#regardless of whether or not an OC is present

[corvidmasters]

*shrugs* *walks into the river* *is never seen again*

[lufyuu]

(I accidentally deleted the ask last time so bare w me, I'm so sorry anon😓 , it was about how my ocs would react to a trans reader)

Well I'll start with that none of my ocs will treat you differently regardless of the fact you're cis or not! Maybe they have different thoughts of you though

➤Eun Hyunwoo

He probably didn't know you were trans before working with you. He just thought you're a very pretty man<3 I mean, there are feminine looking men in the industry too so it doesn't matter if you're feminine/masculine presenting! He'd be extra careful during sex though, he's not ready to be a father and with your job...it's impossible for you to be pregnant whilst working at the same time. He's also always going to be there for you when the gender dysphoria hits, he doesn't understand it as he himself has never felt it but he'll do anything in his power to make you feel better. He often affirms your gender by calling you all sorts of things. "My pretty boy" is what he loves to say the most. He also loves to refer to you as his boyfriend a lot. And I mean a lot. He's partially flexing the fact that he's dating you too.

➤River Sterling

Mans didn't pay much attention to you before your first meeting, but he had heard about the rumors of you being afab. He brushed it off since it's really none of his business. When anyone talks shit about you just for being trans, he's ready to give them the "shonen background character treatment" if you know what I mean lmao. He's always going to use protection during sex! You're both in your early 20s! No way he's going to be a dad! Loves the idea of it though. He probably once tried to turn you into a cis man, not because he wants you to be one, but it was when you were having major gender dysphoria. He thought he'd be a good boyfriend and give you a dick and balls. Unfortunately, even the powers of a protagonist have their limits. His efforts were still appreciated, though! Loves stroking your hair while calling you "the loveliest boy he's ever met". He's an ass at times but can be sweet when needed!

➤Liu Zihao

Couldn't care less that you're trans. He has a duty to uphold, and that is to punish you for your wrongdoings. Though he does think it's convenient since getting you pregnant would be easier now. Who could blame him for wanting to breed you full of his cum? He's been waiting for you for so long it's only right for him to take what he wants now. He isn't the type of guy to babytrap you though. Gender dysphoria? Now that, you have to explain to him. Despite being in a powerful man both in the political stand and in general, he's only learned about the laws. He doesn't really understand humans. When he does get it though, expect him to be very supportive. Maybe overly supportive. Probably empathizes the word "boy" a lot when referring to you. Not that there's a lot of people he can talk about you to. He just doesn't care what you have under your pants.

➤Han Minho

I'm not sure how this one would work as the way reader met Minho was through military training where everyone was amab but let's say they do meet. Again, doesn't care much. Though he's ready to be a father, it all depends on you whether you want to start a family with him or not. He'd rather your parents know about the situation first before anything that far happens. He doesnt strike as a guy who knows that much about gender dysphoria. Probably awkwardly caressing your back as he tries to again, awkwardly comfort you. "You're a boy..I don't know what's the problem..?", he's trying his best.

[prince-liest]

I know you’ve gotten asks already talking about how happy they are that you’re going more in depth on the subject of Vox being trans in your next installment, but I can’t help myself… I’m so excited that you’re writing about that. It can be difficult to find trans rep in fandom spaces sometimes and your stories are so well written that this is like a gift from god. SO ANYWAY I’m super happy and your works are amazing and I just hope you know how many people value your works for all that they give.

Secondly, I was wondering whether or not Vox would have been trans on earth or just in hell? I mean I’m sure it would be difficult considering the time period but I also couldn’t think of a reason why he would be cis on earth but trans in hell. UNLESS he realized he was trans in hell/was finally able to do something about it?? Anyway, all of this is just speculation, I am only curious!!

Regardless, great work. It genuinely means a lot to me, if no one else :)

Oh, man, I'm ngl, one of my little, "Wait! I can do anything I want!!!!" moments of going mad with power once I got more and more experience at writing was realizing that I could just trans anyone's gender at-will and I didn't need anyone's permission for that. I still remember the first time I quietly decided an OC of mine was trans (love you, Laledy, you obnoxious asshole). I'm always a little apprehensive to start writing trans characters in new fandoms, mostly because I've been in a number of fandoms that have corners that get very tetchy about their weird gender role stuff, but it's consistently been met with such a positive reaction that it really brings me joy. So thank you so very, very much!!

My personal take on Vox in 666 specifically (a lot of which isn't going to come up because he does not want to get into it) is that he wasn't personally really in a position or environment conducive to considering trans-ness as, like, a thing that happens when he was alive, and he put his all into putting on The Correct Gender Performance with the vim and aplomb that we see from him in canon, plus all the underlying bullshit that goes into maintaining that facade. So, y'know. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, minus the Jewish. Which did not do amazing things for his mental health, not that he let himself pay attention to that at the time!

And then he wakes up, in hell, with this weird-ass demon body with a television for a head, and - well, it just makes sense to present as a man at that point, doesn't it? Hell is dog-eat-dog, and he's not going to pick the submissive gender to put himself on the back foot from the start!

He figures out what the fuck being trans even is eventually, just. Not for a while, and not until after someone like Valentino, having known and assumed that Vox is trans as a given for fucking months, mentions it offhandedly to Vox, who had been mentally describing himself as "just lying about his sex like those girls in stories that get shit done by dressing up as men". Then he gets to have his own little spiral about it, and also why it's upsetting him, and why he felt so vulnerable about Valentino knowing, and why Valentino specifically, Mr. Fishnets, Heels, and Microminis, is the one that ended up in a position not only to know this about Vox but for Vox to feel comfortable having any kind of sex with. It wasn't something Vox had to analyze back when it was just "her" freaky boyfriend being into pegging!

Okay, fuck, I have even more feelings about trans Vox than I thought I did, hahahaha.

Might fuck around and write a staticmoth-centric prequel interlude at some point if I have the brain cells for it. Vox is a lot more confident and comfortable with his gender now, to the point where he can absolutely see fucking around in a dress for kinky reasons as crossdressing and not being forced back into a box that doesn't fit, but it'd be neat to explore the earlier days. Val isn't here for gender, he's here to be sexy, but Vox... this IS the origin of the daddy kink, just saying.

[werewolf-girlfriend]

ive been enabled so let me share some of my thoughts on how to get ur art noticed online

if u want Engagement on ur posts then i believe that its critical to make people care about ur art. the easiest way to do this is to appeal to something they already care about, like fandom, aesthetics/subculture, current events, having fun (people love humor!). a harder but perhaps more fulfilling route is to talk about ur own ocs and projects enough until people start caring about them too

theres an infinite amount of topics people care about out there so id suggest picking something u already care about urself and channel ur art energy there. trying to make art for the most popular things out there regardless own interests is an exercise in misery, id advise against it..! if im allowed to get superstitious for a moment, i do believe that even untrained eyes can tell whether a piece of art was fun to work on or a chore. and besides! if ur having fun then its easier to create more, and the more u create the more chances ull have at getting lucky and having a post seen :)

on a very related note, art is a way to communicate ideas so the quality of the idea being presented in a piece of art is paramount to how popular a post will be. what i mean by this is that technical skill isnt the primary determinant of a posts popularity. if all your posts are portraits of original characters then people will have a hard time connecting with your posts and theyll keep scrolling, even if those portraits are masterpieces! the major exception to this is probably other artists, who ive found usually have a greater appreciation for the technical side of art (we can only speculate as to why..!)

lemme finish by saying that making popular posts and being good at art are two entirely different skillsets, ive seen many incredibly skilled artists with jack shit for notes because they dont give people a reason to care about their stuff NOT TO MENTION its a huge game of luck whether a post will get seen. so dont go insane in pursuit of recognition!

(i dont want to make this post too long so ive included examples from my own art and their note counts with my analysis after the break)

hello and welcome to the extracurricular segment to this post :) i bring yall two pieces from my art blog @werewolf-artfriend:

here we have a portrait of my fursona that im still proud of and a sketch suggesting "what if sniffers (from minecraft) were the size of mountains?" (let it be noted that the sniffer sketch was posted right during the minecraft mob vote = peak interest in the subject of sniffers).

the portrait at the time of writing has a crisp 30 notes, whilst the sniffer sketch has over 2000 notes. from the same artist, on the same blog, posted only a few months apart. i believe this is a good example both of the power of a piece of art having an interesting idea at its core AND of a piece appealing to the interests of the masses

this is of course just two convenient example posts, but i have experienced fan art of popular topics getting thousands of notes a couple of times now, amidst my other furry shit that these days get around 200-300 notes in comparison

this may sound like a really long winded way of saying "fan art make the world go round" but i just want to point out the nuances that

1) it matters what u make fan art of: if a fandom is small or dormant (waiting on new canon content for example) then clearly less people will be excited about the fan art you make. dont expect 10k notes on ur post if the average recent post in the fandom gets around 200 etc etc

2) it doesnt have to be fan art! ive also had some of my bird art get thousands of notes because people simply like birds :) and this applies to ANY topic people care about! the world rly is your oyster on this one

anyway i think ive started rambling dhgdjhgd thanks if u read this far! i hope i got my point across! and if ur feeling down about ur art not being seen then just keep at it okay! keep creating and keep having fun! keep sharing ur ideas and perspectives with the world and ur audience will eventually find u! i love you!

[hime-bee]

How would your OC's react to a marriage proposal? (the most romantic you can think of)

-🐍

Lucas: Gender roles don't really mean anything to Luc, so whether he or his partner proposes first is fine with home as long as they end up together! Luc would be super happy and a little bashful, especially if the proposal was super romantic and well thought out!

Njero: Extremely bashful. I think he would feel kind of ashamed that MC made their move before he could, honestly. Regardless, it wouldn't bother him for long and he would easily accept their proposal with a smile and a blush on his face 😌

Leumin: Honestly, I'd be surprised if MC proposed before he could- Leu is constantly planning their marriage, honeymoon and all that shit in his head day in and day out, but if MC were to propose first, I think he would pinch himself first. Once he's sure it's not a dream, he'll accidentally shout "yes!!" ��

Flores: Kind of a mix between Luc and Njero, Flo would be a little bashful but mostly happy! Gender roles don't bother him either, but he'll insist on being the one to get on his knee and present the ring to them in the end 💚

Mikka: He would probably tease them a bit first to see if they're actually serious. Once he realizes they are, then he'll accept their proposal easily with a bright smile. The next step would be him asking how many children MC would want

[simplegenius042]

Late WIP Wednesday, OC NSFW Sheet & OC SMASH or PASS Poll

Tagged by @imogenkol

Tagging @direwombat @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @noodlecupcakes @voidika @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @minilev @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @softtidesworld @florbelles and @yokobai + anyone else who want to join.

WIP Wednesday for my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore and an NSFW sheet + an OC SMASH or PASS poll for Silva's half-sister Elsa Omar from The Silver Chronicles. Read and decide under the cut:

Got a snippet from my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, specifically my FO3 WIP. Amata awakes from a nightmare, and unfortunately Alph isn't present to comfort her. Although things are tense between her and her fellow travel companion Ress, things are surprisingly undisturbed between them. Read below:

Amata awoke with a startle, chest heaving as she looked around the trailer for her tormentors. She expected the cold, disappointed gaze of her father glaring down at her, or perhaps Stevie Mack sadistic grin, or feel the hungry, prying hands of the Andale families that he dropped her into.

Finding neither men nor the vile family, she flopped back onto the dirty mattress as she covered her face, trying to take calming breaths as the terror regressed from the corners of her mind.

She felt hot, hair and forehead damp with sweat, shirt clinging to her body like wet toilet paper.

She glanced at the trailer's square windows, only seeing the dark sky, no sun in sight.

She frowned and brought her pip-boy to her face. The faded green light of the screen was enough to make her tired eyes squint as they adjusted. She noted that it was early in the morning, early enough that the sun wouldn't be up for another five or so hours.

Amata huffed as she brought the screen away from her face. She glanced to the exposed doorway to see Ress laying on top of the picnic table she dragged over. Amata noted the shades the Bishop woman adorned to her face, and shoved away the thought questioning why she'd where them in the dark.

The woman hardly made much sense to Amata; from her unnatural platinum blonde hair to her arrogant, apathetic attitude to the incredulous impossibility of her abilities of unknown origin. Amata learned radiation could do many things, and she knew manipulating energy could not be one of them.

And yet, she's helping me look for Alph, Amata reminded herself. She still couldn't figure out why Ress would go out of her way of helping her, considering her previous words some time after she held them hostage as her guides.

She shook her head, clearing those thoughts. Regardless of whatever reason Ress possessed to aid her, Amata was glad that she had some powerful protection against the hostility of the Capital Wasteland.

The shootout between the raiders and super mutants from yesterday being the most fresh example on her mind.

Amata debated on whether she should return to sleep or not. Usually she'd seek out Alph whenever she had a nightmare, dating back to when they were kids inside the Vault. Simpler days... easier days.

But Alph isn't here right now, she grimly remembered, He's in a hub full of those fucking slavers. All because he put my safety above his own.

That was quite a pattern Amata seemed to be repeating; finding herself in some trouble and then needing to be protected and saved. Like with Springvale, like with Andale, and recently Evergreen Mill.

This time, neither her nor Alph had Ress to bail them out at the time. And now Alph was suffering the consequences of her inadequacy.

Knowing she'd find no peace in her slumber, she instead decided to get up to get some fresh air.

Ress' resting spot just happened to be where she needed to get said fresh air.

Ress didn't immediately acknowledge Amata, though the younger of the two wasn't foolish to believe she just didn't hear the vaultie.

Amata exhaled into the cold air as she pretended to admire the morning sky, although a morning sky was better than no sky in her opinion.

"Rough sleep?" Ress inquired from where she laid on the table, head tilted towards Amata's direction.

A breeze brushed past, the chill causing a shiver to wash over Amata's body. Regretting leaving her jacket in the trailer, she answers Ress with a nod and murmur.

Amata saw that Ress nodded slowly, one expensive slacks tapping against the other. "Bad dreams?" She guessed, though not unsurprising to Amata.

"Yeah," Amata said lowly, rubbing her hands together as she tried to generate enough heat to support her entire body. She didn't exactly want to talk to Ress about it, even if she was seeking at least another's presence.

Ress leaned up, left fingers suavely taking her shades off. Her piercing blue eyes focused on Amata, before breaking the focus to brush her hand over her long hair.

Tapping the hilt of her slacks against the table leg, and smacked her lips together. Amata had noted that Ress was taking time in piecing her words together this time.

"The Capital Wasteland sure is something," Ress began, wringing her wrists, "Chaotic and hostile and full of conflict."

Amata only nodded along, both out of habit and having learned from experience the Wasteland's environment.

"Though this place is only a corner of the world," Ress stated, "My brother's been all over the states. Contrary to what you vaulties may believe, the country isn't actually like this."

She gestured to west, a twinkle in those blue eyes, "California's developed a new republic that's been around as long as Ore has been."

She gestured north, Amata followed the direction obediently, "Boston's apparently doing quite well compared to the likes of Orleans and Oklahoma. Not thriving like California but certainly not a dead zone like our neighbor West Virginia."

Amata listened closely, absorbing what little information she could infer from Ress' words, "This may be one of the less appealing areas, I know, but once you find your way to other states, it'll be like this place to be another passing memory."

Amata scrunched her face, though she wasn't entirely discomforted by Ress words.

"Whether my word means anything or not, I just want to make sure you know one thing right here, right now," Ress says as she stares into Amata's caught gaze, "I won't let you down. I'll get Alph back for you, alive and in one piece."

Here's my Captain of Security Ezekiel's NSFW Chart that no one asked for. Be sure to see the information of his mutual lover in the SMASH OR PASS section too:

SMASH OR PASS

RULES: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

ELSA OMAR (THE SILVER CHRONICLES)

[NOTE: Elsa is supposed to have natural blonde hair, something she inherited from her father, Adam Omar (for better or worse considering how shitty of a person he is)]

QUICK FACTS:

HEIGHT: Around 5'5.

Age: 25 (if she was alive in 2018)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Polyamorous Bisexual

PROS:

Elsa's got a successful business in floristry and is very well-off (which may or may not involve her less-talked about methods of attaining finance).

Dominant Feminine Aura radiates from her.

You want affection? Don't bother saying what type she'll give you it all.

She's a flirt, a wooer, a love-bomber and just about knows all the ways to court you like a gentlewoman (and get you hot and bothered... as well as wrap you around her finger).

Actual comedian (potentially learned from one of her financial gigs?).

Knows all the dirt on everyone and the hottest gossip (hot out of the oven kind of gossip).

You want to try scary new things? She also wants to try scary new things.

Quite an intelligent, cunning adapter.

Social etiquette and fashion queen and occasional rule-breaker (but no one can prove it).

Bisexual goddess honestly.

Very experienced in the bedroom, so rest assured you're in good hands if you've got none. She'll be gentle, don't worry. (And if you like rough, rest assured, in spite of her medical condition with her bones, Elsa HAS creatively found many ways around that which can satisfy both of your wants for a little roughness).

She's got connections. Legal trouble? She's got her godsend lawyer pal Gavin Turquoise to bust you out of court swiftly and cleanly. Social reputation under fire? She'll endorse you and shame the non-believers. Being messed around with by some punks? Ningún problema, she's got her older hermana Silva who'd do anything for her litter sister.

Fun aunt so if you have any nephews/nieces she can give you a hand.

Wine aunt (also knows all the good alcohol).

PDA and compliment dependent.

If you're wanting to go up and talk to her but are intimidated by the sheer elegance and divinity of this walking goddess, no need to worry, you've got the ultimate encouraging wingman who's got your back... her boyfriend! (Ezekiel, if he's around, who've you recently read some intimate info above. His kinks can be a window to what she's also into).

"They ordered no pickles!" kind of girlfriend.

Will punch a jerk for you (avoidance of this is highly recommended though).

She'll accept you as you are, and will accept whatever changes you go through too.

Expect to be roped in some prank wars with her and Ezekiel.

100% okay with being friends with benefits or a one-night stand. You don't have to pursue a romantic relationship.

CONS:

Okay now time for the tough to swallow shit.

Dating Elsa is asking for a lot of trust issues, questions over the genuineness of her love towards you and her manipulative, multi-masked, self-centered selfishness, and egotistical bullshit.

Elsa is someone who pretends to be one way with you and another with others.

It may not be obvious, but Elsa craves attention, and wants to fuel more of her inflated ego, and will use you as a way to get that (okay, but that is legitimately Adam's fault right there, with his parental favoritism of Elsa over Silva. Yeah she knew he was a dangerous monster of a man and the shittiest person alive, but spending almost two decades with the man, Silva's presence and absence notwithstanding, will have affects especially when her strongest moral compass wasn't present to protect and nurture her, albeit not by choice).

Just because you may be amongst her lovers, does not mean your value goes above her family (Silva and Persephone), but if you're lucky enough you may end up amongst Ezekiel's level of importance to Elsa.

Elsa may be doing illegal shit and there is a chance she might frame you for it (if only to avoid being scolded by a disappointed Silva. Like if she went to prison, she'd be fine, it's just Silva's approval and her dependence on Elsa is not something Elsa is willing to compromise). But she generally doesn't do that with people she likes (those she dislikes on the other hand...)

Elsa's impulsive daredevil shenanigans are extremely stressful to deal with considering the severity of her physical condition.

Much like her older sister, Elsa will not talk about her past, and will outright fabricate a non-existent one without hesitation.

Probably knows therapy exists but chooses not to go because she doesn't believe she needs it.

Knowing Elsa may put a target on your back (whether it be the Congregation of Adam's Guard or whoever she's pissed off now).

Girl will gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss her way out of the "be a nicer and more considerate person" even if it's to you. You cannot “fix her”, she’s happy as is.

Toxic. Silva is 100% unaware of this fact (as far as she knows her little sister is just a little troublesome at times) and Elsa intends on keeping it that way.

If you're rich or influential (like say... Joseph Seed), she will one-hundred percent scheme a way to either steal the inheritance (which may or may not involve murder) or take your power for herself, all through the art of seduction, deception and backstabbing.

Either-Either

She doesn't want kids. Or to raise one either. She helps Silva with Persephone because that's how much they mean to her. Though she can tolerate being a babysitter and aunt-figure, actual motherhood is a no-go, not just because she can't have kids herself (a personal choice of hers), but because she's generally disinterested in the idea of raising children. Motherhood, or parenthood in general, is something she mostly doesn't want to be associated with, which is perfectly fine (unless you want kids and have managed to achieve a long-lasting relationship with Elsa).

She's not interested in marriage either. The idea of, in her own eyes, being tied down in any shape or form is something she deeply resents, especially if it's overlooked by an authoritative force that declares it official (either it be lawful or religion). Perhaps that's one of the reasons she has an affinity towards Ezekiel, as they share similar ideals with one another. He's just more chill and down-to-Earth.

Open Relationship; she's not tied down with you and you're not tied down with her. Cool for those who don't want to be restricted to just a relationship with her but not so much for those seeking a closed relationship.

Blank template for NSFW Chart:

[jupitersmoon167]

hey… about that cod x marvel crossover…….

— 🎨

🎨 anon, this was my genuine reaction seeing this:

Oh boy, where do I even begin?

Okay, so I have a few ideas plot wise, both of which have to involve extreme detailing, cause in my mind I (unfortunately) can’t just smush these two fandoms together just for the hell of it. It’s gotta make sense.

And as much as I’m into incorporating the CoD:MW timeline into the MCU timeline, that’s just not as fun. So, what better way of introducing these two fandoms than thru ✨multiverse✨shenanigans?

Fair warning, I’m also incorporating aspects from the comics (in regards to Marvel) and weaving some of that into a MCU AU/canon divergence of sorts. But overall, incursions play a big role in both of my ideas. It just depends on when it occurs.

Regardless of the plot, it’ll be set Pre MWII CoD wise and Post Endgame MCU wise (we’ll just ignore the obvious yearly difference)

Regarding the MCU, there’ll be a bit of canon divergence:

- Tony doesn’t die at the end of Endgame (but he’s retired)

- Steve doesn’t fuck off to the past and stays in the present (he’s also retired and works more behind the scenes when necessary, so Sam is still Captain America)

- The ending from Far From Home doesn’t happen (I also may just scrap the events from that film entirely for reasons I can explain later)

- Secret Invasion doesn’t happen (cause let’s face it that show was an absolute dumpster fire, and I think the Taskforce would already have enough to deal with besides a terror organization consisting of shapeshifting aliens).

And depending on whether I add a certain OC (one that I’ve already introduced in the past), the story would start off Post The Marvels due to one component that was introduced in that film (a gold star to anyone who can guess what that component is).

ENOUGH EXPOSOTION

Let’s get into the plots!

My first idea was this:

So do you remember in the Hawkeye show that stuff from the Avengers Compound was stolen after it was bombed and being sold on the black market? Well after that fiasco, Clint would make Sam, Bucky and the others aware of this so they can keep an eye out for anything shady. Fast forward, and the team (thru some sort of means) finds out that some of that stuff, whether it be Stark tech, confiscated tech from the Battle of New York/Thanos’ Attack on Earth, magical artifacts, whatever it may be, has been sent to another universe. And so, to risk the event of an incursion, they travel to that universe to get all of it back.

My second idea would be a sort of Secret Wars/Battleworld type scenario where the CoD:MW and MCU universes sort of just, merge out of the blue. One moment they’re their own universes, next thing you know, an incursion like event occurs, but rather than one or both universes being destroyed, they just merge together. People from the CoD universe suddenly wake up to find that superheroes exists, gods and aliens are real, half the population was dead for a few years before coming back, and there’s apparently the corpse of a giant celestial being who emerged from the Earth’s crust now just sitting in the Indian Ocean. Meanwhile, everyone from the MCU timeline is like “fuck it, this might as well happen”.

Regardless, the Avengers cross paths with TF141 (whether it be accidentally or deliberately) and shenanigans occur.

I’ve got a lot more I can share, but this is already long enough 😅

I also might reveal details on how I think the Avengers would interact with the TF141 and the dynamics between the canon characters and my OC’s (both of which I’ll make character profiles on eventually when I’m not so busy with college classes).

Speaking of college, it’s nearly 6am as I’m writing this and I have class in a few hours 💀 so imma head to bed

[sapphire-writes]

Read more on AO3

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon OC

Summary: Elyse & Aemond are wed.

Warnings: language, smut at the end of chapter, mentions of blood, losing v-card, f-receiving 🥵

Word count: 4316

previous chapter ~~ next chapter

A wedding was surely a sign that the realm was headed toward prosperity. The Dowager Queen Alicent was convinced that three weddings must be a blessing from the Mother and Maiden. 

She journeyed to the Sept often to pray for good fortune to all parties involved, as whispers of Septa Alicent spread throughout the Keep. 

She did not mind. Alicent found comfort through her prayers. The Sept seemed to be the only place she could think freely, without someone grappling for her attention. 

She prayed often for the health and wellness of her children. For the prosperity of the seven kingdoms. For peace throughout the realm. 

She often found herself praying for Princess Rhaenyra.

Within the same moon, Baela Targaryen would wed her cousin Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaena Targaryen would wed her cousin Lucerys Velaryon, and Aemond Targaryen would wed Elyse Baratheon. 

Alicent sat within the Sept, eyes shut, head bowed in prayer. Her auburn curls obscured her face as her lips moved in silent prayer. The light of several hundred candles cast shadows around the room. Alicent’s hands were laced together, the skin around her nails just starting to heal. She rubbed her finger across the jagged healing skin of her opposite hand. 

Tensions were still high between the blacks and the greens. The opponents stood facing each other as though matched against one another on a chess board. Flittering about the realm, waiting for the other to strike first. Alicent had heard rumors of Prince Daemon camping at Harrenhaal, something that would need to be dealt with sooner or later, regardless of Rhaenyra’s answer.

Princess Rhaenyra had complications from her labors and was still contemplating the terms delivered by Otto Hightower, nearly a month prior. Alicent had petitioned for the Princess at court, allowing her all the time she deemed necessary for her health. Another day without an answer was another day without the threat of war. And for now, that was enough. 

Alicent thought often of Rhaenyra.

When Rhaenyra departed King’s Landing Alicent urged her to return. Though Rhaenyra had agreed, something had kept her at Dragonstone. Alicent had not received a raven stating why the Princess had been delayed returning. 

Perhaps she had misunderstood Rhaenyra’s intentions to return. She tried to disguise her hurt feelings. 

Rhaenyra had a habit of breaking Alicent’s heart, whether she understood that was what she was doing so or not. 

Alicent reopened her eyes as she ended her prayer. Glancing up at the statue of the Mother, a soft smile danced across her lovely face. 

Her second son would be marrying and for that she was grateful. Everything was appearing to be going as planned. Aegon was king, and Rhaenyra would accept the terms the crown provided. She had to accept the terms. 

Alicent rose from her knees and turned to leave. She would return to the Sept again asking the gods for their good fortune. 

~

The wedding was a small affair, in the royal Sept. 

Helaena had helped Elyse prepare, along with Jeyne and Tasha. Her dark curls had been pulled from her face, some hanging loosely down her back held by a braided crown. Several silver pins adorned her hair, as though stars in the night sky. 

The wedding gown was lovely, Elyse had seen it nearly a week prior for a fitting. The color of a shimmering pearl, with Myrish lace designs of a forest at the hem. A lonely doe stood out between the lace pine trees that trailed up towards her waist. 

Elyse only wished she had some kin present. She yearned for her mother’s touch, for her father to give her away. Though she was thankful for the Targaryen family she loved, Elyse couldn’t help but feel something missing. It made her happy remembering Aemond’s promise to journey to Storm’s End.

Helaena had kissed both her cheeks, eyes wet with tears as she admired her companion. She now stood next to her mother as the ceremony progressed. 

Aegon had escorted Elyse into the Sept, presenting her to his younger brother. Aemond stood, clad in green so dark it could be mistaken for black. His long hair flowed freely down his shoulders. 

“You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection,” the Septon announced. 

Elyse stiffened as Aegon removed the gold cloak decorated with a black stag. In normal circumstances, her father would be the one to remove her cloak, but Lord Borros was not in attendance at the small affair. The King was the only suitable other option.  

Elyse felt suddenly cold without the weight of the cloak and she gazed up at Aemond. The Septon ushered her to turn.

Elyse turned her back towards Aemond kneeling slightly, as he draped the green and gold cloak on her shoulders; the emblem of House Targaryen gleamed proudly on her back. She could feel his hands upon her, lingering a moment before pulling away. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Elyse spoke softly, “and take you for my lord and husband.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife,” Aemond said, his eye never leaving Elyse’s face. 

“Let it be known that Lady Elyse, of House Baratheon and Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who dare tear them asunder.” the maester finished. Aemond’s eye met Elyse’s gaze. 

He placed his hands in hers before capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. As he pulled away, a blush crept onto her cheeks. 

The feast afterward was small as well, but lively with dancing and merriment. Aemond and Elyse sat together between members of the royal family.

“I only wish Daeron was able to make it,” Helaena lamented, “you know how fond he is of feasts.”

Elyse smiled, taking a sip from the wine in front of her. She had been slowly sipping her wine all evening and had yet to dance, her nerves getting the best of her. 

“Daeron is fond of everything,” Aegon told his sister, causing her to frown. 

“I do not think he is fond of caterpillars,” Helaena retorted, causing Aegon's eyebrows to raise. Elyse heard Aemond chuckle beside her. 

“You see when we were children,” Helaena began before pressing her lips together, “oh never mind.”

“No no, go on,” Aegon said, curiosity written on his face. It was Elyse’s turn to suppress a chuckle. 

“Well,” Helaena began, cheeks reddening, “I didn’t know he did not like them, and so I thought he would look lovely with some atop his shoulder. They complimented his outfit greatly.”

Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he laughed.  

“Who in this family have you not tormented with your creatures?” he accused, and Helaena laughed. 

“She used to make me reach spiders for her in the garden, I assume that counts,” Aemond said, though his smile was kind. 

Elyse hummed in agreement before a laugh escaped her lips. She felt warm with the conversation, and the unity she felt with officially joining the family. Elyse caught Helaena’s eye then and the girls smiled at one another.

Elyse did not notice Helaena’s smile falter as she turned to converse with Alicent, who informed her there would be no official wedding ceremony. Elyse felt relief course through her.

“Come,” Aegon said suddenly rising from his chair, “honor your king with a dance, my lady.”

Elyse was not sure how her relationship with Aegon would be from here on out. Though sometimes he was vile, sometimes he was kind. And he was her king after all. She glanced at Aemond before taking Aegon’s hand.

“You honor me, your grace,” she said, as he led her to the dance floor. 

Aemond watched every move Aegon made as the dance began, ready to rise from his seat at a moment’s notice. 

“Congratulations, brother,” Helaena spoke softly, Elyse and Aegon in her line of sight. 

“Thank you, sister,” Aemond murmured.

Helaena looked at him then, a small smile on her face. 

“Take care of her,” she told him, causing him to turn. Aemond’s brow furrowed at Helaena’s dreamlike expression.

“Hel?” Aemond said, bringing his hand to hers. 

“As storms end, storms begin,” she told him, returning her gaze to the dancefloor.

~

As the feast wound down, the newlyweds were escorted to their shared apartments. Elyse felt strange about saying goodbye to the chambers she had grown in. 

These new apartments seemed almost too grand. A large antechamber opened up to a grand room, with high ceilings. A great fireplace roared with a recently lit fire, casting a warm glow around the room. Towards the rear was an enormous four-poster bed, big enough to comfortably sleep four or five people. 

A chaise and some other seating were placed near the fire, along with a table full of bread, cheeses, and fruit. A pitcher of wine accompanied the food, with two goblets waiting to be filled. 

Elyse walked around the room, admiring it. She turned to face Aemond, who was watching her carefully, drinking in her flushed expression.

“I once told you, that you would be much happier with Lord Maceon,” he said suddenly, unable to contain himself now that they were in the privacy of their own chambers. 

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace and the beating of Elyse’s heart. Though she hoped Aemond was unable to hear it from where he stood across the room.

“I remember,” she told him, eyes wide.

Aemond’s face softened. He walked towards her, taking her hands in his. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Elyse felt her chest warm at the comforting gesture. 

“There was truth in that. But I wish to try; to make you happy,” he murmured, eyes downcast. 

Elyse tilted her head to the side. Dropping one of his hands she brought her hand to the scarred side of his face. Aemond suppressed a flinch as she pressed her soft hand to his face. Elyse was silent a moment, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

Aemond felt his heart hammering within his chest, but forced himself to look upon her. Her blue eyes were wide, full of adoration. 

“I just want you,” Elyse breathed, Aemond’s eye closing at her words. She could feel him leaning into her hand, his resistance shattering.

Elyse felt herself smile at his vulnerability. She had never seen Aemond like this before. He opened his eye as though reading her mind. Aemond had an alarming habit of knowing her thoughts. 

He placed a kiss on her hand before walking back to the door. Elyse’s brow furrowed, worried for a moment he was going to leave. He instead moved to throw the lock across the door, before turning back to face her. 

“Are you going to be good for me?” Aemond asked, a dark look in his eye. Elyse swallowed, anticipation tingling beneath her skin. 

Aemond sauntered towards her. Elyse stuck her chin up as he came to face her. He brought his hand up to caress the face of the woman he adored. 

“Aren’t I always?” Elyse teased and Aemond tutted. 

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Aemond asked, his voice dangerously calm. 

Elyse shook her head not trusting her voice. 

“About that night after the coronation. How you knew what you wanted from me,” he said, flexing his long fingers for good measure.

“Have you touched yourself before sweet Elyse?” 

Elyse's breath hitched in her chest. 

“Yes,” she admitted, cheeks darkening.

“Did you think of me?” He asked, violet eye wide. 

Elyse said nothing, confirming what he already assumed to be true. Aemonds face broke out in a ravenous grin. 

“Turn for me,” he commanded and Elyse obeyed. She could feel Aemond’s hands at the laces of her gown, nimble fingers undoing the restraints of her corset. Not a moment later, the gown pooled to the floor, leaving Elyse in her shift. 

Helaena had chosen the shift she wore, smooth silk trimmed with Myish lace. Much fancier than she was used to. 

She could feel her breath turning into pants, her face burning red, as she turned to face her husband once more. Elyse chewed her lip, stomach flipping with nerves. It was as though she was on dragonback yet again.  

Aemond’s eye never left her face as he sunk to his knees before her.

“Which do you prefer?” He asked, beginning to play with the hem of her silk shift. 

“What?” She asked. He had a terrible habit of distracting her. He cocked his head, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on her. 

“I simply wish to know if my lady prefers. My fingers or yours?” he asked her. 

Elyse felt her lips part with the question, gaze dropping to his long, slender fingers. Her toes curled remembering the feeling of those digits inside of her. Pressing against her most secretive place. 

“My lady?” He inquired at her silence.

“Yours. Always yours.” She admitted, face flushed. Aemond hummed in approval. 

“Good girl,” he praised, voice rough, disappearing beneath her skirts. She felt his hands pull down her small clothes, before hitching one of her legs over his shoulder. She wobbled momentarily, regaining her balance with the new position. 

Elyse felt the sharp curve of his nose press against her most intimate spot, and inhale deeply. Elyse blushed furiously, feeling embarrassed at his action.  

“Aemond-” she began, but he only growled.

“Do you have any idea what this does to me?” he purred. Elyse shook her head, forgetting Aemond could not see her. He nipped her inner thigh with his teeth causing her to gasp. 

“No” she breathed and she could feel him humming against her. 

“I think about this cunt always. For years I’ve dreamt only of this.” Elyse whimpered at his confession, feeling herself growing wetter with his words. Aemond’s fingers dug into the meat of her thighs. 

“I am a gentleman. I was forced to restrain myself far too long against your temptation.” He murmured against her. 

 “I’ve dreamt of you,” she said, through her whimpers. Aemond smiled beneath her skirts. “Always of you…oh!” Aemond licked her then, from the bottom of her slit to the top, his tongue exploring every inch of her. His lips circled her clit, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive pearl.

“Aemond…oh gods,” Elyse moaned as he thrust his tongue up inside her. He brought a hand to her buttock, spanking it harshly. Elyse yelped at the smack before his hand squeezed relief into her cheek.

“My prince,” Elyse corrected feeling the warmth spread through her at the memory. 

There are no gods here, only me. 

Only him beneath her skirts. Only his tongue, gods that tongue that curled into her in a way that made her forget all sense of dignity as she cried out continuously. 

Elyse felt the hand on her buttock push her more into his face. She worried momentarily about how Aemond was supposed to breathe with her so entangled around his head, but the thought left her mind as the pleasure built within her. 

Her release began to build, a wave creating over her ready to crash against the shore. She cried out as his tongue thrust into her, probing the spot he discovered that first night together. The spot Aemond knew could have her sobbing his name. 

“Aemond!” She cried and he nearly came himself at the sound of his name bubbling from her lips, in a pleasurable cry. 

He removed himself from beneath her skirts, letting her hooked leg slide down to the floor. 

“Bed,” he commanded and Elyse eagerly obliged. Aemond discarded his boots before climbing on top of her, ridding Elyse of her shift. Naked as her nameday, gooseflesh began to blossom on her flesh in the cool air. 

Elyse’s hands found the hem of his shirt and he assisted her in ridding it from his body. Elyse felt her eyes widen as she admired the smooth planes of his chest, the muscles that roped his arms. She brought her hands to the waistband of his trousers, and though they shook with nervous excitement, she was able to undo the ties. 

Aemond’s cock sprung free, slapping against his stomach causing Elyse’s lips to part. She wet her lips then, looking up at Aemond for instructions on what to do next.  

A groan escaped Aemond as he latched his mouth to her breast. Elyse squealed with delight as he circled her nipple with his tongue. He lavished the sizable mound with hot licks of his tongue, nipping the sensitive skin with his teeth sure to leave her chest littered with lovebites. Leaving a trail of kisses on her breastbone he made his way to her other breast to give it the same attention. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her, “you have no idea how long I have wanted this.”

“Aemond,” Elyse cried, as her thighs clenched together. She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she ached to sheath him inside of her. Aemond simply hummed against her, content with taking his time, as she ran her hand over his silky hair reaching the strap of his eyepatch. Aemond froze then, every muscle in his body at attention. Elyse noticed his shoulders tense.

“Let me see you,” she begged. Aemond’s violet eye met hers before giving Elyse a curt nod. 

Gently, Elyse removed the strap revealing the sapphire underneath. Aemond kept his eye locked on her, reading her reaction. Though he felt his shame course through him, he refused to look away. Elyse traced her fingers over the scar, before feeling the cold gem. 

“Beautiful,” she whispered. 

Aemond kissed her, long and hard, using the hand that did not hold him above her to move her thighs apart. Elyse was slick and dripping from her earlier release and his continued attention, as she felt him press against her center. 

“This may hurt, only briefly,” he warned between kisses and she nodded, pressing her forehead to his. 

“It’s alright,” she told him. Elyse was ready to become a woman. To truly become Aemond’s wife.  

Aemond slowly pushed his length into her, the stretch causing her mouth to fall open. There was a moment of sharp pain causing her to whimper as Aemond split her in two. Aemond brought his mouth to her neck, meaning to distract her from the pain with the pleasure she enjoyed. 

He pressed into her slowly, stretching her out, until he bottomed out in her cunt. He clenched his teeth at the feeling of her tight, wet, heat pulsating around him. 

Elyse dug her fingernails into his shoulders leaving crescent-shaped marks. There was a moment of fire deep within her womb as their bodies fully connected for the first time. 

Aemond allowed her a moment to adjust, before pulling his hips back and snapping them forward sending a wave of pleasure through Elyse's body. She dug her nails harder into his shoulder, gritting her teeth together at the enticing sensation of pleasure and pain. 

Aemond brought his hands around Elyse’s head as he plunged himself into her, their bodies flush against one another. Elyse wrapped her legs around his waist desperate to aid him in his passionate thrusts, as the pain ebbed completely. Elyse moaned beneath him as he placed a kiss on her jaw.

“Aemond,” she whined and the prince smiled into her. 

Aemond swore he could live off of Elyse’s moans and nothing more. 

“Yes, my sweet girl?” he purred, causing Elyse to whimper.

Elyse felt her pleasure creeping up her back once more, the pressure in her abdomen twisting and turning, wound so incredibly tight. A dam soon to burst open. 

Tears leaked from her eyes as Aemond continued his even, long thrusts into her. His teeth scraped her neck and she dug her fingers deeper into his shoulders. 

“Please,” she begged and Aemond’s cock twitched within her. How Aemond adored when she begged. 

“Fuck,” Aemond moaned into her shoulder and he pounded into her, his strokes slow and relentless. “You’re doing so well, so good for me.” 

Elyse could only moan in response as Aemond pulled her pleasure from her. As Aemond stared into her eyes Elyse felt an immense pressure well in her chest. Aemond grinned at her expression. 

“Does this feel good?” he crooned, as she whimpered below him. His voice sent a wave of pleasure rippling down her spine. 

“Yes,” she breathed.

Elyse’s walls began to flutter as the peak of her pleasure washed over her. As Aemond felt her cunt clamp around him his thrusts became sloppier as found his own release, emptying his seed into her warm cunt. 

He stayed seated within her as her cunt milked him for all he was worth. He swore that it was paradise, the feeling of Elyse’s silky walls constructing around him. The two lay together still conjoined, pants turning back into slow breaths. 

As he pulled himself from her warm sheath, he watched as their mingled releases spilled from her opening. The blood of her maidenhead pooled on the sheets below her. 

Elyse tangled her fingers in his hair as he lay beside her, feeling suddenly very tired.

Aemond allowed himself a moment, basking in the post-coital haze, placing kisses on every inch of skin his lips could reach, before he rose from the bed. He placed his arms under Elyse, lifting her from the bed with several furs. 

“What are you doing?” She asked sleepily, as he laid her on the chaise. 

“My lady wife shall not sleep on bloodied sheets,” he told her as he tore the sheets from the marriage bed. Elyse had wondered whether or not she would bleed, she had enjoyed riding horses throughout the years of her youth. 

Elyse sat up and watched him, the dull ache between her legs reminded her that she had become a woman. A wife. Aemond’s wife. She smiled softly as he discarded the sheets. 

Aemond turned to her and Elyse’s lips parted with her gasp. He was so beautiful; lean, taught muscles everywhere, long silver hair, and sharp features. And that blue sapphire eye of his that sparkled in the candlelight, as though winking at her. 

Elyse let herself admire him, even as her face flushed while he watched her. 

Aemond felt himself growing hard again as she gazed at him, her eyes falling toward his waist. 

A hungry look clouded his eyes and Elyse smiled coyly at him. 

“My prince?” she asked him, as he prowled over to her. 

“Fuck the sheets,” he murmured capturing her lips in a kiss. 

“Fuck the bed,” he breathed between his kisses, hands gripping her thighs pulling her towards him once more. 

~~

After several rounds of lovemaking, Elyse lay draped over Aemond’s chest, her fingers entangled in his strands of silver hair. She could feel the tips of his fingers tracing shapes on her upper arms. 

The sky was a startling shade of violet, golden light beginning to bathe the room. Though her mind was foggy with the pleasure she experienced, a question played in her mind. 

“Why a sapphire?” she murmured, feeling Aemond’s head turn at the sound of her voice. She looked up at him between her lashes. 

“Why do you ask?” he said, in a voice rough from the late hour. 

“I once heard it was a ruby,” she told him, causing him to chuckle at the gossip. Elyse smiled at his amused expression. 

“Why not an amethyst?” she questioned, fingers dancing over his pectoral muscle, watching as it flexed beneath her touch. She wondered why he had not chosen the gemstone that matched his eye. Aemond hummed at her question. 

“I’m rather fond of this shade of blue,” he told her, before rolling until he was atop her again, nudging apart her thighs. Elyse let out a soft whine; she could feel his hardness pressing at her entrance, desperate to be buried within her again. She happily obliged.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it 💚

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

OC Musings #37

Today's Musing: Is your oc honest? Why or why not? Are there only specific people they’re honest to?

Jesse: He's actually not very honest at all—although mostly from lies of omission rather than any actual malice. He often tries to sugarcoat whatever he can when he can, and the more you pry actual truth from him, the less pleasant he gets about it. Olivia: For someone that prides herself on trying to "free" the truth, tends to sit upon quite a mountain of her own lies. Most of the time she simply has no filter and will always say what's on her mind, but there's a few specific topics that she's gotta keep close to the chest. Miranda: Unless she has a reason to lie (such as keeping her brother's secrets), pretty much all of what she says can be taken at face value—but this also means you might be told quite a few things you don't want to hear. Bridget: Doesn't exactly lie or not lie—just presents her arguments in a matter-of-fact way regardless of whether they're "correct" or not. Sunni: She's honest almost to a fault—winding up saying things she might've been better off not saying, going overboard with positivity, or revealing secrets that really should've stayed secret Harleigh: Is so dishonest that it's almost easier to interpret everything as the opposite of what she actually says.

. . .

Question Inspired from this Prompt List

[halfbakedspuds]

Thanks to @illarian-rambling rambling for this tag.

OC picrew tag

Rules: use this picrew to create the OC's from one if your WIPs

Imma do this for the Castellan Siblings from Children of the Wolves (the prequel to Children of the Stars). I've included the original Callistoan name of each character as well as their more Imperial sounding name below it.

Adarjan Julisis vel-Castellan

(Adrian Julius Castellan)

So, interesting thing: Adrian's skin colour isn't mentioned even once in either story (most human characters' aren't) . Now this is done for a reason, but when I picture Adrian, I see him as looking somewhat like this.

This is also a much younger Adrian than the one in Children of the Stars, so he doesn't yet have that vibe of being an ever present threat about him, although he still radiates "Little shit" like it's his job.

The only thing really missing from this is the Clan Castellan emblem on his lapel and words 'Nev lif hölfirá blossat' ("New life from hellfire blooms", his clan's motto) tattooed onto his forearm.

Izö vel-Castellan

(Isabelle Castellan)

Isabelle is Adrian's sister, and is without debate the single best gunslinger in their crew. She's also canonically had her eyes augmented so that she has better vision and on demand magnification regardless of whether her weapon has a scope, and can change their colour at will, though she prefers purple because it matches her tattoos.

The purple tattoos on her face mark her as a Maliké'n, the equivalent of a priest-in-training in Callistoan culture (With others added later to complete it, marking a Maliké'n as a fully fledged priest) and thus she can oversee rituals such as the binding of Velsjen, the Ren-Calla, and funerals. In reality, these tattoos are stylised words in their language, not just solid lines, but close enough works.

Marêku vel-Castellan

(Marcus Castellan)

Like Isabelle and Adrian, Marcus is the adopted child of Marea Castellan. Where Adrian is the guy who plans out missions and makes sure that horrible situations start working in their favour, Marcus is the leader that the group looks up to and the one you go to with problems.

I managed to get the old plasma burn that covers his face but couldn't fully portray the severity of it.

In reality his red cybernetic eye would be attached to a camera-like apparatus with three lenses that looks like it's been bolted onto the side of his head. He could've gone for something more discrete- like Isabelle's- but the Callistoans believe in proudly showing scars and wounds, so if he absolutely had to replace his eye he was going to make damn sure people knew he'd lost it.

No pressure tag for @honeybewrites @oh-no-another-idea @pb-dot and anyone else who wants in

[a-simp-named-slickback]

Star-Crossed | Basim x OC | Chapter 5

The jinni's continues to torture Basim, and so are his feelings for Nashira.

TW: mental health issues. I wanted to try portray what I thought Basim’s visions would look like from a different person’s perspective.

The stars twinkled in the night sky over Anbar. At this time of night, most people had retreated into their homes, gathering around a fire and a meal with their loved ones. The smells of spices wafted through the air and took to the rooftops, where Basim and Nashira sat together.

Between them they shared a bowl of tebit, a canister of water, and of course, a pouch full of sweet juicy dates as they gazed at the stars together.

Over the course of a few months, they’d find time to share a meal and talk, much like how they’d do as youths. Though instead of studying, they spent their time talking about life. Asking and answering questions they had never considered as teenagers.

Tonight, Basim’s mind wandered away from conversation. He yawned, not having gotten much sleep in the nights before. The jinni continued its torment, both in sleep and in his waking moments. What was worse, he still had little answers for it.

Every now and again Nehal presented him with some strange tome or symbol that reminded them of the artifact they found at the Caliph’s Winter palace. Each of these strangely familiar findings left Basim with more questions than answers, and the jinni’s torment continued to take its toll every time.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could deal with this. He needed answers soon.

“Basim?”

Hearing Nashira say his name brought him out of his thoughts.

She furrowed her brows, “Is everything alright with you?”

He nodded, “Everything’s fine.” He answered.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, “If there is something wrong, you can tell me. I’m right here.”

His eyes softened. For a moment, he contemplated telling her about the jinni, how it kept him up at night, how it haunted him in his dreams and his waking hours, and how it had done this for the majority of his life. How could he explain such a thing to her? Nashira was a woman of science, she didn’t believe in the supernatural. She’d probably write him off as crazy and have him admitted to the Bimaristan if she could.

He waved her off, “I’m fine, really,” He said, “I was just thinking.”

“About?” She pressed, giving him all her attention.

He chuckled, “I was thinking about something you had asked me before, about whether the stars controlled our fates. I realized, I never heard your answer for it.”

Nashira blinked, “You’re right,” She tapped her chin, “I suppose never did answer the question now that I think about it.”

She thought for a moment, “I think perhaps I misunderstood my father’s point of view on the subject.”

Basim tilted his head, “Explain?”

“When he said the stars controlled our fate, I assumed he meant we didn’t have free will to make our own choices in life. Naturally, I disagreed with that notion. Whether or not our actions have the intended consequences, we made those choices. Not every choice is equal, sometimes the consequences are minor, some major, but regardless we have the choice to go down a certain path or another. A parent can tell a child not to eat sweets before dinner. The child ultimately makes the decision to listen to the parent and not get what they want, or disobey them to get what they want at the expense of being punished. The parent can not control what that child does, only the child can do that for themselves.”

Basim listened intently to her as she spoke. She was making a good point.

“However, there are things that happen outside of our control,” She continued, “A natural disaster, a corrupt government, illness, death, and our paths become altered by these events. Our choices are limited to what is available to us from that point onward, though the choices presented may not be the ones we desire to have. Those events limit our free will, and it doesn’t stop there! You could be a child born to cruel parents, a person born into a poor family-”

She paused for a moment. “Or a young woman forced to marry when she does not want to…We may have the free will to choose how we act, but fate is often the determinant of the circumstances in which we make our choices. I think that is what he meant.”

Basim nodded, “I think that is quite insightful.”

She shrugged him off, “I’ve had a lot of time to think it over.”

They sat in silence as a question gnawed at Basim’s mind. Something he had wondered in his youth. Something he felt with unshakable conviction.

“Do you think certain things are meant to be?” He asked, “Like, are some things inevitable? Bound to happen regardless of circumstances?”

She raised a brow, “How do you mean?”

He leaned back on his hands, “I’m sure I was always bound to join the Hidden One’s. I was so eager to join them as a boy, that I don’t think anything could have stopped me. Or you. You’ve always been smart, and your father was a brilliant scholar. You were always meant to be an astronomer.”

Nashira hummed, “There’s a possibility but I don’t think anything is as simple as meant to be, Basim. At least, not as simple as you make it sound.”

“Oh?” He asked, “Care to argue your point?” He had a glint of mischief in his eyes, enjoying their debates.

A corner of Nashira’s mouth turned up, “Who are we to decide what is and isn’t meant to be? We aren’t omniscient beings, our viewpoint is limited to our own lives.”

“Didn’t you just say we have free will to make our own choices?” He smirked, thinking he got her.

“I also said some things are out of our control,” She held up a finger to his face, unable to stop herself from grinning as well, “Case in point, how we-”

Nashira’s grin faded suddenly.

Basim raised an eyebrow, “What is it?” he pressed, “Don’t hold your tongue, Nashira, I want to know what you think.”

“You’ll think it’s stupid.” She protested.

“If you are stupid, then I am completely hopeless,” He laughed, “Just tell me.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, still sounding unsure, “You won’t get upset?”

“I promise,” He said, waiting for her to continue.

Nashira sighed out a breath and took a moment before speaking again, “...There’s us, for example. You told me once you thought we were meant to be. Regardless if you or I believed it, that does not make it true."

Basim, taken aback at her moment of vulnerability and honesty, sat with that notion for a bit. Their once lively debate turned quiet as they sat under the stars. It was then that the feelings he kept at bay for months came bubbling to the surface. There they were, on a rooftop in Anbar, looking at the night sky together. Almost identical to the night they shared their first kiss together.

He looked at her, “I meant that, back then.” He said, holding her gaze.

His sincerity warmed her heart, “And I believed you. But if we were meant to be, well, we’d be together now.”

Basim nodded, “We are here now. That has to mean something, right?” He felt himself grow bolder as he went on, feeling himself drawn to her.

Nashira let out a shaky breath, still holding Basim’s gaze, not noticing how close they were getting to each other, “We are.” She whispered, her breath ghosting his lips that were only inches away from hers.

Slowly, hesitantly, they leaned into one another until their lips pressed in a shy kiss. The first one only lasted a few seconds, but the next one and the ones after that increased in vigor. They're hands started out locked at their sides until Basim snaked one to caress her jaw, and Nashira crept hers to the base of his neck. Their movements knocked off their respective head coverings, baring themselves to each other and the stars above.

Soon, the need for air became too much for them to ignore and they pulled away. Resting their foreheads on each other, satisfying their need to remain close to one another as they caught their breaths.

Nashira let out a shaky breath, “We can’t do this, Basim.”

Basim breathed out of his nose, “We can’t or we shouldn’t?” Those were very different things after all.

An ache grew in Nashira’s chest, “Omar will return soon.” She whispered.

“And I will go back to Alamut when my work here is done.” He sighed.

They pulled away from each other, adjusting their hood and head scarf. He should have known better; it seems, like always, Nashira was right again. He was a fool to think he could leave his feelings in the past while still maintaining a relationship with her. He was even more of a fool to think fate was on their side.

After a long silence, Basim stood up, “I should go.”

The sniffle he made almost went unnoticed by Nashira. If there were tears in his eyes, she wouldn’t know. His hood obscured any emotion he might have felt in that moment.

Her eyes blinked back tears, “Please,” She whispered, “Stay.”

He shook his head. He wanted to stay. He wanted to so badly. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t have the resolve to leave before they both did something unforgivable. Who knows what the outcome of that would be? His oath to the Hidden Ones was absolute, he’d have to uphold it. If they needed him to leave Baghdad, he’d have to do it, leaving Nashira to suffer the fallout of their actions.

He swallowed hard, “Good bye Nashira.” He said, not facing her.

Without another word, he was gone.

____________________________________________________________

Weeks later

It was dark again.

And cold.

Basim had been here before, too many times before.

The jinni used to haunt him in his sleep only, but lately…

Over these last few months, as Basim eliminated his targets, visions of the jinni haunted him while he was awake. Sometimes these manic episodes would last a few minutes, others a few hours.

This time was no different.

Basim’s eyes darted around, trying to keep his eyes on the jinni, or perhaps trying to wrest the visions away. He felt like had been walking forever, but to where he couldn’t tell.

His heart raced. His palms sweat. He clutched the front of his robes. He needed to be strong. He needed to sever his ties to the past like Master Roshan told him he needed to. He needed to let go of his life before the Hidden Ones. His father, Nehal, Jasib-

Nashira’s face flashed in his mind. Her soft eyes, her dark curls, her melodic voice whispering in his ear.

Curse him, why couldn’t he just let go of the past!

He would not be weak.

He would not be weak.

He would not be-

“Basim?”

______________________________________________________________

Nashira furrowed her brows, looking upon Basim.

She couldn't make sense of his expression. There was a wild look in his eyes as they darted everywhere, never seeming to focus on anything. He was covered in sweat and, in some places, blood, though she was confident it wasn’t his. Still, his jerky movements worried her.

He stumbled in here not too long ago, a great surprise to her who hadn’t seen him in weeks. She doubted she would see him again after that night in Anbar.

She stepped forward, “Basim?” She said his name again, hoping it would get his attention. Still, he looked around, not seeing her there right in front of him.

She tilted her head. How could he not see her?

He began hyperventilating, “Nehal?” he called out, sounding pathetic. His breath quickened like he was struggling for air. Now she was growing worried.

Nashira shook her head, “No…no it’s Nashira.” She reached out to touch him on the shoulder, only to quickly find out what a terrible idea that was when he roughly shoved her hand away.

“Stay away!” he shouted, backing away from her.

“Okay, okay!” She reassured, jumping back. Basim was much stronger than her. That made him dangerous in his current state of mind. She needed to be careful.

He grunted, clutching his head in his hands, falling to his knees, “It’s just the jinni again….just the jinni…” He said it over and over again but he wasn’t speaking to her. He was talking to himself.

What is this jinni, Nashira wondered. Was this what Basim was seeing and talking to? Was this what was making him act so erratically?

Nashira had heard stories of jinnis as a child, the same as any child in Baghdad. None of the stories spoke of jinni’s tormenting people in this way. Her father, a man of science, largely brushed off such supernatural notions as this, and she learned to do the same. Once again, Basim seemed to challenge everything she thought she understood.

Nashira crouched down, getting on his level and did what any good scientist would do. She observed him, to better understand.

“She’s not here…it’s not her…not ya habibti….” Basim choked back a cry, “I am….alone….”

Nashira had never seen Basim like this. For as long as she knew him, she never saw him break down like this. Never saw him look so…timid. His voice, usually deep and baritone, sounded so impossibly small.

How long had these spells….this jinni…been tormenting her sweet Basim?

Without thinking she reached a hand out towards him, but pulled back. What could she do? Could she really help in out of this state?

On second thought, why was she even thinking so hard about this? The longer she thought the more he’d suffer this spell. She needed to act now.

Nashira moved closer to him, carefully reaching a hand out to him. Her hand rested on his back, and relief washed over her when he did not shove her away.

Gently, she rubbed circles in his back, “It’s okay ya habibi,” She whispered, “I’m right here…you’re not alone.”

His breathing calmed down a bit. Slowly, Basim sat up from his hunched over position, coming face to face with Nashira. This time, he seemed to focus on her, at least in her direction because his stare looked as thorough as it was focused on something far away. In his vision, there was still darkness, but now there was a light shimmering in the distance. A light where her voice came pulled him to.

“Nashira?” He whimpered, praying she wasn’t just another illusion.

He sucked in a breath, feeling a soft palm cradle his face, “I’m right here, ya habibi.”

Basim leaned into her touch, the hair of his beard tickling her palm. She pushed the hood off his face so she could see him better. The dark circles under his eyes grew bigger since the last time she saw him, meaning he’d hardly slept. Or at least, his lack of sleep was growing worse than before. She assumed his lack of sleep was because of his Hidden One duties. Now she wondered if this jinni had something to do with it.

She ran her thumb along his cheek, giving him a comforting look as she did, “I’m right here, Basim. You don’t have to be scared.” Their foreheads were just inches away from each other, as if she had to show him she was right there with him.

Basim’s hand crept towards his face to cover her hand with his own, sighing at how soft it felt. She was real and in front of him, right within his reach.

His breathing slowed, the smoke cleared, and his eyes filled with light again and there she was. Her golden brown eyes staring back at him, seeing him. That both calmed and terrified him.

He crumbled into her, clutching her robes, afraid if he let go she’d vanish like smoke. He dug his face into her neck, forgetting himself around her. He felt his nerves calm when her hands carefully ran up and down his back in response.

They sat there, her holding him, him holding her, for what felt like an eternity. They had hoped as much, at least.

Before long, Nashira helped him up as best as she could. Despite his episode seeming to be over, his body was still stiff. That coupled with the dense amount of muscle he owned made it difficult for Nashira to aid him though she did so nonetheless.

“Come,” She straightened them both up, “You must rest. You look so tired…”

All Basim could do was nod in agreement, slowly making his way to the seating area Nashira led him to. There were several pillows scattered around the colorful rugs, and Basim suddenly became aware of how exhausted he was.

Nashira helped him lay down, as Basim was still shaken from what happened. She smoothed a hand over his heart, feeling it slow from her touch.

“Rest, Basim.” She said just above a whisper. Above him, glowing in the dim moonlight, Nashira looked so angelic to him. He wanted to remember every part of her face like this, bathed in moonlight under stars. That tender look in her eyes as they crinkled in the corners from her smile. The mark just above her eyebrow that danced with her expressions. He never wanted to forget her face.

When she moved to stand up, Basim wouldn’t let go of her hand, “Stay with me? Please?”

Nashira’s eyes widened, then softened, and she wordlessly laid down next to him. She wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her cheek on his back. She felt him place his hands over hers as he slowed his breathing, feeling sleep take over.

They lulled each other to sleep with their shallow breaths.

_____________________________________________________________

Basim awoke before Nashira.

It was morning, the sun just beginning to break above the minarets. The call to worship rang out in the distance. He blinked a few times from the sunlight breaking through the window, memories of the night before flooded his mind again.

He remembered the jinni, he remembered the nightmares, he remembered Nashira’s words and her touch.

I’m here, ya habibi.

His heart fluttered remembering those words. He looked down, seeing Nashira’s head resting on his chest as the sunlight shone on her hair and face. Her shallow breaths coming in and out of her nose brought a smile to his face. With his fingertips he inched his hand close to her hair to move a fallen lock awake from her forehead.

It terrified him that she knew now, about the jinni, about the nightmares…he still dreaded having to explain the extent of them. Despite seeing him in his worst state, she still just saw Basim. That alone made him feel safe being vulnerable. He hadn’t felt that in so long, not with the life he led now. Such a thing would usually see his demise.

Then he remembered where he was: laying in the arms of a married woman. A married woman whose entire life would go to ruin if she were caught in such a situation with a man other than her husband, regardless of the innocence of their interaction.

He slithered out of her grasp, hoping to make it to the window without waking her. He quickly pulled up his hood and began gathering his things.

He swallowed hard. What on earth was he thinking? He knew better than to come her. Pursuing this, pursuing her again would only cause more trouble for her. She had a life, a husband, and her passion to think of. He couldn’t risk ruining that for her. He wouldn’t. She deserved all the world had to offer and he wouldn’t get in the way of that.

As he made his way to the window, he heard a shuffle on the rug behind him.

"You're leaving?"

He gasped, looking back to see Nashira fully awake on the rug where they slept.

He hung his head, "...Yes." He muttered, memories of the night before flashing in his mind. He did not want to see the look of pity on her face.

Nashira shook her head, "No, please. Stay." She pleaded with him, "I don't want you to leave. Not again."

She got up from where she lay and slowly made her way to him, trying to get him to look at her, though his eyes seemed glued to the ground when she stood in front of him.

She took one of his hands in hers, "Do you remember what happened?"

Basim reluctantly nodded.

"How long has this been going on for?" She asked again.

He sighed, "As long as I can remember."

Nashira's eyes widened, "You have been suffering with these nightmares for that long?"

He finally looked up from the ground, nodding.

He didn't see pity in her eyes, instead, there was a deep sense of compassion there, and he suddenly felt stupid for thinking she'd be judgmental.

She furrowed her brows, "I knew there was something wrong but I never wanted to push you to say anything." she hung her head, remembering how torn up he looked when he arrived to her observatory, "Perhaps I should have..."

He shook his head, "No, no, I didn't want you to find out this way," He lifted her chin up, "Please do not blame yourself."

"Why didn't you want me to know?" She asked?

Basim shrugged his shoulders, "How could I expect you to understand something I can not even make sense of?"

Nashira's eyes grew sad as she listened to him speak.

"Ana majnun. A madman." he continued, "I've tried so hard to deal with them, to let go of the past, but I can't...I am sorry I burdened you with all of this...I'm sorry I never told you."

Nashira squeezed his hand, "Do not apologize. Being there for you has never felt like a burden.” She caressed his beard in her hand, “And you are not the only one who can't let go of the past."

Basim’s eyes softened as he held her gaze. He pulled her in for a hug, holding tight as if she’d go up in smoke if he let go. But she wouldn’t. She was real, and she was right there with him.

"No more secrets between us, ya habibi." she whispered in his ear, “You asked me once before if I loved Omar. I don’t. I love you, Basim.”

Basim swallowed hard as they pulled away, deciding to throw caution to the wind, "I love you too, Nashira. I never stopped."

Nashira's heart fluttered from his words. Regardless of what fate had in mind for them, she made the decision right then and there: She would chose Basim one hundred times over. Madman or not, nothing would stop her from loving him wholeheartedly.

Her hand gently guided him to her, pressing their lips together. His arms snakes around her waist. His kiss was as sweet and tender as she remembered, and all the others that followed after. Basim kissed her back like he couldn’t get close enough to her, like he’d wake up and realize this was all a dream.

They pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“Turqburni, Nashira.” His thumbs drew circles in the fabric of her robes on her back.

Nashira brought her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

______________

Author’s Note: Tuqburni is an endearment phrase in Arabic that roughly translates to “you bury me.” According to my research, the idea behind the phrase is that the person loves someone so much, they’d rather die and be buried than live without their partner.

[marinahavik]

presenting my Oc's

Marina Havik

Age: 17

Best subject: animal language

Birthday: April 19th (Aries)

Class: 1 year 1 a

dorm: octanaville

Club: Board games

Height: 1.67

Hobby: drawing, (that's funny my oc likes to draw and I don't know how to draw) listening to music, singing, books,

Homeland: coral sea

Likes: shiny objects, music, cute things, cats, irritate Azul

Dislikes: Spicy things, High places, noisy places, being bored

Unique Magic: Heart of the Sea

ABILITY: creates and controls Water regardless of its state, whether liquid, solid or gaseous, manipulating the surrounding water as you wish (a bit like a waterbender from the avatar universe).

INCANTATION: “feel the waves moving, feel my heart beating, heart of the sea”

Dione Havik

Age: 17

Best subject: alchemy

Birthday: April 19 (Aries)

Class: 1 year 1 a

dorm: octanaville

Club: Board games

Height: 1.66

Hobby: dancing, and anything related to music

Homeland: coral sea

Likes: cute things, old things

Dislikes: high places suffocating places

Unique Magic: Whisper of the Abyss

Ability: her magic, different from her sister's, involves curses, her unique magic is similar to that of vile, but because it is not as powerful, her magic has a limit, so the curse is not eternal and depending on the curse it disappears in a few hours.

INCANTATION: “those who arrived here beware, for you have entered dangerous waters, whisper of the abyss”

Yuumi Yozakura (inspired by the manga mission: Yozakura family, a manga about espionage that I recommend because it's very good)

Age: 17

Best subject: alchemy

Birthday: May 21st (Twins)

Class: 1 year 1 a

Dormitory: Ramshackle (Mayor of Ramshackle)

Club: none

Height: 1.70

Hobby: reading books or manga, anime, watching Disney films, hyperfocus on Greek mythology

Homeland: Tokyo (Japan)

Likes: collecting Disney products, Disney films, manga, anime and Otome style games, collecting bladed weapons or firearms, his brothers.

Dislikes: people trying to rule her life, routine, her father.

She doesn't possess unique magic, but she is a very good martial artist.

A little about each

The twins are from an influential family in the coral sea in the jewelry business, they have an older brother called Adrian, their father is a fae falcon and their mother a nymph (it was explained better in the post about Marina).

Because of the beauty of the jewelry produced by the family, even important families such as the Kingscholar or the Al-Asim buy the jewelry that the Havik produce, giving them a high and influential status.

Yuumi has six siblings, three women and three men, she is the youngest in the family and the next head.

Unlike other families where the firstborn is the heir, the Yozakura choose only women to become the next leader.

The Yozakura family is a family with strength and abilities much higher than ordinary humans, normally the future head is the most human in the family, so Yuumi, being the most normal, is the future leader.

The Yozakura family is a family of spies and assassins for generations, even though they are the most normal of their brothers, they are superior to ordinary humans.

[excelsi-or]

summoned (pt. 1)

hi everyone! it's been a g e s, but we're back! i've been travelling since about May, and definitely thought editing this story wasn't going to take as long as it did. anywho, this is the demon fic that i teased a while back. kinda different from anything else i've put out before. it's inspired by Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, definitely a book worth reading if you haven't yet. let me know what you all think :)

pairing: lee jihoon (woozi) x fem OC/fem reader

w.c. 2.5k (i'm not sure what i'd classify this as tbh. silly, maybe?)

"You want what?"

"A venti and medium–" The rest of what Jeonghan says gets garbled as he speaks. Not from lack of phone connection, but just because she has no idea what he's going on about.

As she stands in line, her eyes skim over the menu in a vain attempt to find anything similar to what she'd heard Jeonghan say. When she reaches the front of the line, she's still clueless.

So, she tries to sound out the garble in the hopes that this barista can translate.

"Venti and me–I mean, grande, fructi paemoni–nope, pomegranate?"

Before she can see if the man has been able to understand anything she said, she feels all the air sucked out of her lungs. Sound disappears and she thinks she's passed out. When she gasps for air, she looks around to get her bearings.

Time seems to have slowed, not stopped.

Her brow furrows, as she tries to gauge if she's had some sort of early life stroke. On a whim, she turns, about to walk out of the place. But she jumps back at the man dressed in a suit now present in front of her. He has dark hair with an undercut, his hair silky. His skin is fair; his body toned, at least based on the way he fills out the suit. But it's his eyes that catch her attention. They're black, seemingly catching no light.

And then he opens his mouth to speak, and she notices the sharpness of his canines.

Vampire?

"Hello, human. Thank you for summoning me." The man's tone is flat, as if he's tired of giving this speech. "I am not a genie. If you ask anything of me, you must give me your soul in exchange."

The furrow in her brow deepens. "Soul? So, you're not a vampire."

If the blackness of his eyes could get blacker, they do. "I am a demon. You have summoned me."

"You're a what?" She juts her thumb back in the direction of the barista. "I was ordering a drink. I wasn't summoning anything. I was literally about to leave, because I thought I was having a stroke!" She lets out a long breath to reign in her hysteria. "I didn't summon you."

The demon looks confused. When she blinks, there's suddenly a piece of paper in his hand. He recites her name, the time, the date; all of which she agrees is correct. Then the demon recites what she said and she holds a hand up to stop him.

"I did not say–what did you say I said?"

"Veni ad me, fructus daemonium."

"I definitely didn't say that. I said something like venti and medium--grande, fuck, Jeonghan oppa's order. I think he wanted some pomegranate fruit something."

The demon stares in disbelief. "So, you didn't summon me."

"God, no. Wait, can I say 'God' in front of you?" She shakes her head, likely stopping herself from rambling than deciding whether 'God' is appropriate in front of a demon. "Regardless, I didn't summon you. And I don't need to trade my soul for anything."

The demon huffs. His dark eyes go over her once and then to a pocket watch. "Look, I have a--what do you humans call it--a quota of sorts. A quota that needs to be filled this millennium."

"What?"

"Human, I have a quota to fill. A certain number of souls to collect. And it has been a very slow start this millennium." The demon snorts. "Fewer young souls are being given up and He prefers the young ones."

"Sorry, Mr. Demon, I really did not mean to call on you or summon you or whatever." She looks back at the café, where one woman has finally put her cup down and a man has finished pressing the period key on his keyboard. "Have you slowed time for everyone? I don't want to be late for my creative meeting."

The demon tilts his head. "There's nothing you want that you would trade your soul for?"

"No, not really."

"A lover who can't be yours, oodles of money," the demon's perfect brows furrow, blinking a couple times, "fame, eternal youth?"

"I'm… pretty content right now." She swears his eyes turn green; she takes a step back. "Seriously, Mr. Demon, there's nothing I want to trade for my soul."

"Call me…" It's his turn to look around the café for inspiration. His eyes catch sight of the barista's name tag. "Call me Jihoon."

"Uh… you can't just leave?"

The demon's expression deadpans. She thought the expression he'd greeted her with was his deadpan expression. This is a bit more horrifying. "I can't just go back to Him and say 'oh, she dialled the wrong number'."

"I can't just have you following me around," she protests. "Won't you ruin my chances of getting into Heaven or something? Being reborn or whatever happens when you die?"

This makes the demon–Jihoon–chuckle. "If you believe in any of those things, human, then I would assume you assume that the beings or forces that control those things are always watching."

"I… don't know if I understand what that means, but whatever. Mr. Demon, you can't–"

A guttural voice replaces Jihoon's bored tone, and he glows red. "Don't tell me what to do, human."

Another step back.

The two of them stare each other down. She knows that a demon probably doesn't need to blink, and she'll lose whatever stare down this is. And he's told her he won't leave.

"Okay. Fine. Stay. But, Jihoon," she winces at the name, doesn't suit his demon image, "you better be visible to everyone. I'm not going to let you con me into giving you my soul to stop people thinking I'm crazy."

Jihoon blinks in surprise. He hadn't thought of that. "Fine, human. I'll be visible."

"And you can't wear the suit. I only have one friend who wears a suit and he's a lawyer. You're probably not going to go off and finish a law degree."

Jihoon's eyes narrow, and now, she's sure they turn green. "Then, what," he pauses, "do you expect," pause, "me to wear?" This silky voice is more threatening than that demon voice he'd used before.

She tries to brush it off by breaking eye contact. There's a guy in the corner of the café that catches her eye. The man is dressed in a denim jacket with a hoodie underneath, plain jeans, and Converse. She nods at the stranger.

"I'm a demon, not a… a college student." If demons could spit venom, this one would.

"Well, I'm also not a college student, Mr. Demon, but that's what guys I know wear."

In a blink, he's dressed in a red hoodie, black denim and black Converse. "Any other requests?"

Best not to push her luck. "No."

Suddenly, she feels a burst of air go through her lungs and the familiar thrum of the café fills her ears again. It's almost too loud now. She turns to the barista and he's reciting her order.

"I think you're asking for a venti and grande very berry hibiscus?"

She waves her phone over the card reader. "Sure."

This barista, non-demon Jihoon smiles at her. "Great. And the name?"

When she arrives on time to her creative meeting, she slides the drinks across the table to Jeonghan and Seungcheol. She collapses into the seat next to Jeonghan, who addresses the problem she’d nearly forgotten on her rush over.

“Who’s the new guy?” he asks.

She grimaces and looks over at Jihoon standing by the door. The demon stands with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly unhappy to be here.

“That’s,” she clears her throat, “Jihoon. He’s…” She studies the demon, who isn’t inclined to help her come up with a lie. Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and Hansol all wait for her to fill in the connection. “He’s my friend that’s visiting. One of my brother’s friends… that came to the city.” This lie eases the knot in her chest, but why is he here? “He doesn’t know the city very well yet, so I… I said that I would take him on a tour after the meeting.”

Her three friends take a second to process this information, before Seungcheol breaks out into a smile. He leans forward on his elbows, so he can look past Hansol at Jihoon. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Seungcheol. This is Hansol. That’s Jeonghan.”

Hansol, who is sat across from her, waves in Jihoon’s direction. When he makes eye contact with her, she notices the very slight furrow in his brow.

She shakes her head in response to his unasked question.

Jeonghan doesn’t notice the exchange; if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he begins the meeting and jumps right into the collaborative contract that she and Hansol are working on. They’re collaborating on a large mural in the city, and the city has just provided feedback on the loose design.

Seungcheol, Hansol’s manager, jots down notes for Hansol.

“So, they want less colour? Why did they choose Hansol then?” Seungcheol shakes his head as he writes.

“They want three colours only,” Jeonghan explains. “Preferably the primary colours in their colour palette.”

“My line work can’t be coloured in with three colours,” she says. “There are skin tones.”

Hansol raises his hand and turns his sketchbook towards the group. He tends to multitask during meetings, which is why Seungcheol takes his notes. “I can just adjust my design. We might not be able to do 3 colours only, because I still want the depth to come through. But I agree, we should keep the skin tones. The whole point of the mural is diversity, and that should be real.”

She looks to Jeonghan. “Can you get them to compromise on skin tone and maybe 6 colours instead of 3?”

Jeonghan makes a note of it in his notebook and then moves onto the next slide.

By the time the meeting ends, Jihoon has his eyes closed, arms still crossed, as he leans against the wall.

“Is he okay?” Jeonghan asks as they collect their things together.

“Uhm, yes, I think so.” She slings her tote bag over her shoulder. “We’ll redo the thumbnails, so that they can choose which set they prefer.”

“They were asking for an earlier deadline, but I told them that would be unlikely with all the things they asked you and Hansol to change.”

Hansol finishes chatting with Seungcheol and motions with his head towards the door. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, that’s–” Hansol’s eyes dart to Jihoon, and she understands the offer. “Right. Sure, okay. That’d be great.”

She wonders if she can just leave Jihoon behind. Do demons actually sleep?

When she meets Hansol at the door, she asks him how his comic is coming along. She says nothing to Jihoon and they walk right out of the room.

Hansol shrugs, glancing at Jihoon, but saying nothing about it. “Seungkwan said he doesn’t like where the story is going.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re making it dark,” she snorts. She readjusts her bag. “And you know how Seungkwan is about dark stuff.”

Hansol nods. He presses the call button for the elevator. “I guess that’s true.”

She knows what Hansol’s thinking. “He’ll catch up.”

Sure enough, Jihoon saunters their way.

Hansol reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. The elevator door slides open and she squeezes Hansol’s hand back twice.

One initial squeeze asks if you’re okay.

One back means yes; two means unsure; a tight squeeze is no.

Hansol frowns at her, but she can’t explain. While Jihoon hasn’t seemed particularly threatening, he’s still a demon.

Periodically on their walk to the subway, she glances back at Jihoon. The demon keeps his distance, but always seems to have her in his sightline.

When they reach the turnstiles, this is the first time she waits for Jihoon to catch up.

“You need a ticket,” she tells him.

Jihoon nods, refraining from rolling his eyes. “I have it sorted.”

She assumes he’ll do some blinky magic that the turnstile will miss. That is, until she and Hansol have passed through, and suddenly the guard manning the booth comes running around. The two of them turn and see a man holding Jihoon by the arm.

“Sir, you need to pay to get in here.”

The red glow begins to pulsate around Jihoon, so she quickly intervenes. “Sorry, he’s a friend of mine that’s visiting. I think he got confused.” She glances at Jihoon, whose gaze is just as steely. 

Okay, earthly solutions only. Her mind runs as quickly as possible.

“Can I pay you for his admission? We’re only going a few stops.”

The guard glares at Jihoon, but when he turns to her, his expression softens. When she smiles, his face relaxes further. “I’ll let the others know. Where are you getting off?”

When he stalks back to his booth, eyeing Jihoon, she tugs once on Jihoon’s denim jacket. It’s warm to the touch. “Come on, Demon. We gotta go.”

Jihoon’s head snaps down to look at her. “Either put a ‘mister’ in front of that or call me Jihoon.”

She pauses to consider her response. Provoke the demon or let it be.

“Jihoon, when you tell me you have things sorted, please, keep it sorted.”

Jihoon looks as if he’s about to argue, but she cuts him off. Her voice is low, so only he can hear. “If you wanted to take my soul, you would have taken it from me already. So, either I need to willingly give it to you or you need to kill me.”

Jihoon’s expression hardens, but he pulls away.

“Now, come on.”

She catches Hansol’s arm and drags him after her.

“Do you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” Hansol frowns.

“He is not my boyfriend.”

Hansol checks over his shoulder. The icy stare isn’t directed at him, so he wonders if she’s aware of the look. “Can he hear me?”

“Assume yes.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Even if I could explain, you wouldn’t believe me.”

He scoffs. “Do you realize who you’re talking to?”

“That’s how unbelievable it is.”

Hansol lifts an eyebrow, his hand reaching for a bar as the train lurches forward. “Well, now I’m more intrigued.”

“When I figure out how to tell you, I will.”

Hansol catches her fingers and gives her hand one squeeze.

She lets out a breath and squeezes back once.

part 2

[adracat]

yes, hello. I’d like to attack you with unrelenting happiness for the next few minutes of your time. it’s a feedback loop originating from and re-projecting back to you.

first of all, seeing your deconstructions after stumbling upon your ao3 makes me regret missing out on the live updates from you and the community here (aniwave comments are dogshit)

thank you for your posts. they let me think critically about and appreciate g-witch that much more from novel analysis perspectives. reading back a bit, especially to your take on scenes such as ep10’s communication clear up, and seeing these pieces given the gravity and respect they deserve, is taking the bite off of the series’ conclusion.

speaking of treating the sulemio shaped hole in the networks from now on, a red tempest is the kind of fic one wishes they could distill and take intravenously at maximum drip.

it won’t be for everyone, and you think law of causality is your best (haven’t read it yet), but it feels like you’re writing professional grade work just for me with how it seemingly doesn’t miss or waste a line. you present a tight ship regardless of whether that’s how you run it. the story feels compact and layer woven yet flows along seamlessly and with that wonderful sense of OC unlimited potential, dropping shadows here and there but keeping me fully on my toes. still in the rising action, but hopefully multiple full arcs…? (worth!)

the spots of canon that you spun into a universe feel weighted, alive with the way your voice gives an inherent gravitas even to small supporting details, and nothing is more alive than your characters.

you do them so well, it’s impossible to stress enough. regardless of where they’re going in the future, where you’ve had them come from and be is so genuine and, in most cases, compliant/paying close homage in their personalities. your dialogue is a breath of life. eri and chuchu particularly, and prospera especially.

there are small things that are subtle like suletta being a bit less anxious at the start, and there are larger things that are less subtle like all of prospera— yours of whom I love— but everything’s working believably and in sync as you craft this beautiful story. my only complaint is that I think the next release is gonna be a sulemio heavy chapter during the job’s sudden distress, and it isn’t this weekend’s release date yet.

there’s a lot else, like the many juxtapositions, the slow burn, and other emotional/literary devices, but while I’ve already spent too long trying to put just this much of a review/praise bomb together, I’ve gotta jaw on a bit more about your fantastic perspective work with clear voices for each heroine. it’s so exciting getting into the younger couple’s heads when it comes to each other. you’re probably going to slaughter me with elnora and notrette, but ch11’s suletta and mio are already doing it with their pining.

thank you. it’s a joy and a pleasure. I hope to read you for a long time to come. I’d ask to share some of your brain chemicals, but reading the product makes mine just as happy. I hope that means we share a brain cell; then I could rise and meet the caliber. o7

That’s so sweet of you! And absolutely; sending you spiritual braincells 🤗 I put a wealth of thought into all my works but something about Sulemio and Prospera✨ sends my brain into overdrive. Law of Causality and A Red Tempest are passion driven works that I’m happy to share with likeminded people. If you ever do decide to give AASB and its sister works a try you may find interesting connections. ART is a bit of a spiritual sequel in a way. Though admittedly ART Prospera may be a rascally devil but is intentionally more likable than LoC ‘Prospera’. I decided to make her pathetic in ART for funsies 👏

Thanks so much for the kind words ❤️Encouragement gives me wings to confidently move forward—just like our merry cast!

[valentinerose529]

Two things I wanna know! (feel free to ignore obviously ^^ )

What are your top 5 favorite characters and why are they your favorite? Could be current favorites, favorites over the years that you still like, favorites in general, etc. Also any media

And/or gimme 1-5 of your ocs - whether they're your favorite, most recent, the one you've been having fun with recently, etc. Tell me some fun facts about them, and why you picked them!

Hope you're having a great day/night - and remember to stay hydrated!

Yes, my day has been lovely so far, and I hope yours has been the same! (Had to take a drink of water when I read this. Ahem.)

Oh boy, I can only pick five? I have been reading since toddlerhood and I have the personal library to show for it. But alright, let's see if I can narrow this down! Buckle up, this got a little long, but technically it's only one paragraph for each character.

Characters I like:

1. Merlin from BBC Merlin has to be one of the top Guys Of All Time. He's fascinating as a character because he sets his entire life on fire one brick at a time. He destroys himself and every chance he has to make things right because he's so desperate to do the right thing by destiny he actually creates his own downfall. I could study that show for ages and how it managed to do exactly the opposite of what it set out to do. I think it's helped by the fact that the actor cast did such an impeccable job carrying that character for like five solid years real-time through that entire story.

2. Halt from The Ranger's Apprentice, both because he's a gruff grumpy asshole and chaos-causer with a secret soft side, but also because you learn that despite being a nobleman by birth his name is really just Halt. He didn't pick it for himself or anything, everyone else in the family had normal names, no as far as we know his parents looked at their firstborn and decided to name him Halt. But I also love him as character because despite all of the shadowy gloom and doom and his introversion, this man does love everyone around him. He literally committed treason to get himself kicked out of his greater responsibilities so he could go rescue his apprentice from the far side of a war. He was fully ready to be banished forever from his kingdom and throw his whole life away so long as he got his apprentice back safely to the kingdom. Best dad ever. (And I say with no hesitation that when I read these books as a youngster I absolutely wanted to be a ranger and that's probably why I'm still trying to be a woodsman today. Still working on the "perfect aim" and "invisibility" parts, but hey, I have a cool-ass cabin in the woods.)

3. I think Ender from the Ender's Game series deserves a mention. Loved him in the movies (loved his sister too, actually--take a guess where I got my name!) but the books did something to me. The books make no effort to present the child soldiers as something good or desirable. Ender is eight years old and he commits a genocide because he thinks it's a game and the adults applaud him. His older brother is a psychopath and Ender is expected to pick and choose which of his brother's traits he himself should emulate. Ender is violent and cold and calculating, but at the same time (at the age of six!!) he learns to strive for kindness. He dedicates the rest of his life to what may be an impossible task, but he cannot stop until he rights the horrific wrong he has committed to the Formics. Regardless of whether humanity was justified in their reaction to the alien race that made the first attempt at eradicating our species, the way the story zooms in and focuses on the actual children involved, the way it continues to follow the story from all different angles before and after Ender's victory, is what makes him and any character from the story an incredible character.

4. Hiccup from How to Train Your Dragon! Dragons are a core staple of my childhood and the stories I love today. (If you zoomed in on me like Riley from Inside Out, I bet you'd find a dragon island or a fantasy island or something in there.) Hiccup's such a fun guy, both the book and movie versions! I didn't get to finish all the books as a kid cause my library was out of the later ones, but I really like them both as characters. Each story is told for a different audience and so Hiccup changes between them, but overall the core of both stories is the bond between Hiccup and Toothless and the overall love that the humans have for their dragons that saves the day. That's great. (Also, movie Hiccup is cute and he was probably a movie crush when I was younger. No, actually, he still is.)

5. Sophie and Agatha from The School For Good and Evil. (Yes that's two, but they're a pair, do not separate them.) Sophie is so fun as a character! The whole thing about the two girls is that they're challenging fate in a way literally nobody else in a fairy-tale world can consider doing! And Sophie is forced into the villain's role. And yes, she does have several qualities that do match up better with villainy than heroism, but how much of that is free will and how much of that is her being forced into it by the Narrator? But despite all that, despite the fact the two are soulmates (ignore the author, I won't forgive him for the book three plot twist. Eugh) and literally destined to be mortal enemies, Agatha never gives up on Sophie entirely. She's always holding out hope that her dearest friend is still there. That series probably did something to me as a kid, and not only because they're both drawn so beautifully on the first-edition covers. I appreciate women greatly. (I just found out there's a book I haven't read yet, so if that contradicts anything I said here, don't tell me lmao.)

I've been writing forever and because I'm so inconsistent with my storytelling methods, a lot of my characters from old projects have been repurposed into new characters (Cori and Ixora, for example, bear some resemblance to an extremely old duo from a story my ten-year-old self never finished). As a result, here's my favorite OCs that have been rounded out the most and have stories I really want to finish writing:

1. My favorite little guy just has to be Ixora! He started out as a fandom oc, and I've never been able to really shake the "Icarus" allusion. But really, I don't want to! He's a normal dude except for the magical bird wings, and he just wants to be kind and help people and be himself, but I can't do that, I have to throw him into situations in which he has to sacrifice that gentleness and become something vicious. He hasn't been able to escape the plot since we were both seventeen years old and now he's 24 and still suffering at my hands. But I keep coming back to him and his story and trying to tell it because I want him to do what's right and I want him to be able to save the day with the power of friendship and kindness. That's the kind of story I want to tell for him.

2. Next up is Mia! She's my silly sweetheart baby and I love her forever. I may have protected a little too strongly on her which is why she's twice as neurodivergent. But I love her as a character because unlike with Ixora, I don't actually force her into situations where she really has to betray her morals and her beliefs. Yes, she ends up in situations where she's scared and lost and struggles to do what's right, but overall her story is about genuinely being kind and gentle and she isn't punished by the narrative for that. The people around her are older and harsher and they recognize that, and they look out for this kid even in the worst and bloodiest situations and because they all care for her it's why they manage to succeed.

3. Following this theme of people who want to be kind and gentle, my newer dude Cassio has been fun to work with! (Name pending) He's a magical healer in a fantasy world where due to his social status and physical location, it was the logical choice for him to learn how to fight and become part of a defensive team. But that's not what he wants, deep down he doesn't want to be a fighter and he wants to be able to use his healing power for good, but he also wants to be selfish and run away from responsibility with his responsible boyfriend and go explore. I created him because I wanted to explore the kind of protagonist that isn't suited for his grand adventure at all, but he does it anyways because it's the right thing to do and if he waits for someone better to come along then he'll have doomed his entire city. And in the end, he'll end up getting that grand adventure after all!

4. Aiden has been another longtime oc, and he's been an experiment for me. See, what makes him unique is the potent regeneration ability that runs in his family, strong enough to make him not age and to even survive death. As a result, he's over two hundred years old, he suffers a lot, and he's sorta lost touch with how to be a normal person. And listen, I have so much fun writing him! Both in working out the limits of what his regenerative powers do to him both physically and mentally, and in working out how his age and experience makes him function on a fundamentally different level than anyone around him. He loves his family to bits, because he's seen multiple generations grow up and old around him. (He's a token weird uncle, but he's a staple of the family.) He's genuinely a curious and friendly guy, but he just can't connect with people the same way because he cannot live and fear and die the way they do. Death is just a painful week for him.

5. Another pair here, but Cori and Lyja are really fun to write and explore their stories. Technically they're not involved with each other's stories a lot as I've been reworking my plot and timeline a whole lot, (Cori belongs to Ixora's story and is the tragic antagonist in many versions of it) but they were designed to be foils to each other. Both of them are otherwise normal individuals that are saddled with a truly dangerous level of magical power that they struggle with, but they react differently in their settings. In their world, the color blue is a negative one (some dangerous species tend to be very blue-colored, and the social stigma arose from that) and both of them have very blue designs physically that are natural coloring, but where Lyja tries to prove that he's not fated to be something evil just because his magic makes his appearance so blue, Cori jumps wholeheartedly into the implication that she's going to be a bad person because she has a bluejay's blue feather patterns on her wings. They both struggle so much with the perceptions their world has about them, but they respond in primarily different ways and the other one represents something that each one of them is deep down scared to be. Lyja wants to blend in and avoid extra notice so he can find goodness in small things, Cori wants to be recognized as something worthwhile whether that's something goodly or terrifying.

Thank you for asking! This was really fun to think about. I always say Ixora is probably my favorite long-standing oc that hasn't been majorly repurposed or abandoned, but actually sitting down and deciding what characters I like from other stories that aren't mine was something I don't do as much and it was really fun to think about.

[ur-dad-satan]

Hi

I want to write but, I have like no motivation to do so. So have a bit of an unnamed OC book about a non-binary college student named Emerald who becomes a supervillain with the goal of getting revenge on everyone who wronged them and their friends starting with the person who started it all. It's just part of the first chapter and the whole plot isn't fleshed out yet. I don't even know if I'm going to finish this book, but maybe if enough people actually like it, I'll post the whole chapter.

(TW for deadnaming, bigotry, etc. You don't have to read, but please at least look at the picrews of the characters at the bottom. I worked hard on them please)

Later that day, I had finally made it back to mine and Felix's apartment. Felix seemed to have just gotten home too because they were rummaging through the fridge and still wearing one of my sweaters.

"Hello my favorite queer!" I greeted in a sing-song voice. I could tell that Felix was rolling his eyes with a goofy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, fruit!" Felix greeted back. We always called each other silly names like that. It was fun and we never got mad because we respected each other's boundaries. "How were your boring classes?"

"Boring, just like you said. And yours?"

"I didn't fall asleep during Mr. Thompson's class today so that's a plus. And we did a lab during Mrs. Graham's class!" Felix said excitedly and started to ramble on about some drama between these two random people in their math class. 

Felix was one of the most important people in my life. I loved them to death, from their bright red dyed hair, their fern green eyes, and their bright, crooked, and contagious smile, they were my best friend. I always had their back and I know that they would have mine too. An hour or two later, there was a knock on the door. Felix and I were both sitting on the couch and quickly did a game of 'rock, paper, scissors' to see which one of us would open the door, which I lost. When I opened the door, Alex and Ryder were stood there with small bags and wide smiles. 

"Hey guys!" I greeted.

"Hi Em!" Ryder said pulling me into a hug and placed a small platonic kiss on my forehead. He was taller than me and wouldn't let me forget it; I didn't mind though. Even though he was anti-confrontational, he would still protect us if anything happened. A true gentle giant if I do say so myself.

"Hey babes." Alex smiled and also gave me a tight hug. Alex was the gremlin of the group. She was always down for anything whether it would be fighting, telling a waiter/waitress that they got our food wrong, or anything in between. They were unpredictable, but we loved them regardless. After exchanging pleasantries, we turned on some music and all started to get ready to go to dinner.

*.*.*.*.*.

I didn't think that day - this one singular dinner - would put me on my current path, but here we are.

After dinner, we decided that we weren't done having fun yet. It's Friday night and we're young adults! Why shouldn't we be able to have fun with a little alcohol!? So, we four decided to walk downtown and enjoy the scenery. We decided to go to a little bar not far from Fe and I's apartment so we could all just crash back there afterwards. We stayed in the bar for a little while and noticed that the bartenders had changed two people with dyed hair, nose piercings, and pins on their clothes, to a bored looking couple.

"Let's get more drinks!" Alex suggested happily over the music.

"Okay, but not too much! Some of us have to work tomorrow, right?" Felix reminded which Ryder nodded in agreement to. He worked at a library, and no one wants to get help from a grumpy librarian. Alex fist pumped in excitement before pulling us toward the bar to order.

"Hey, I'm Lindsey and I'll be your bartender for tonight. What can I get you?" The femme presenting bartender greeted us with a fake smile. I didn't know why at first, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen her before. 

"Hi! I want a Mojito, please!" Alex ordered. He was having the time of his life and already a little bit tipsy. After that, Felix ordered a Tequila Sunrise, Ryder got a "Dark and Stormy", and I got a simple Whisky Sour. Lindsey nodded and turned away to start making our drinks. To lessen the load, she told a guy to do some to help her and our drinks were done in like five minutes.

"Okay! One Tequila Sunrise for the red head." She started and handed Felix their drink. " A Mojito for the hyper girl," She gave Alex his drink causing his smile to fall a bit. He had a big "he/him" pin on his top loud and proud. "A Dark and Stormy for the tall one, and a whisky sour for the brown-haired girl." Lindsey ended and gave Ryder and I our drinks as well. I was going to say thank you and let go of the misgendering because not everyone knows what the non-binary flag looks like, but I noticed that Alex looked upset. I couldn't just not say anything.

"Thank you, but actually you got some of our pronouns wrong." I said politely. Lindsey looked at me with a blank expression and didn't move to say anything for a moment.

"Oh. That's crazy. Sucks I guess." She said with a small laugh. I looked around at my friends and noticed Ryder giving Lindsey the most criminal side eye.

"First of all, that's basic respect. You don't have to do anything but say sorry and correct yourself. Second, you... wait- I remember you. Lindsey Smith? From Thermopolis, Wyoming?" I asked and silently hoped that I was wrong.

"Yeah? Do I know you?" She asked. I looked down at the drink in front of me and let out a rough sigh. My chest started to burn in vexation and when I looked up, I made eye contact with Felix.

"You know what? You do." I started. "Have I ever said what made my parents put me in Rightside Camp? You guys remember Rightside, yeah? Alex? Ryder? Do you remember the "treatments" that they put us through before the age of 17?" I asked making sure Lindsey could hear. All three of my friends looked up at me; Ryder's eyes got wide, and Alex sunk in his seat and stirred his drink slowly before taking a small sip as the venom filled words dripped from my lips.

"You haven't told me yet, Em." Felix said. I laughed humorlessly and began my lament.

"When I was a freshman in high school, I figured out that I was non-binary. I wanted to tell my best friend who knew everything about me because I thought I could trust her. I went up to her one morning at school and I said 'Hey Linds,'" I looked up at Lindsey to see her looking confused and a bit annoyed. "'I have something really important to tell you, but I'm still figuring it out, so you can't tell anyone. Okay?' And she said 'okay.' I told her 'I think I'm non-binary. I don't feel like a girl and I'm definitely not a boy.' And she said that she wouldn't tell anyone. By second period, the whole grade knew. By lunch, the entire student body knew. By last period, every teacher in our conservative school was looking at me like I had a disease. When I got home, my parents were waiting for me at the door. Do you know what they did Fe?" I asked Felix but kept looking at Lindsey.

"What happened?" I could hear the worry in their voice. 

"They sent me to Rightside, a conversion camp, at the ripe old age of 15 years old. They took so much from me all because one little girl decided to gossip, and say shit against her friend's back. All because one little girl craved attention or whatever so much that she would completely betray and out her own best friend. So yes, Lindsey Smith, you do know me. And even if you don't remember me, I remember you. You ruined my life." Lindsey looked at me like I had said the most outrageous thing she had ever heard.

"Eliza Johnson?" she asked incredulously.

"That hasn't been my name in years. It's Emerald now." I was silently seething at this point, and I couldn't tell whether I wanted to either leave, or drown in my whisky.

"Well, whatever your name is, I'm sorry you feel this way, but it's not my problem. It's been like 10 years since then, and I'm working. Maybe you should have been more careful with telling people your secrets." The brunette said in a disgustingly condescending tone.

"Okay, I don't know who you think you're talking to but-" I started to become loud as the hurricane of anger, hatred, disgust, and so much more started to bubble over and spill onto the fire that was that memory, before Ryder and Felix could pull me away from the counter in an attempt to defuse the situation.

"Okay! That's enough! Em, honey! It's okay. Calm down. That bigot isn't worth your breath." Ryder turned me away to make me focus on him and calm down. Felix also held onto me to make sure I couldn't go back to argue with her. I'm not religious, but I thank God for the friends that I have. Wait, friends!

"Alex! Where is he?!" I turned around and saw Alex looking extremely angry while talking to Lindsey and the guy who helped her make our drinks.

Bonus: I made Picrews of the characters so these are my favorites of each. In order, meet Alex Gonzales, Emerald Johnson, Felix Hall, and Ryder Hassan. Picrew creators are in the pictures.