#she is bold I like it

[floodlight-bridge]

The fact that there is an intensity to eye contact that can change, be changed during, is so crazy and my favorite thing about it. It’s like when you read in a book the eyes fill with desire. A heat. I almost don’t want this…we’lll call it flirting to come to a head w this woman, it’s been so fun, but…the desire.

She made me food. I walked her to her car and finally kissed her. I am v happy.

Having some of the best sex of my life, she made albondigas it was incredible, and the communication is something I’ve never had. Not used to someone wanting to take care of me, just because.

[miguxadraws]

teaching pomni how to dance

what type of music would they dance to? i dont even know! but i think dancing with your partner or teaching them how to dance is the peak of wholesomeness!! actually adorable...

astral circus AU belongs to @chelledoggo

[sovonight]

unexpected hug

(sketch)

[boxdstars]

one sided homoerotic rivalry trope my beloved

ft. clora as always @choccy-milky

[liillyliilly]

I Need A Challenge

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 3804 synopsis; she writes a scathing review of ushijima's volleyball skills. how else should he respond if not by inviting her out to dinner?

She was tired of people like him. People who had no reason to be so stereotypically perfect. Everyone knows the type, comically good looking, is a prodigy in their one specific thing, acting so nonchalant that it ends up becoming their token personality trait. It was all so boring to her.

Which is why, as she was taking notes in the most recent Volleyball Nations League game, she wrote down some very harsh words for her analysis of star spiker Ushijima Wakatoshi. It was just the brutally honest truth of the world, she reasoned. Her editor, after reading the article she wrote at the game, almost dropped their jaw in shock at what she had written.

“This is really,” Editor Xhou sucked in some air through his teeth, “This is almost borderline libel material.”

She inspected her nails, shrugging as Xhou kept talking to her.

“I mean, you said that he is, and I quote from your own words, ‘Ushijima is the default setting for a volleyball player, there’s nothing too particularly unique’. You want me to let the paper publish this?” Xhou leans back into his office chair, pushing his glasses up and sighing.

“I write the truth, and the truth is that when Ushijima is on the court, you always know the exact plays he’ll make, the exact moves he’ll execute. The result is consistently the same. The games are too predictable when he plays.” She stands up from the seat opposite to Xhou.

Xhou sets the paper on his desk, checking that she really is okay with the article having her name attached to it.

A thumbs up is the only response she gives to her supervisor.

Xhou stamps the paper with his name, and faxes the documents to the coordinator putting together the sports magazine review for this issue. He wonders if the legal team is going to get involved again, he remembers the last player she reviewed, he was crushed and had to move to Alaska to play in a much smaller league. Xhou fully believes he’s going to get the magazine sued for letting her article fly.

Tendou finishes his squat set, hanging up the weights with a heave. Ushijima finishes his hundredth bicep curl, finally finishing his repetitions of this exercise.

Tendou pokes some fun, “I'm so sad for people without legs, they have to skip leg day.” He muses, trying to see what reaction or comment his best friend will make. Tendou twists and flexes in the full length mirrors lining the gym.

Ushijima only responds with a nod. He checks his phone, only to see that he’s received a little over four hundred notifications and counting. The beeping and noises start to pile up. Tendou peeks over Ushijima’s shoulder and gasps, he steals Ushijima’s phone away and immediately investigates what all the hustle and bustle could be related to.

“You should probably read this article, I think the writer has it out for your throat Wakatoshi.” Tendou grimaces while handing the phone back.

He skims the article, viewing the main talking points and major issues the author brings to light about his play style. His boring, everyday genius playstyle. He’s read criticisms of his volleyball skills before, but this one doesn’t seem too targeted solely about him, just using him as the mechanism to get a broader point across about the lack of challenges in volleyball recently. He chuckles at one of her comments, reading it aloud.

“Monster generation? I need a real challenge from these players, but all they’re giving me is platinum dreams without true passion and anger for the sport. I want them foaming at the mouth with new tricks, but I’m getting the same exact game over and over again.” Tendou cringes as Ushijima reads the words out loud. Ushijima stifles another chuckle.

Ushijima tucks his phone into his pocket, picking up his duffel bag. “I like her. She knows volleyball.”

It wasn’t just her comments, it was also the name of the author that Ushijima liked.

Tendou drops his water bottle in response to Ushijima’s behavior, stunned at the openness of amusement he has for the article and for the investment he has for this particular reporter.

Ushijima’s manager says that she’ll have a cease and desist letter issued to the paper for publishing such a slanderous piece. Ushijima proposes an entirely different solution.

She didn’t expect to be sitting at a restaurant, pencil and paper in hand, waiting for someone she just dragged through the mud to arrive so they could share a meal and an interview.

It was winter, and her reading glasses had fogged up slightly in the difference between the outdoors temperature and the warmth of the restaurant. The main features of the restaurant was the Western Style dining choices and decor, it reminded her almost of a hibachi place, but instead of Japanese food it was just a bunch of American and European dishes.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Ushijima pulls out his chair and settles into it, grabbing his glass of water so he can drink from it.

“High school seemed so long ago, but yes it is nice to see you again Wakatoshi. Sorry for the piece, your name just carries the right amount of importance to get my bigger points across.” She crosses her legs, setting her pencil behind her ear. The waiter comes around and takes their orders. He asks for the salmon, and she gets the house soup.

“No, I totally get it. But the statement about how people just continually eat up the single dish I serve? I thought you would’ve found a better analogy for my consistency on the court.” He just smiles at her, watching her move the pencil from behind her ear to her mouth so she could chew on it a little. One of her tells of when she was deeply thinking about how to respond to something.

Ushijima remembers all the stories she would write back in high school, ranging from sports analysis of Shiratorizawa clubs for her journalism extracurricular to getting paid to write love letters from person to person. She garnered enough money to pay for a new laptop and her entire wishlist of stationery items.

He remembers her lending him a pen once during class, it was a weightier metal pen. The ink was so black he was sure it was made of pure darkness. While he admired the pen she went into a rant talking about the pen itself, the quality of it and how it took forever to be delivered to her. They both got chastised by the teacher for having a side conversation and had to sit outside the classroom. But they ended up talking outside the classroom despite being told not to.

“Like you’d know what a good analogy looks like.” She hides her smirk behind a spoonful of soup. Ushijima appreciates her ability to be unapologetic, her honesty and bluntness matching his own linguistic traits.

They talk for three hours, about volleyball, life after high school, the article she wrote, about friends and the situations they found themselves in. Ushijima talks about Tendou and his chocolatier aspirations, she brings up Semi Eita’s new album that actually sounded truly alternative and unique.

He remembers her having a crush on Semi throughout high school. He didn’t really see why she would sit at their practices sometimes, just sighing wistfully, before freezing and turning flustered when Semi tried to make conversation like a normal person. But when Semi was seen to be a slight habitual complainer, she grew a distaste for him. Ushijima was sure that Semi was her longest crush, clocking in at around two months or so.

Ushijima did enjoy that she came to their practices sometimes, because then he could ask her about her pen collection and she would openly, loudly, and enthusiastically layer on every detail she could fit into her remarks. And she was someone who asked him about his favorite things, primarily volleyball but also about reading the advertisements in the Weekly Shonen Jump Magazine. Or about how good a runner’s high could feel sometimes.

Around her, he could share without fear of being misunderstood. She just accepted what she heard, and then analyzed it, taking her time and asking clarifying questions. He did his best to emulate her mannerisms and tact within their conversations, usually failing, but she didn’t mind.

She did openly declare an aversion for him throughout high school, that genius powerhouses should never be entertained with acknowledgement. What others considered harsh from her was almost like beaming encouragement for him. It was like she was telling him, if he didn’t continually improve and advance then the stagnation would leave him in the dust. A push in the right direction was more accurate of why she would say what she did about him.

He takes the bill from her, puts his gold debit card on the clipboard, and returns it to the waiter before she can even open her purse. Rolling her eyes, she sets some bills on the table and slides it over to him. Glaring at him until he accepts the cash and puts the bills into his wallet.

“Are you dating anyone right now?” Ushijima inquires while they walk down the street to get to the train station. The night air leaves a chill around the two of them. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, and she had her arms folded over her body.

Snow falls from the sky, catching the lights and making streaks of color burst in small flickers like fireflies. The piled up snow in the roads hadn’t yet been plowed thoroughly, and wasn’t sullied with pollution that made it yellow and black. The snow was much more like a blanket.

“Listen, I’m what people consider easy to love but hard to please. Most people say they felt like they were never enough for me when we were dating.” She bites on her bottom lip a little. It’s a confusing feeling to be unnerved by him, and she feels even more uneasy when she realizes that she’s speaking too openly. “I don’t intentionally degrade those I date, I just, I have high expectations. I don’t give many second chances.”

His breath comes out in puffs of white, winter nipping at his nose which makes him feel uncomfortable. He wonders if she’s as cold as him. He knew that she had high expectations, none of the boys at their high school got remotely close to being romantically involved with her. She wanted more than what most people could offer. She wanted someone who was as open as her.

She feels a little guilty about her article now. Maybe she pushed the words a little too much on his bad qualities. Ushijima really wasn’t that bad, he was just dependable and rational, which crafted his playstyle of being an ultimate pillar of strength for a team. Why shouldn’t a team go with the most reliable way of scoring points? Then she shooed the thought. If volleyball wanted to keep being popular, it needed to evolve.

“I liked your article a lot.” He offers, segwaying the conversation, knowing her thoughts better than she knew them. “Power goes far, but even then, there’s ceilings that need to be broken. There’s talents that need to be unearthed, planted, and then allowed to bloom.”

They sit on the bench under the covering for the train station. The screen shows that the train she needs to take will come in around ten minutes.

“Thanks. My editor was worried you were going to sue me for what I wrote.” She laughs a little, rubbing her hands against her thighs to build up some lingering heat in her hands and her body.

He passes her his gloves from his jacket pocket. Making a small hum he waves them in front of her. She accepts and embraces the black fleece covering her fingers.

“Oh, no, there’s no way I’d want you to be sued. But I do want you to add another part to the article.” He blows some air onto his hands, rubbing them together. She raises an eyebrow inquisitively, turning towards him on the bench.

Once he had finished reading her piece on Ushijima’s game, he went through and read all her other articles. He found out her favorite current player was actually Hinata Shouyou, the energetic innovator. She had written about his unique approach, due to natural athleticism. Also about his experience in Brazilian beach volleyball making his defense skills unique in the field of both Japanese volleyball and on a global scale. It was all about Hinata this, Hinata that. But could the ultimate decoy ever compare to the pillar of strength?

“What do you want me to change? I can’t make any promises.”

“Say I’m your number one, because I don’t do last place.” Ushijima lifted her chin up, looking right into her eyes. He inspects her face, the small miniscule motions her features display show that she’s listening, actively listening. “Did I ever mention that you’re the only one that has my attention?”

She really was. The only reporter he cared to give quotes to after big games, the only girl who he ever wondered if there was any possibility to develop a relationship with. He was hooked on every word she wrote, every interview she hosted online. She was in his world, but never overlapped her social circle with his for longer than an hour at best.

She swallows thickly, “I’m sorry to say this, but I really am unimpressed by your playstyle.”

He raises an eyebrow, sliding his hand from her chin to the side of her neck. He can feel the way her pulse is racing under her skin.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Her train arrived. She ducked under his hand and made her way onto the train. Before the sliding door closes, she motions him closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Then show me your talents. I need a challenger for my first place.”

Tendou lies on his stomach on the floor, Ushijima is reviewing some plays written by his coach. He scans for any play that could show off his left hand spikes, or any play that he could try and improvise a receive if he wasn’t on the front row rotation. The plays are different from what he’s used to. But his coach said that they were all optional, and that Ushijima’s playstyle was perfectly fine as it was. But ‘fine as is’ doesn’t earn him any accolades in her book.

Tendou perks up, “I always felt like fighting had romantic undertones.” He references what Ushijima had told him about how the dinner with his reporter went last week.

“But I don’t want to fight her? I’d hardly call a slight disagreement a fight.” Ushijima sets aside the packet he had been studying.

He opens his phone and refreshes the webpage for the newspaper she worked for. When nothing pops up under her name, he goes to the calendar page to see if she’d be attending an upcoming game he’d be playing in. He sets his phone aside when he realizes she will in fact be in attendance.

“But you do want to fight for her ‘first place’ hottie player ranking.” Tendou kicks his feet in the air, crossing his feet and tapping the top of his head.

Ushijima stands up and goes to check his closet, seeing if he needs to get a tighter jersey for the upcoming game. “She never used the word ‘hottie’ when talking about her favorite player.”

“So you admit that you do want to be her favorite player?”

Ushijima finishes trying on the jersey over his long sleeve compression shirt, the jersey fitted better than he remembered. He tugs on the front of the uniform. Then what Tendou said clicks for him.

Ushijima blinks, “I do want to be her favorite player.” He doesn’t see why he would deny that observation. Being her favorite player would be the ideal situation for him.

Tendou rolls over onto his back and wiggles his pointer fingers in the air, “You want to be more than just her favorite player.” He sings the words in a teasing manner.

“Maybe I do.”

One time, near the end of high school, she was talking during lunch. Her friends were uninterested, wanting to discuss boys or homework instead of her critical worldview analysis. Her table was right next to the table that Ushijima and Tendou were sitting at, their volleyball friends already outside tossing around a ball.

Ushijima listened in, drinking his milk while Tendou ate chicken nuggets. When her voice got quieter, almost to the point of fading out entirely due to her slowly realizing her friends were not as interested in the conversation as she was, Ushijima leaned in subconsciously, trying to catch her words.

Tendou pinched Ushijima, telling him that if he wanted to listen to her, he should ask her to come sit with them. Ushijima froze. So Tendou invited her to come sit with them. Placing her lunch tray down, she ate a carrot, sensing Ushijima’s hesitance and Tendou’s eagerness.

It was Ushijima that spoke first, “Keep going. You remind me of someone. He said almost the same thing, about his worthless pride and not forgetting about it.”

She brightens. Continuing her dissection of the value of pride, she refers to Ushijima as a reference point for pride. Using him in her examples and demonstrations of her illustrative examples. Around the third time she says his family name, he makes another request.

“You can just call me Wakatoshi.”

Tendou drops his chicken nugget, but quickly regains his pace in eating the arms off the dinosaurs.

She says his name, once and then twice. Letting it settle onto her tongue and leave a trace of what a first name basis could mean. Pondering on that instead of her newest philosophy interest is quickly dropped. She only ever calls him by his name from then on.

Needless to say, the next game he plays at, she’s there, with her notepad and pen. Each receive, hit, serve, and toss is carefully recorded on her paper.

He doesn’t do anything too off the typical, but he does try new things his coach had mentioned. Pressuring an opponent’s highest scorer more, trying a few block kills when he’s in the right rotation, scoring some points off the tip of the blockers hands instead of cutting right through their attempts to defend. He’s more tired after this game than his last one. Yet, he had more fun this time around. His teammates seemed thrilled with the results of never having a gap less than five points.

After the game, before he goes to the locker room to debrief with the team and change into regular clothes, he stalks his way over to her. She’s talking to another reporter that had been sitting in the media section, but the other reporter just elbows her lightly when he notices Ushijima making an attempt to approach. The other man slowly walks away, bidding her a farewell.

She’s still sitting on the bench, cheekily covering her notes with her hand, and writing something down. When he takes a place next to her, he spreads his legs a little, expanding his presence and bumping their thighs into each other. She initially retracts from the touch, but relaxes into it.

He’s aware that his body is thinly sheened with sweat. It drips from the hair at his nape down his back and soaks into his player kit. She brings her notepad up to her face, looking at him over the spiral binding of the paper. Trying to hide her comments and analysis of the game, which had been overwhelmingly positive for Ushijima.

“What’s your professional opinion of the game?” He uses a finger to push down her notepad that was covering her nose. A streak of ink and pencil lead was across her cheek and nose. He brought his thumb up and wiped away the markings. At first swipe, nothing moved, so he slid his thumb over again with just a little more pressure.

“It was entertaining in a different sense. Rather than being solely athletic entertainment.” She licks her own thumb and finishes wiping away all the marks that she could feel him trying to get rid of. She misses a sliver on the apple of her cheek but he doesn’t say anything, enjoying the way that it makes her seem less intimidating and more adorable.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Well, when a certain player keeps trying to make eye contact during the game, when he should instead be invested in the game, it does pose some interesting investigative questions.”

At this point, Ushijima slid his hand to her thigh, asking her to explain further, “Such as?”

“When will he get up the nerve to ask her on a date? Will he take her for a ride in that brand new car he got? Does he need glasses from how frequently it seemed he scrutinized the audience in search of her?” She pauses, then continues, “And will he be mad if she writes something about how attentive the setter was during the game?”

“Soon, for the date. Most definitely a long car ride to the mountains. His vision is actually perfectly 20/20, he just wanted to make sure she was having a good time by observing her reactions. No comments for the setter, he’s a rookie, and much less attentive than an older, more experienced player.”

She hums a little in regards to his answers to her inquiries. Soon, she tugs on the back of his hand, the hand that was resting on her thigh. She bites the cap off her pen, waving the pen in the air, close enough to his skin for him to understand the point of what she was communicating.

The pen tickled the skin of his hand, but he liked the way she put one hand under his to make his hand rest flat so she could write her piece on his body. Capping the pen back up, she tucked it behind her ear.

Written on his hand was a series of numbers, along with a small doodle of a volleyball.

Getting up from her spot on the media bench, she leaves him with a short statement.

“I liked your response to my challenge. Keep making the Monster Generation bloom with each game Wakatoshi.” She halts for a moment, then turns back to him, “You can be my number one on those conditions. Blooming the Monsters and responding to my challenges.”

He’d return every challenge she gave him if it meant he could be hers.

[gunlicker13]

when storch gets serious (inspired by this video from @joetastic2739 )

[satoruxx]

the way i was staring at my screen when mc threw a whole ass cup at caleb and he just stood there after it shattered and said "did that help you calm down?" in the most relaxed voice ever..

[idontmindifuforgetme]

A major annoying thing about being in a male dominated stem field (chemistry for me) is you basically work w guys 99% of the time & they ALL think you have a crush on them if you’re even fleetingly nice. And so far I’ve refused to water down my personality to compensate for it but it’s so annoying knowing I’m inadvertently feeding into someone’s unchecked ego

[anteroom-of-death]

It always drives me insane, but especially now, how people dismiss 12 and Clara as romantic canon or eventually subtextually romantic. We've seen the Doctor in Canon romantic love. We've seen the Doctor in Canon best friends situations.

With his arguably biggest (based on how insane the fandom and writers, especially rtd are/cling onto) nu who love interest, Rose. When she's in danger he's fawning and doesn't bend. 10, especially isn't furloughed in morals as much as 12. (Or 9, but this is a different talk for another day.) He's not laying awake thinking if he's good or evil. He just accepts and goes.

When Rose and the whole Doomsday plot happens, all 10 does is burn up a sun to say good-bye. (Then treat Martha like shit until uWu Donna time.)

With Clara, he frequently goes to the next level. Hell, most his words in seasons 8 and 9 is her name! He's jealous in a way he never was with Mickey at Danny. He's constantly at odds with himself. He feels and acts legitimately threatened.

When she is finally dying. He loses all pretense, gives into his urges and threatens genocide, holds hostage, coups and kills. He is willing to undo his past of saving Gallifrey from falling, to save her. Keep her. Hold her.

It's only when Clara reels him in does he think differently. Go a different route. Be nicer. Chose a shard of kindness to the rest of the universe.

They both brought out the best and worst in each other until the bitter end.

"Friendship" my ass. That's real, toxic, deep all-consuming love.

[matchalovertrait]

Dulce and Caruso's second date went as smoothly as the ice cream they ate! However, it seems that Caruso was taking too long to ask Dulce out, so she had to take matters into her own hands.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

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[everybody-loves-purdy]

If my theory about Starlingpaw being the two faced cat is true, and he is also a POV from next book, then one thing I really hope happens is that he murders Leafstar. I think that would be a chilling and exceptional cliffhanger for warriors, having a new POV murder beloved character in cold blood.

Then the next book would be him trying to hide what he did, while also possibly being haunted by Leafstar if he does indeed have ghost powers, although my concern with that would be if it were to be too reminiscent of Moonpaw’s plotline, so it would probably work best if Leafstar were being distant and silent, just watching him and making him feel her presence, waiting for justice to be served.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

the funniest thing about the "call us jaladdin" line is that i have not stopped referring to the two of them as jaladdin since watching rise of red for the first time

[felikatze]

i would kill for belle and sage interacting. i bet they're each other's worst nightmare.

belle looking at sage and seeing a girl who still gets her father's love but in return she's part of the same ideals that hurt the friends she's made and oppose her new life. a stern reminder that what belle wants is simply impossible to obtain anymore.

sage looking at belle and seeing that love is not unconditional. that she can fall out and be abandoned. that she is not special. she is replacable. she is the replacement.

frontiers idw adaptation when they'd probably kill it

[mystxmomo]

OC interview tag

(answer the questions for your OC as if your character were answering them)

I got tagged by @mogruith. I love being included, thank you for including me and letting me write in a character voice.

Enclave time.

== For the sake of simplicity, the interview is taking place in her preferred Tongue: High Drow. ==

Are you named after anyone?

"No. Not to my knowledge," She's quiet, though after a few seconds, she snorts and says, "Honestly, if my mother had it her way, I probably would not have been named at all. But alas. To the misfortune of everyone involved, I sit before you today all the same."

When was the last time you cried?

She does not look like she has any interest in answering this question, and in fact looks a little baffled that you asked her?

"Mm. No."

Do you have kids?

"Well, I suppose that depends! Are we limiting this to children who are alive, or will dead ones suffice in consideration?" Despite her tone, she does seem a little unsure as to whether people consider their dead children as still being... their children, and so it is clarified to her that yes, she should consider her dead children as part of this. She gives a long exhale, as though that's something rather tedious to be doing, but considers it all the same, "Ah. Well. I have had four, however none of them made it out of the underdark. Put bluntly, only one really survived until adulthood..."

She trails off, looking a little troubled.

Worth mentioning, of course, this is not considering the adopted child she has that she does not consider her child despite the author absolutely considering him her child

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

With the flattest expression imaginable, "No."

This... seems to be a joke? It's a little hard to tell.

She pours more wine into her goblet.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

"How attached they are to their weapons," She doesn't look up as she says this. It's the first question she seems to answer without needing to put much thought into it, "And how visible those weapons are, I suppose. It does not matter how kind you are when your hand sits next to your blade for most of the conversation," Enclave looks off to the side. Her own blade remains unseen, however is undeniably within reach, "I suppose I cannot fault anyone for being suspicious, though. Lest I be a hypocrite within the framework of my own standards."

Scary stories or happy endings?

"I am not really a .... story... person..." She looks a little apprehensive. Unlike the other questions she'd skipped over, she does offer this some amount of consideration, rolling the goblet between her fingers as she does, "If I had to make a choice, I would still say neither. I prefer stories grounded in reality, and reality tends neither be so kind or straightforward in the tone of it's ending."

Then, she mutters to herself, "Besides. There is nothing more irritating than a bard who dramatizes for the sake of performance."

Any special talents?

"I have many. I have none I am willing to share."

Where were you born?

"The Underdark. It does not matter beyond that."

Again, this is something she otherwise has no interest in expounding upon. Even when further pressed on the matter, she just offers a blank stare in return.

Do you have any pets?

"What? No. With the kind of life I lead, why would I?" Her lips thin in disdain and she rubs her eyes.

She does not consider the stray cat she feeds when she's in town as being her pet, even if everyone else around her absolutely would.

What sort of sports do you play?

"... I have never been the sort particularly inclined towards sport, and was fortunate enough to have the luxury to avoid those," Her idea of sports being largely influenced by her time within the outskirts of drow nobility and the bloodsports they indulged in, she seems rather concerned with the question. Even after clarification that the question probably means less "blood" and more "ball", she only offers;

"Ah.." and, "I suppose I prefer to rest when I have the chance. I spend too much time on my feet as it stands."

The pun seems intentional, though her expression does not break when she says it.

How tall are you?

".... 5'0"

What was your favourite academic subject?

"...." She momentarily looks like she's going to need further clarification on this. But she does not ask for that clarification.

"History. Not what was taught, but what was true," She traces the rim of her glass, her gaze far-off, and rather distracted seeming, "... I suppose if you wanted a straightforward answer, I was always inclined towards the arcane. A shame, really. Being so invested in the arcane continues to reflect poorly on my character."

What she means by this, we are unsure.

What is your dream job?

"Anything besides what I'm fucking doing now," She says, switching to common to answer that. Not unlike earlier, though her expression doesn't change, this also seems to be a joke. She grabs her head, rolls her eyes, and with less venom to her tone eventually finishes by saying, "... I did quite like being a teacher. I would love to do so again one day, under kinder circumstances."

...

Tagging @bluejeanne & @mmigrainee, if you want to talk about your oc's. And anyone else that wants to be included.

[candycandy00]

I turn 40 this month.

[hyrules-warrior]

AU Where Shadow and Maria actually escape the facility in the movie and are just 2 kids on the run

Gerald distracts the GUN soldiers enough that Shadow and Maria and able to escape the facility where they then hide in the woods.

It's then two kids just trying to hide and survive. Shadow is basically feral in his efforts to keep Maria safe. He is suspicious of anyone they meet and will just throw himself in front of anyone and anything to protect her.

Imagine if it was even more of an AU and GUN and the scientists were studying Shadow during the events of the first Sonic movie and the base raid happens after the second Sonic movie so Maria is alive and a child in current time (no 50 years of stasis for Shadow). Maybe eventually they run into Sonic and everyone else while being on the run from GUN and join the Wachowski family. Shadow is still suspicious, quiet and overprotective of Maria even with the safety the Wachowski's provide. Tom and Maddie are just glad to have an actual human child join the family and a girl at that!

I think Maria would have fit into their family so well. So it would be so interesting to see her and Shadow join the gang.