#special mention oc

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday

Tagged by no one but timezones are weird so it's a given that my Monday is someone's Sunday (or Tuesday... if that works like that).

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @strangefable @josephseedismyfather @chazz-anova @adelaidedrubman @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @poisonedtruth @cassietrn @shallow-gravy @gaeadene @g0dspeeed and @ishwaris

As per the announcement I made yesterday, there is now 8 days to go until Jurassic World Before The Storm from my @the-untitledverse-blog is released. In celebration, I'm sharing three music choices for the fic in question, a FC5 OC from my @the-silver-chronicles blog and a protagonist from my @life-despair-and-monsters-blog if anyone is interested.

Tomorrow will be some OC information for the upcoming fic if anyone is interested. I'll be putting up some OC ask games on my Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters blogs as well.

Below is the music.

Here's a song for the upcoming Jurassic World fic, which is of course a Jurassic World song, as the occasion calls for it:

Life Finds A Way by NerdOut

"This power right in our hand, new world we couldn't resist But things don't follow the plan, problems that shouldn't exist How many times will we test this but we never learn? There's things we shouldn't have messed with We're watchin' it burn, no matter how much we pretendin' Life wasn't meant to be contained, life finds a way

Trapped in our own disaster, they've been here before The road we're on, they're gonna be here after Yeah, it finds a way, yeah, it finds a way And this time, no matter how much we're pretendin' Life wasn't meant to be contained, life finds a way."

Here's the song for the FC5 OC of mine, under the name Paul Yellowjack, who is Silva's adopted father... well, formerly that is. Here's the song:

A Man Without Love by Engelbert Humperdinck

"I cannot face this world that's fallen down on me So if you see my girl, please send her home to me Tell her about my heart that's slowly dying Say I can't stop myself from crying

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up Lonely is a man without love Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out Lonely is a man without love."

And here's a song for my Life, Despair & Monsters WIPs. Gives me a "protagonists vs antagonists" sort of vibe that I can't help but enjoy. Here's the song:

Take This City by Everfound feat. Joel of for KING & COUNTRY

"Apathy is killing me We could be the saints down on our knees Lifting each other Out of ashes out of ruins Hope will bring a new beginning If we break the silence

So lets take this city Our souls are singing, oh Can you feel the fire in your bones? I know we won't be defeated If love is leading, oh We're laying down our stones.

...

We were made for this moment We were meant to be here And we're not gonna stop Till the walls disappear."

[the-silver-chronicles]

Colour Palette/'What's your character's role?' and 'the Oh' Quizzes Tag Game

Tagged by @chazz-anova @cassietrn and @josephseedismyfather .

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @poisonedtruth @vampireninjabunnies-blog @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @direwombat and @wrathfulrook + anyone else who wants to join in.

Palette site can be found here while the "True Character Role" and the "Oh" quizzes can be found here and here.

Will be using Silva Omar, Paul Yellowjack and another original character, Azriel, respectfully.

Below are the results:

SILVA OMAR

Translated description: "Silva Omar's color attributes are red. The second attribute is achromatic, etc. Silva Omar's words contain many red color images. The main Silva Omar image is created from a combination of tones with red as the base color."

While personally, I can get behind the white, grey/silver colours, as well as the blue, for physical appearance, I believe red would be more suitable for what Silva feels internally (WRATH). The green could be a reference to the significant others she finds attractive.

PAUL YELLOWJACK

Description: "hello old friend, it's been a while hasn't it? I remember when you were just a child, gape-smiled and beaming like the sun. where have you laid your youth to rest my love? is it buried beside your heart perhaps? I know how deeply life has wounded you, it took away everything, didn't it? oh poor soul, you held onto happiness with bloody, shaking hands but still fate ripped even that away from you. your past lovers are dead or did some betray you? turning away in fear of what they once admired. your comrades have been slain, or their priorities shifted. I've heard you too have changed your way of thought. the people fear you know, do they normally cower at the sound of your name? ah don't fret, that makes two of us. the masses tend to despise the things they do not have the will to comprehend. the villian finds sympathy for you don't they, well I could have seen that from a mile away. you two are the oldest friends, you made a deal with them correct? to save your late love, they tried to hold their end of the bargain, really, but I fear you are cursed to forever be despondent. oh what a sad and miserable life without love. is that why you chase loneliness? for is it truly a life of sorrow if you yourself has chosen it? but don't become bitter from the pain. trust when I say I have seen wounds unfold a man, turning the gentlest spirits into seething beasts. please, keep seeking love, even if it seems you are forbidden from it. you are the master of your own fate, I see how tired you are. the scars never healed, they twist and wrap around your entire person. your eyes are dark and lifeless, rest. but keep fighting, not with the sword you have forsaken so long ago, but with your heart. I'll be rooting for you my friend."

Some of this is about Paul... some of it is his own words directed to his former loved ones. Though I have to ask; are they still loved ones when they no longer hold any of that old love for you back?

AZRIEL

Description: "life is normal. it's scripted. it's functional. then one day, you meet them, and… Oh. you fix your posture, you're a little nervous, and it's totally possible you're just projecting -- but this could be something. and the only thing that makes this different from the hundreds of other times you had that exact same thought only to be disappointed is… this is the time that counts. things change. you were looking for someone whose very existence re-contextualized yours. which is not to say that you were incomplete, but… aren't we all? isn't that the essence of being a being who changes? and what completes us if not the love of something or someone beyond us? sure it's still new, and anything could happen from here, but there's something in your shared brain chemistry that makes it feel like good things are in motion. how exciting!"

Pretty much all Azriel there. Except her "normal" is usually chaos. And her special someone is another original character of mine, Schrödinger Turquoise.

Hope everyone enjoyed!

[meamiki]

mira !!! :]

[shaanks]

Okay SO this was a commission done by the wonderful, magnificent, and deeply talented @huyandere whom I could spend literally the rest of eternity thanking and it still would not be enough times I feel. Seriously, Liz, thank you a billion trillion forever for bringin' this to life for me ; uuuuuuuuu ;

And thank you guys for wanting to see!!!! Bc I'm literally over the entire moon, spinning in circles in space as we speak just like. So insanely happy with this!!!

[fumiko-matsubara]

He got them to join his emo band 😔🤟

The new year's show was a success and it became a yearly thing.

This is kind of a continuation of my headcanon and brainrot posts about Chiba's friendship with Gakushuu and Yukiko, with a bit of my oc Isami bc I'm not really normal about him 🩵

[taro-pdf]

HaSO: I know humans have a Reputation but I need you to listen to me anyways

autism and support systems in space

Takes place after this story

Guang had been communicating with the captain of the Papyrus to ensure that everything was within suitable parameters for Guang’s adopted human, Fern. It had been difficult because Papyrus' “human expert” had very different ideas about what “suitable for a human” meant, much to Guang’s frustration.

@/papyrus Humans’ hearing isn’t that sensitive. Could not the human stay in the hold? @/guang "the human" is a guest of your ship so no. And I assure you, Fern’s hearing is marvelous. It is equivalent to a udito. Test again with a device set to that sensitivity.

A read notification, but no response. Why did so many beings think they knew what Fern needed? Not all humans were the same. Papyrus’ staff would comply in the end, Guang knew. No matter how frustrated they were, they wouldn’t want to anger Guang’s partner.

And no matter how much time it took, Guang would ensure that the trip would be as comfortable as possible for Fern. They had been on ships with her before. However, without accommodations it, was painful for her.

Guang knew humanity had a reputation for adaptability and make-do, but human neurology was more vast that it had known. Through Fern, it learned that some human brains worked differently than others when it came to processing sensory input, demands, change, and information. Guang had not worked with many humans besides her, so it was surprised by the pushback it was receiving from beings who assumed humanity was a monolith. 

They would never assume all space fae or centi were alike, so what was it about humans that spread such myths and made beings comfortable with such generalizations? Guang would later find out that humans themselves were not guiltless in this. Many of them enjoyed playing up their reputations as “space orcs," being known as unkillable endurance machines was not a bad thing for most.

[starrysharks]

quick concept art of octavia with dreads for a planned chapter

[tevinterdays]

basil has a rough few years between doom upon all the world and trespasser

[raiiny-bay]

but I can't wait until I see your face and my brain thinks that it's looking at a stranger

[breadtheend]

Dumbass has no identity and serves no purpose but to die again and again lmao

Bonus Doodle:

*yes it's misspelled my bad :|

[simplegenius042]

Last Line + Music Monday

For Last Line/Paragraphs, I was tagged by the splendid @inafieldofdaisies and for Music Monday I was tagged by no one.

Tagging @voidika @poisonedtruth @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @vampireninjabunnies-blog @wrathfulrook @josephslittledeputy @cassietrn @chazz-anova @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @gaeadene @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @afarcry5fromstraight @megraen @strangefable @derelictheretic and @purplehairsecretlair + anyone else who wants to join. Whether for the last line/paragraph tag or the music tag or both is up to you guys.

ONE DAY TO GO! The last day until my fic Jurassic World Before The Storm chapter one is published. Now have a last line/paragraph of said fic and two songs of Far Cry The Silver Chronicles.

Here's the last few lines/paragraphs of Jurassic World Before The Storm chapter one below:

He glanced over to the two youths he was studying earlier, the young woman breathing out a ‘finally’ before prepping herself and the young boy to leave.

The boy got himself ready, grabbing his bag and standing up with the young woman.

He will have to keep an eye out for them. Just in case.

But as of now, he must make his way through “Jurassic World”.

Such waste.

And below are two songs for Far Cry The Silver Chronicles (be warned, minor swearing ahead):

A romance song for my deputy OC Silva Omar and fearsome herald herself, Faith Seed.

"1950" by King Princess

"It's so cold that your stare's 'bout to kill me I'm surprised when you kiss me.

So tell me why my Gods look like you And tell me why it's wrong

So I'll wait for you, I'll pray I will keep on waiting for your love For you, I'll wait I'll keep on waiting for your

Did you mean it when you said I was pretty? That you didn't want to live in a city Where the people are shitty? I like it when we play 1950 So bold, make them know that you're with me Stone cold, will you miss me?

So tell me why my Gods look like you And tell me why it's wrong."

And here's a song for another OC of mine, the "Good Doctor" Kamski Neon. After the loss of his daughter Irene, Kamski's love for her shifts towards the last person precious to her, in this case Silva. Though he does genuinely care for Silva (to a frightening protective degree), his love and his sorrow often overlap, causing a distance between the two survivors (figuratively and literally, considering Silva lives on the surface of Hope County while Kamski lives in his bunker clinic underneath it).

"Another Love" by Tom Odell

"And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight But my hand's been broken one too many times So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose

And I'd sing a song that'd be just ours But I sang'em all to another heart And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love But all my tears have been used up.

On another love, another love All my tears have been used up On another love, another love All my tears have been used up On another love, another love All my tears have been used up, oh

Oh, need a love, now My heart is thinking of-"

[notsoprocreations]

First attack of the year for @foxandthings’ Uriel >:) <3

Its going pretty slow because I’m very busy this month, but I’m on artfight here if you wanna find me! Been enjoying this year a lot and want to draw some more very soon >:)

[wexhappyxfew]

Okay these prompts were so good. It was so hard to decide. After much thought, I humbly present to you “Don’t ever leave my sight again” for Annie and Brady? I feel like the scene you’ve set up for them in the camp, this would really fit for them, but of course only if you think so!

HELLO SWEET ANON!!! thank you so so much for this annie x brady prompt is was an absolute delight and treat to write!! the annie x brady storyline for me has just been continously building and it offered me the opportunity to write their reunion in the stalag and it was a JOY!!!!! i really fueled it with so many heartfelt emotions and i just truly hope you enjoy. writing this made me immensely happy and filled with a lot of emotions, so truly, THANK YOU!!!!i can definitely agree that the camp set up a *perfect* opportunity. and to everyone - here it is! THANK YOU AGAIN!! PLEASE ENJOY!!! <33333

gone to the earth

(a/n): ITS THE ANNIE X BRADY REUNION PIECE YALL. COME AND ENJOYYYYY!!!! let's just say this has been sitting around in bits and pieces for a WHILE and this prompt absolutely gave me every inkling of an opportunity to write the reunion and to say the least, it came out exactly as i was hoping, with the energy i was hoping to portray. i sincerely hope you all enjoy - annie and brady are so special to me as characters and in their connection to one another and i hope to have done them justice for this piece especially; please enjoy!! (also: annie you are so real for thinking of brady in the way you do).

The drainage of color from what must've been a once bright and shining landscape was utterly depleting. The gray sky above hung like a heavy tapestry, fighting to keep whatever light that could've been shining in, out, and the sight of the camp, with its rows of bunk houses, and barbed wire crawling up the sides of the borders were enough to make her shiver.

The unknown was enough to make any person uncomfortable to any sort of relevant extent - especially in wartime. War seemed to bring out all the possibilities of uncertainty and the unknown, and it seemed to be staring her in the face with this camp.

As she struggled to keep up behind the few USAAF POW pilots who were in front of her, she could see the clouded outlines of POWs currently inside the camps, their faces smudged with dirt and grime, hair under beanies and crusher caps, heavy coats and jump gear still strapped up on them with their boots covered in crusted mud and clay.

Squinting her eyes, she could see the looks on a few of their faces as the convoy neared; enough grief, numbness and exhaustion to last a lifetime. A look that might never disappear.

Annie had been limping ever since they were sent marching this direction, the shove on the ground a few days prior, only to be hauled up by her twisted shoulder and dragged on the ground until she could get her footing, had left her feeling limp like a rag doll, her body nearly giving out under the weight. Her entire form ached from exhaustion, lack of food and water, and having spent the last few nights, ever since jumping out of that B-17, almost entirely awake, for fear of someone attacking her as she tried to sleep.

She couldn't trust a soul as far as she could throw them; she was in enemy territory now, in Germany. She was in a place so few seemed to make it out alive in, where they could have her head in seconds and do whatever they pleased with her. Because to them, she was their enemy. Recognizing that would forever feel like a punch to the gut.

Two nights ago when she'd shoved herself in the corner of the room they'd been keeping her in, she'd crafted a makeshift sling to keep her shoulder in place, the ache deep and slightly dulled now by the time she was moving more. Her body couldn't seem to figure out where to place the pain - her heart or her body and she was almost regretting letting herself worry as she had.

Where were Bessie, Kennedy and Margie?

Conditions like herself or worse?

Would they run into the others who were downed?

Or were they dead, gone to the Earth like a last fleeting resource and expense of the war that they were all expected to pay?

An air-raid siren seemed to open up the second the gates to the camp were shoved apart from one another, the immediate rush of pilots inside the camps, flushing themselves against the wiring and metal caging about the borders, their fingers latching onto the sides, immediately yelling out to familiar faces in the crowd, once lost but now found.

Annie lifted her head as the calling out continued, in an almost last-resort hope that somehow in all of this, someone from the 100th was here and alive and well. A desperation latched onto her, the sudden want to see someone from the 100th overwhelming her being as she looked from side to side, keeping herself in line as she continued walking forward towards the second set of gates.

"Annie! Annie Bradshaw!"

The sound of her name mixed in the swirl of other names being yelled, with cheers and call outs, made her suddenly locked up with more emotions than she thought she'd feel.

"Annie Bradshaw! Here! Annie!"

Turning her head to her left, through the crowd of pilots clinging onto the barbed wire, she saw the smiling face of Bucky Egan appear through the crowd, pressing up against the wire and watching her, calling out her name once more as she limped closer with the group.

A certain look in his eye was enough to make her freeze up for a moment - a split second of 'Why are you here? You shouldn't be here? You should be back in Thorpe Abbotts'. And then a mix of 'I am glad you're here and nowhere else now that you're in Nazi Germany'. Suddenly her mind raced - Bucky had gone down with Brady.

Her Brady.

"Bucky!" she called back, weakly, picking up her limping pace forward as she did so, watching that grin grow onto Bucky's face again as he watched her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he called out to her as the group continued to move forward towards the second gates, and the yelling grew louder and more invigorated, "You should be back in the sky!" She watched him, trying to get her response strung together into a well-thought out sentences and came back with nothing but a puff of air as the realization of just what the last few days of life had been like for her.

From the plane and the flak, to dropping out, being on the run, lost and slightly terrified out of her mind, to captured, in interrogation, lacking sleep and any source of food to here. And she was here. She'd made it here. And Bucky Egan was right there. Some members of the 100th had made it.

Annie tracked Bucky until she'd gotten through the second set of gates - people immediately started coming forward, helping some who were dragging along others who couldn't walk, along with greeting friends and fellow pilots. Something cathartic about it all hit her as she turned and watched Bucky come right towards her before anything.

Maybe in another lifetime, she would've knocked his lights out, but standing here now, the only thing she could grasp onto was the boys from the 100th. Bucky pulled her into his arms quickly, the hug short, but meaningful enough that tears entered her vision at the feel of him right there. Pulling back, Bucky held her at arms length and stared at her long and hard, like trying to figure out what to say and why she was here.

"Bradshaw…." he started, but she just shook her head.

"Your eye." she managed out, catching the blues and blacks mixing around his eye that had evidently been wiped clean of what blood and grime had been there, "Are you okay?"

"Hell, Bradshaw, I should be asking you that," he said in a slightly strained and choked voice, "what the hell happened to you?" What the hell did happen to her? She could barely even get her facts straight of the last few days, let alone talk about it. All of it. The bad, the ugly, the horrid.

"Did any of the others make it….?" she asked him, the sudden realization of her, Silver Bullets' pilot standing there, smacking him in the face, "Kennedy, Bessie and Margie. They split up Silver Bullets, we were losing crews left and right and with a whole lot of new replacements, they needed vets to step in. We all went down somewhere over near Berlin. Did they….? And….and your guys? Anyone?" Bucky watched her for a moment, his gaze both pensive and thick, as if trying to put the pieces together while dissecting her all at once, this shell of a girl, a half-made used-to-be pilot who was now in shambles in front of him, downed and trapped.

"Let me take you back to barracks." Bucky said both calmly and assertively, "Get you some food and water, too." He gave her an extra-long stare. "And a blanket, you're shaking, Bradshaw."

For a split second, she was almost ready to argue back, meeting his gaze, holding up that strong front she had built up the last few days when she'd been alone and struggling to survive under the watchful eyes of the Germans. But now, despite the conditions, this was someone from the 100th, someone from the place she'd started to think of as 'home' and she knew she had to trust him. That opening her mouth would only do more in this moment than was even needed.

"Okay." she said quietly, letting him turn and wrap his arm over her shoulder, his hold on her tighter and more confident than she had ever experienced. Like a sudden need to protect and guard - and if it didn't give her an indication of what she was stepping into, she didn't know what would.

Something in the way he walked, with her tucked into his side, like he didn't want to let on that it was her beside him, a female pilot on her lonesome, there in his protective and caged side. But there was something about the way he didn't talk that scared her.

Bucky Egan was always talking - he practically never even came up for air. So the fact he wasn't talking, wasn't even making a mention of her previous questions and had digressed immediately to discussing going back to the 'barracks' made a small pit form in her stomach enough to make her feel slightly sick.

They came upon barracks with two wooden doors, to which Bucky released his hold on her a bit, leaping up to pull open the doors for her and letting her inside. It smelled musty, like dampened wood and cigarette smoke, along with charcoal and death, and there was enough of a bitter tinge to the air for her to shiver as Bucky came to her side again to lead her down the long hall.

"We're just right in here…." Bucky started to say as he pointed to a doorway that led to a small room, lined with bunks on all sides, half of a table peeking out in the center of the room and a potbelly stove going in the corner. A few people sat around the table - she saw a pair of feet at the edge of one bunk and a head on another.

Annie slowly moved forward into the room and it was almost like a light had been turned on with how quickly heads seemed to turn towards the threshold she had just stepped over.

"Annie?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"Bradshaw?"

"What the hell you doing here, Bradshaw?"

Immediately, she was rushed by a hug from someone she couldn't quite find the head to, but then the person pulled back and she was met with the brightly smiling face and shiny eyes of Bessie Carlisle, who was staring at her like she were starstruck.

"Annie Bradshaw, how'd I know you'd find your way back to us?" she whispered quietly, reaching up her hands to softly cradle Annie's head, holding her gently with that smile of hers. Annie met Bessie's gaze, the sudden realization that she had her navigator back, alive and well and very much here, in front of her, and couldn't help but pull Bessie into another hug, filled with relief, joy and a whole swirl of emotion.

"Didn't think I'd live to see the day." Annie opened her eyes as Bessie pulled back and there coming towards her was Kennedy Farley, a slight limp to her walk but a smile on her face and it was enough for Annie to completely disregard the salute Kennedy was about to perform and pulled Kennedy right into her arms. She held onto her like some sort of lifeline as Kennedy's arms immediately went to latch right around Annie right back, the two girls holding each other with tears in their eyes.

"I'm so glad you're here," Annie whispered quietly into her flash of ginger hair, pulling back to look up at her face, "you're both okay?" Annie looked from Kennedy to Bessie who both nodded, before glancing sidelong at one another.

"Margie never showed." Bessie started, "Yet." Annie's gut sank a bit as she looked between both their sets of eyes again and nodded, before looking back to Bucky, who stood by, watching with a solemn look written on his face, enough to hide, but enough to tell at the same time.

Looking back, around Bessie and Kennedy, she was met with DeMarco and Murphy and Hambone, along with Buck and a few unfamiliar faces that didn't exactly hit her memory. There were hugs, there was some laughter, there were even some warming gazes that made her feel more content than she had been in days. But something in her gut was ticking like a clock as she pulled back from DeMarco's warm hug.

"Did Captain Brady make it?" she asked aloud, her voice sounding hollow and strained as she felt her mind turn to turmoil - Bucky was here, he'd gone down with Brady, so how could Brady not also be here right now?

"He did." Buck said almost immediately, "Murph, go get him. He's been out getting some food with a few of our guys for a while now." From the moment she'd heard the words 'He did' fall from Buck's lips, her entire body seemed to freeze up just at that thought. Brady was here and he was in this camp and he was alive. A bubble of relief grew inside her stomach at the mere thought of him. He was alive and here. Murphy hurried out of the bunk room leaving the place in a disarray of a mix between new arrival and long-lost friend.

"Well," Bessie said stepping forward and making way to wrap a blanket around Annie's shoulders, "let's get you situated with some soup and water, huh? No doubt you haven't eaten anything of substance lately."

"Thanks, Bes," Annie said as the navigator helped her settle into a chair with that leg of hers, wrapping the blanket more comfortably over her shoulders and letting her for once sit down. Annie couldn't remember the last time she'd been properly sat down and felt both safe and comfortable that wasn't Silver Bullets.

"It's not much," Kennedy said coming over from Hambone where a bit of soup had been scooped into a plate, "just what we could find. Potato soup."

"It's perfect." Annie said, her eyes slightly widen in hunger as the bowl was placed in front of her, along with a metal spoon, "God, I can't even remember the last I put food in my mouth."

"You want water?" Bucky asked moving towards some of the canteens stacked against the stove as she nodded.

"Thank you all," she said as she took the water canteen from Bucky and sipped the water thoughtfully, "you don't know how happy I am to know you're all here." Annie looked around the room at the people who meant more to her than anything right now, their faces bringing an immense amount of comfort to her trembling form, their presence enough to make her feel safe enough to eat and drink.

"We're happy you're here, too," Bessie said, exchanging glances with a few others around the room, her voice dipping into something broken and lodged with emotion, "worried us when you didn't show. We didn't even know if you'd show. At all."

"Me either." Annie managed out, her throat feeling as if a piece of bread was lodged inside and she couldn't get her words out.

A beat of silence seemed to eclipse them as Annie tasted her first bit of the soup, which was quickly followed by her taking in a larger bit of soup, savoring the watery broth and the stiff potatoes.

But it was food and it was damn-near luxurious to take in right now when her stomach had been empty for days. Her mind was moving a thousand miles a minute though, stomach twisted in anticipation in seeing Brady after all those weeks, after Francis had broken the news.

Francis. Francis Montez.

Annie's heart fell at the realization of just what situation they were in with Francis experiencing the loss of another pilot; another Birdie.

A frenzy of footsteps echoed out from the hallway into the bunk room, a chatter of low voices following, causing heads to turn from the bunk room to the threshold.

As Annie looked up in that moment, there around the corner, stopping to freeze in the doorway was John Brady.

The first thing she took in about him with her spoon half-raised to her chattering and chapped lips, was his eyes, so intently focused on her own, the mixed hues of blue with gray flecks holding her own, his gaze so fixed on her own, she didn't realize that the spoon of soup was falling out of her hands, knocking against the table as it clattered to the ground.

His hair was in his eyes, stranded and hanging over his forehead, parted more down the middle, something she'd only seen from him when they'd been out at the officers' club or when they woke up side by side that one time all those weeks ago. His overcoat was clinging to his body, his boots caked in dirt, his hands filled with, presumably, sacks of the food he'd been scrounging and his entire frame facing her.

"Annie."

The second her name had fallen from his lips, that strong semblance she'd built for herself had quickly fallen in a matter of seconds. She'd stood, with the blanket falling from her shoulders and practically, between a mix of stumbling and limping, launched herself into his arms, meeting him halfway between where he'd been standing and she'd been sat.

Maybe launch wasn't the entire right word, but whatever it was, their arms were locked around one another in a way she couldn't even describe in her mind, her hands reaching up into his hair, trying to hold him as close as physically possible, his own hands tracing up and down her back, lingering on her exposed neckline as he held her there. Her eyes were welled with tears as she felt his hand moving up and down her back in that familiar and comforting, synchronized motion.

It made her think of that last time they'd seen each other - side by side in her cot, his hand rubbing her back as she had curled under the covers and wished him good night. A fateful 'stay safe' lingering on her lips.

Somewhere near her neck was his face, breathing her in, his lips brushing her sensitive skin sending goosebumps across her entire body, suddenly aching for him in more ways than were possible, longing for his hands to be on her longer, tucked up under her shirt, pressing against her cold skin, warming her up and keeping her safe.

"Let's give them a minute…." Annie heard Kennedy briefly say from somewhere behind her, a few muffled voices in response, a few coughs following as feet shuffled out of the room, to God knows where. For a moment, all that mattered to her was that Brady was in her arms at this very minute and safe.

Slowly, they peeled apart from one another, like cracking at a piece of stone to split open, arms still very much wrapped up in one another, their faces still close to each other when they finally locked eyes again, slightly breathless and pink in the cheeks, neither saying a word beyond staring right at one another like it'd be the last time. Annie couldn't help but let a hand crawl to his cheek, her heart pounding inside her chest as she brushed her thumb over his skin, feeling a part of him she hadn't dared to touch back before his plane had gone down. When she'd been scared. Fearful. Locked away.

"You're here." he whispered out, his voice so delicate she was sure she could lose it right there in his warm embrace, "Annie, you're here."

"I am." she said quietly back, continuing to brush his cheek gently, her thumb tracing underneath his eyes that had sunken into his face a bit, yet not dimming that look in his eyes that made her want to burrow right under his arm to hide. A sudden sense of boldness struck her as she stood there, drinking in the sight of him and his face and that look in his eye that made her feel slightly insane and swallowed.

"I can't tell you how much I missed you," she managed out quietly, "after hearing you and Bucky went down….I….." Brady softly cupped her cheek from the other side and offered one of his classic lopsided grins and watched her, eyes painfully brimming with an emotion that hit her in the heart, as she felt the tears build up in her eyes and a sob escape her lips. Her hand came back from his head to instinctively cover her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's okay now," Brady said with a small smile that quivered at the corners of his lips, "you're okay." Annie felt a small whimper escape her lips as she cracked open her eyes and looked to him again, reaching out her hand again to let her fingers dance over the scar above his eyebrow.

"Look at you," she whispered softly, her voice hoarse and filled with a quiet serenity in a way that she didn't quite expect, "did they hurt you?" Brady shook his head gently and continued to rub his hands on her back.

"Don't you worry about me, I'm fine," he whispered, "I'm worried about you." He let his finger dote on her cheek on the bruise from where the ground had met her when she'd passed out. "What about this?"

"I passed out after their interrogation, I'm fine though, really," she said quietly, her voice still strained as she tried to wrangle her emotions in a way she could speak, "I missed you so much." Hearing those words fall from her lips again without so much as a question to repeat those words made her heart ache as she stood in front of him, having him there in her arms.

"I missed you, too, little birdie," he whispered back, a nickname that made her insides twist, before he was pulling her closer to himself, "shit, you're freezing."

"It's cold out." she managed out back with a small smile, to which the corners of his lips grew upwards into that glorious grin of his - the one she'd yearned for and missed day in and day out, all those sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, wondering where he'd been, what he'd been doing, if he was alive. Something that ate at her core and thrived on the very fact she was worried over someone she would've never met if she never became command pilot of Silver Bullets. If Birdie had never lost her life. The world worked in ways she would never understand nor comprehend. She felt lucky to even know him. Be here with him. Know John Brady for the man and leader he was.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked her quietly, his eyes darting over her shoulder towards her bowl and water canteen, "Here." Slowly, his hands traveled from her back to her hands on his cheeks and he slowly led her back over towards the bench, lowering her down gently, before reaching down to grab her fallen blanket and spoon.

In a matter of seconds, he was pulling the blanket over her shoulders and wrapping his own arm around her form, his palms rushing up and down the blanket over her shoulders and forearms in an attempt to warm her up. Even in a moment of being again in one another's presence, he couldn't help but take to doing what he did best. And that was care for her when she could hardly care for herself.

"I didn't mean to make you drop your spoon." he said as his gentle movements up and down her arms made her feel warmer than she had in days. She slowly looked up at him with a smile, catching his gaze under the softly lit light above them.

"Just seeing you there, I could've cared less about a spoon on the floor or not." she whispered quietly to him, her eyes holding his. Staring at him, his warmth and her own minimal bit combined, she couldn't help but reach out with her cold hand to cup his cheek again, his firm facade melting at the touch of her embrace there on his cheek again. Tears lingered at the corners of her eyes again as she stared at him, feeling this, all of this around her.

"I thought you were dead." she admitted, her voice sounding weirdly distant from herself as she spoke, "When they told me. About your plane. I thought you were dead. I just….I didn't want you to ever leave my sight again after that." His grip tightened on her as his hand wandered up to her cheek to wipe at that stray tear that struggled to leave her eyes. "And after everything just, sitting here with you….." Her words failed her as they watched one another, her heart pounding at the feel of his hand there on her cheek, cradling a part of her that no one had touched in any way beyond caring for the sick and wounded.

Annie watched his eyes explore her face, seeing the new parts of her that he'd miss in the time they'd been separated, his grip close and tight, like letting her go would make her disappear.

A part of her lingered closer, her eyes darting down to his softly parted lips, the stubble appearing on his cheeks, those strands of hair in his eyes that made her fingers want to start at his chin and dance their way up and across his face to tuck them back from his blue orbs.

An ache built inside her as she softly moved to cradle his face tighter, his head tilting as she felt herself inch closer, his palm pressed against her own cheek as their noses brushed and their eyes closed.

Every part of her was begging for him to come closer, to touch her, to feel her, to pull her as close as physically possible and let her know this was real and they were sitting here side by side. Because one hour ago this was far from the reality and a painful lie of life. But now, she was sat here with him and he was inches from her and she wanted him right there, hands in her hair, across her skin. Her nose brushed his again as a siren suddenly pitched out across the camp, Annie's eyes flashing open in an instance as she looked up from Brady's face and towards the window - an air-raid.

There was one at the other camp too, in the middle of the night, where she'd been curled in a ball on the stiff cot, staring up at the moonlight as the siren went off, over and over throughout the two hour expanse. Her body had shook with each distant bomb drop and in this moment she felt her body freeze, her mind draw blank as footsteps rushed inside the room and voices eclipsed her mind.

"Alright, everyone remain calm." Buck called out to the people of the room rushing in, Annie briefly meeting Bessie and Kennedy's tired gazes from the doorway, "No doubt they're bombing Berlin, or close enough to it to where we can hear it."

"Just stay calm." Bucky said, leaning up against one of the barracks, glancing out the window with a distant look in his eyes, "Those fucking bastards are probably getting what they deserve."

With silence falling around the room, the sudden realization of the spoon in Annie's hand, she looked back to Brady who was watching her with that quiet look still, that soft yearning and gentle touch she wanted to be wrapped in again.

Where his lips had almost touched her own - they'd been as close as their noses brushing - had it almost been more?

Would she have kissed him then and there, and allowed his lips to press against her own, letting herself become undone with his touch, now back beside him?

Her mind raced and her hurt thumped in her chest as her body felt the warmest it had been in days as Brady's hand reached down to pull her free hand into his lap, fingers tracing the delicate parts of her skin, over her knuckles and over each curve and nail. It was enough to make her insides feel funny and she focused her best on taking in more water and potato soup as everyone sat around in the room, the air-raid siren went off and Brady's fingers traced her own.

In a different time and place, she wasn't sat in a POW camp with an air-raid siren going off - she was in a little blue house, on the front porch, staring at the blue skies and the beautiful world around them without war. She was in a different world that wasn't her current reality.

Glancing over towards Brady, she held his gaze as the air-raid siren continued to drone and his hand continued to trace against her skin.

For a moment, she thought in her mind - she had wanted him to kiss her.

Right then and there, side by side, lips inches from one another in that tiny bunk room.

But all she could do was stare at him and plead for another moment where she got to stare at those blue eyes in a world like this.

[sso-montana]

Wings, hearts, some things are meant to be torn apart

Word Count: 3k+ Rating: Mature Warnings: violence, implied character death, vulgar language, descriptions of injuries, blood mention OC's Mentioned: Rachel Harrow @starstable-eve, Alina @alinasteelcrest, Carolina @carolina-nightjar

[Even in a zombie apocalypse Montana didn't expect something like this to happen. All she had wanted was to look for old Jasper, not have her humanity taken from her.]

As the head drops from the zombies shoulders its body soon follows. Montana was panting from exhaustion, pulling the blue scarf she had wrapped around her head down to allow more air to flow into her lungs. It was a safety precaution to stop any potentially zombie fluids from entering her system while… taking care of them.

The thought of zombie blood or saliva getting into her mouth was also, simply put, fucking disgusting.

“Onyx?” As she called out there came a low whine in response before a head popped out from behind a boulder not too far away. With a last look around what had once been a small zombie group that had been separated from the Silverglade Horde she let out a sigh and swung her axe over her shoulder. The shire came walking towards her, stopping only to sniff at a severed head before snorting in disgust and continuing his walk. As his hind legs passed the skull he gave a forceful kick against it, sending it flying straight into a bush.

The girl couldn't help but chuckle at her horse's attitude. At least some things hadn't changed since the start of all… this.

Really, Onyx's attitude had not let up even a single bit. The tantrum he had thrown before, whilst and especially after she had cut his mane and tail for his own safety had been the worst one she had ever seen.

Truth be told, it had hurt her, too. Justin and her had always threatened to cut them because of how terrible the grooming process was. Of course they’d never gone through with it, after all Onyx had always taken pride in his mane and tail (Montana wanted to judge him for it, really, but who was she to do so, considering how important her hair was for her, too?). It had been nothing more than a joke.

But actually having to do it because it could one day be the difference between life and death for him…

Shaking her head the former blacksmith apprentice turned her focus back on the present. Her fingers didn't feel the warmth from Onyx’s nose as she gently stroked it.

Of course she didn't. It had been ages since she had been able to feel any kind of warmth. The wildlife she hunted and cooked for food didn't feel warm to her, either. It wasn't cold and for the tiniest of seconds she was almost able to feel the heat of it as she bit down but immediately after the meat simply felt… not cold. It was weird to describe it and even weirder to actually eat.

Not even fire itself was of any use to her. The bandage that wrapped around her lower left arm and was hidden beneath her thermo clothing was a cruel reminder of that. Had Onyx not cried out when it happened it was unlikely she would've noticed the burn at all.

“Ready to head over to Jasper's farm?”

A soft snort was all the response she got. Montana gave the shire one last pat on his nose before she placed her axe in the scabbard she had taken (stolen) from one of the abandoned Jorvik Rangers Stations in Mistfall and attached to Onyx's saddle before she swung herself on the horse's back.

With her plan of taking the mountain range path instead of riding past the Equestrian Center- or what was left of it- the trek towards Golden Hills was still a good hour away. The chance of encountering both zombies or other survivors were much lower that way which was just up to her liking. Weeding out zombies was exhausting and she didn't have the energy for that after today's stunt.

Looking up at the fading sun they'd most likely arrive after nightfall.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

As she slipped through the metal gate Montana let out a string of curses. Her right hand had gotten caught on one of the broken metal bars and cut through her shirt. There was already a trail of blood forming, reaching from her index finger across the back of her hand all the way down to the right corner of her wrist.

Onyx let out a worried whine at her reaction, nervously scratching at the ground with his hoofs. He hadn't liked the idea of her looking for Jasper all on her own from the start.

“It's nothing. I'll be fine.”

Judging from his pinned back ears and continued scratching at the pavement her poor attempt at sounding reassuring wasn't working at all.

With a heavy sigh she motioned towards the riding arena to where Onyx, after a ten second stare down, started heading.

If he wanted to it would be no problem for the shire to kick down what was left of the gate, they both knew it. The only reason Onyx had refrained from doing so was that Montana wouldn't have it. Neither the noise nor the potential injuries were worth having him accompany her on the little trip. A five minute trip from the gate to the farm. Maybe she could make it in two if she ran. He was being dramatic.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to run.

Heading towards the old farm Montana couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was wrong or even stupid to look for old man Jasper, but she had to. Not just for her own peace of mind but also the Moorlands. If she ever saw them again she could at least tell them about him. They were the only ones she still had left after her grandma had…

Pushing that memory back to the dark corners of her mind she started to observe her surroundings more closely.

There weren't any zombies around that she could see or hear. Not even the wolves that would usually howl at this time of night made a sound. No insects, no wind, nothing.

‘Something is wrong’ the thought kept repeating in the back of her mind as she got closer to the farmhouse. Something or someone was in the area that nature itself was terrified of.

‘Rule number one: if you're out in the wild and everything goes quiet, leave. Nature doesn't go silent unless something horrible is about to happen.’ It had been an offhand comment by one of the Jorvik Rangers- Rachel, maybe?- when they got talking after she had dropped off a delivery from the blacksmith. Back then Montana didn't think much of it, though after the incident she'd more than internalized that rule.

The sound of dry leaves crunching beneath her boots seemed deafeningly loud in the dead of night.

Trying to redirect her focus on the mission she had set for herself the uneasy feeling in her stomach only grew the closer she got to the house. It was hard to make out in the dark before but now she could see the front door was wide open, left hanging onto a single hinge that threatened to give out any second. Some of the windows were broken, the railing around the porch destroyed and even some of the tiles from the roof were missing.

There was no chance in hell Jasper was still around, at least not alive. She should go back. She knew she should go back. All she had to defend herself with was a knife- it wasn't bad, better than nothing, but the thought of being without her axe made her insides turn and not in a good way.

'It's fine. Calm down. At least look if there's some food left. That way the trip wasn't completely useless’ as she set foot on the porch the creaking of the wood almost caused her to turn around and make a run back to the gate right then and there.

She waited a second.

Then another one.

There was no reaction from… well, anything around her. No breeze, no sound of animals or zombies, no rustling of bushes or grass. Nothing changed. Just quiet. Too quiet.

It felt like a pair of eyes was watching her.

Shaking her head Montana mumbled to herself while walking over to the front door: “Get a grip.”

She was getting paranoid. Which was probably a good thing considering the whole zombie-apocalypse-shit that was going on. Better safe than bitten.

Still. It made her feel crazy, even if it was just a little bit.

Maybe she was turning crazy. When had she last held an actual conversation with another human being? Was it the time she had given that rider with the injured leg the warning about the collapsed bridge at Valedale Lake? Or when she shared some of her water with that blond-haired girl in Mistfall? These days everything seemed to blend in together.

Wake up. Travel around. Kill zombies. Look for food. Find shelter for the night. Repeat the next morning. The longest period of time she had spent in one place had been a week and that was back when she had been at the Valley.

Sitting around doing nothing felt wrong. Thinning out the zombies at least gave her a purpose. Like she was doing something useful.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she entered the living room of the old farmhouse.

Flipped over furniture and broken glass was scattered around with books and photo frames thrown into the mix.

And the remnants of what had once been Jasper Holbrook laying on the floor.

It wasn't surprising, not really. Jasper had been old and stubborn and probably refused to join the G.V. because his farm “wasn't that far away.”

That didn't mean it didn't hurt. He was one of the last people she had left that she actually cared about, that she had considered family. To see his body mauled and eaten by those disgusting, wretched, abominations-

Blind rage or grief, it was hard to tell the cause of the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

'Don't cry. Don't you fucking cry.’

Swiftly turning around Montana headed to the kitchen, the back of her uninjured hand viciously rubbing at the corners of her eyes. Crying won't solve anything. It wouldn't help her, it sure as fuck wouldn't help Jasper. Finding food that hadn't been raided by survivors would help. Finding a first aid kit would help.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Canned green beans and pumpkin purée, crispbread and raisins. Sure, it wasn't the best selection of food and sure as hell not something the former blacksmith apprentice would usually go for, but who could afford to be picky in an apocalypse? The big bottles of water were a good addition as well. Something with more flavor would've been nice though.

‘Man, I miss Energy Drinks’

Did it feel silly thinking about missing the fuel for her caffeine and sugary drink addiction? Yes. Was it at least somewhat helpful in keeping her feel normal-ish? Also yes. Humor had always been her coping mechanism, much to the dismay of others, and now there was no one but Onyx to judge her for her warped sense of keeping spirits high. Or the attempt therefor.

There was still the feeling of dread following her as she sat down on the porch steps and pulled out the fresh bandages she had found in a first aid kit. Disinfectant wasn't something she had been able to acquire though so the bottle of vodka she had found needed to do.

Taking a sniff from the bottle the former blacksmith apprentice considered taking a sip before eventually deciding against it. Alcohol had never been something she actively sought out, at least not in a comforting way. Self-hatred had driven her to many things but at least alcoholism wasn't one of them.

She could almost hear Justins disapproving sigh in the back of her mind.

Her face twisted in discomfort as the bottle's contents poured over the torn skin of her hand. The sting common for alcohol coming into contact with wounds accompanied by the icy cold feeling of the liquor send multiple shivers down her spine. It was as if a thousand tiny icicles bore into the already aching wound. She quickly set down the now half empty bottle beside her as another colorful string of curses left her lips.

“Stupid stupid stupid sealed magic!”

Montana shook her hand vigorously as if she would be able to shake the pain away, too. Pressing down on the cut with a crumpled up tissue she let out a quiet groan. ‘The things I do to prevent a fucking infection.’

Justin should be proud of her. She was taking care of herself. Somewhat.

As soon as the aching had faded to a dull pain the girl removed the tissue and started wrapping the bandage around her hand. At the very least it had stopped bleeding.

After the rest of the vodka and bandages had been stowed away in her bag Montana stood up from the porch, giving her surroundings one last look before-

Snap

The world seemed to freeze. Her pulse skyrocketed. Blood pumped through her veins with such an intensity she almost felt warm. Her mind was racing, going through every possible scenario of what that could've been, of what she had to defend herself with, of what her chances of survival were depending on her opponent.

Every single fiber in her body told her to run, to flee, to get away from there holy shit your going to die-

Rustling. There was the slightest rustling coming from a bush not too far away and out of the corner of her eye she could see a hooded figure emerging from the direction.

Without a second or even first thought Montana started to sprint. Toward the gate, towards her exit, towards safety. It wasn't strategic or graceful or even thought through. It was pure, primal survival instinct.

There was commotion behind her. More rustling. The breaking of branches and crunching of leaves. Footsteps.

She didn't dare turn around. This wasn't a matter of who was stronger but who was faster. Luckily for her adrenaline and the fear of dying did wonders for one's presumed limits.

But it wasn't good enough.

Halfway across the path something jumped her back. The girl's face was smashed into the muddy ground beneath her feet, muffling her groaning and screaming. She faintly registered the pain shooting through her nose and temple as they collided with the ground but didn't dare to focus on it.

The weight on her back shifted, a hand pressing down her head while another pulled at her scarf and turtleneck. In a matter of milliseconds, before she even had any chance to do something, there were two sharp objects piercing her skin. Her cry was muffled by the mud, hands balling into fists as a pain shot from her neck through her nervous system.

Something was biting her and she was completely helpless.

'Fight.’

‘Fight!’

‘God-fucking-dammit fight you useless bitch!'

The all too familiar rage filling her veins helped fuel the fire in her chest. With not even half a mind on what she was doing and the rest focused on surviving Montana tried reaching for the knife strapped to her leg. Her right arm had been trapped under her own body and the struggle to get it out seemingly caught the attention of who or whatever had attacked her. The stinging pain in her neck deepened as the hand that presumably had held her clothes now was pushing down on her right shoulder.

This couldn't be it.

This wouldn't be it.

She was tough. She was strong. No fucking chance she would let herself be killed just like that.

Racking her brain for something she could do to escape other than uselessly wiggling her body beneath the weight on top of her and her left hand hitting against what was probably the back of the thing an idea finally popped into her mind.

Putting as much force as she could behind it Montana slammed her head up and back, colliding the back of her skull with the forehead of her attacker.

Finally. The things- teeth most likely now that she gave it an actual thought- left her neck as the thing above her cursed.

Without a second to lose she gave another headbutt, ignoring the pain it sent through her own skull, before putting all her energy into rolling them both over. After two rolls she managed to shake the thing- person?- off her back. After three she scrambled to her feet and started running towards the gate again, putting a good distance between her and her attacker.

Again, she didn't care to look at whatever had attacked her before starting to sprint. She needed to get out. Needed to get to Onyx and her axe. Survival was more important than information.

Slipping through the gate in a haste it seemed almost ironic that she didn't sustain any injuries now that she wasn't being careful.

There were no footsteps behind as she sprinted towards the riding arena, her legs carrying her even faster once she spotted Onyx’s silhouette in the distance.

Seeing his rider running towards him the shire didn't waste a second and started galloping towards her. Only once they had reached each other did the two of them stop, Montana panting from exhaustion as Onyx whined loudly and positioned himself between her and the direction of the gate, ears pinned back and nostrils flared.

As she heaved herself up into the saddle the girl didn't waste any time on waiting for only god knew what had attacked her to show itself.

“We're leaving.”

Her voice was raspy, eyes staring into space as she gripped the reins tightly and let Onyx take the lead, galloping towards the direction of the mountain path they had come from. The aches all over her body, her hand, neck, head and nose slowly started to register as her pulse calmed down.

‘What in the actual hell just happened?’

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Montana doesn't know where she is. Actually, she doesn't remember anything that happened the last few days- weeks? Everything is a blurry mess. She doesn't remember how she got here, where Onyx is or why she was kneeling beside a corpse.

….

‘What?’

Her hands tremble as she looks over to the dead body laying beside her. The girl's jaw is slack, a silent scream leaving her pale lips. Her eyes are wide open, lifeless and staring into space.

There's a strong taste of iron in Montana’s mouth causing her to subconsciously lick her lips only for her tongue to graze something sharp. She winces, lifting one hand to tap along her lips and realizes her canine teeth are way sharper than she remembered. Longer too, now that she thought about it.

Thirsty. She was so, so thirsty. As if she hadn't had a single drop of water in weeks. Looking around for any possible source of water she went through what she currently knew.

‘A dead person. Sharp teeth. Blood in your mouth. A memory gap.’ While turning her head back to the corpse beside her she saw two holes, not even as big as her pinky's fingernail, at the base of the neck. The person seemed pale, weirdly so. As if all life had been sucked out of them.

As the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place the former blacksmith apprentice started shaking her head, trying, and failing, to get up from the ground. Something in her brain clicked and she started scrambling backwards on her hands and feet. Away from the corpse. Away from what she now realized had once been Judy.

Judy. Sweet, nice, Judy that worked at the Equestrian Center. Laying dead at her feet with an empty expression toward the afternoon sky.

With half a thought to not alert any possible zombies that may be lurking nearby Montana clasped her hands over her mouth before she started screaming.

Screaming at the sight of Judy, dead and lifeless and so, so pale.

Screaming at the thought that she had to have done this.

Screaming over the agonizing realization that whatever had happened at Jaspers Farm had fundamentally changed her.

Screaming because something within her knew- she wasn't human anymore.

[ruvviks]

// oc picrew. [x]

tagged by; @roseeway, thank you so much!!

tagging; @mojaves, @lestatlioncunt, @dickytwister, @ncytiri, @elgaravel and YOU!

ambrose hawthorne [he/him] // cato wu [she/her] eddie wolfe [he/they] // hanan chisaka [she/her] lauren dimas [she/her] // luna serratos [she/they] nimue nkuna [she/he] // ramiel al-masri [he/him] reuben de la rosa [he/him] // rikki valentine [she/her]

[mishy-mashy]

Technically an OC fic that's not Resistance-based-

Involves:

Yoichi singing the American anthem to make a baby sleep. It's the only song he ever heard on the radio, and it actually works

Kudo throwing a baby Factor over the edge to kick them out of the void because Bruce wouldn't do it

Bruce felt himself wither and die a bit more at what was expected of him.

Kudo rolled his eyes. "If you're not going to do it-"

"Second, don't you dare-"

"Kudo," Yoichi tried.

"I will," he finished, heaving her up by the back of her onesie like she were a trash bag. Raising her up to eye level, he did a brief three-finger salute.

Her head was too heavy, and neck too weak, for her to look anywhere but at his feet, biting her gums onto her little knuckles. She had no idea what this man was about to do to her.

"Hasta la Vista, kiddo. Enjoy your last seconds of life."

"KUDO!!!"

En speedrunning the marriage process because his friend wanted to (both ace, it's a QP relationship)

"Sorahiko-senpai, give me the marriage certificate," En nearly hissed over their burgers.

Sorahiko chewed slowly. "Why?"

"I'm about to set the world record for fastest divorce—!!!"

Quirk bullcrap where the story focuses on what happens if a Quirk Singularity can't adjust, and how Factors are their own personality.

AKA, when a Quirk Singularity is in a normal person, and not like OFA or AFO.

Gran Torino is bad at relationship advice

"In my experience, which is none—"

Aizawa has problem children (definitely plural) acting out on day 1

Aizawa slammed the door open.

"Hi, Shouta!" she waved, a raging blonde stuck to the classroom wall and screaming up a storm. The first day had barely started, too. "Fancy seeing you here-!"

Aizawa slammed the door shut.

Setting up a Monopoly game for the vestiges to play

"I want the doggy."

"I want the doggy!"

Kudo didn't even blink. "Shut up, Fifth, Yoichi gets the dog."

###

She looked at Midoriya, who suddenly went quiet. His expression was a bit cowed, staring blankly at the tiny player pieces.

"What?"

"Ah..." His head jolted, called to attention. His head immediately fell down a bit as he admitted, a bit awkwardly, "They're, fighting over the doggy..."

###

"Yoichi grew up with nothing. Are you really going to deprive this orphan of even a playing piece?"

"Are you seriously playing the pity card right now?!"

"I'll play any card to let Yoichi have what little he never got when he was alive,” Kudo sniffed, arms crossed. “I may have been a murderer, but wow. I never took you for a heartless monster, Fifth."

"Guys," Shinomori spoke up quietly, completely ignored and otherwise unheard underneath their spreading bickering, "it's just a board game..."