “You broke your record for last week. Nicely done.” He jots something down in his notes, standing near the door in his coat and glasses. 

Gojo claps his gloved hands while you finally sit down on the edge of the hospital bed, panting. Geto passes you a glass of water which you greedily slurp. “Who would’ve thought a damn snake bite would knock my whole foot out of commission?” you sigh. 

You stare down at your wrapped foot, glad to see your toenails looking less icky, but your foot still burns like a bitch. However, it isn’t as bad as when you first woke up since Nanami has been giving you antibiotics, infusions, and physical therapy. 

It’s been almost two weeks since you awakened in Nanami’s infirmary. Two weeks in Willow Springs. Two weeks of quietness and living life without being on the run or paranoid. Since then, Nanami, the Gunslingers, and your parents have been here to check on you every single day. You appreciate it more than words can express. 

The Gunslingers have been especially supportive for the past two weeks: bringing you fresh clothes; sneaking in late a night to tell you jokes; sitting with you while you sleep, etc. You try not to let these little things mean so much to you.

Gojo smirks at you from his chair, his hair slightly flat from his cowboy that. You think it’s cute. “Not bad, little darlin’,” he chuckles. “Soon you’ll be able to ditch this and get back to wearin’ those sexy boots.” He lightly taps your wrapped-up foot with his, making you swat him away. 

“Please,” you scoff. “But yes, they are sexy.” 

Geto gives a big, bellied laugh at this, the sound filling you with butterflies. You are now at the point in your “relationship” where that easiness and comfort feel so natural. It’s kind of frightening but you also like it. 

Luckily, these thoughts are pushed aside for the time being when there is a knock on the open door. There, in the doorway, stand your parents. “Knock, knock!” Yuri calls. “We come bearin’ gifts!” She carries a pan inside the room, Eren walking in behind her carrying a gift bag. 

Yuri pecks you on the forehead first before greeting the Gunslingers by uncovering the pan, revealing a batch of her famous oven-baked lemon custard pastries. Gojo jumps up immediately, ogling at the delicious goods. “You bought ‘em!” he giddily shouts. “And these are homemade, right?” 

Yuri tosses her head back and laughs. “Why, I’d hope so,” she cackles. “I was the one who made ‘em!” Geto knocks Gojo out of the way, bowing as he takes the pan. “Ignore him,” he sighs. “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Tokiyami.” 

Your mom just about swoons and you resist the urge to roll your eyes while Eren kisses you on the cheek. “And we have somethin’ for you, Dr. Nanami,” he says, smiling at the stoic doctor. He passes him the gift bag, much to his shock. “It’s just somethin’ small to show our appreciation to you,” he explains. “Y/N insisted on helpin’ us pay for it.” 

Nanami looks at you, shocked. “Seriously?” he asks. “You didn’t have to.” You shrug, smiling pridefully at doing something good. “I know I didn’t, but you deserve it for takin’ care of me.” 

You had planned it in secret with your parents during their visits, thinking of a good gif for he doctor. You finally decided on a glass plaque titled with his name and Number #1 Doctor. Nanami peers down at the plaque before looking up at you, touched and bashful. “This really wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” 

Your smile brightens and unbeknown to you, it causes Nanami to blush. “You’re very welcome, Kento.” Your parents share a look while Gojo glares at his partner. “They on first name basis now?” he asks before getting shushed by Geto. 

“So what brings you two here?” you giggle, your attention now on your parents. Yuri helps Gojo open the pan and passes you a pastry. “Well, me and your father been talkin’,” she explains, “and we figured that now you’re recoverin’ and you’ll be stayin’ here for a while, maybe you’d want to be more comfortable in our home instead of an infirmary…no offense, Doctor.” 

Nanami shakes his head, holding the plaque near his chest. “None taken,” he chuckles. “I would say yes too.” You slowly bite and chew into the sugary, lemony pastry. “You want me to come stay with y’all?” you ask. Eren nods, groaning from his old knees as he akes a sea on your bedside. “And your friends too, if they accept.” 

You blink at him, shocked by his willingness to let outlaws in his house considering how he feels about them. “Us?” the Gunslingers ask in unison, both shocked. Gojo beams, crumbs from the pasty all over his mouth. “Sure, we’d love–” 

Geto stops him, placing a hand on his mouth. “What my partner meant to say, ma’am, is that we’re so honored and grateful for the offer, but we should let Y/N spend time with y’all alone and enjoy her recovery. We wouldn’t wanna bring no trouble.” 

“Me either,” you agree. “Mama, Papa, as much as I want to say yes, I think I’d be best if I stayed here.” 

Eten looks at his wife, then at Nanami, and then at you, his expression darkening. “Is someone after you?” he asks, his eyes serious.

You bite your lip, struggling to answer. Even though Benji and his people haven’t shown themselves in weeks and Nanami told you no one outside of Willow Springs knows of your whereabouts, you are still weary. You can’t get your family involved. 

“Who isn’t after us?” Gojo wryly chuckles. “Sherriffs, police, rival outlaws…we’re walkin’ targets basically.” 

“Here, you aren’t,” Nanami replies, placing the plaque in his gift bag. “As I said before, this county is fairly quiet, but only because the sheriff chose to be quiet about your whereabouts. He and the people here respect your work despite the violence.” He locks eyes with you, holding them. “Trust me; no one knows you’re here.” And you believe him. 

Eren takes your hand in his, encasing it in his calloused, aged ones. “After all these years, we want to have you back with us again,” he softly says. “And we’d like to invite the men who protected you and saved your life to join. It’s the least we can do.” 

You gape at him, shocked at his kindness, and then look at the duo for their opinion. “We’ll pay you back,” Geto offers. “I can cook and Gojo can clean.” Gojo side-eyes him, still chomping on his snacks. 

“Oh, the money won’t be necessary,” Yuri chuckles. “But the help will be needed for us old folk.” And so the decision is made. You can’t believe how easy it is, feeling like you’re dreaming. 

An hour later, you are discharged from the hospital and using a cane for the time being. “At least for a week,” Nanami explained as he handed you the medicine for your bite. “Make sure you take two twice a day, morning and night, with water. I’ll give you some ointment to help clear it up.” 

You hold all of your snake bite medication in a little paper bag while you stand outside of Nanami’s infirmary with him. Eren is packing your things in the backseat of his automobile while Geto and Gojo are busy getting their horses so they can get their items and meet you at your parents’ house later. 

“So this is it,” you laugh. “I know you’re probably happy to get me outta your hair.” Nanami cracks a smile and shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says and again, you believe him. 

You awkwardly shift on your cane, still getting used to it. You can’t wait until you can finally walk and stand on your own without feeling any pain. “Thank you again for your help.” 

The doctor clears his throat, probably not used to receiving such gratefulness. “Don’t mention it,” he says. “And…” He pauses, his eyes quickly flitting over your parents and the Gunslingers. He leans in, his green eyes soft. “You know that if you need anything, you’re welcome here at any time…for your wound, that is.” 

His cheeks tun a light pink that you pass off as being an effect of the heat. You smile, touched by his kindness. “Thank you, Kento,” you whisper. “You’re a great man.” You lay a hand on his atm and gently squeeze it. Nanami looks down at yout hand, taken aback by the slight, fiendly touch. 

You then release him and begin to slowly walk away, leaning on your cane for support. “Y/N,” he says, stopping you short. You turn around, noticing how fitm his expression is, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Be careful with them.” 

You have no idea what he’s talking about at first until you hear a horse whiny from behind you. You turn, watching the Gunslingers gallop on their horses down the road and you see Nanami watch them, his mouth fixed. You realize instantly that he doesn’t trust Geto and Gojo. Not to the extent you do anyway. He probably still sees them as your father does: nothing but no-good outlaws. 

You immediately feel the need to defend your friends and so you do. “They should be careful with me,” you chuckle, “but thanks, I will.” You give Nanami a wink before you head towards your parents. 

Eren takes your cane to put in the back while Yuri helps you into the backseat, looking back at Nanami who stands there still watching you. “Oh, my,” she swoons. “You’ve got gunslingers and a doctor wrapped around your finger? I taught ya well, my dear.” 

“Mama,” you whine. 

********** 

That sunny afternoon, you venture out of your parents’ house to go looking for the horses in their stable. 

It is a pleasant, sun-filled midday, about 82 degrees with blue skies and fluffy, white clouds that look soft to the touch. A perfect day for riding. You haven’t been riding since your snake bite and have been itching to do so since your father told you that there are pastures just beyond the farm. 

You just finished unpacking your items and settling into your new home…for the time being, that is. Your parents’ home is a fifteen-minute drive away from town square which makes going for errands, supplies, and emergencies very convenient. Your parents live on a 500-acre farm in a cozy house with a brick roof, chimney, a fireplace in the living room and bedrooms, and a porch for warm evenings such as this one. 

The farm comes with a barn full of animals and a vegetable garden that Eren is very proud of, each separated by a wired fence. Each neighbor’s home is a couple feet away from each other, serving for privacy but also community, and a forest behind the farm that stretches on for yards that Eren often walks to stay limber. 

Yuri had fixed you and the Gunslingers lemonade and ginger snap cookies to celebrate you moving in while Eren put your horses out in the stable where the barn is so they would be more comfortable. You took your lemonade and cookies up to your bedroom located on the left side of the hallway. It is quaint and small with cherrywood furniture, a private bathroom, and horse plushies sitting up a flannel quilt. The plushies were Yuri’s idea, apparently. 

It truly is a cozy, wonderful little life that your folks live. One that you’ve been craving for. One that you hope to get later in your more seasoned years. 

You realize just how much you wish for it when you were given your own bedroom with your own bathroom and vanity for “lady things” as Yuri calls them. When you unpacked your things for your drawers, took a hot bubble bath, and dressed in the fancy sundress Yuri bought you, you felt normal. Human, even. 

You feel it now in your bones as you wobble on your cane with a book to the horse stables near the fire-engine red barn housing all of the farm animals. The sun warms the skin exposed by your sundress that sways slightly against your legs in the cool breeze. You paired the dress with riding boots and your cowgirl hat, panting from the effort it takes to travel with your cane.

You don’t know if horseback riding is allowed with your injury, but you’ll take an earful from Nanami and your parents later. You need to enjoy this moment while it lasts. So you wobble into he horse stable and immediately spo your girl in her own clean sall between Geto and Gojo’s huge Brancos. Your parents already own three horses, one of them much too old for riding or racing, so she’s used as a petting animal for kids who visit. 

You say hello to the three horses–Charlotte, Johnson, and Mable The Old Lady–before you make it to Reneigh. She knows your presence immediately and begins flapping her ears. “Hey, girl,” you whisper, gently patting her behind. “Whatdya say we take a ride, huh?” 

“I’d say you’re not supposed to be doin’ that,” a familiar, deep, velvety voice replies. 

You let out a terrified shriek and jump, nearly dropping your cane. You turn sound, finding Geto and Gojo standing off in the corner like two serial killers with cowboy boots and hats. Geto is sitting on a sool, his big, sexy thighs sptead wide while he dusts off a riding seat while Gojo is feeding his horse some oats from the front of the stall. No wonder you missed him with horse ass in your face. “Jeez!” you gasp. “You two come with a bell or somethin’?” 

Gojo full on laughs while Geto stifles his. “Sorry for the scare,” he chuckles, though he doesn’t seem too apologetic. “We were just tendin’ to our rides. They’re fittin’ in quite nicely here.” 

“Have we introduced you to ‘em?” Gojo questions. Then he gasps like you just murdered somebody. Dramatic ass. “We didn’t! Y/N, this is Goro”–he pats his horse's side–"and this is Riku! Say hi, fellas!”

The horses flap their tails as if to say ‘hello’. “So what brings you out here, little miss?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be followin’ the doc’s orders and layin’ that pretty little ankle on a pillow?” 

He raises a brow at you over his shades, a knowing smirk on his face. You ignore the way your stomach flips at him calling your ankle pretty. “I’ve done enough of that,” you scoff. “Besides, he didn’t say anything about horseback ridin’. I haven’t taken Reneigh for a while in a minute, so I feel guilty for that.” 

You gently stroke your darling horse’s side, pouting at her. You know she’s been just as eager to have the wind in her mane and the world whistling in her ears as you have been. You crave it: the warm sun on your face; the wind in your hair; your heart pounding along with your blood as you feel your horse’s body move beneath yours. 

Gojo pouts at you, feeding reneigh and riku oats before lowering the bucket down. “Aw, you ain’t the only one, darlin’,” he tuts. “Actually, that’s a great idea! Your papa said the pastures here are beautiful and the fields make ya feel like you’ve entered heaven.” 

You can just picture those rolling hills and endless fields now. “So you’re sayin’ y’all are comin’ with me?” you ask.

You don’t why this makes you feel so weird. Your head is pounding like a migraine is coming on and your stomach is fluttering with annoying butterflies. You can’t understand why. You’ve been horse riding with duo plenty of times before! But then again, those times were for traveling and survival purposes. 

Geto passively shrugs as he stands up with his saddle and moves to strap it on riku’s back. “If ya want. Besides, what if you need the help if your ankle starts givin’ you trouble?” He gives you a megawatt smile that makes him look so boyish and cute. “We’re just bein’ good partners.” Gojo eagerly nods, agreeing with his partner's reasoning. 

Despite wanting this time for yourself, he does have a point. Feeling cornered by the two cute idiots, you give in. “Alright,” you sigh. “But I have to be back in time to help my mama with supper.” Gojo excitedly claps and you damn near laugh. “I’ll get the snacks!” he shouts and quickly runs back to the house. 

Silence falls upon you and Geto, but neither one of you try to fill it as he positions Gojo’s saddle on his horse too. You don’t attempt to do yours or ask Geto to do it for you. You should be fine without a saddle, right? Quickly, you realize how wrong and how stubborn you are when you attempt to mount Reneigh once you coax her out of her stall. You have to awkwardly put your cane in the crook of your armpit while you grab Reneigh’s side. 

You go to hook one leg over her back, grunting as you do. You flinch at the sharp throb of pain, emitting a slight gasp from you. You try to bite it back, but Geto hears you anyway and immediately comes over. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone “no nonsense”. If it wasn’t for the pain, you’d find it kinda of hot. 

“Just my ankle,” you sigh, rolling your ankle around. “S’fine, Geto. I just forgot the saddle and I need to use my other foot.” You give him a reassuring smile, but it fades when you get a look at his pursed lips. He isn’t happy. 

Without a word, he finds your saddle sitting on a stool and hooks it carefully on Reneigh’s back along with her reins. Then he turns to you and wraps his arms around you, bending his knees slightly to reach your height. “Whoa, hey!” you shout. You step away from him, putting your cane between his body and yours. “W-What are you—“ 

“Puttin’ you on your horse,” he replies as if it should be obvious. You scowl at him, suspicious, and he rolls his eyes. “You obviously need the help or you’re gonna mess your progress up. I’m sure Nanami wouldn’t be too happy with that.” 

Though he looks sick of your shit, you see a glimmer of something in his eyes. You aren’t sure what it is, but it doesn’t make you feel the least bit unsafe or concerned…and that makes you feel unsafe and concerned. What is it about these men that makes you feel so unarmed? 

Despite still being hesitant, you lean your cane against the wooden stall and let Geto take hold of you. He is gentle in the way he wraps an arm around the small of your back and the other hooking under your legs, bridal style. You go as stiff as a board, your heart pounding madly in your chest. His scent of sweat, mint, and wilderness—the sun, the trees, the grass—are tattooed on his skin and clothes, invading your nostrils. 

You unconsciously turn your head and breathe in the scent of his hair. It smells so sweet, like crisp apples, yet twinged with evergreen leaves. “Are you…smellin’ me?” Geto laughingly asks. 

You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. “I smelled somethin’ bad,” you reply, bite in your tone. “Thought it was you, but it’s just the horse stalls.” The outlaw chuckles in response to your retort, his broad chest rumbling. It makes your stomach flip. 

You’re so glad to finally be away from him when he carefully places you on Reneigh’s back, securely holding your hips as you place one leg over each side of the horse. Once you’re finally settled, he steps back and smirks up at you. “Comfy?” he asks. 

Even with you finally on your horse, he doesn’t immediately step away. It’s as if he’s making absolutely sure that you’re okay. Such a gentleman. “Yeah,” you grumble, gripping Reneigh’s reins a little too hard. “Thanks.” 

Geto nods, fixing you with a rather intense gaze that makes you feel uneasy. Luckily, Gojo comes back so you don’t have to spend too long alone with him, completely oblivious to the chemistry exploding between his two partners. 

“I’ve got the snacks!” he happily announces, waving a brown picnic basket around. “Ginger snap cookies, Granny Smith apples, and sweet tea. Now let’s head out, kids, before the sun leaves us.” 

Once all horses are mounted, you all ride them out of the barn and into the beaming sunlight. You ride in silence away from your parents’ arm, traveling up the small hills of rolling grass blades that sway softly in the summer breeze. The only sounds are from the rustling leaves of the trees, the buzzing of bees, and Gojo’s soft whistling. 

As you get farther away from the farm, you get closer to the pastures. The sight is beautiful and glorious enough for a painting: green hills and wheat fields grace your eyes as far as they can see, stretching to meet the blue sky coated in fluffy, white clouds that make you think of cotton candy. The breeze is cool against your face, sweetened by the scent of grass and distant flowers. 

Reneigh’s back shifts underneath you as she walks among the pastures, her main waving softly in the wind. Feeling her muscles and soft fur under your hands makes you feel somewhat emotional. You think about if you had died from those train tracks or that snake bite, you would never be here to experience this beautiful day that others may take for granted. You’re so happy to be sharing this peaceful moment with her. 

The Gunslingers too. You look over to them, catching them ride their horses slowly and lazily, their hats pulled low to block out the sun. As if sensing your eyes on him, Gojo turns to you, wearing his shades, and smiles. “Isn’t this perfect?” he asks. 

‘Yes,’ you think. ‘This is perfect.’ 

For the first time in a while, you feel a sobering sense of peace and happiness. It makes you feel warm and giddy all over like a kid on Christmas Day. Suddenly, everything is perfect and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. 

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you gently snap Reneigh’s reins twice. She knows the drill. She picks up speed and takes off in front of Geto and Gojo who look on in confusion as you speed off through the rolling glades. ”What are you doing?” Geto calls after you. 

You turn to look at them over your shoulder, your hair in your face and your hand gripping your hat so it stays on your head. “Race me!” you laughingly shout. “Whoever’s last up that hill is a rotten egg!” You point to the biggest hill in the distance where the wheat fields are. 

Gojo and Geto share a bewildered look before breaking out into a smile. Gojo whoops and sends his horse running after you while Geto tosses his head back and laughs. “You’re so childish,” he cackles, but snaps the leather reins on his horse and follows after you. 

The outlaws chase after you, hot on your fields as your horses bound through the grass, up and down the slopes of hillsides. The only sounds are of the horses’ hooves pounding against the ground, your pants, and the wind rushing through your ears. All the sounds, tastes, and feelings mix inside of you, creating a high and a rush that zips through your fingertips and toes; splashes warmth all over your brain; makes your heart pump. 

This is life. This is what living is about. Not running from the law or murderous criminals. Not survival. You can’t help but laugh and scream, raising one hand up to let the wind slip through your fingers. “Woooo!” you shout, your joyful scream carried among the wind. 

You tilt your head back, close your eyes, and laugh at the sun, letting it warm your face, basking in its light. When Reneigh finally slows to a stop, you open your eyes and find Gojo already at the top of the hill. “I win!” he laughs. “Guess you’re the rotten egg today, little miss.”

Geto makes a close second, telling Gojo that he cheated. You’re too happy and content to be sour about losing, breathing heavily and still in the high that nature and good company gave you. 

You walk with Reneigh the rest of the way up until you meet the outlaws and scout the fields for a good spot. “Here’s a good spot,” Geto says, nodding at the quaint area beneath a canopy of trees to block out the sun. “Let’s give those hooves a rest.” 

You leave the horses to graze while you set up for lunch. You sit beneath one of the trees, your legs folded carefully underneath you so as to not irritate your ankle. Geto and Gojo sit an arm’s length from you, enjoying the weather and the food. Gojo lounges on his side, chomping down on the cookies and downing a bottle of sweet tea while Geto sits against a tree, his hat sitting on his lap as he chomps into an apple, creating a crunch sound every time his teeth sink into the flesh. 

It is silent, but it’s a peaceful, content silence. You don’t need to try to talk or make any unnecessary noises to make you all feel comfortable. The sounds of nature do that for you—the buzzing of bees; the chirp of birds; the slight chuffing of the horses. 

To anyone who may venture across you three, they would simply pass it off as three friends having a picnic. 

Or a date. 

Gojo is suddenly beside you, nearly scaring you to death because you didn’t sense him fast enough. “Whatcha readin’?” He asks, poking his head over your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet. It must be good.” 

You roll your eyes and show him the cover of the book you got from Eren’s study. He’s been letting you have free range of his book collection since you moved in. “It’s about a pirate who stored away a prized treasure that everyone is after,” you explain. “The ‘One Piece’, it’s called, and it’s apparently based on a true story.” 

Gojo nods, looking interested or at least pretending to be so. He peers up at you from over his sunglasses, his blue eyes twinkling with sunbeams. The sight is almost devastatingly beautiful. “I never took ya as a bookworm,” he says, humorously, smirking. “It’s cute.” 

Geto chuckles from his spot, still chomping on his apple. You turn away from Gojo, shooing him away like he’s a bug. “Is flattery embedded in your DNA?” you scoff before going back to your book. You try to follow the words on the page, but the feeling of some damn eyes on you makes your brain short circuit.

Fed up, you turn, finding both men staring at you. “What?” you demand, raising an eyebrow at them. 

Gojo puts a hand up in defense, quickly looking away. Geto, however, doesn’t, his dark eyes soft as they regard you. “You just seem so…relaxed,” he says. “It’s a nice change, y’know? I like seein’ you like this.” 

The corner of his mouth peers up into a half-smile. Gojo agrees, nodding like a bobblehead. Butterflies flap around in your stomach at Geto’s sweet and genuine (and almost intimate) words. But isn’t this what friends are like? They like seeing each other happy, don’t they? And you do consider Geto and Gojo your friends, despite everything.

“Well, I like it too,” you quietly admit as if the very realization just came to you. 

Gojo puts his hands behind his head, settling into the wheat stalks below him. “Me too,” he yawns. “I could get used to this kinda life. The easy-like-Sunday-mornin’ life, y’know? No fuss, no muss, no runnin’ for our lives…” He tilts his head up to look up at the sky. “That would be a pretty sweet future.” 

You look at him and then at the sky, wondering what he sees in it. “What about you, Y/N?” he asks, smiling at you. “What does your future look like? You wanted to come to Willow Springs for a better one, right?” 

You blink at him and Geto who also looks interested in your answer. “My future…” You take a moment to truly think about it. You weren’t expecting that question. Though it’s so simple, it seems to take you forever to answer it. What does your future look like? 

“You said before that this place meant freedom to you,” Geto says, gently coaxing you to think. “Is it still that?” The two patiently wait for you to respond. 

So you think. Really think. You try to picture yourself in five, ten, twenty years from now. What would you be like? What would life be like for you? Would you still live in Willow Springs after wanting to come here for so long? Finally, after a moment of silence, you nod and lower your book. 

“Yeah,” you answer after some consideration. “I want my future to be…freedom, peace and happiness. To be able to walk around without hidin’ my identity. To have a real, honest job that doesn’t involve lyin’ and killin’ to survive. To own my own home with a red brick roof near a lake and a bunch of land for horse ridin’. To…I dunno, fall in love, have a family…” 

You trail off, flushing when you realize you’ve been rambling. But the two don’t look at all bored or uncomfortable by it. In fact, they look genuinely interested like you’re a movie they want to see the end of.

“That’s beautiful, Y/N,” Geto says and there isn’t anything teasing about it. He is genuine, his smile and eyes warm like a toasty fire. “I’d want that too.” 

You can’t help but smile back. “Hey,” Gojo suddenly says as if a thought just popped into his head. “Can we be in your future then?” 

You blink at him, your brain slowly processing his words. Even when they successfully do, you’re still confused. Is this a proposal or something? “Huh?” you ask, voicing your confusion. 

Gojo sits up, the sunlight turning his silver hair into spun gold and illuminating his handsome face. “Well, it seems to me that we both want the same future—peaceful, content, and super boring. So maybe we can achieve that together.” He turns to you, his smile damn near blinding you. “Ya think?” He asks. 

He sounds so hopeful. So sure that you’ll say yes and that everything will be fine. You sit there quietly, unable to speak or to think. You never even thought about the Gunslingers staying in your life longer than now. Could it be possible? Would they even stick around? 

Sensing your conflict, Geto jumps in. “Well, you think about it,” he says with a comforting smile. “And for the record, that kinda life ain’t boring. Gojo’s just a whore for action.” The white-haired outlaw pegs an apple at him that Geto catches with ease in his big hands. 

You close your book, suddenly not interested in what’s in it anymore.

Finally, you answer: “I’ll think about it” is all you say, but it’s enough for them....

For now.

[ominus-potato]

Hi, just wanted some advice about fanfics on ao3, how do you write them? and how can I make my one shot fic impactful for the readers. I'm planning on making a fic but since it's my first time making I kinda don't know where to start.. It's fine if you don't know though! just thought of asking cause you're writing's really good imo.

Sneak peak of the next part of the Pining Mario series at the end!

Well when I write, I don’t do it on AO3. I draft my work on Wattpad and then cross-post it to AO3. This is because AO3 is a bit more complicated, can be dodgy with saving works and only work when I have Wi-Fi. With Wattpad, I can write offline which is very helpful. Some people also draft on google docs so there’s that as well.

In terms of ACTUAL writing, there are two ways to leave an impression on the reader. There’s the way liked with angst, pain and maybe a bit of comfort; and there’s the way of making a story so sickeningly sweet that the reader is gushing over every cute moment. The length of the story also plays a factor. If it’s under 4000 I’d recommend avoiding angst bc you don’t have much time to set it up and at it off effectively.

Personally, I pretty much never write angst unless I genuinely believe it’ll make a story better. I’ve read fics before where the author will just throw in a shit ton of angst for no reason other than to make the reader feel bad for the mc and it just feels really cheap. It’s hard to do angst right and it’s really tempting to just give everyone a super fucked up backstory and make them depressed or something but imo it’s just overdone to the point of exhaustion. It can make a story depressing and no longer a fun read.

Whenever I write angst, it’s a small part of a mostly fluff-filled story. Take the pining Mario series for example. 19,000 words of silly pining hyjinx with a few small drops of angst. Then have the angst bubble over a little in Shots and Cowboys, Mario has a small breakdown since we’ve been keeping up with the story from his perspective mostly. That then allows me to forward the story and give character a new motivation.

If youre going to use angst to get an emotional reaction, you MUST have good set up and pay off. Especially if it’s a longer story. Also, you don’t have to do this, but I’d recommend against adding angst unless it’s necessary. Don’t just throw it in there Willy nilly yk?

If you wanna know how I do my stories, I really enjoy making them sweet and adorable with a little bit of drama and comedy. Like “Love is not a foreign language” where it’s just Mario and Mr Puzzles being adorable as hell for 6000 words. Then the drama comes when Puzzles reveals he can understand Mario and that only leads to more cutesy love.

A lot of it comes down to the story you’re trying to tell and how you want your reader to react. When I write a story, I want my readers to be invested in the drama and rising tensions, enjoying the little spurts of comedy here and there and ultimately, finding the main ship really cute in the end. I try to make people happy with my work bc I write the kinda stuff I would love to read! Because if I would read it, someone else definitely would.

Also, I feel like I must add that I have only ever written ship stories. If you wanted advice on stories in general with no shipping then I wouldn’t really know how to advise you on that. I love relationships between characters. Whether it’s ships or friendships. It’s my favourite part of any fandom so it’s where I specialise in my work.

Sorry I don’t really have like a plan or anything. I just keep it all in my head, know a few plot points I want to hit, and write to them. I try to get around 3-5 plot points for my longer stories and then just 1 or maybe 2 for the shorter ones. I sometimes add them as I go if I think it’ll make the story better!

For example, my plot points in Shots and Cowboys were:

•Mario tries to buy Puzzles a drink

•Mario and Mr Puzzles are interrupted by Wren and Mario is jealous

•Mario and Wren do something to fight for Puzzles’ affection (IE, play pool)

•Mario looses Puzzles to Wren, sees them kiss and is devastated.

•Mr Puzzles thinks that Mario is heartbroken over SMG4 and promises to help him move on.

Then if I get any smaller points like certain ships, lines, dynamics or interactions I wanna add I just sprinkle them in where I can.

I don’t really have much advice outside of that. I tend to just think of a scene or an idea I’d love to write and then more ideas pop up around it. It’s just one major point that gets built around. IE, Mario being jealous was the premise of SAC purely just because there were a few jealous Puzzles stories and I wanted to see if I could switch the dynamic.

Sorry for the long wall of text. I just wanna make sure it’s detailed enough for you. Just make it up as you go along and write what you wanna read. I re-read my stuff all the time because I genuinely enjoy what I write and it gives me exactly what I want. Have fun with it!

And if you’re worried about it being terrible, I’d advise you to read my old Lego Ninjago fanfiction that I wrote when I was 13. My god it was awful. But it shows development!

First story:

Latest story:

Enjoy that sneak peak of the next part of the Pining Mario series :D

[huganon]

hello! im sorry I left again for like a month? I think? My motivation completely went, sorry :’)

uh… the background is heavily based on the sneak peak with the sheeps >:) also no houses cause I can’t draw that..

I’m adding a keep reading because I don’t want you to suffer reading my next possibly LONG ramblings about the newsletter + sneak peak stuff.

RIGHT.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about it’s this!

‘1 Truth, 2 Lies

Want to know what will happen next in AVA? Well, I’ll tell you!

The only trick is that I like lying >:)

Only 1 of the following sentences is actually in the next AVA. It’s up to you guys to find out which one is the truth!

1- We learn about Purple’s origin

2- We see the Mercenaries interact for the first time

3- Victim builds a chicken coop.’

(yes I typed it out because I don’t have a screenshot :D)

Anyway, my ramblings and thoughts about this

Firstly, ‘We learn about Purple’s Origins’ is rather interesting. Because, well. Purple is from AVM not AVA. If this is the truth then:

-Well, we get to see Purple’s origins

-Purple might be in AVA

-MT might be in AVA

ALTHOUGH. We do have some sort of “evidence” that Purple might be in AVA. The short ‘Cherry Blossoms’ where there is a wanted poster of Chosen in the background while Purple is walking.

(do keep aware this could’ve just been another “hint” or something to AVA9(I think it’s AVA9? The Wanted Episode, y’know what I mean)

Secondly, ‘We see the Mercenaries interact for the first time’ This is simple. I do think that if this whole ‘1 truth, 2 lies’ thing is for real, then this would be the MOST likely one to be true. I don’t really have that much thoughts for this one, except if this episode is either entirely or partially about the backstory (either victim’s or Mercs) this would be most likely to be the truth.

(I may add to this if I get an idea,, Also please comment if you have a thought you’d like to share)

Thirdly, ‘Victim builds a chicken coop’ this personally is my favorite and it’s extremely interesting. Because well, WHY would this be an option..? Option 1 (Purp’s origin) and Option 2 (Merc’s 1st interaction) are something reasonable. But Option 3 (Vic builds a chicken coop) is really unexpected and peculiar. This option stands out.

Because I mean, we wouldn’t expect the villain(?) of AVA S3 to build a CHICKEN COOP of all things.

Personally, I would like this option to be true because.. victim building a chicken coop sounds funny and some what adorable(?) in a way. Maybe this is a backstory for Vic. I dunno.

if it’s not a backstory for Vic then I have no idea if this is even real.

The sheep in the sneak peak is telling me otherwise.. BECAUSE WHY WOULD THERE BE SHEEP IF VIC WASN’T IDK A FARMER-

(In this next part you can tell I was thinking random thoughts.. I was doing this while I was drawing so help :’) .)

Maybe this isn’t quite literally a ‘chicken coop’.

if we break these words up an search for different meanings of the words we come up with

‘Chicken’

‘A game in which the first person to lose their nerve and withdraw from a dangerous situation is the loser.’

Or

2. ‘withdraw from or fail in something through the lack of nerve.’

and

‘Coop’

‘a cage or small enclosure’

Or

2. ‘an organization, business, shop, or farm that is owned and managed by a group of people who also work in it.’

This whole ‘1 Truth, 2 Lies’ could be fake and all of it could just real.

I dunno anymore. What do you think?

Or it could quite literally be an actual chicken coop and I’m going crazy by saying it could mean something else.

Also.. next episode is in December according to the newsletter >:)

Okay bye!! Thanks for reading my probably useless ramblings and thoughts!

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

Character Creation

All armor and clothing options will scale and mesh to any body type [source]

The character creator has lots of sliders for body parts and overall shape, none of which are tied to the voice or pronouns (she/her, he/him, or they/them) that you choose [source]

"Epler took special care to show off the extensive curly and textured hair options in the game, including several versions of braids and locs, noting that increasing these options in particular was very important to the team" [source]

You can change your character’s physical appearance at any time during the game, but not their class or backstory [source]

"Each individual class has some variability, too; even the mage class has some up-close-and-personal attacks, since a mage player character could still conceivably have an assassin backstory and would therefore need to have some attacks to accommodate that sort of career path" [source]

" "We’ve spent a lot of time thinking about skin tone,” Corinne said. The character we made, a Black elf, seemed to glow in the bluish light of a nighttime scene, and under bright sunlight, I could see the richness of his color. Corinne: "We want to make sure that skin tone is reflected authentically" " [source]

" “We have dozens and dozens of hair types,” she said. “And they’re fully affected by physics.” The quality and variety of choices I saw delighted me. The rows of bouncy, luxurious-looking hair of all curl types and textures (and yes, the annoyingly ubiquitous “Killmonger cut” was among the options, what can you do?) brought the biggest smile to my face in the hour I spent with Busche and The Veilguard." [source]

Story and lore

NPCs will remember when you chuck a shopkeeper through a plate-glass window [source]

" The game’s story sees Solas intact a plot that will result in the deaths of thousands. When his justification that “people die, it’s what they do,” falls on deaf ears, you and your merry band of misfits have to stop him " [source]

" “Early in the demo and in the trailer, you’re in a part of the world you’ve never been in – Tevinter,” Epler tells me. “Tevinter is known for being a place of high magic; visually, it’s different. Obviously in Origins you’re in Ferelden, which was grubby, muddy, and very visually different and distinct. That said, it’s the first hour of the game, so we’re only seeing the prologue. As you go deeper, you’ll find that the game can be just as bloody and just as grim as Dragon Age Origins, 2, and Inquisition. For us, it’s that feeling of contrast. You get moments of higher fantasy magic coming back to the world through Solas’ ritual, but also things get pretty grim, and things get pretty dark in some spaces for sure.” " [source]

"Snappy dialogue" [source]

The game is really about each of the companions [source]

Narrative narrative narrative! [source]

The Shadow Dragons are an underground resistance that engages in guerrilla warfare against the corrupt mage rulers of the Tevinter Imperium [source]

"Varric has created the group called the Veilguards, recruiting a veritable group of weirdos to pursue Solas, who’s carved a path through the magical empire of Tevinter" [source]

"There’s intrigue to the game’s tale already, with Varric hoping he can convince Solas to stop his plan of tearing open the Veil: a wish by the dwarf to save a dear friend. There’s a fascinating relationship that's already being set up, Varric and Solas as opposing narrative forces, with your character, Rook, pulled between them" [source]

"There’s extra context to flesh out dialogue, with short descriptions that help give a vague idea of how things play out. The example we were shown was Rook trying to take down a gang leader inside a bar. We could choose to defuse the situation with either words or weapons, but the catch is you don’t know how effective those approaches will be" [source]

" Busche explained that the team wanted to give players a game where locations were imbued with just as much personality as the characters. “That meant making contrast from the areas that are dark and decaying to the areas that are illuminated with magic,” Busche said " [source]

" “This is a part of the world where magic has been embraced,” Busche said. “It is a society of mages and magic in this world is inherently colorful. So whether we’re seeing them use magic for everyday purposes like signage or using them as spells, that color really comes through.” " [source]

We will visit the Necropolis of Nevarra [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

There are dozens of abilities and spells [source]

The game has an easy mode [source]

There is a setting where your character can't die in battle [source]

"The Rogue class in our demo had a bow with recharging arrows for ranged attacks, and dual blades that could unleash a furious flurry of instantaneous blows" [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 21) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 21

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. You were okay with that when you bought it, but right now the thing that’s wrong with your house is the fact that you’re not in it. Tomura is coming home today – is home right now, in fact – but you’re not there with him. Instead you’re out to breakfast, in the same diner where you and the others plotted to kill the conjurer, with every single human in the neighborhood. Plus Inko, because why not?

You said you’re in the diner. It would be more accurate to say that you’re trapped in the diner, because you’re stuck in the corner of the booth between Shinsou and Jin’s entire family, wedged in so tightly that going out over the table or under it would be impossible. You’ve determined that this is Aizawa’s fault, so you glare at him. “There had better be a good reason why you dragged me here.”

“It’s for your own good,” Aizawa says. “And for Tomura’s, so if you claim to care about him –”

“If I claim to?”

“You’ll allow us to speak. We have more experience with this than you do.”

“None of us had help,” Jin’s mom says. “We had to figure things out by trial and error, and given the situation, we didn’t think it would be fair to let you go through the same thing.”

“Helping a ghost get used to being a human is hard,” Shinsou says. “And getting used to being human is hard for a ghost. We’re helping you. The other ghosts are all at your house helping him.”

“Oh.”

“They have a lot of stuff to explain,” Keigo says. “Stuff you wouldn’t want to explain. Like body stuff.”

“And hygiene stuff,” Inko adds. “They’re used to dematerializing any time they get dirty. Having to clean up is an adjustment.”

“It’s all an adjustment,” Aizawa says. “Our purpose here is to make the adjustment as easy as possible. Let’s begin.”

“No, let’s order,” Keigo says. The server’s here. “Hi. We’ll need a lot more coffee than this.”

There are so many of you that ordering takes forever, and while you wait your turn, you think over the events of the last few days. You went back to work the day after you were discharged from the hospital, scared the hell out of your coworkers, and got booted out by Mr. Yagi, who insisted you go home and rest. You went to the hospital instead, hanging out in Tomura’s room with the ghosts who were on shift. You and Hizashi spent some time formulating a backstory for Tomura, one that lines up with the lies you already told your parents, and Mr. Yagi helped you sneak the fake birth certificate into the government records. That was your first day out. On your second day out, you got to go back to work.

Work sucked. You tore through your inbox like a crazy person, trying to get as much done as possible, knowing you’d be out the whole next week and probably longer. Your progress was impeded by your coworkers, who’d heard rumors about what happened – you and your boyfriend getting kidnapped by a serial killer – and wanted to know if they were true. Surprisingly, Nakayama came to your rescue, shooing the others off. She made it clear that the price was a tell-all happy hour later on, but you decided it was worth it to get everybody else off your back.

Tomura woke up officially last night. The ghosts went to pick him up this morning, right around when the humans dragged you out of your house. You haven’t even seen him, and you’re so crabby about it that when the server asks you what you’re having today, you order half the menu on Aizawa’s dime.

Keigo manages to hold in his snickers until after the server’s walked away. “Gotta fuel up for when you get back, huh?”

“Hey. Gross,” Spinner protests. “There’s kids here.”

“Nah, I’m kidding. I saw what he looks like now. Too much exertion would probably kill him.” Keigo tips a huge wink at you and you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I officially call this meeting of ghost friends anonymous to order. Who wants to start?”

“Probably one of you two,” Jin says, gesturing at Inko and Aizawa. “You all have the same kind of ghost.”

Inko and Aizawa trade a glance, and Inko speaks up first. “Be prepared for a lot of frustration on Tomura’s part,” she says. “Most ghosts permanently embody themselves into healthy forms, so it’s likely that he’ll perceive some unfairness, and possibly express some regret. It’s got much less to do with you than with the adjustment to living as a human, so try not to take it personally.”

“Yeah, don’t take anything personally,” Jin agrees. “Himiko bit us a lot at first. For, like, no reason.”

You try to imagine Tomura biting you for no reason, and can’t. “Remember,” Aizawa says, “Tomura wouldn’t have been capable of permanent embodiment unless it was what he truly wanted. That doesn’t mean adjusting to it will be easy.”

“Like Takami says, the physical stuff is hard to explain,” Shinsou says. He grimaces. “But even just the rules of being human are a lot for them to figure out. They’ve been watching us all follow the rules, but they’ve never had to do it themselves, and they’re still them. They still don’t get a lot of the stuff we do. He’s gonna ask a lot of questions. And he’s gonna complain.”

“Magne had this thing about crosswalks,” Spinner says. “Also about clothes. She still has a thing about clothes. She thinks she can wear whatever she wants, wherever she wants, whenever she wants, as long as the important bits are covered up. I don’t really know how to explain that you just can’t do some stuff.”

You sort of like Magne’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about it, but you can see how it would cause trouble. “The more power they had before they embodied themselves, the less attentive they are to social norms or boundaries,” Aizawa says. “Behavior in public is something to be watchful of. A public indecency charge is not something you want to incur.”

He’s scowling in a way that says this piece of advice is coming out of personal experience. You can’t decide if you want to hear the full story or if you never want to think about it again. “I mean, I think you’ve done sort of a good job training him on this stuff already,” Keigo says. “He’s got some social skills.”

You feel like he might be giving Tomura a little too much credit. “Like three social skills.”

“That’s three more than Dabi’s got,” Spinner points out, which shouldn’t really make you feel better but does anyway. “I hung out with him more than anybody except her, and he’s not that bad. It’ll probably get harder once you two start going out in public, but he’s not starting at zero. He’s at like – level three.”

“One level for every social skill,” Shinsou says, and snickers. “Nice.”

“I think the larger problem is overstimulation,” Jin’s mom says, and it takes all your self-control not to start in with some really inappropriate thoughts. “However they’ve been perceiving through their senses when they’re embodied, it’s much more intense when the embodiment’s permanent – at least from what we saw with Himiko.”

“In general, they struggle with one sense more than the others,” Aizawa says. “For Eri it was taste.”

“Himiko, too,” Jin’s mom confirms. “That might have been what the biting was about. She also struggled with smell, which makes sense, since taste and smell are fairly connected. What about Magne, Spinner?”

“Sight for sure,” Spinner says. “Light sensitivity, color sensitivity, everything. She sees colors the rest of us don’t even know exist. It’s cool. But it sucked at first.”

“For Hizashi it was hearing,” Aizawa adds. “Ghosts are able to hear in multiple dimensions, and his hearing was particularly sensitive as a ghost. It took him two years to be able to go without noise-canceling headphones outside.”

You have a feeling you already know what Tomura’s oversensitivity is going to be. Given the number of contact allergies he’s already displayed and what he was like as a ghost, physical touch is going to be a big problem. It’s so daunting to think of that it pushes you into asking your first real question of the day. “How did you help them cope with it?”

“Patience,” Inko says.

You thought that was a given. “Time,” Jin’s mom adds.

“Space,” Aizawa says, and everyone nods. “Now, for the first few weeks –”

You knew helping Tomura adapt to being human wasn’t going to be easy, but as the ghost friends outline all the things you hadn’t even considered, you begin to grasp just how hard it’s going to be. Every last ghost did damage to their relationship with their human, or humans, while they were trying to adjust. Every human had more than a few moments of thinking how much easier it would have been for their ghost to stay a ghost. Even Hizashi and Mr. Yagi, who were the most intentional about their embodiments, had days where they made living with them feel impossible. You’re glad everyone is being honest with you, thankful that they aren’t sugarcoating it, but your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Tomura’s embodiment wasn’t just an adjustment, it was a last resort to avoid being sucked back into the world between. And it almost didn’t work. If even the ghosts who wanted this were nightmares to live with at first, what’s going to happen with him? Nobody can answer that for you, or tell you how to cope with however many times Tomura will probably tell you that he wishes the two of you had never met. All they can tell you is the same three things: Patience, time, and space.

To be fair to the ghost friends, they highlight the fun stuff, too. Spinner talks about taking Magne to a museum for the first time, and to a mall. Jin and his family turned themselves into foodies so they could try everything alongside Himiko. Even before Shinsou and Eri were adopted, Shinsou taught himself to make candy apples, because Eri had seen them on TV and wanted to try them. Aizawa, looking as calm and reflective as you’ve ever seen him, talks about taking Hizashi to movies, to concerts, to the opera, and watching him hear things as they were meant to be heard for the first time. Inko, smiling broadly, tells you about when she was pregnant, and Mr. Yagi’s reaction the first time he put his hand on her stomach and felt Izuku kick.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost,” she says, laughing. “He didn’t know babies did that.”

Keigo is laughing, too. You picture Mr. Yagi’s startled expression, the one you’ve seen so many times right before he starts coughing blood, and find it in yourself to smile. “They’re still themselves underneath it all,” Inko says. “Even if it takes time to see.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Most of the plates are empty, including yours. You’ve been eating steadily just to have something to do with your hands. “There’s one more thing,” Keigo says. “Stronger ghosts keep some of their powers when they embody permanently. According to Touya, Tomura kept a lot of his. He can still read auras, like they all can, but he can project a pretty strong aura all on his own. And he can still drain stuff, even if he can’t do anything with the life-force. So far it’s looking like he needs to touch something with all five fingers for it to happen, and since it’s not anything close to a natural human ability, he has to really want to destroy it. Just keep an eye on him if he starts to get mad.”

“Okay,” you say. “What else?”

“We’re happy for you,” Shinsou says, and Inko nods, smiling still. Everybody’s smiling, now that you notice it. “It’s a big thing. And it’s a good thing. Now you’re really part of the neighborhood.”

You could be. You can be, now that you and Tomura can both leave if you want to. For a moment, hope begins to tug at you – but then you remember what Keigo said, and what everybody else said about patience, space, and time. It’ll be a long time before the two of you can be part of anything. And probably a long time before the two of you are a two of you again, too. Aizawa’s phone buzzes, and he looks at it. “They’re finishing up over there. We should head back, too.”

He heads to the cash register to pay the bill, and the rest of you work on extricating yourselves from the booth. You wince as you stand up, feeling your stitches pull. Keigo notices. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll live.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard with this stuff,” Keigo says. He gestures awkwardly at his broken arm with the other. “It’s a lot to bounce back from. I’m here when you need to talk. Like I have been.”

“Same here,” you say, and Keigo smiles. “And, um – thanks for taking over with the kids, during the fight. I had to try.”

“It was a pretty good try,” Keigo says magnanimously. “You ran a fire poker right through that guy’s chest. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“You know, I think your house is still the scariest house in the neighborhood,” Jin muses. “I figured Dabi’s house or Aizawa’s was going to take over, but nope. Tomura still has a bunch of his powers and you almost killed two guys. You’re the scariest for sure.”

The scariest house in the neighborhood, and now you’re part of the reason why it’s scary. The list of things that make you feel better these days is short and weird, and Jin’s statement  gets added almost instantly. “Thanks.”

You all carpooled in the Bubaigawara van, and Jin’s mom parks it in front of her own house, allowing everybody else to spill out onto the sidewalk. You and Keigo and Aizawa are last out, and as you get your feet under you, you notice a lot of ghosts milling around in front of your house. In front of it, not inside the fence. You make your way over, stumbling a little bit. “Did he kick you out?”

“Nah, we left. Figured he needed some processing time,” Hizashi says. He’s looking past you, at Aizawa. “Hey, what are you doing walking around? You’re supposed to rest your leg.”

Himiko skips up to you, towing Eri and Izuku after her. “It’s all fine,” she tells you, smiling. “He understands everything and we gave him some of everybody’s clothes until he can buy his own.”

“He looks even more like me now!” Eri is bouncing from foot to foot. “He’s going to come over to our house.”

“Oh.” You wonder if Tomura actually meant it, or if he just said it so she’d leave him alone. “That’s – nice.”

“You’re invited, too,” Eri assures you. Then she, like Hizashi, looks over your shoulder. “Dad! Hitoshi!”

Himiko peels off to meet Jin, leaving you with Izuku, who’s watching the house. “Tomura’s still really powerful,” he says. “Even when he’s human the aura is still there. Dad says he could probably take on a strong conjurer, even like this.”

“What else did your dad say?”

“That’s for you to ask Tomura yourself,” Mr. Yagi says, drawing up alongside Izuku. He smiles at you. “I’ve cleared your schedule next week. Let me know if you need more time.”

“And call if you need anything,” Inko reiterates. She takes Mr. Yagi’s hand and wraps an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Come over for dinner when you’re ready.”

“Yes!” Izuku looks way too happy at the thought. “I have lots of questions for both of you!”

You decide you’ll wait a while to take them up on that invitation, but they’re not the only ones who stop to talk to you specifically. Each of the ghosts stops by briefly, all of them reassuring you that Tomura’s fine. You’re not going to believe them until you see it for yourself.

Finally, Aizawa and Hizashi are all that’s left. Aizawa hands you a book – another one of his. You read the cover out loud and snicker. “What To Expect When Your Ghost Embodies Itself? Great title.”

“It’s a little boring,” Hizashi says, and you realize he doesn’t get the joke. Aizawa is smirking slightly. “Good stuff in there, though.”

“It covers everything we discussed earlier, and a little more,” Aizawa says. “Good luck.”

“You probably won’t be up to it, but come over later if you want,” Hizashi says. “That conjurer ruined our Halloween, so we’re throwing a make-up party at our place. Costumes mandatory.”

There’s no way you’re making it to that party. You thank them for the invitation anyway, tuck the book under your arm, and step through the front gate into your yard. Up the front steps, through the unlocked door, into the front hall. Some part of you is expecting Tomura to materialize in front of you, but he can’t do that anymore. “I’m home,” you call out, and Phantom comes scrabbling across the floor towards you, wagging her tail. You greet her, then pick her up. “Tomura?”

“In here.”

He’s home. Your heart leaps so hard and fast it seems a little ridiculous, and you hurry into the living room to see him. He’s there, sitting on his usual couch cushion, wearing some bizarre mix of clothing from every guy in the neighborhood, plus a pair of socks that could only have come from Himiko. The urge to launch yourself at him, to climb all over him like he’s done to you so many times and prove to yourself that he’s alive and he’s safe, is overpowering. But you remember what the others said. Patience, time, space. You don’t want to overwhelm him. You set Phantom down on the couch next to him and take a few steps back, keeping a respectful distance.

It’s quiet for a while. You break the silence. “How do you feel?”

He has the hood of his hoodie up, throwing his face into shadow. “Like shit.”

That’s about what you were expecting. You need more detail if you’re going to help, but you don’t want to push him. “Did everything go okay at the hospital?”

His shoulders lift, then fall. You see him grimace. “It was weird. All that stuff they did. The stupid paperwork is over there if you want to look at it.”

“Okay.” Before, when he wasn’t human, you’d have helped yourself. Now – “Do you want me to look at it?”

Another shrug. If he didn’t want you to, he’d say no, right? You pick the folder up off the coffee table and open it to the discharge summary, which is a mistake. The list of injuries Tomura came in with is staggering. Seeing this, you’re amazed they only kept him in for five days. “Well?” Tomura asks.

You set the folder down. “You healed up really fast.”

“There are things wrong with me,” Tomura says. One hand rises to scratch his neck. “My skin is messed up. I’m – allergic.”

“I have allergy medicine for stuff like that. And itch cream.”

“They gave me some.” Tomura still hasn’t taken down his hood. “What did the humans want?”

“They wanted to tell me how to help you adjust,” you say, and Tomura makes a derisive sound. Phantom stirs, whines, and noses closer to him. “What did the ghosts want with you?”

“To explain.” The derision is obvious in Tomura’s voice. “Like I’m stupid or something.”

“You aren’t. They don’t think that,” you say, only to realize that Tomura still probably knows what the other ghosts are thinking better than you do. “They probably don’t want you to make the same mistakes as they did. From what the humans were saying, they all made a lot of mistakes.”

“They almost scared their humans off.” Tomura’s voice goes weirdly flat. “I already did that.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know what I look like. When I saw the picture on the ID, that was the first time.” Tomura seems to sink further into his hoodie, and suddenly you understand why he hasn’t taken down the hood. “No wonder you didn’t want me embodied. You’d have to look at me all the time.”

“Tomura –”

“I just wanted to stay. I didn’t want to go back. I thought it would be the same, but it’s not,” Tomura says. There’s a weird strain in his voice now, one you’ve never heard from him but know intimately yourself. “There are things wrong with me. I’m ugly. You wanted me when I was a ghost and I was powerful, not when I’m human and weak. You won’t even come near me.”

“No,” you say, and Tomura scoffs. “No! When I was talking to the others, they said it’s hard to get used to a human body – stuff might be harder to cope with now that it’s permanent – they said I should give you time and space –”

“I didn’t do this so I could have time and space!” Tomura’s still got enough power to rattle the walls without raising his voice. “I did it so I could – so we –”

His voice breaks. Phantom edges closer to him and he shies away, both hands coming up to cover his face at odd angles. You stand there for a moment, paralyzed by the decision between everything the other ghost friends told you and what Tomura’s saying now, what he’s doing now. But in the end it’s not a decision at all. You hurry around the coffee table, move Phantom to the cushion at the far end of the couch, and sit down right next to Tomura, getting in his space without asking the same way he always does to you. You pry his hands away from his face one at a time, and he fights you. He’s fighting you with a fraction of his strength and you both know it. “Let go. I don’t want you. I don’t want your pity –”

“It’s not pity,” you say. He lets you have one of his hands and you immediately try for the other. “I don’t know what this is like for you. I’m trying to do the right thing, but I should have just asked you what you needed. I can do better.”

“You don’t want to. You don’t want this!” He pulls his hand free of yours to gesture at himself. “I know what you wanted. You wanted –”

“You.” You don’t even have to think before you answer. “I wanted you. I want you.”

He stares at you from between his fingers. You give up on trying to free his hands and press in close against his side. He startles at your touch, but doesn’t shy away. He smells like the hospital. His voice is quiet, shaky, strained. “You liked when I was cold.”

“It was nice. But I’ve got AC. And now I can hold you for as long as I want without getting frostbite.”

“You liked that I got rid of the bugs.”

“I’m still making you get rid of the bugs,” you say, and Tomura makes a sound that’s too watery to be laughter. “But I can get rid of my own, too. I had a whole plan for that hornets’ nest.”

“Your plan sucked.” It did sort of suck, looking back. Tomura’s voice is quieter when he speaks again. “You liked when I was stronger than you.”

“You’re still stronger than me.” You can feel it when you touch him, a faint thread of power vibrating just beneath his skin. “That’s not the important stuff.”

“What is?”

“Everything else,” you say. “You’re still you, Tomura. It might feel different to be in the world like this, but you’re still who you are. That’s who I want. Who I love.”

It’s quiet for a long time. “You liked the way I looked before.”

It’s a weird enough thing to say to startle a laugh out of you. “The way you look now is how you’ve always looked, Tomura. Your hair’s a different color, that’s all.”

“I always looked like this.” Tomura sounds skeptical. “You said I was pretty.”

“You are pretty.” You reach for the edges of his hood and his hands come up, grasping your wrists, holding you still. He holds you there for a few seconds, then lets go, and lets you pull down the hood.

It’s him. Those same features you saw outlined in steam in the bathroom, on your back porch with the ashes of a hornets’ nest at his feet. The same red eyes that have watched you for almost two years, that have catalogued every inch of you, that looked up into yours after the gateway to the world between slammed shut for the last time. You’ve seen all his expressions before, except this one: The way he looks when he’s been crying. As you watch, his pupils open and shut, and more tears slip down his cheeks.

You scramble to wipe them away, cradling his face in your hands. He flinches when your palm gently meets his cheek, and you draw back, only for him to catch your wrist and press your hand hard against his skin. That feels normal enough to make you smile. Tomura’s never been shy about pulling you around. “You’re pretty,” you say again. “You’ve never looked any different than this. I like it. I don’t care if you do. I don’t care about anything except that you’re home.”

“But –”

“The next words out of your mouth had better not be ‘Dabi said’.”

An aggrieved silence falls, and you find yourself struggling not to laugh. It feels normal. It feels like any weird little argument you and Tomura have had, except that he can’t dematerialize to teach you a lesson and you can’t end the fight just by stepping outside. “You love me,” Tomura ventures after a while. “Like this?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say. “Of course I do.”

Tomura knocks you over a second later.

Cuddling on the couch is more complicated than it used to be, mainly because Tomura’s a long way from being used to what touch feels like in a truly human form and he can’t get comfortable the way he usually would. If he can barely stand to stretch out on top of you, there’s no way he can handle kissing, and you can tell that the overload of sensation doesn’t turn him on so much as it fries his brain. Not that that stops him from trying to kiss you more. “Take it easy,” you say. “You just got home. I don’t want to take you back to the hospital because you tried to kiss me and had a heart attack.”

“That doesn’t happen,” Tomura says with confidence. Then, as you watch, you see him start to doubt himself. Some how he’s less sure about humans now that he is one. “Does it?”

“It could.” You remember something from a few days ago about how too much exertion on not enough calories could damage Tomura’s heart, and he still feels way too thin. “Can you reach your discharge papers? I want to read them.”

He reaches out to grab them from the coffee table, but it’s ever so slightly too far away. Before he’d dematerialize one hand, snatch them, and bring them back. Now he just glares at them and keeps glaring – and as you watch in some mix of surprise and horror, the folder lifts from the table and drops to the ground next to the couch.

Tomura realizes you’re staring at him and smirks. “I never said all my powers were gone.”

Now that he’s realized you still love him, he’s cocky, but you’re not annoyed about it. You’re not going to forget what it was like when you got home, what it was like to see him cry, and you’re not dumb enough to think today will be the last time it comes up. Tomura flops down again, his head against your chest, and you pick up his discharge papers and flip through them. Sure enough, there’s one specific instruction highlighted and in bold type. “No intense physical activity until you’re cleared by a doctor,” you say. Tomura scowls. You keep reading. “Your follow-up’s in two weeks. It’s not that long.”

“Maybe if we go slow –”

“No.” You set the papers down and trace over one tendon in his neck, wincing as he twitches and writhes and digs his knees and elbows into every soft body part you possess. He’s lying on top of all your stitches, and it’s starting to hurt. “You can barely handle being touched at all right now. I’m not going to send you back to the hospital and I’m not going to melt your brain.”

“It’s my brain. I get to decide –”

“You don’t get to leave me,” you say, and Tomura looks up, startled. “Two weeks.”

Tomura studies you for a moment. Then he flops down again. “Fine. Two weeks. But then I get to – what happened? Why did you make that noise?”

You tried not to. Really. But one of the too-prominent points of Tomura’s ribcage just dug directly into one of your largest wounds, and you think you might have popped a stitch. Tomura sits up, pulls you with him, starts yanking at your shirt. “I want to see. Let me see –”

Your shirt turns to dust in an instant. You didn’t realize Tomura could do that to things that weren’t alive, and you sit there, bemused. Tomura is staring at you, eyes blazing with fury. “My marks,” he says, and you nod. It occurs to you that this is the first time he’s seen the extent of your injuries. “How did he take them out?”

“One at a time. With a knife.” You try to make light of it, try to sound like it isn’t haunting you, like waking up in a hospital bed after it was all over didn’t scare you so badly that you had to be sedated. “Not my best Monday ever.”

“Don’t joke about it.” Tomura’s voice is hard. “He hurt you so much you wanted to die. I should have killed him slower. It should have taken exactly as long as this did.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to cover up the worst of the wounds. The doctors who treated you had decent poker faces, but since you’ve gotten home, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid getting a good look at what happened. Tomura’s expression as he looks at you tells you everything you need to know about how bad it is. “I haven’t even had them for a week yet,” you say. Your voice sounds thin. “They won’t look like this forever.”

Tomura’s jaw clenches. “I don’t care what they look like. I care that they hurt.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You sit there numbly and Tomura watches you, clearly thinking something over but not doing it, whatever it is. “I can’t,” he starts frustrated. “I can’t do the thing I want to do anymore. When I wasn’t materialized I could –”

He makes a gesture, and suddenly you understand what he means. You crawl forward across the couch into his arms, and he wraps himself around you. It’s not like it was before. He can’t enfold you completely like he used to, fitting like a second skin. But now you’ve got something solid to lean against, someone who’s warm like you are, someone who maybe understands how you feel about this whole thing. Tomura’s hugs were always a little awkward, even when he was fully materialized. He didn’t understand what was comfortable and what wasn’t, why you’d be at ease in one position but not in another, and he’d complain when you tried to adjust. Tomura’s not complaining now. He adjusts with you, and once you’re settled, you try not to move too much. It’s weird. But it’s the kind of weird you can get used to.

“You smell nice,” Tomura says after a little while. He unwraps one arm from around you and sniffs his own armpit. Then he makes a face. “I smell weird.”

“You smell like the hospital,” you say. “We can fix that. Want to shower?”

Tomura gives you a suspicious look. “I’m not allowed in the bathroom while you’re in there.”

“That was before.” You think over the events of the last week. He’s already seen you naked. The two of you have had sex. He’s your boyfriend, and he’s human. Whatever objections you had, they aren’t valid anymore. “The rules still apply if either of us is using the toilet, but we can shower together. If you want. Do you want to?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says, which means yes. “I thought you’d never let me.”

There are a lot of things you thought would never happen, and a lot of them happened in the last week. You pull yourself out of Tomura’s arms reluctantly and lead him up the stairs.

You check over your wound care instructions and Tomura’s as he gets undressed. Everything looks about the same for both of you. You also take the opportunity to go over the list of known allergens the doctors gave you yesterday. Almost all your soaps and shower products meet the criteria already – low to no scent, hypoallergenic, no harsh chemicals. You set out an extra towel and an extra sponge and lay down a bath mat, then turn on the water.

Since you met Tomura you’ve been taking hot showers, but they can be hard on skin, and you don’t want Tomura to faint. You opt for warm water instead, take off your own clothes, and inspect your stitches for a moment before stepping into the shower. The spot Tomura elbowed by accident looks unhappy, but the coarse black stitches haven’t come undone. Seeing them makes you feel sick. You look away and step into the shower, leaving the door cracked for Tomura to follow you in.

There’s room for both of you inside, but it’s a close fit. You have a feeling that you and Tomura will be having a discussion about the impracticality of shower sex at some point in the future, but that’s not for today. You switch positions carefully with Tomura so that he’s under the majority of the spray and watch him startle as it patters against his skin. You wonder what he’s thinking.

You’ve spent a lot of time wondering what Tomura’s thinking since you met him, but it occurs to you that you can ask. “What’s going on up there?”

“It’s – so much. Loud. But not loud. It feels like – a lot.” Tomura’s hair is plastered to his face from the water. He pushes it out of his eyes. “I’m fine. I don’t want to get out.”

“We won’t get out,” you promise. “Take the time you need.”

He twists this way and that under the spray, working on getting used to it. He’s got stitches, too, all of them taken with the same coarse thread as yours. “Now what?”

You pick up a bottle of shampoo. The mild kind. “Put this in your hair and sort of scrub it around, then rinse it out,” you explain. Tomura brushes his hair out of his eyes again, looking vaguely skeptical. “Or I can do it for you.”

“You.”

You should have known he’d answer like that. He’s got enough of a height advantage on you that you’re going to need him to sit down for this to work, and there are an awkward few minutes while the two of you get settled. You lean back against the wall, and Tomura leans back against your chest, head tipped forward. “Make sure you close your eyes,” you say. “This will sting if it gets in them.”

Tomura nods without looking up. You pour some shampoo into your hand and get to work.

His hair is tangled, like always. Worse than always, because he’s been materialized this entire time, and he hasn’t brushed it at all. You forget about washing his hair for a second in favor of detangling it, and Tomura slumps back against you. “You’re still doing that now that I’m here all the time? I thought you’d stop.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Tomura says quickly. You return your attention to the knot you’re working through. “I thought it was just because I was a ghost.”

Huh. “What other things do you think I was only doing because you were a ghost?”

The answer, it turns out, is a lot of things. If Tomura had asked any of the other ghosts about them, he wouldn’t have had to worry, but they probably would have told him not to be stupid, which is probably why he didn’t ask. No wonder he was upset when you got back, if he thought he was losing so many things – sleeping on top of you, sitting on your lap, having his hair played with, being held. He names gesture after gesture as you untangle his hair, and you reassure him about each one.

Once you’ve worked through all the knots, you move on to washing Tomura’s hair in earnest. You don’t think you’re doing a very good job, but when your fingers slow their progress, Tomura complains in a voice that sounds distinctly sleepy. “Don’t. It’s nice.”

You add conditioner, too. Tomura probably won’t bother with it in the future, but you might as well give him soft hair while you can get away with it. Then you shake him out of relaxation and help him to his feet to wash off. He’s sort of floppy when he’s tired, and although you can already tell that it’ll annoy you sometimes, right now it’s just cute. There’s no way you’re telling him he’s cute. You hand him a sponge and some soap and put him in charge of washing his front. You’ll take care of his back.

The fight left Tomura beaten up all over, but his back took a lot of damage while he was caught between the living world and the world between, and it’s where the majority of his stitches are. Even looking at them upsets you. You can’t help but think that if you’d been faster to get to him, if you’d been stronger, if you’d called the others to help you instead of waiting for them to come on their own, he wouldn’t have spent so long trapped between worlds. He wouldn’t have been hurt like this. But that’s only the last set of mistakes you made. If you’d killed his conjurer like you meant to, he’d still be a ghost, and there’d be no marks on him at all.

“Hey.” Tomura glances over his shoulder at you, and you realize that your hands have gone still. You duck closer, hiding your face, and go back to washing, but Tomura’s not fooled. You keep forgetting, somehow, that he knows you as well as you know him. “Don’t make that face. You’re just a human. What were you supposed to do?”

“Kill him.” Your voice wavers. “So you could be human because you wanted to. Not because you didn’t have a choice.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He turns to face you, and when you don’t look up, his hand rises to hold your jaw and tilt it upward. “If I was just doing it to avoid going back, it wouldn’t have worked. I wanted to be like this.”

You know that, but – “I wish I hadn’t let you get hurt.”

“Yeah, and I wish I hadn’t let my conjurer torture you.” Tomura gives you a few seconds of protesting that characterization of events before he springs his trap. “See how dumb it sounds when I say it? It sounds dumber from you, since you’re the human and it wasn’t even your job. You told me the stupid plan the others had. You were never supposed to do it.”

He pauses for a moment. “I guess it would have worked if I’d been materialized, though. Dabi saw you stab him. He said it was kind of hot.”

Your mind goes sort of blank at the sheer weirdness of that statement. “And he’s still alive because?”

“I can kill him whenever I want to,” Tomura says. He turns away again, and you go back to washing off the unstitched parts of his skin, shaking your head in bemusement. “I bet it was really hot.”

Tomura thinks the fact that you ran his conjurer through with a fire poker is hot. That’s probably a good thing, because you’re not sorry you did it. You rest your forehead against the back of his neck for a second, resisting the urge to kiss him, and note that his pale skin is turning pink and flushed from the water. The water’s not that warm. You should probably get him out of here sooner rather than later. Inko warned you that newly embodied ghosts aren’t aware of the physical sensations that proceed things like throwing up or passing out, and you’d really prefer for Tomura not to faint in here.

Tomura complains about having to get out, but you remind him that showering is something humans have to do regularly and shoo him out anyway. You stay in a little longer to wash up, then step out into a mildly steamy bathroom. For a moment you’re cast back into the memory of the first time you saw Tomura face to face – in this bathroom, outlined by the steam, looking you up and down with a smile you couldn’t identify as creepy or not. Thinking about it now, you know it wasn’t creepy. He was proud of himself for figuring out how to make himself visible, proud that you could see him at last. Standing here more than a year later, it’s hard to believe how much has changed.

There are puddles of water down the hall on the way to the bedroom, evidence that while Tomura’s figured out showering, he hasn’t figured out drying off. When you step into your room, you find more evidence in the form of a pile of wet clothes discarded on the ground. Jin’s mom said that the ghosts have to learn by experience sometimes. You glance towards the bed and find Tomura sitting on it, dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants of unknown provenance and – “Um, is that my shirt?”

“Yeah.” Tomura gives you that dumbest-person-ever look. You’re not thrilled to see that it’s survived his embodiment. “It was right there. It fits.”

You buy your pajama shirts almost comically oversized, and Tomura’s not all that much taller than you. Something that’s huge on you is still pretty big on him. It fits, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Didn’t the others give you clothes?”

“Yeah. They didn’t smell right.” Tomura pulls the collar of the shirt up over his nose and mouth and breathes in. “This one smells like you.”

You were never into stealing your boyfriend’s hoodies, back when you had human boyfriends. You don’t love wearing other people’s clothes. But apparently there has to be at least one clothing thief in every relationship, and Tomura’s taken over the role. Tomura yawns so widely that his jaw pops, then recoils. “What was that? Why did I do that?”

“That’s a yawn. You’re tired.” You were thinking about street clothes, but just like you did the last time you and Tomura were in this room together, you opt for pajamas instead. “I could go for a nap, too.”

You climb into bed on your usual side, leaving the door cracked open for Phantom in case she comes up, and Tomura gets awkwardly into bed on the other side. “How do I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep.”

Right – he’s spent the last week either in an induced coma or heavily sedated. He hasn’t had the chance yet to fall asleep naturally. “Get comfortable,” you say, and Tomura, semi-predictably, abandons his side of the bed in favor of getting in your personal space. “Now close your eyes. You’re tired, so I bet your eyelids feel kind of heavy, right? Let them close. Think about stuff if you want to think about it, or don’t think about anything. It’ll happen on its own.”

“That sounds too easy,” Tomura mumbles, half-asleep already. “Sometimes it takes you forever.”

“Sometimes it’s harder than others,” you admit. “It’s pretty easy right now. Just relax.”

Tomura mumbles something else, but you can feel the tension leaving his body, until he’s relaxed save for the icy thread of ghostly power running through him. It’s faint, but you have the sense that that’s illusory, at least a little bit. Tomura might be permanently embodied now, but he’s the most powerful of the embodied ghosts, and probably still the least human. He can’t dematerialize anymore and he needs to eat and sleep, but it feels likely that the effect of his powers on your daily life won’t change too much.

But you can figure that out later. Right now he’s asleep next to you, his red eyes closed, his lips parted slightly, warm and breathing and undeniably alive. The same kind of alive as you are, finally. For good.

You shift a little closer to him, and his arm wraps around you tightly. That’s fine with you. You close your eyes and fall asleep almost as fast as he did.

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of your phone buzzing, startling you out of a nightmare. You have all kinds of material for nightmares now, and your subconscious has been mixing and matching it in increasingly horrible combinations for the last few nights – or afternoons, since you can tell by the light coming through the window that sunset is a ways off. You reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction, and Tomura’s arms tighten around you. He sounds like he’s mostly asleep when he speaks. “No.”

“I’m not leaving,” you say. You get ahold of your phone and flip it to silent before reading the texts. They’re from Shinsou.

Shinsou: are u guys coming or not

Shinsou: everybody else is

Shinsou: Eri says you have to or she’ll cry

Shinsou: she says Tomura promised

She mentioned something about that earlier. You shake Tomura’s shoulder. “Did you promise Eri you’d come to the party?”

“No.” There’s a pause. “She wouldn’t leave until I said yes.”

Great. “How much do you care about making her cry?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura mumbles. You wait. “She backed me up in the fight. I owe her.”

“So we have to go,” you realize. The idea is less upsetting to you now than it was when you first heard about it, namely because you just had a nightmare and you don’t want to go back to bed. You text Shinsou back. Your dad said it’s a costume party. Do we have to have costumes?

Yeah. Shinsou sends a shrugging emoji. Not serious ones. One of my dads is going all out and the other one just has cat ears on.

Aizawa can get away with just cat ears – he’s the one hosting the party. You and Tomura are going to have to come up with something a little better. Shinsou texts again. It starts in an hour. Be there. You really don’t want Eri to cry.

You’d feel really bad making Eri cry, especially now that you remember her helping Tomura during the fight – and saving your life just beforehand. You start to sit up, and Tomura drags you back down. “No. I like sleeping. I want to sleep.”

“Humans sleep every night,” you remind him. “You can go back to sleep later. Right now we have to go to a party.”

It takes a while to drag Tomura out of bed – twenty minutes at least, leaving you with forty minutes to come up with some kind of costume. You get in your own way a little bit when you realize how cute Tomura looks with bedhead, then order yourself to pull it together. Tomura can’t shadow you as closely as he did when he could dematerialize, but he still gives it his best shot, and you two end up colliding and tripping on each other – and on Phantom – way more than is actually necessary. After ransacking your house for costume ideas and coming up with nothing, you finally turn to Google for help.

Tomura reads over your shoulder. “These are dumb. I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary.”

“It is,” you say. You decide to get into the part of Halloween that’s supposed to be sexy later – later, as in next year. Or never. “This is the wrong neighborhood for scary, though. No matter what I dress up as, I won’t be scarier than everybody else who lives here.”

And that’s when it clicks for you, oddly enough – it clicks, and you can’t help but laugh. The perfect low-effort Halloween costume. How did you not think of it before? Tomura eyes you suspiciously. “Why are you laughing?”

“I have an idea. It might get us kicked out.”

“If we get kicked out, we can come back and go to sleep again,” Tomura says. Introducing Tomura to the concept of naptime may have been a mistake. “What is it?”

You head for the stairs, and the linen closet. “You’ll see.”

It takes you approximately two seconds to assemble the first costume, and once you do, you show Tomura. It occurs to you way too late that he might think it’s offensive. But once he realizes what you are, he cracks up laughing – then wincing, as the laughter strains the stitches on his back. “They’re going to hate it,” he says. “I bet they won’t even let us in.”

“If they don’t let us in, then we get to go home right away.” You gesture at the linen closet. “Pick your poison.”

It takes you a few more minutes to leave, mostly because Tomura insists on bringing Phantom, and Phantom needs a costume, too. She’s a lot less into her costume than you and Tomura are. She keeps wiggling out of it, and while Tomura tries to lure her back under the sheet, you peer out the front window. The street still looks like hell. Everybody’s houses are still at least partially wrecked. If you drove past this neighborhood, not knowing anything about who lives here and why this happened, you’d avoid it like the plague.

You watch as Keigo and Dabi and Natsu leave their house. Natsu looks like he’s wearing normal clothes, but Keigo has a fake halo and Dabi has a pair of devil horns on. It occurs to you that Dabi might be the only other person in the neighborhood who thinks your costume is funny.

“I got her to wear it,” Tomura says, and you turn to look. There’s Phantom, wearing a flower-patterned pillowcase with holes cut out for her ears, eyes, and nose – and there’s Tomura, wearing a grey sheet over her head with holes cut out so he can see. “I think she’s mad at me.”

“She’s not mad,” you say. You’re pretty sure she’ll forgive you both when she realizes you’re headed over to Aizawa’s house. Shinsou is probably her favorite person other than Tomura. “You look pretty.”

Tomura gives you a once-over. Your sheet is lavender, and you accessorized with a pair of reading glasses you accidentally stole from Mr. Yagi’s office and never gave back. “Cute,” he decides. “The sooner they kick us out, the sooner we can come back.”

He heads for the door, opens it, and steps outside. You gather up Phantom’s leash and follow him onto the porch. When you turn to lock the door, Tomura stops you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, the way they do when he’s smiling creepily on purpose. “Don’t bother,” he says. “This neighborhood is still mine.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You tuck your keys back into your pocket and make your way down the front steps, to the front gate, and out onto the sidewalk. It’s not until you hear the gate’s hinges creak open again that you realize Tomura hasn’t followed you. You turn back. “Tomura?”

Tomura’s hesitating on the far side of the property line. You can’t figure out why. He’s left before. He was away from the house for five days – but not by choice. The ambulance took him away and the other ghosts brought him back, but in all the time since he was summoned, Tomura’s never left the property of his own free will. You hold out the hand that isn’t grasping Phantom’s leash, and he comes closer to take it. His hand is warm.

Warm, and a little sweaty. He’s nervous. “We don’t have to go to this thing,” you tell him. “You just got home today. It’s a lot. If you’d rather stay home, we can.”

“You want to go.”

“I think it might be fun.” Mostly you want to see what Hizashi does when you roll up to his party dressed like the world’s most stereotypical, low-budget ghost. “But I still like it’s best when it’s just us. If you don’t want to go, we won’t. I’m not leaving you.”

“Because you love me,” Tomura says, almost hesitantly. You nod. “I love you, too.”

It’s a good thing you’ve got the sheet on. You’re not sure you want Tomura to see the goofy smile you’re wearing. Tomura raises his free hand and touches your mouth through the sheet, feeling along the curve of it until you dare to kiss the tips of his fingers. He startles, and you remember the touch sensitivity. It’s fine when he’s the one initiating contact, since he’s the one who decides what he can handle, but you need to be careful. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He kisses you.

It’s not a great kiss, given that there are two layers of cotton between your mouth and his, but you’ll take it. You’ve always been willing to take what you can get from Tomura, and you’ve gotten more than you ever expected. It came at a price, sure. You’ll be paying that price in one way and another for the rest of your life, but it’s worth it. It would be worth it if Tomura never crossed the property line again.

But Tomura draws away from you without letting go of your hand and steps forward. You step back to give him space, and watch as he sets one foot over the line and onto the sidewalk, and then the other. And all at once, for the first time in a hundred and ten years, there’s nothing wrong with your house at all.

The End

[streetlightyeri]

Would you ever write for Scott from twisters?

I am in the midst of writing something for him! I have three fics in the works (part 2 for tyler, the main fic that "false god" fits in for boone, and one for scott). they're all based off of Zach Bryan songs.

I just feel like everything I'm writing sounds like I'm illiterate. It's very hard for me to write things that don't have extensive backstories (ig that's what a masters degree in creative writing does to a person lol), so I have to actively fight myself to not write 100 pages of fanfiction about a side character that gets 10 minutes of screen time bc literally no one would read that. for reference of how inane I am when I write: I am currently searching academic sources to get an understanding of sound wave acoustics bc I've decided one of my characters will have a PhD in it - like what is my problem, this is a movie about TORNADOES. anyway lol here's a little sneak peek for the Scott fic. very rough - hasn't been proof read even once. <3

“ASPEN!” It felt like the world was spinning around him, as though he was the center of the tornado. He had his hat clenched in his hand. He felt his lunch fighting to come up. All around him was destruction with a death toll of 14 and climbing. If she was one of them, he wouldn’t know what he would do. He had searched every same piece of rubble that was once her grandmother’s house and had no luck.

Javi walked up to the Tornado Wrangler crew with arms extended in a gesture that one would use when approaching a bull. “I understand you do not want to see me, but trust me, we are not working these people.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Scott scouring what he could only imagine was the remnants of her room for the 3rd time. He pulled his phone and swiped to the photo Scott shared with him. He turned it to the group. “Have you seen this girl?”

Tyler blinked a moment too long and a tanned girl with cropped hair swallowed harshly. Dani was her name, if Javi remembered correctly. She stepped away from the table where she was handing out food and pulled Javi to the side. “It’s bad. I found her in that flipped StormPar truck pinned to the seat by an old iron post through the chest. It didn’t seem like she was trying to take cover, more like she was trying to grab something because this was in her hand.”

Dani handed him a hunk of plastic that would’ve seemed like nothing to someone else. But Javi knew: this was the StormPar data. She could very well be dead, all because she didn’t want Scott to lose everything from the Par.

“It . . . I thought she was dead, her breathing was so shallow. I’m a trained EMT, so I almost called it. Anyone else would have. But she twitched, so I investigated some more. I had to trach her to keep the stress off her heart. Tyler and I put her in an ambulance with the post still in about 20 minutes ago.”

Javi turned to run to get Scott, but Dani’s hand gripped his upper arm, forcing him to turn back to her.

She leveled her eyes with his, steeling her voice. “I can guess who she is to him. She may not have even made it to the hospital. Her breathing depends on how well the EMTs can bag her. What he sees may scar him. He may be identifying her. Make sure he is prepared. Do not give him false hope.”

Javi gave one strong nod. “Thank you.” He glanced at the rest of the group who pretended to not be listening. “Y’all are good people.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and let him go, watching as he ran to Scott who had screamed himself hoarse. Javi slipped the data pack into his back pocket; the reason she was in that truck was not something he was going to be telling Scott, at least not at that time. Javi tried to explain everything else, but the second the word ambulance came out of Javi’s mouth, Scott was running for the truck. Javi had to tackle him against the door and take the keys from him. “You are not stable enough to drive.”

Scott would’ve argued any other time, but every second he spent outside the vehicle was one where he could be on the way to see her. He complied, climbing into the passenger seat.

[october-writes]

Icarus sneak peek...

Okay, so I'm being super generous with this sneak peek because I have no idea when I'll be ready to post the whole fic. Pandora!Verse Leon has a long, bittersweet backstory and I love it, but it's a lot to get down especially when all I want to do is cry and hug him. 😫

Thank you for your patience. Any likes/comments here or on Pandora are the fuel that keeps the fic engine running.

‘Is this really where you grew up?’ she asked, her voice light with surprise.

He turned in time to see her cringe at the question. She’d been quiet since the drive away from the motel and the scene with Russ and his posse. No, scratch that. Ada had kept to herself because he’d asked her to and he’d been kicking himself for that ever since.

His stomach flipped whenever Ada asked him about himself; one part excitement, one part terror. He wanted to tell her everything and, in turn, he wanted to know her as well as he knew his deepest desires. But he was scared of the guy in those stories. Steadfast, optimistic, stable, responsible. He was sure that version of him had died on a forest floor. Now he was trying to live up to his own ghost.

Leon swallowed before replying glibly, ‘Nope! I grew up in a house.’

‘You know what I meant, Leon.’

God, he loved the way Ada said his name; like she owned the word, like no one had ever called him that but her.

‘Okay. I spent a lot of time here too,’ he conceded, nodding at the front facade of the church and the flawless circle of its Gothic stained glass window, ‘One Easter when I was fourteen, me and the chaplain’s son changed the sign out front to read: “Honk if you love Jesus”.’

She spluttered on a laugh, ‘You did what?’

‘You could barely hear mom’s sermon ‘cause of the car horns. I would’ve been grounded ‘til Christmas, but lucky for me she has a sense of humour! Damn. I was such a little asshole when I wanted to be.’

Ada bit her bottom lip until it shone pearlescent pink and he couldn’t look away from her mouth.

‘I could show you around,’ he offered suddenly, ‘If there was time.’

‘Really? And where would you take me?’

Her eyes glinted like a dare. He’d reignited her interest in him and they were back there again, at the edge of something beautiful and dangerous.

Go ahead. Impress me, rookie.

‘Well, um... there’s the Boott Cotton Mills Museum just across the canal,’ he suggested weakly, his throat suddenly dry, ‘I uh... I wrote an essay on it in High School.’

Her eyebrows twitched, ‘High School...?’

‘Yeah, it was on child labour reforms during the Industrial Revolution. I got an A minus.’

Oh for the love of- Shut up, shut up, shut up!

Ada blinked at him before turning away, ‘Interesting. Maybe some other time.’

Her eyes went dull, the glint of challenge extinguished. They were left beneath the cool light of the street lamp looking at everything but each other.

‘Come on. We should get going before I’m recognised,’ he said, leading her across the street, ‘We’ll check out the back lot.’

Leon remembered the first time Sarah had taken him to First Presbyterian to help out the day crew, officially as penance for his reckless escape attempt on his first night under her roof. He hadn’t been due to start school for another week and, while he’d been sincerely forgiven for his antics, he’d still been grounded.

The church ran a Day Centre from Monday to Friday, the doors opening at eight on the dot come rain or shine or biblical levels of snow. Refreshments, clean clothes and pastoral counselling were available no questions asked and, in the evenings, volunteers served hot meals alongside a rotating programme of art therapy, sign language classes, and addicts anonymous meetings.

Sarah had started the programme during her first few months in Lowell. The way some locals liked to tell it, Sarah had crashed into town on a wave of radical ideas. The Day Centre hadn’t been popular with everyone, bringing ‘undesirables’ and addicts from the fringes into the centre of town where they were harder to ignore.

‘I’ve brought the poor and the sick to Jesus’ doorstep, just like he instructed,’ she’d retorted, knowing the Bible was her home turf and she’d arrived ready to fight dirty, ‘If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him!’

‘I’m on a first name basis with the Mayor’s office,’ Sarah had boasted as they’d carried boxes of donated clothing through the back of the church, ‘Mayor Wiggins reminds me every time I stop by that I shouldn’t let it go to my head! I think he preferred the old pastor, Reverend Dawson. But Wiggy knows I’m better at getting things done. He’d rather boil his own head in lard than admit it though, so I’m not holding my breath for the key to the city!’

Young Leon had tipped his head back to take in the building’s decadent red brick and stained glass, its silver spire bouncing the sun towards every corner of Lowell.

‘Is all this yours?’ he’d asked.

He’d lingered at the threshold, a deep breath ballooning his stomach as he’d prepared himself to enter. The air had smelled apple-crisp, the pavement sun-dappled and warming the tops of his sneakers. It had stirred something familiar inside of him. But he hadn’t been inside a church since... since they’d buried his mom.

Sarah had chuckled, bumping the backdoor open with her behind, ‘Oh, no! Frannie belongs to everyone. But I am humbly responsible for her, like a sheepdog with her flock.’

She knew the church well enough that she could walk through it backwards without knocking into anything. All the better to keep her eye on Leon so she could read her new foster son’s lips.

‘What does that make me?’ he’d wondered as he’d followed her, ‘Like... a stray puppy or something?’

She’d hooted at that.

‘I don’t tell people who they are, Leon. But if I am to be completely honest, which under his roof is essential,’ she’d thrown the box of donated winter coats onto a nearby table and had turned to relieve him of the ones he’d carried, ‘I am sincerely looking forward to meeting the man you’ll become some day.’

Leon hadn’t known what to say to that.

Old foster parents, social workers, even a cop once; they’d all warned him that who he was becoming was someone he should be afraid of, ashamed of. But Sarah had greeted all sides of him like they’d known and loved each other for years.

The Day Centre had become a fixture of Leon’s teenage years from that day on. He’d never been much for the services, the singing, the prayer. But he’d helped out with the art classes and he’d learned how to cook in the community kitchen. He’d taken sign language classes after school and pulled weeds from the community garden across the street. He’d done his homework in Sarah’s study, her day sermons sailing in through the open window like a warm breeze.

When he’d turned fifteen and grown a foot taller in what had felt like a week, Leon had begun captaining one of the local street hockey teams. Their casual league had been run out of the back lot of the church.

He remembered long afternoons three times a week, two dozen kids howling like wild animals after sunset, and sweating even when it was so cold he could see his breath. Rhonda in the goal, as reliable as rain in September. She’d used the church to escape her alcoholic dad for a few hours a day. And Marty, a formerly homeless teen, playing offense and doing a backflip every time he scored. The slap of hockey sticks, rollerblades tearing up the tarmac, a puck smacking off a brick wall, his heart in his throat as a shot narrowly missed a car window.

There was still a dent in a lamp post from where one of Leon’s shots had gone wide. It had struck the post so hard the bulb had gone out. They’d played the rest of the night by the light of the church’s silver steeple and it had felt like an incredible dream.

It had been yesterday and forever ago. But as Leon walked the lot with Ada now, a part of him was convinced he’d be back here tomorrow, hockey stick in hand with his skates tied at the laces and slung over his shoulder.

‘The Day Centre closes early Thursdays,’ he told Ada as they lingered at the edge of the lot, ‘It shouldn’t be this busy.’

The lights were on and the church shimmered from every window. The front of the building was still bustling, so they’d given it a wide berth. Though Leon had his cap down, he’d grown up inside these walls. There was no way he’d make it to the rectory without being recognised.

Ada was getting restless. Her face was hidden by her hood, but Leon could see the tense line her shoulders made beneath her sweater.

‘Maybe things have changed,’ she muttered.

‘She’ll be here,’ he replied, ‘That much’ll be the same. I know it will.’

Minutes later the backdoor to the church opened and Pastor Sarah stepped into the warm summer night.

Her dark hair had regrown in gentle waves, softer and less curly than before her illness and now tinged with grey. She wore a thick cardigan, unbuttoned and showing off a baggy Guns and Roses tour t-shirt that Leon had stolen from her closet about a hundred times before it had stopped fitting him.

Leon muffled a quiet laugh into the collar of his jacket, but deep down he felt like sinking to his knees.

He knew Lowell’s streets. He knew there was a house a few blocks away where his old bed waited and his sketchbooks tumbled out of the wardrobe in an avalanche of memories. But ‘home’ was a complicated concept for a guy who’d had so many. A one bedroom in Chicago snuggled safe between his mom and dad, Buchanan with its dreams unfulfilled, in shady motels forever awake in front of a TV with the sound as low as it would go, and finally seven foster homes; a number that made ‘normal’ people from ‘normal’ families wince so he’d stopped repeating it until he could almost imagine that his early childhood had happened to someone else.

For Leon, ‘home’ had eventually come to mean Sarah reminding him to be back by ten. Home was the leftover casserole in the fridge with his name on it. It was about not being alone at the kitchen table because Sarah would always wait up and ask him how his game went. She’d even pretended to understand the rules.

Someone Leon didn’t recognise stepped out with Sarah. It was an older woman in a long cotton dress. She and Sarah shared a quick hug before the woman left for her car. Sarah stood in the doorway and waved goodbye. Then she slid back into the church, disappearing like a dream at sunrise.

Ada was watching Leon. Her gaze passed up and down his face, mapping the angle of his nose and the cleft of his chin like they’d just met. Leon knew what she was thinking.

He and Sarah sang off-key to the same songs, they ate their eggs over-easy with too much Tabasco sauce, and they both thought cilantro tasted like soap. But they didn’t look even a little bit alike.

‘I’m adopted,’ he explained.

She frowned, surprised, ‘Oh. I see. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not.’

‘I didn’t mean... I just didn’t know.’

‘But you knew my mom was a pastor?’

‘It was in your obituary.’

Leon did a double-take, ‘My... what? I have a damned obituary?’

‘Of course you do! You died,’ Ada replied sardonically, ‘Your colleagues had some interesting things to say about you.’

‘Yeah, I bet,’ he winced, and his mind raced to suss out exactly what Ada knew about the old him as filtered through the eyes of his peers. They’d treated Leon like he was fresh out of school and an old man at the same time, ‘Come on. It’s now or never.’

The back of the church held Sarah’s office, a common room for the staff, and a library that smelled like cold coffee and chocolate. Leon opened the door quietly and checked it was empty before ushering Ada inside.

They heard voices echoing from the church hall beyond the big wooden doors:

‘Has anyone seen Pastor Sarah? We’re running low on baby formula!’

‘She’s in her study. Don’t trouble her. I’ll call the supplier first thing tomorrow.’

‘I’ve barely seen her all day, Lucille. Is this ‘cause of that silly protest outside the Governor’s office? I told her to take it easy!’

‘She’s tired, Frank. Let her be.’

Sarah’s office door was ajar. Leon could see her shadow spilling over the desk and onto the carpet. He could smell her hand lotion, its residue on the doorknob. His eyes drifted shut as his hands formed a tight claw around the knob like he’d forgotten how doors worked.

Maybe this was a mistake. A panicked sensation surged inside his chest. Ada was right. Umbrella could be monitoring Sarah. He could put her in danger just be showing his face around town. He should go, shouldn’t he? Right now, just go and leave her be. He could think of another way to track down Jill and Chris.

And what was he going to say to her? How could he explain what had happened to him? She’d thought he was dead for nearly two years, but at least her ignorance had kept her safe.

Leon tensed when he felt a pressure on his forearm. He looked back to find Ada gently peeling him away from the door.

‘I’ll go first,’ she whispered, her dark eyes trained on his face, ‘I’ll make sure she’s alone.’

He nodded but Ada was already slipping past. She opened the door just enough to squeeze through.

‘Pastor Morris?’

A chair scraped the floor as Sarah stood.

‘Yes?’ her voice sounded jittery like she’d just woken from a nap, ‘Hold on... Let me just...’

There was a long pause. Leon guessed Sarah was fumbling with her cochlear implant.

‘Could you come closer, honey?’ Sarah said breathlessly, ‘I can’t quite hear you all the way over there. Are you here about tomorrow’s charity drive?’

‘No. No, I’m...’

Leon swayed on his feet, his ears ringing. He’d been so nervous, he’d forgotten to warn Ada that Sarah was deaf. He mentally kicked himself.

Then Ada raised her voice and when she spoke, she filled all corners of the little study, her voice lifting its high ceiling and rustling the pages of every tome. Like a fair summer wind, she was the little lift he needed to make it home.

‘I’m a friend of your son.’

Then it was as if they were the only three people in the building. A silence enveloped them, as dense and safe as stone. Leon didn’t feel himself move, but he felt Ada’s hand, warm and insistent around his wrist as she pulled him through the doorway and into his mother’s study.

Sarah, to her credit, didn’t cry out. She didn’t seem to be breathing either.

‘Mom?’

Her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes turned red to signal an oncoming wave of tears. But when her hand fell, Leon saw she was smiling like it was the first time he’d ever called her that. It wasn’t, not by a long shot.

Leon took a step towards her. Then he stopped, realising that Ada was still holding his wrist. Her grip was loose, almost reassuring. Not too much pressure, just enough; like a whispered phrase he felt all the way up his arm to straight to his heart: ‘I’m right here’.

When his hand slipped from hers, Leon still felt her warmth; that fair wind driving him forward.

Sarah whined softly. She rubbed at her throat like the words had gotten tangled up in there and she needed pry them away from each other. Her fingers were trembling and he realised she was too overwhelmed to sign to him.

He stepped towards her and raised his hands to tell her:

I’ll explain everything. I promise.

I’m so sorry, mom. I’m sorry...

He made a fist with his thumb extended and scored circles with it deep into the centre of his chest. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Sarah dove forward and latched both her hands over his fist. Then she tugged him forward and threw her arms around his shoulders. She clung to her son like the grave could snatch him back. She buried her wet nose into the crook of his neck. Then she keened against his shoulder, a wordless cry of grief and joy combined that shook his core.

‘I love you so much. Okay? I love you,’ Leon murmured into the crown of her head where his tears were already soaking her hair. He hoped she could feel the raw honesty in his voice even if she couldn’t make out the words, ‘I missed you. I did! I missed you, mom.’

Who knows how long they huddled in the centre of her study? Long enough that his face was still pink but finally dry when they parted. Long enough that Sarah could stand to let him go so she could snatch a tissue from the box on her desk while laughing at how terrifying and strange and wonderful this was.

And long enough that when Leon looked over his shoulder, he saw that Ada had disappeared.

🥲

To be continued...

[nowjumpinthewater]

@ilikebookssomuch and i wrote a crossover of KOTLC and Epic but we started in the saga so there's no backstory :P

Here's their part!! (thunderbringer!)

My part is Mutiny, so hope you enjoy!! (Keefe is Eurylochus and Fitz is Odysseus!)

This is my half for @myfairkatiecat's birthday gift!

Hope you enjoy :DD

you can also find more of these @epic-kotlc-crossover :)

"Tell me you didn't know that would happen," Keefe almost begged Fitz, though he could already feel the guilt wafting off of him, almost as thick as the rain pouring down.

"Look me in the eyes, Fitz." Fitz wouldn't look away from the ocean, so Keefe stepped forward. "Tell me you didn't just give up six of our friend's lives, Fitz, please."

Fitz gripped onto the side of the balcony tighter. The feel of guilt almost choked Keefe, but what made him stop was the resolve.

"SAY SOMETHING!" He shouted, hating how his voice cracked. Finally, this seemed to get a reaction from Fitz, who spun around and Keefe got his first real look at him since Scylla. His hair lay stuck to his face, artfully messy in a way Keefe couldn't help but admire; his eyes were darting everywhere, almost wild-looking, but the teal still took Keefe's breath away.

He was always so effortlessly handsome.

"I CAN'T!" Fitz's scream cut through his thoughts and shattered the silence.

Keefe swallowed, and the lump was almost painful. He drew his sword, determined to protect the last few men he had with him.

"Then you have forced my hand." Fitz seemed to pale.

"Keefe..." his voice was quiet, nervous, and his emotions radiated it too. "Lower your weapon." What did Fitz think Keefe would do? He'd willingly let six people die. Keefe couldn't let that happen again.

"You miss Sophie so bad you're willing to kill." Keefe spat out Sophie's name like it was poison-she was a great person, sure, but worth sacrificing people? No. A hot flash of anger erupted from Fitz.

Fitz drew his own sword. "I don't want to fight you! You would do the same if you were in my position."

Keefe adjusted his grip on his weapon, his palms feeling sweaty. "If you want to make all the choices you get to have all of the blame!" He lunged at Fitz, slashing a cut through his clothes.

How am I supposed to trust you now? Keefe thought as hard as he could, wondering if Fitz's telepathy actually didn't work or he was lying.

The captain seemed to flinch, though that might have been from the cut.

Fitz advanced forward. "Keefe, you need to move because you are not getting in my way." With each flash of their swords Keefe could feel himself get more and more lightheaded as Fitz's guilt seemed to melt away, hiding itself into something smaller. Fury and determination grew in its place.

Keefe lunged forward, and in an attempt to block Fitz's sword, he moved forward too far and it cut through his clothes-and, Keefe realized with growing horror, embedded itself in Fitz. Fitz let out a loud, horrible scream, and staggered back.

A huge wave of pain rushed through Keefe's blood and he immediately kneeled next to him.

"No, no no," Keefe muttered, and yelled behind him. "Do any of you know how to clean a wound?"

No one answered, so he yelled at them to find the nearest island. He needed to help Fitz. He was furious at him, but he was still his friend.

He turned around, trying to ignore Fitz's body, and called for all the crew to dock at the nearest island-they were running low on food.

In a few hours, they'd found one, with hundreds of bright red cows dotting the landscape. When they landed, Keefe told everyone to stay on the ship while he scoped it out.

After a few minutes, he'd decided that it seemed generally safe, though he still couldn't find a single human soul that he could ask to give Fitz come help.

Next to him, a cow mooed.

Keefe could feel his stomach growl.

"Where are we?" asked Fitz, and Keefe jumped, hating himself for letting Fitz sneak up on him. Turning around, Keefe saw that Fitz was being supported by two of the crew members, his dark brown hair frizzy across his face and his signature smile a little wobbly.

Keefe wanted to make a comment about how he shouldn't be standing up but kept his mouth shut.

"We're on an island-the first we found." Keefe turned to him, forcing a grin on his face even when he felt the huge amount of pain Fitz was in.

He kind of deserves it, though. A tiny part of his brain reminded him. Because of him, six people are dead.

Fitz pointed to one of the cows, talking to him almost like Keefe hadn't nearly killed him hours before.

"These are Apollo's cows, you see that statues over there?" Keefe could barely hear him, fingering the grip on his sword. How long could one cow feed the crew?

At least a week, and they'd be actually full for the first time in a while.

A wave of panic coursed through his veins, and he snapped his head over to Fitz.

"Please don't tell me you're doing what I think you're doing." Fitz told him. "These cows-they're sacred. We can't kill them."

Keefe laughed, a sad, quiet laugh. "Fitz, you know as well as I do that we're never going to make it home."

Fitz shook his head quickly, and placed his hand on his sword again. "You don't know that, Keefe." He stepped back, and Keefe quietly missed the proximity. "This is the home of the sun god, do you know what will happen if we kill his cows?"

He ignored Fitz, and quietly unsheathed his sword. "How much longer do we need to suffer, Fitz?" Taking a step forward, He heard Fitz's panicked voice behind him, asking him to stop.

"How much longer until you decide that we're not important enough to go home? How much longer until you decide that you want to see Sophie so badly that all of us have to die?"

Fitz flinched, and Keefe took the opportunity to kill the cow, and Fitz let out a yell.

"What have you done?" Keefe spun his head around at the terror in Fitz's voice and in his veins. "You've doomed us all, Keefe! The cows were immortal-the sun god's friends! Who do you think he'll send now that you've killed one?" Keefe's blood turned to ice.

Fitz staggared up to the ship, but Keefe quickly scooped him up and sprinted onto the ship.

"Everyone, grab an oar and row as fast as you can!" Fitz roared.

The entire crew did as they were told, with punctuated with shouts of "Faster!" coming from Fitz, until a clap of thunder came and pure terror radiated off of him, his face turning deathly pale.

"We're too late."

[daniigh0ul]

Moonlight Chapter One Commentary, The Beginning

This post will cover bits and pieces of the first two posts in Moonlight: Teen Daze Chapter One! You can read these even if you have not read the story, because it's behind the scenes and extra lore. Who knows, maybe it will entice you to read from the beginning! At the end of the day, this is just an excuse for me to talk about my story (aka, the brain worms!) Story Links: Post 1: Click. Post 2: Click.

Summer Prequel

A little bonus aside: the first iteration of this story started at a summer party! But I didn't like anything about it-how it was written, the way the shots looked once edited down, the drama of it, etc. Also those posts have versions of the characters that look quite older (probably college-aged) instead of their actual ages 17-18. So, info to keep in your brain: the party did still happen, and maybe one day I'll do a summer side story, but it didn't happen in the way it was shown!

First Day of School, Senior Year

In the first post we meet Tati for the first time while she is driving to school. It is the first day of senior year at Copperdale High! A big life change is coming around the corner once she graduates, so I referenced RuPaul's Drag Race with the caption "this is the beginning of the rest of your life". I chose to start here because it allowed me to introduce you to her daily routine, set up some familial banter and leads into the second post, which is her at school where she meets one of her best friends, Gia, and her long-term boyfriend, Omar! The second post is where we meet Diego for the first time, and Tati's choice to call him over when she sees that he looks uncomfortable and out of place.

Some behind the scenes: Omar looks different in the earlier part of Moonlight because I completely redesigned his character! He was a randomly generated townie and I was, quite frankly, too lazy to make a dude from scratch for Tati.

Interpersonal Relationships: Family

In the first post, I wanted to establish that Tati and Marco have playful banter only siblings can have—Marco annoying her on purpose, and vice versa. I wanted to establish this dynamic early on because he will be around a lot, as he is the only brother of hers that still lives with her! Her older two brothers, Adrian and Vance, still come around, because her family is quite tight knit, but they are out of the house and busy!

Some relevant prose you might have missed if you didn't click "Read More" on this one!

It’s his first day of school at Copperdale Middle, having turned twelve over the summer. The youngest isn’t so young anymore. Indie rock is playing through the radio. - - - Tati drops off her brother at Copperdale Middle and purposefully shouts ‘I love you!’ to embarrass him as he runs to meet his friends.

Interpersonal Relationships: Romance

When Tati arrives to school, Omar sneaks up on her and they embrace! The backstory here is that he went away for two weeks in that final stretch of summer before school started. His family take an annual trip to Sulani to visit their family and he did not get to talk to her often! Tati missed him! An important thing to note is, Omar is her first real relationship, so she is a bit clingy, and he is a bit clingy with her!

Cassie and Sam… (or Cass and Sam) at some point during the Prequel Summer Party (trademark pending) they started to casually hook up (see: making out)—and started to actually hang out. But Sam isn’t the committed type, so it’s casual and Not Official TM.

Interpersonal Relationships: Friendship

Gia and Tati

When we first see Gia and Tati together, we see that even though Gia is busy she stops what she is doing to go sit with her best friend. We also see that she knows stuff Tati does not re: Sam and Cassie, because she is the one who tells Tati that they've been hanging out and that Sam has a crush. If you look at her expression when she says this, she seems quite pensive.

Diego and Tati

In post 2 we meet my second protagonist, Diego! He looks uncomfortable when he walks in, because he is NEW and doesn’t know anyone, or so he thinks… there’s lore coming for why he moved and switched schools ! ! ! But we find out he was also at the Prequel Summer Party (trademark pending). Tati recognizes him, feels bad when she sees how out of place he looks, and waves him over. Gia, nosy af, texts her to ask about it. And thus includes the first time we see texting in the story! I chose to show these conversations as text messages because 1) they're sneaky teenagers and 2) when I was a teen we were constantly yapping through text.

Improvements + Shots

There’s a sense of nostalgia for me looking at these because my composition, editing, and subtitling abilities are all so novice! I still have a lot to learn but there’s definitely a lot growth from these two posts to where I am at now! So I am proud of that.

Things that I didn’t take screenshots of because I didn’t have the ability to at the time include: Omar and Gia glaring at each other, Omar going to sit with the band kids because he is in the school band. This is yet again a thing I stole from my real life; the band kids in Copperdale High are required to sit together so they can perform the school anthem during assemblies.

Car Interior Shots--aka I made my own car interior (it was a room) and used a Newcrest lot for the opening shot of Tati on a road with her brother. This was before I really knew how to use TOOL and other useful mods that help you pose sims off-lot. But, I am still proud of this because I figured out a way to make it work with the skills I had at the time! 🥸

The first post cuts abruptly before they head into the school auditorium. This is influenced by what was tradition when I went to high school four score and twenty years ago! we always had a first day assembly to help the freshman establish themselves for the year.

In Conclusion (lol)

That concludes what happened in the first two posts and some behind the scenes !!! I hope you enjoyed this because I will be going through each chapter to yap about them! :) Also it was a lot so here is a cookie 🍪