#the destruction is stored in the ponytail

[peridoxikal-redux]

A dialogue option I wish the Builder had in Moonbrooke

[aetheternity]

Synopsis: Just headcanons for Scaramouche with an S/O that has a similar personality to his. (Cause I think it'd be funny).

A/N: Happy birthday to our favorite baby girl Wanderer/Kuni/Scaramouche. When I tell you writing this took every ounce of energy right outta me so everyone better enjoy it.

CW: small mentions of blood / torture and abuse. Otherwise fluffy scenarios. No gender specified.

Introduction

Your boss had worked alongside the Fatui for the entirety of his adult life. Getting them information on people around Teyvat, hosting events for new recruiters and even paying for their weapons on occasion. He'd taken you in after you'd been abandoned only a year prior by your parents. You were too destructive for the rich, privileged lifestyle you'd been born into, he'd explained.

You hadn't seen them since your boss had taken you in. You soon found out later that they'd suffered an early demise. Eventually you discovered that you weren't completely human, his research coming across at least three different traces of elemental energy within your body. You didn't use a vision nor did you need one. However you had no idea how to go about using all the elemental power stored within you.

So for many years to come he extracted your blood for testing. Hooked you up to more machines than you could remember in the hopes you would find a way to focus the energy and use the elements currently dormant within you. The experiments did have a slightly positive effect. To some degree these new powers were active and you managed to use them on occasion just not for too long and not without intense strain on your body.

On the last day you'd seen him was the first day you'd truly experienced what you imagined freedom to be. He'd released you from the lab. Sent you off to what he'd described as one of the recruitment meetings he went to every few months. He'd told you today would be your first time leading the meeting but before you'd even arrived you were attacked.

It didn't take long for your powers to fail and you were bruised, beaten and nearly killed by Fatui members. Just before you'd truly blacked out you heard retreating footsteps followed by a voice you could barely register as the world turned cold.

☆

The bed you awoke in was warm as was the light that stretched across your face from the curtains you couldn't recognize. You glanced to your left confused by the glass of water by the bedside table you'd never seen in the lab before. You sat up stretching a hand out to touch your forehead confused by the bandage covering it.

Before you could say a word a woman you didn't recognize peeked her head in. Her eyes growing wide before she shut the door exiting the room. When she returned you noticed a man standing behind her. His red hair tucked into a ponytail. He slipped past the maid and with a nod she left.

"You look well. Surprising for what occurred only the night before."

"What is this? Who are you?"

"This is hospitality, welcome to the Dawn Winery. I hope we can get to know each other a bit more while you stay."

That was only the beginning. The time before you'd discovered the truth about your parents. The untimely death they'd shared at the hands of your former boss and how he'd almost done the same to you after finding your talents too costly to continue funding.

For three years after you'd been attacked on the streets you spent your life under the watchful eye of Master Diluc and the staff of Dawn Winery. He'd helped you obtain all the information you desired about your past and allowed you to train your skills as much as you could until the day you chose to part from his care for good.

"Stay safe then. If you need help in the future Dawn Winery will be here." You exhaled sharply not being able to stop yourself from latching onto him. You heard him chuckle and felt his chin against the top of your head. His arms around your shoulders.

Someday you'd find a way to properly repay him and someday you would be the hand that ended your former boss' life. Until then you would take time for yourself and properly experience the world you'd never saw.

☆

You realized how little you'd learned about mora management when you traveled into Sumeru nearly flat broke. Your time in Liyue well spent (literally). So to keep from starving to death you took up odd jobs in the Grand Bazaar. The hustle and bustle was quite hard to adapt to and interacting with customers had been more than a bit of a learning experience. But you'd succeeded with flying colors.

It wasn't a bad gig either. You could watch the performances of Nilou and some of the other dancers when your boss left the stall up to you. Your new boss being quite different from your first one as he was closer to you in age and quite understanding.

In your time working you helped many repeat customers but one in particular had caught your eye. He wasn't dressed like a Sumeru resident and he always wore that ridiculously big hat atop his head.

"Just some Sunsettias, thanks." He always ordered fruit from you. While he didn't come around everyday or anything you still found yourself looking out for him on occasion. You told yourself it was simply because you enjoyed the jokes that rapid fired in your mind regarding his hat but after a while..

"Ah, don't tell me you're looking out for your favorite customer." Your boss chuckled

"And how do you figure that, Rainer?"

"You never wanna leave the stand anymore. You must have at least one favorite customer you absolutely have to see." Rainer scoffed, shouldering the heavy crate he'd mentioned to you only minutes before.

"Interesting that your assumption is that I have a favorite customer and not that I just don't care to lift crates all day." You accentuate your point with a 'hmph'

"Sure, I'll take your word for it, Name. I hope he comes for your sake."

"You're so annoying." You sigh

He didn't come that day however. Actually you were starting to believe your mysteriously dressed customer had finally moved nations. That was until you peeked across the Bazaar one day to see him drifting between stalls. He'd stopped at one just across from you and you stared. You blinked harder as if you were somehow conjuring him in a dream and blinking would awaken you.

He only spoke with the carpet salesman for a couple minutes before he was turning around and heading toward you. You willed yourself to react normally however all you could competently do was stare near dumbfounded at him.

"Hello?" He said, his tone a bit harsh

"Yeah, what do you need?" You find your voice.

"I was asking for my normal order." He replied quickly

"Sure I can get that for you."

The normal silence you've grown accustomed to in this stranger gave you an odd feeling this time. As though there were a sort of topic hanging loosely in the air. This interaction didn't have nearly the same emotions that all the previous ones brought upon you. You didn't make a single joke in your head as you piled fruits into a bag before handing it to him and he didn't immediately rush off after giving a short, firm thanks.

"There's this.. spot in Gandharva Ville.. you can see the entire forest from this tree it's the tallest one there. If you're interested in a quiet place to do your writing." He points to the notebook placed atop the counter. Before you could say a word he tossed some mora down, grabbing his bag and quickly heading off.

For a second you stand there purely lost on how to react any further. Your notebook? How'd he even know you enjoyed writing in it?

"You are going right?" You flip around to see Rainer stood just behind you his hands on his hips.

"Why would you care?"

"He's probably going to be waiting for you there, you should go."

"He's just a random customer, it was just a suggestion. Doesn't mean I have to take it."

"A suggestion that would ease your life. He's been watching you I just know it!"

You scoff, banging your hand against the table in front of you. "What will get you to stop talking the fastest?"

"If you agree to go obviously."

"You seriously need a date or something." You grumble, he crosses his arms with a silent glare. "What? I was just joking."

☆

The tree is far better looking than you could've imagined. With a view that seemed as though it could truly never end. The climb had grown rougher as you reached the tops of the branches. The foliage thicker and harder to see through. You find yourself nearly stunned from the branch you'd grabbed, grappling onto a foot you hadn't seen.

Before you could fully let go an arm stretched out to tug you up atop the same branch you'd almost latched onto before. Finally you were met with the same customer you'd been fixated on for who even knows how long now.

"Told you." He says simply, pointing out at the landscape. "No need to thank me, you were always scribbling like the noisy Bazaar bugged you. Well, there isn't much of that out here."

"So you have been watching me?"

"Don't flatter yourself I merely noticed you." He'd replied folding his arms and returning his attention back to the scenery.

"I'd only be flattered if you were someone important. Seems that big hat is carrying a bit of ego too."

He smirks with a scoff, "It's a long way down you know. I suggest you maintain a level of respect especially since you wouldn't have known about this place if not for me."

You huff proudly, "And here I was thinking you didn't want bragging rights."

The first time the two of you eat together

"What are you eating for lunch today?" Wanderer asks as he pays his mora for his usual order.

"I don't know." You shrug

Wanderer had started stopping by a bit more frequently per week. Twice a week now as opposed to the four times a month he'd been doing before. It'd started after you'd climbed the tree to meet him in Gandharva Ville. He'd stayed with you the entire time as you scribbled down notes. Notes regarding your latest performance with the training you did outside of work. He hadn't said too much as you wrote, didn't even say much in the coming days when he'd returned to your stall.

Today however, "There's an eatery nearby. I've never eaten there but I'm going today."

You tilt your head a bit. Slowly muddling over his words. "You're inviting me to join you?"

"I'd have no other reason to bring it up." He crosses his arms.

"Oh, do you plan on getting me whatever I want?" You tease

"Don't be ridiculous I just meant we should go there not that it was some sort of gesture of affection."

"Silly me, I could've sworn in all of your returns to my stall and almost exclusively mine that you'd been looking for someone to hold at night."

He clicks, his teeth with a long exhale. "Forget that I even asked." And with that he high tailed it away. You weren't sure if you'd seen it correctly but you could've sworn you noticed a light pink bloom along his cheeks.

"Seriously?" Rainer huffed smacking the broom he was holding against the floor with a hand positioned on his hip. You merely sighed rolling your eyes and choosing not to engage. Thankful when he didn't push the topic further and just began sweeping again.

☆

Once your break actually did begin you found yourself taking a walk down Treasures street. Your shoes clicking along as you peer between the buildings and around the recreational spaces. Until you'd strolled into the Tavern at the end of the street. Your senses soon greeted by the warmth of the atmosphere and the scent of grilled meat and Charcoal cakes.

You turned to seat yourself at the table in the farthest corner when you saw something that peaked your interest instead. Unconsciously your lips upturned and you headed in the direction of his table seating yourself in front of him.

He doesn't say a word, just glares a bit but you decide to pay it no mind, grabbing your book from your satchel to begin your normal day to day scribbles. You flip to the page before it and read over the notes you'd take the day before only to be interrupted as you scan.

"What are you always scribbling in that book?"

"My progress." You remark without looking up.

Wanderer simply sighs, "Do you want the rest of this? It's not bitter enough for my taste." He slides his plate across the table to you setting his elbows onto the wood.

You take up his offer, taking a quick bite before returning to your book. Though you quickly look up again to see him staring back at you. "Thanks for the food." You say with a smile. He blinks down at your book instead of answering. "It's just notes based on my training regimen. Everyday that I push myself past my previous limit I write down how well I succeeded and how much of my powers I can use currently without fainting or feeling weak."

"How well does it normally work?"

"In the last week I've made no progress." You sigh with a shake of your head, jotting down the hours you spent hitting targets you'd set up with bolts of lightning. "Happens pretty regularly though, sometimes I can go two to three weeks without progress."

He grows silent laying his back against the wall behind his chair. You find yourself thoroughly enjoying the silence however as you'd never experienced enjoyment in being around anyone like this before. Rainer never shut up, always feeling as though he had to keep things from getting too silent. And you definitely couldn't tell him anything because of how loud he talked.

"Your spelling is atrocious and so is your handwriting in general." He randomly butt in.

"Oh, so we're telling the truth now?" You sit up, slapping your pen down on the table.

"You're the one that sat here. You could've gone anywhere else." He pulls the pen from where you'd laid it down taking your notebook as well. A bit forcefully.

"Hey." You grumble walking around the table as he begins to write in your book. When you peek over his shoulder, you notice him slowly correcting your spelling, crossing words out and rewriting them. "Who said you could write in my book?"

"Did no one every teach you how to write? Seriously.. your spelling, the way your words dip down the page. You must go through twenty pages in a week and a half."

"I never asked for your opinion." You grumble, though it doesn't have the bite you'd like.

He slides the chair next to him out and points to it without looking up. "Hurry up and sit I'm going to show you proper spelling and punctuation."

When you get into a fight.

You felt particularly pumped today so when a group of eremites bugged you while you took your normal walk up to Gandharva Ville, you didn't mind settling the score with them. It'd been fairly easy to beat them down though you did feel a bit fatigued by the time the last one fell. You heard the click of shoes and as you turned around you saw the one and only Wanderer walking up the path.

He slid a heel into an unexpectant eremites chest causing the poor sucker to wheeze before flopping against the ground.

"So these guys were your doing, huh." He kicked up some dirt stopping in front of you.

"Yeah, I nailed it. I think that was the best I've ever fought." You pant, trying your hardest to catch your breath.

"And yet you seem-" A yell makes the two of you turn and before you can properly make out the new group of eremites jogging your way. Wanderer shoves you back. "Get out of here, now."

"I don't need help, I can take them!" You grunt, you launch yourself at one, electricity surging in your fist but it quickly dies away. "Ugh!" Suddenly your collar is snatched and you feel warm arms around you. For just a couple seconds you peer back at Wanderer as he holds onto you, a large slender staff coming down against his back. He grunts angrily and then the warmth is ripped away and you're being shoved again.

"Fuck off already!" This time you actually do leave, hightail it all the way into the forest and beneath a tree as the sounds of shouts die down.

You try once more to conjure literally any of the elements you wield but soon find yourself frustrated and a bit dizzy. When you flop to the ground, your journal flips open, colliding with the mud. You shake the gross substance off with a grunt and as you do the pages flip open a smidgen. Along the margins are tiny words. You recognize Wanderer's handwriting. Snarky comments and tiny arrows he'd drawn to indicate things that needed to be fixed.

You gulped reading it all over again. You slide your back up the tree edging yourself forward to head back but before you can you're greeted with a dejected Wanderer. He rubs his elbow with a deep sigh and when you approach he puts a hand out taking a step back but you ignore it.

Your arm slides warmly around to his back and you can feel the scratches where his clothing was ripped. He doesn't acknowledge your affection nor does he embrace you back. Opting to stand still as you hold him.

"You're warm.. but.."

"I'm not human.." He says as though he'd guessed your thought process. You can't quite tell how he's feeling from his words alone. You let him go and he staggers back a bit.

"Let me.. take care of your wounds at least."

"Don't bother." He shakes his head but he doesn't leave. You almost want to kick him for how stubborn he's being.

"It's my fault you got injured just let me take care of it. Consider it payment in some way for the time you wasted teaching me how to spell."

He doesn't reply for a minute you think he's going to turn around and walk away. His eyes shifting back up the path but instead he takes a seat where he's stood. Your eyes grow wide and you rush to his side quickly realizing you don't have much to patch him up with and instead just work to clean his injuries.

"Well if you're not human, what are you then?" You ask as you rub a thin scratch along his back with alcohol rub. He doesn't speak and for a second you think he's ignoring you but his words soon come. Mumbled and low as he says the words,

"I'm a puppet."

What the masses think of your relationship

Nahida had immediately been over the moon to meet you. Though she didn't understand the kind of relationship you two had because Wanderer simply introduced you by name and nothing more.

"Welcome welcome! Wanderer hasn't told me very much about you but I'm grateful that you could stop by. He's been out almost everyday since the date I perceived a change in his behavior. I assumed he'd made a friend but I wasn't sure he'd introduce me."

You cross your arms over your chest sending a glare Wanderer's way. He shifts his gaze away with a tiny smirk.

"Ah, I apologize did I misconstrue your relationship?"

"I'm his partner." You say matter a factly

"Please refrain from making a big deal of it." Wanderer sighs, nearly staring daggers into Nahida.

"Aww even better!" Nahida giggles with a clap of her hands. "I hadn't imagined you'd socialize enough with anyone to achieve a relationship like this. You must be quite special to him."

"Buer.."

"Oh? Is the reserved and distant Wanderer a little embarrassed?" You tease, sticking your tongue out with a small giggle.

"Name.." He grunts

"There's no need to be embarrassed about this Wanderer. I'm thankful that you trust in me enough to share such an intimate chapter in your life and I'm also thankful that you chose to create new bonds after the chaos your life has previously thrown at you. You're doing so well now."

"The sooner you both stop talking the happier I'll be." He says tugging the brim of his hat down to hide his face.

"Though perhaps I should've guessed. He was always buying all that fruit and never eating it. He's not particularly fond of Sunsettias as you've probably realized."

You could see Wanderer in the corner of your eye grinding his teeth in disgust but the only word you could manage was, "Oh."

Oh..

☆

With Traveler however it's a bit more straightforward.

The two of you had just been enjoying a meal when the Traveler and Paimon had walked up immediately acknowledging Wanderer.

"Hey, since when do you go to lunch with people?" Paimon asked turning to look at you. Traveler turned as well with a simple hello.

"This is Name, my partner." Wanderer replies

"Wait what?! Partner as in?? Romantically partner?? Or partner as in organized crime?"

"Take a wild guess." You smile menacingly, folding your fingers and leaning toward the pair in front of you.

"Obviously romantic." Wanderer scoffs in irritation.

"No, no way. You in a relationship with someone?! That's impossible! You're.. you're.. you!"

"Well, wilder things have happened." Traveler finally comments

"Whether or not you believe me is something I care very little about especially since you've interrupted the quiet atmosphere. I'd suggest you both refrain from sticking around here any longer. This is a private gathering" He said, eyes dark almost piercing.

The traveler soon shooed his companion away with a small apology as they both exited the recreational area. Allowing the two of you to have your time again.

"How does the Traveler deal with that.. floating thing? Does it have some sort of off switch?" You ask once it's just the two of you again.

"Ignore that, we were discussing something more important."

☆

The next time the two of you meet Traveler and Paimon it ends up being a bit different.

"Ugh, fine fine Paimon owes the two of you an apology for how she acted before. It was rude of Paimon to say those things about your relationship. Paimon is sorry."

"So you never use the word I? You just repeat your name constantly to refer to yourself?" You question with a raise of your brow.

"Hey! Paimon is trying to apologize. The least you can do is pay attention!"

You turn to Wanderer, "Wow that gets old quick."

"Hey!"

Traveler crosses their arms, "We just thought you two could use an apology."

"Save it. We didn't exactly lose any sleep from our previous encounter. It doesn't matter one way or the other." Wanderer replied

"Ugh you two were made for each other you're both annoying to talk to!" Paimon stomped

"Ditto." You say with a wave as the two leave.

He soon becomes your most important person

"What do you plan to do if they return?"

Wanderer had helped you set up the few belongings you owned in a tiny cabin far far off the beaten path. The dark forest atmosphere perfectly secluding this once abandoned eremite cabin.

"I'll be fine if they come back but if you're that worried why don't you stay with me for a while?" You watch as he rolls his eyes, heading to the corner to place his hat on the dusty desk, clearing away a bit of the dirt first.

"You should heed my warnings instead of brushing them off with one of your snarky comments. Especially when you still have problems controlling your strength or using too much of it and becoming a target

"Whatever, I'll be fine."

You flip yourself around, tugging the pillow you'd gotten from Rainer into your chest.

"Don't tell me your feelings are hurt."

"Just leave already. I'll be fine for the night."

You hear the click of Wanderer's heels against the ground but instead of leaving he stops just behind you. Tugging the pillow from your grasp. You hear it hit the floor but you don't turn around. You feel the bed shift and hear its creaking as he takes the pillows space, pulling you into his arms. You don't say a word and for a while you don't even reciprocate the affection.

"Quit being a brat." He whispers and it lacks all the bite Wanderer normally has towards everyone he interacts with.

"I'm going to get stronger." You whisper into his chest. Fist clenched as you hold a fist full of his shirt. "I'm going to kick my former boss' ass someday. I'm going to be strong. I am."

He tugs you in tighter, his chin resting on the crown of your head. "Train with me for now. I'll make sure you're prepared when that day comes."

Your arms meld around his waist tugging him in closer and the two of you quickly fall into comfortable silence. Before you could even realize it yourself, you were drifting off to sleep. Face flush against Wanderer's soft chest.

His voiceline about you

Sighs. Name is beyond reckless. Takes on unneeded fights with such blatant disregard for the harm it could do. Heads off and just disappears for hours on end. It's all so irritating to put up with. Sometimes I think I'm the most mature one in this relationship. That can't possibly be a good sign. What? You think this is funny? What do you mean irony??

[transkotone]

My new current hobby is making shitty fake n64 game cartridges

Testa-kart! The madness of Guilty Gear Strive, in a new fun kart racer!

Ky Kiske 64: Roar of the missing ponytail, a look at the masculinisation on Ky Kiske in his Strive appearance

At your Junes! Play as Nanako Dojima and take trips to your favourite store. Participate in a variety of mini games and fill your Junes meter

Sumireko: mystic student will feature mind blowing technology that renders psychic powers in 3D

The long lost port of The Phantom Pain has been found! It's amazing they had these graphics on the n64

Hsien Ko: Supernatural smackdown! A new beat em up in which you beat up hordes of supernatural monsters in stunning 3D destructible enviroments

Take control of the evil Adachi in his young years before he got his persona! Clear crimes as an underappreciated cop

Poem panic! Enter the competitive world of poem writing as Sayori as you compete with your fellow club members to win the school literature competition!

Fuuka Yamagishi lands in 3D in this critically acclaimed 3D platformer! Traverse Tartarus and the real world as you find the persona shards, and reunite S.E.E.S

Join Marisa in her adventure to master the master spark! Weild powerful magic as you hone your abilities!

[alien-hybreed]

Character Profile: Laura Carter

Story: Overtime

Species: Human (former) Alien Hybrid (current)

Gender: Female

Appearance: Human - 5'3", slight build, short blonde ponytail, perpetually scowling

Alien Form - 9', dark blue scales, clawed hands and feet, long tentacles in place of hair, human jaw visible within a secondary outer jaw.

Personality: Detail-oriented, demanding, self-proclaimed girl boss, struggles to make friends naturally

Occupation: Store Manager, Alien Hive Queen

Motivation: Human - Being the highest authority in the room

Alien - Being the highest authority on the planet (primary) propagation and reproduction of her species (secondary)

Relationships: Michael (drone), Luke (drone), Warren (drone), Daniel Kochek (drone), Daisy (Hive Maiden), Rhiannon (Aberration), Caitlyn (Hive Maiden), Natalie (Hive Maiden), Tiff (Hive Maiden)

Status: Unconfirmed

Likes: Men who do as they're told, being right, being in control, being worshipped

Dislikes: Weakness, insubordination, attractive women, confident women, confident men, when people don't put items back exactly where and how they found them.

Favourite Snack: Chicken

About: Growing up in the sleepy rural town of Woodshurst, Laura Carter had always been the bossiest kid in the playground. Assertiveness and authority came easily to her and was rarely shared. Perhaps that's why she was content to retain her position as the Store Manager of the local Snack Arnold's restaurant, rather than pursue any greater aspirations. There she was queen of her own little kingdom whether her staff liked it or not.

That all changed one fateful evening when she became infected by an alien parasite that landed on her family's property. Mutated by it into a shape-shifting Hive Queen, she relishes the prospect of infecting the rest of her town and eventually, the world. Her willpower and unshakeable conviction make her the perfect candidate to rule the Alien Hive as its Queen and mother, spawning more parasites to turn women into her subservient 'Handmaidens'.

She was last seen fighting the aberrant Hive Maiden formerly known as Rhiannon outside the Woodshurst Shopping Mall, prior to the town's destruction.

[the-weirdos-mind]

And More OCs

Name: Thurio Ahmakish

Age: 17

Species: Human

Class: Sophomore, Class B

Dorm: Ignihyde

Homeland: Queendom of Roses

Looks: Brown hair, dark blue eyes with a pair of thin glasses over them, safety goggles on his neck, Caucasian skin, Ignihyde uniform with a lab coat over it, pen with a cyan blue magestone in his pocket, 5’8

Personality: Geeky, nerdy, scientific genius, incompetent schemer, petty, friendly at times, kind at times, overly dramatic, a bit stupid, eccentric and clueless

Signature Spell: Explodinator, allows him to place a self destruct button on anything and the object will self destruct once the button is pushed

Twisted from Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb

~~~~~~~

Name: Cato Sphixeon

Age: 18

Species: Slight mutated human

Class: Junior, Class E

Dorm: Ignihyde

Homeland: Shaftlands

Looks: Pitch black hair in a small man bun, brown eyes with a scar under his right eye, midnight blue skin, Ignihyde uniform with pen in his pocket with a cyan magestone, 5’6

Personality: Childish, petty, nervous, stubborn, cowardly at times, a bit quiet, scientific genius, dense, a bit of a suck up, can be nice when needed, nerdy, inventive

Signature Spell: Not All That, allows him to temporarily turn back time to suit his needs

Twisted from Dr. Drakken from Kim Possible

~~~~~~~~

Name: Fanner Igor

Age: 17

Species: Slight cybernetic-mutated human

Class: Sophomore, Class D

Dorm: Ramshackle

Homeland: the Island of Woe

Looks: Shoulder length black hair, hazel eyes, somewhat pale skin, metal bionic left arm that stores all his magic, Night Raven Collage uniform with a pen with a blood red magestone, 6’3

Personality: Loyal, brave, honest, self reserved, distant from strangers, elusive, dangerous in a fight, ruthless at times, headstrong and resilient

Twisted from Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier from Marvel

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Stephanie Alcayna

Age: 16

Species: Human

Class: Freshman, Class C

Dorm: Ramshackle

Homeland: Shaftlands

Looks: Long brown hair with a green streak in a ponytail, green eyes, goggles on her head, light tan skin, Night Raven Collage uniform with a dark green magestone, 5’3

Personality: Intelligent, scientific, geeky, understanding, kind, supportive, always willing to help, ruthless when pushed, obsessive at times, manipulative if needed, a bit impulsive

Twisted from Varian from Tangled the Series

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Castor

Age: Five

Species: Mutated human

School: Black Pearl College

Looks: Short pink hair, dark skin, brown eyes, a smaller version of a Black Pearl Collage uniform, 40 inches tall

Personality: Mischievous, playful, curious, outgoing, and nice

Twisted from Morph from Treasure Planet

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Khünbish Khadak

Age: 18

Species: Human

Class: Junior, Class A

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Homeland: the East

Looks: Shoulder length dark brown hair, yellow eyes with black sclera, somewhat pale skin, muscular, Savanaclaw uniform with a pen with a gold magestone in his pocket, fur lined boots, a glove on his right hand, 6’7

Personality: Arrogant, ruthless, sarcastic, merciless in a fight, sadistic, brutal, confident, and a bit hypocritical

Signature Spell: Falcon’s Eye, let’s him see from the nearest bird’s point of view

Twisted from Shan Yu from Mulan

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Anwir Kongelige

Age: 17

Species: Human

Class: Sophomore, Class D

Dorm: Pomifore

Homeland: The Western Cays

Looks: Dark ginger short hair, freckles on his face, gray eyes, causation skin, fair built, Pomifore uniform with a pen with a dark purple magestone in the pocket, 5’9

Personality: Proud, ambitious, manipulative, kind (as a facade to trick people), entitlement, power hungry, intelligent, adaptable, quick thinking, resourceful, cruel, cold, liar, and apathetic

Signature Spell: Frozen Heart, allows him to turn anything he touches into an ice statue

Twisted from Hans from Frozen

@adrianasunderworld @anxious-twisted-vampire @achy-boo @mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress

[moon-blogx]

The ridges on my skin,

Show the pain from within.

Pain I thought I had washed away,

Though now it appears the rain wanted to fester and stay.

Misery lingers over me,

An umbrella protecting me from letting anything in

Memories of a year were cut away and gone 

Yet they grow back like weeds in my lawn.

I lay around everyday,

Eaten by my bedsheets,

I accept my decay, 

Morally and physically 

I am not who I used to be.

Sucked in by the appeal of nothingness.

I should be feeling happiness?

The only thing that my morals rival,

Is my own sorry survival.

I walk around, a jester, a play,

A Shakespearean tragedy on display,

For others to enjoy.

Except, I’m not even an actor,

But a mere player, a factor,

In others greater scheme.

Compromising myself is the mean,

To try to scrape up anything

That could lead to a new begginning.

I am loved.

I am okay?

I am not that girl anymore.

I no longer have that school in store,

I am no longer the girl who’d walk around with her head held as high as her ponytail,

Now I am someone who is too fearful to fail.

Yet I am her, she’s part of me

She sees the things I see.

She sees herself,

Points and asks,

“What have I become, Randall?”

Then she says a prayer and lights a candle.

Though, a blessing

Could not save someone so distressing,

So destructive and unproductive,

Like a rainstorm at the beach under the warm sun.

I smash things beneath me,

Though there’s nothing much.

I try to be normal, and in doing such,

I am no longer the girl that I am.

Instead, a puddle of acidic rain on the floor,

And an umbrella, discarded at the door.

[cfdxsaz]

good courthouse ailes bedrooms belly movuies bedrooms bushcraftts dmx black stores environment phonmes corners ponytailed survelliance kidnappers destruction business congress buildings middle south memphis tennessee kentucky fried chicken south parkway equalizer mouvies middle aile underwear jeans with meium hair zones wedding churches black side door boats with phantom glide boat sized with access ories appointed materialed dinnings cdfvg fortressed candled ccdfvvgt matches longed with plated/glassed/float hang chandliers candl e holders and candl es and pillowed exit side mattressed mattrsses stepped down to party orji and nicki minajj bedroomed side long hair salon appointments snow mattressesed boras family heads bed laids bodies kidnapped zones heaven and hell gates heil must return to earth and candace marie hughes candace marie hughes and candace marie hughes blood. on. paid. vvoiced on paid. mail kiy key card dh to candace marie hughes. on. paid. vvoiced paid. release all on probation and parole. paid. nnnhjm jails release candace marie hughes. paid.

[bluepoodle7]

#Murouno #MorphGoopBeast #Humoun #ZombieChicken #TheEvilGovernment #MyOc #MyArt #MyLore

This is Murouno he is a Morph Goop Beast.

He is a very shy creature and always has his tail on his shoulders or around he neck. He hates to get his tail dirty.

His body is half goop and fur but he doesn't have bones unless he turns into a animal he will create fake bones but his species can't turn into a human. So it creates a fake human form by guessing what a human looks like.

His body feels close to those liquid candies with fur.

When you are nice to him he smells like a mystery liquid candy so his smell is randomized it could be like your favorite food that brings a nice memory a person had in the past but in his fake human form he has a neutral smell so he can sneak attack enemies.

If he gets angry or in confused love state he turns into his fake human form but is a real jerk and very destructive.

It's kind of play it off like the anime ova called Call me tonight but it is reversed that the human character wants to be a monster.

In his monster form his shirt collar on his human self is actually part of his skin in this morph goop beast form.  In his human form tends to wrap his ponytails around his neck or leave it on his shoulders.

He still has his claws in his human form but only uses it in battle. His body in his fake human form is bullet proof but not in his morph goop form since they go through him or store them inside himself to remove later.

His fake human form can absorb bullets and attacks for defense. The bullets just go through his goop.  In his morph goop form his claws can do some very bad damage but he can control how bad a injury can be.

He can make his claws soft to the touch to sandpaper to burning your life force off of you which will result in death. (Both forms do this.)

His claws, eyes, ear tips, tongue, tail tips, eyes, wings, symbols, tail tip and ponytail hair tip can glow.

But his non human form of true form hates fighting and thinks that everything is cute and shouldn't be hurt but he does understand the concept of eating.

He is a omnivore but prefers the animal died before eating it like road kill but he mostly eats fruits.

He really older than he looks and but in his human form or as this case his monster form he is the opposite. He is 860 in beast age but in his fake human form he is 35.

His fake human form loves to hurt people and things.

He wishes to be helped out and to rid his human half and maybe make another human form that fits him instead of getting forced with a form he hates.

He also would love to give humans a second chance to know them instead of getting scared around them. 

His fake human form is mostly used for the government purposes mostly for dangerous jobs.

He can levitate in his fake human form which replaced his wings and he uses his hair and claws as a weapon.

He is really strong and fast. He does have fake bones in his fake human form but can remove them if necessary.

His weakness is for someone he loves or cares about calls him out on his stuff and tie him up in very heavy chains.  Then break his tail bones which are his two ponytails in his human form. In his fake human form he can change into a real human form but it hurts him like burning sensation.

In his fake human or humoun form he has to take calm breaks or he will be in permeant blood rage.

He likes to watch and play with zombie chickens that makes him calm before a next fight the government who kidnapped him for next mission to begin.

His eyes change forms from calm to angry. That explains the four sets of eyes in his original form. (His eyes tend to cycle between the four eyes in his original form.)

Fun fact: His skin was supposed to be tan but I chose snow white.

His mouth is on the left side of his mouth but can change sides when he talks kind of like Sonic's mouth.

What a Zombie Chicken is.

News of 'zombie chickens' raises clamor from food bank to pet owners (pressdemocrat.com)

But my version is the government in my story trying to experiment on old hens but actually making zombies by mistake. (Old hens are cheap.)

Muronuo's first mission is to destroy these chickens but he found a away to take care of them and if they are dead then he eats them.

He feels sad when that happens but he understands.

If you accidently eat some of him you would gets sick but if your bond is strong he can prevent that and will apologize a lot.

His tears are acidic but he can control that.

If you don't have a strong bond he will control a person if his goop is consumed. (Used for interrogation.)

His code name is The Blue Stinger.

He can eat anything so he is good for disarming bombs and storing radiation to hold it to give to scientists but keeps some within himself for later attacks.

He can talk to animals and ask them for help. He can also understand the old hens he takes care of.

To him they sound like old ladies and tell him stories of the factories they were in. (Some stories are sad though.)

He can move the acidic part of himself to his mouth for drool.

All my shifter oc's can adapt to their environment by having the hard experience first then their body will get used to that experience later. Each shifter tends to have a new power different from the others. Example: Fail to hide in someone's shadow after being caught then adapt to shadow sneak.

He can be cut up, exploded, and other gruesome things can happen to him but he just reforms back together.

Fail then learn a lesson for later next time is the shifter way.

Murouno can't adapt to his main weakness or his shapeshifting to another person with a burning sensation since he has a time limit in a real looking human form.

It still hurts the shifter even after adapting but slowly they get used to it.

Murouno was frozen solid once and was broken then it took him awhile to reform.

It hurt a lot to him but he did gain a resistance to being frozen.

----------------------------------------------

Frith is the opposite.

She likes being a monster but was too dangerous for the government in my story to handle so they dropped her into a random world.

Murouno and Frith are similar species but different in attacking.

Both are shifters.

Both were born in the reverse forest of Distortionvilla or Realm 1 of the shifters.

Where the ground is the sky and the sky is the ground.

Also the gravity in that world fluctuates from light, normal, and heavy randomly.

Frith

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - #Frith

----------------------------------------------

The inspiration of him came from the 80s anime Ova called Call Me Tonight.

I love the main male character in the anime he is very neat and I love the art style.

I just wanted to reverse the role that the monster was innocent and the human form was evil.

Music not mine but link are there.

Various Artists - Call Me Tonight (1986) [Full Soundtrack, High Quality Upload] - YouTube

Lovely Gate 3 (Egg Quarters) - Sonic Adventure 2 [OST] - YouTube

Murouno sometimes is used to find missing people like for example. If Zable Fable was missing or kidnapped while in her realm jumper interview or delivery mission they will send him out to find her.

He will try to fight off whoever did this.

If Murouno hears or sees a new language he can adapt to fully write and speak the language.

He also if he is talking to animals like bugs or rats where something he needs or where someone is he will give food to the animals as a thanks.

[nottinghillhq]

welcome to notting hill a, rachael and amal we’re super excited to have you here, you’ve got twenty-four hours to send in your accounts!

DEMET OZDEMIR. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of BEJEWELED by TAYLOR SWIFT, well, it describes ALARA CANN to a tee! the thirty, and MODEL was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more rigid or more POISED instead? anyway, they remind me of designer bags filled with cosmetics, leather bond monthly planner, calendar with filled dates, wrinkle free white button down shirts maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ A / SHE/HER / 29 / CST ]  ALEX FITZALAN. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of PRETTY BOY by joji, well, it describes ADAM DAVEN to a tee! the twenty six, and TRUST FUND BABY/WEED DEALER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE is more immature or more FREE SPIRITED instead? anyway, they remind me of blank checks, expensive watches, crumbled bills in luxury wallets, messy bed head maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ A / SHE/HER / 29 / CST]  MELISSA BARRERA. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of POISON AND WINE by the civil wars, well, it describes ALBA HERNANDEZ  to a tee! the twenty nine, and TATTOO ARTIST was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more immature or more FREE SPIRITED instead? anyway, they remind me of the smell of fresh tattoo ink, messy ponytails, the feel of a leather jacket on bare skin, scattered hidden freckles, the burn of warm whiskey maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ A / SHE/HER / 29 / CST ] 

SOPHIA BUSH. SHE + HER / have you ever heard of northern attitude by noah kahan, well, it describes CHASE YOUNG to a tee! the forty year old, and owner of come clay with us was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she is more overprotective or more comforting instead? anyway, they remind me of family photo albums displayed proudly on a shelf, aprons splattered with clay, incense burning to calm the nerves, and a fierce motherly instinct, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [RACHAEL] *chase is nathan young’s ex wife

ADRIA ARJONA. SHE + HER / have you ever heard of my mother told me by nati dredd, well, it describes HELENA ESTRADA to a tee! the thirty year old, and owner of something borrowed bridal boutique was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she is more self-destructive or more appreciative instead? anyway, they remind me of magazines fanned out on tables, wedding dresses displayed in a store front, orchestral music playing softly over a speaker, and the smell of fresh cut flowers, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [RACHAEL]

NICOLE MAINES. SHE + THEY / have you ever heard of move along by the all-american rejects, well, it describes ODETTE ‘ODIE’ GARDNER to a tee! the twenty-five year old, and receptionist at kian zhang hair was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she / they are more uncommunicative or more quirky instead? anyway, they remind me of old books with notes in the margins, legs folded up and under them in any chair they’re sat in, glasses that refuse to stay on their nose, and stifled giggles after making a dumb joke, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [RACHAEL]

SAMANTHA LOGAN. SHE + HER / have you ever heard of LOVE DROUGHT by beyonce , well, it describes VIVIEN GREEN to a tee! the twenty six year old, BAND MEMBER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more directionless or more CREATIVE instead? anyway, they remind me of driving fast, blasting music late at night, neon signs, shattered phone screen, and snapping photos at any given time, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ AMAL / SHE + HER / PST / 28 / N/A ] 

[spicysoftsweet]

A Thorn In The Side - Gojo x Reader

Summary: Infatuation enduring from high school is more of a problem than you or he think (~3.4k words).

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, yandere, wlw mention, gojo is a pos

A/N: Part of @suedebunn​‘s Hanahaki collab! 

When the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to have ever lived wakes up in the early am with the sensation of thorns scratching his throat and fullness in his stomach, he’s baffled.

Even more so when he doubles over in bed to cough profusely to the point of near emesis, shocking for a man who rarely gets sick. He stares blankly at a pillow covered in droplets of flecks of red, and his eyes widen with trepidation, until he realizes those large drops strewn across his bed come from flowers rather than blood.

He must be dreaming, Gojo Satoru tells himself, but the satiny feel of the scarlet petals between his fingertips is very real.

Or perhaps a curse.

“So you expect me to diagnose you over the phone?” 

Shoko pulled a drag of her cigarette as though for dramatic effect, blowing it out with a sigh, but continued to listen. She had to be up early anyway and ignoring Gojo would only make him more annoying in her experience.

“So what are your symptoms again?” she asked.

“Apparently my insides are trying to match my beautiful outsides~” he sang.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and as though he could see her, Gojo laughed loudly.

“In all seriousness, I’m turning into a garden. Coughing up flowers apparently.”

“Coughing up flowers, huh?” She leaned a little further against her balcony, her eyes setting on the early morning sunrise she could view from her high rise apartment. “Do you think it’s some type of curse?”

“It’s… different,” he replied, somewhat noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s cursed energy, actually.”

This was unexpected.

“What else do you feel?”

“Uneasy…”

It was Shoko’s turn to laugh. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

“Any ideas?” Gojo insisted.

“I mean, it could be some kind of undetectable curse. I’d know if I got to see you… How does your heart feel when you cough up the flowers?”

“It races.”

“Your mind?”

“Also races… lightheaded.”

“Any thoughts?”

“None.”

“As expected.” she teased, laughing again until she realized that for once, Gojo was silent on the other end of the phone. She scratched her head, then ran her fingers through her fingertips.

“Come in at 2pm today, okay? Don’t be late.”

---

“Well, you’re right,” Shoko stated, stepping back from the examination table, and crossing her arms as she set herself down on a stool to formulate her assessment. 

Her friend, already graced with the palest of color palettes, did actually look ill, dark circles prominent enough to match hers marring his porcelain skin. He sat, legs spread apart, and leaning onto the weight of his hands besides him, raising an eyebrow quizzically..

“It’s not cursed energy, alright,” she said, with a sigh. She stretched out her hand.

“You brought the sample, right?” 

Gojo, uncharacteristically a bit listless, tossed her the bag of vomited petals from this morning, covered in now dry saliva and other fluids. Not batting an eyelash, Shoko slipped on a pair of gloves and felt inside the bag, petals crumbling at her fingertips.

Definitely not cursed energy. She placed the bag on a disorganized counter behind her, making a mental note of scrutinizing it further under a microscope.

“Ideas?” Gojo asked after he’d decided that the time he’d given her to think was enough. It turned out the idea of being sick irritated him more than he expected. 

The very idea of being vulnerable made him slightly nauseous.

Shoko let out a chuckle that sounded more nervous than she had intended.

“My only other thought is Hanahaki disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Gojo repeated.

“Yeah,” she stated. Crossing her legs, she relaxed into her stool further as she watched the young man carefully. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“You mean?”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul you’re in love with?” She asked again, waiting for his response. The truth was that she was quite shocked at the idea of Gojo being afflicted with Hanahaki, that he of all people could have such a pure, destructive form of love given his track history.

She’d known him long enough to know that his body count was near ridiculous.

He tilted his head, then burst into laughter.

“Myself, duh.”

“Well, auto-Hanahaki isn’t a thing, but I suppose if it was, you’d be the one to be afflicted with it.”

She decided not to press further. “Whoever it is, I’d recommend you settle your feelings as soon as possible,” she added. “People don’t usually die from this but you look surprisingly like shit so I’d be careful.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, hopping off the table and pulling back on his shirt.

Settling his feelings may be more complicated than either of the two of them expected.

---

You were in the middle of your drive home when Shoko’s name finally flashed on your dashboard. Grinning, you picked up on the car speaker, mischief in your voice.

“It’s 7:03 and you promised me you’d call at 7 sharp, babe. What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“You’re going to hold 3 minutes against me?” Her sultry voice filled your ears as you made the last turn between the grocery store and your apartment, and you hoped she’d be inside your home waiting for you so that you could actually hold something tangible against her.

“I did say I wasn’t going to tolerate you being late for anything anymore, didn’t I?” You teased.

“Bold declaration for someone who isn’t even home yet,” Shoko retorted.

In minutes, you were walking through the door, arms charged with bags full of groceries for dinner you’d planned to cook together. Shoko greeted you with a kiss on the forehead as you placed them on the counter.

“Did you miss me?”

You did, but you stuck out your tongue at her instead. Her hand intertwined with yours briefly before you separated to unpack items for dinner.

“I promise I’ll be less busy,” she offered as the two of you worked in tandem. Your stomach was already growling, so the sooner you had food on the table, the better.

“It’s no problem,” you replied, and you meant it only half-heartedly. It’s true she was less busy than a regular civilian doctor, but it seemed recently that her clinic was getting overrun with more and more curse victims. Things had been bad recently in the world, you figured. 

You were happy to step back from the world of sorcery, but small reminders like these persisted.

“Did you still manage to fit Gojo in today?”

She had complained earlier today that Gojo always managed to make a bad day worse.

“Mmm,” is what she offered over the sound of chopping vegetables. You understood that she couldn’t say more, on top of the fact that any discussion of Gojo was already a sore subject. It didn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t have been, but this was what it was.

“Hope he’s okay,” you offered, as you turned on the stove.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice now quieter than usual.

---

The first and last time Gojo fell in love was in the spring of his third year, he suddenly recalled in the middle of a tryst, as an upsettingly subpar blowjob allowed his mind to wander. The young woman whose gags sounded almost theatrical when compared to the amount of pleasure he was actually receiving was starting to get on his nerves, but instead he took matters in his own hands, wrapping her long ponytail around his wrist before guiding the back of her head so she took him deeper.

If she was gonna choke, she should commit to it.

He’d fallen in love with you at first sight. It was a strange feeling for him to immediately be enamored with someone upon first glance instead, having always been the recipient of many an awe-filled or fawning look.

You were a transfer from the sister school, already a rare occurrence, and what was even rarer was the fact that you both had little affinity to jujutsu and little interest in getting better. One could wonder why you even showed up in the first place, much less why you’d moved from one school to the other. 

You’d quit as expected just before graduation, but not before you caught his eye. 

“You’re pretty shitty at this,” he’d remarked, attempting to win you over with humor when he’d been assigned to you for both orientation and possible tutoring. “Of course, you can always ask me for help,” he added, flashing pearly whites at you.

He was the opposite of successful in wooing you.

“I suppose since this comes easy to you, this is just funny, right?” You’d quipped.

Your words cut more than both you and he anticipated, but it didn’t exactly matter. You were not interested in him, the way he was interested in you. 

But Shoko was different.

You became fast friends and upon your departure from the technical college, you’d remained in contact despite withdrawing from everyone else related to magic. 

Even if Gojo tried many times to either bring you back to this world you’d left behind or be part of your new one, you’d rebuffed him every time. Harshly. 

“I don’t know why you expect everyone to worship you,” was the last thing you’d said to him. “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be part of this life,” you’d insisted. “Why would I change my mind just because you asked me to?”

You were right. 

And yet you loved Shoko.

The young woman whose name he’d forgotten’s face was now pressed against his pubic bone and she now began to squirm, slapping and scratching at him like some kind of trapped animal as she struggled to breathe, reminding him that he’d daydreamed for too long.

“Sorry,” he offered, as he released his grip, leaving her to sputter and choke. Looking at her, knowing that she was not you suddenly made him want to choke himself, to bring forth that impromptu garden of unrequited feelings.

He patted her on the back gingerly, and once it looked like she’d restabilized, pulled her in for another kiss. 

If only her lips tasted like yours.

---

Shoko’s hand glided against the curve of your hips, taking in the image of you sleeping softly on your side, facing her. She dipped down to kiss your nose; it was the only time the fact that she had such an issue with sleep benefited her, this ability to almost always wake up before you.

You looked incredibly peaceful while sleeping, and she had to admit this angelic view of you was even better than your features twisted in a pleasured mewl (not that it wasn’t a close battle).

There was a nagging concern in the pit of her stomach, however.

Gojo suffering from unrequited love could be a problem, if the object of his affections did happen to be you. But it had been years ago that he’d pursued you unsuccessfully, why present now?

Why present to her office of all people? Gojo could be inconsiderate, but not to this extent. 

But what if he didn’t know that this was what he was feeling? Suppressed feelings taking root and morphing themselves into the tangible he couldn’t ignore?

She sat up, resting her back against the backboard, the lack of a cigarette between her lips being palliated with the gnaw of her thumbnail. 

It couldn’t be. Not you. 

Please, not you.

---

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Shoko checked in about a week later.

Gojo didn’t share that he’d spent the entire morning in a coughing fit of petals, now definitely streaked with blood, and the entire last night vomiting enough flowers into the toilet that it had overflowed.

He didn’t comment on the entire scarlet sage plants with large green leaves that threatened to sprout from every orifice, not just his throat, but his ears and nostrils, possibly from behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was next, only that it was getting worse.

The constant fire in the pit of his stomach, the shivers, the chills, the incessant flash of you running through his mind, your name moaned in the darkness, his body drenched in sweat.

The fact that he knew it was because he loves you and cannot find an alternative for you.

The fact that he must have you, and only you.

“Has it gotten better or worse?” Shoko asked.

“I’m fine,” Gojo reassured her, masking the exhaustion in his voice, and she made the mistake of believing him.

---

You awoke in darkness with an icy cold searing into your skin.

It took you a moment to let your eyes adjust to the light and for your body to resume the motor control it had briefly relinquished in sleep before you could reorient yourself. You were laying on ground of some sort, maybe hardwood which implied that you were in some kind of building. 

Your head throbbed viciously as you shifted slowly to a sitting position and you almost expected there to be blood as you ran your hands over the back of your head, checking for injury. But there was nothing, just the normal feel of your hair, and the steady thump of your temples in time with your pounding heart.

Looking around, your eyes soon fixed to the low light, not actual darkness to center on a figure in the center of the room.

You let out a gasp of surprise.

Gojo.

Not only had it been a while and he was the last person you expected to see, he looked stranger than he ever had.

He sat perched on a chair backwards, chin leaning on the top of the backrest. His head was tilted, and he watched you warily but fixedly through eyes that looked sunken into their orbits. Their clear blue was still sharp in the darkness.

His skin had taken on an almost ghostly cast to match his hair, and he was thinner than you remembered as though he had been slowly withering away since the last time you saw him. That was ages ago.

Your limbs froze in anticipation. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that whatever was happening or was about to happen was bad.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, unmoving. If he weren’t so extraordinarily fatigued, he would have sat up straighter in his chair and offered you a smile. You were still as pretty as the day he first laid eyes on you, after all. What a welcome sight.

“I guess I missed you,” he responded instead, quietly. 

Your teeth gritted as you flared up in indignation.

“Excuse me?”

He cut you off with a loud, exasperated sigh, mustering the little bit of energy he had left to run a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I thought I’d forgotten myself, but it turns out that I’m being betrayed by my own body.”

As though to add effect, a coughing fit began just at the end of his sentence, and you watched as he spat flowers into the palm of his hand, lowering them for you to see.

“And it seems like you’re the cause of this.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of bloody petals falling through his fingertips and hitting the ground.

He was completely out of his mind.

“I…,” you shakily got yourself up to your feet, not letting your gaze leave Gojo for a second. He didn’t get out of the chair, but he did shift so that he leaned back in the seat, a wicked smile on his face.

“You...?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat. “Where the hell am I and how did I get here?”

He finally did get up, although it was done in a dramatic, strained movement. He really had lost weight, you noticed, picking up the flash of pale wrists before he shoved his hands in his pocket.

“I know it sounds crazy but apparently, according to your girlfriend, I’m suffering from lovesickness.”

He bared more of his teeth now, looking more like a grimace than a grin by this time. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I started seeing you in my mind every single waking moment.”

In the split second it took for you to blink, he had crossed the distance between you, so that he was now in your personal space, the palm of his hand inappropriately caressing your face, as tender as you’d expect from Shoko.

And you immediately jumped back and backhanded him as hard as you could.

The crack of your hand was loud and exaggerated, reverberating in the room. For a moment, you froze in shock, surprised the slap had actually landed, before shaking out your now burning hand and following up with a hiss.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Gojo’s icy blue eyes glint, demonic in their delight.

“That’s the feisty bitch I remember.”

---

It was nearing 24 hours since you’d failed to reply to Shoko’s text and the normally collected woman was terribly anxious.

She’d stayed at work late, and still, not a single message from you. 

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind returned.

What if it were you?

Gojo couldn’t be that insane, could he?

When she entered your home to find traces of red salvia scattered throughout your home, it only confirmed her fears.

---

“I don’t want to do this either. I mean it.”

It was hard to believe him when he seemed to savor every brush of the lips as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs, spread open with the force of his hands. Gojo had always been deceptively strong, even now, when it looked like he was wilting just as much as the flowers he coughed up. 

Your wrists were bound to a fixed point at the head of a foreign bed, and your ankles to the bedposts anteriorly to prevent you from fighting. Not that you would have been able to fight back anyway, but the severe fatigue permeating his very bones made him less willing to risk anything.

When his lips made it to your center to circle your clit, you writhed in disgust, forcing back the sighs of pleasure that would inevitably ensure.

“Y-you can’t - ah - make me love you…”

Gojo paused the swishing of his tongue to give you a look that reeked enough of apathy that it was almost startling.

“I’m aware, but there’s no harm in trying.”

---

“Where the fuck is she?”

Satoru had the ostentatiousness within him to receive the phone call on speaker, so that you could hear Shoko beg to find out your whereabouts.

“She’s with me,” he replied, calmly to her, holding the phone in one hand and pumping fingers in and out of your slippery cunt with the other. 

By this time, Gojo had gotten tired of your expletives which no longer retained the initial cute charm, so your screams for help were muffled by a gag over your own wet panties shoved into your mouth.

He’d been at this for hours.

There was a pause on the phone from Shoko’s end that sounded like something crashing to the ground, maybe a plate breaking.

Her tone changed immediately.

“P-please don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at you who glared back at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked even prettier when you were so totally helpless.

“I would never,” he added.

The pump of his fingers slowed but did not stop.

“This won’t fix you,” Shoko warned, almost in a low protective hiss, her own voice breaking. “This won’t fix anything, you bastard.”

He cut off the phone abruptly, and let out a sigh before shifting his attention back to you.

“Where were we?”

---

Maybe if I pretend, he’ll stop?

Or will he continue? Will I just affirm that he won?

His thrusts were relentless, as was the constant tugging at your hair, the teeth sinking into every inch of your skin, the moans and groans whispered into your ears or your bosom.

A violation in every sense of the word.

You were running out of tears.

The fact that it’s pointless, you and he both know it. Your true love knows it, that this is just an excuse to get back at you. For what? Rejection? 

He would die anyway. You would never return his feelings, if there even truly were any. 

He continued to rut into you, and flowers started to stain every inch of your bodies, covering them in a deep scarlet.

Red. Red. Red.

Blood. Rage. Power. Passion.

You probably didn’t need the restraints anymore. You had no fight left in you. 

Just the satisfaction, however small, that regardless of what he did to you, he would still eventually succumb to nature and perish in a bed of putrid efflorescence.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 129

Reid hummed a jaunty tune as he strolled towards the farmhouse that he and Dittany looked after. His long ponytail swayed back and forth to the bounce in his step. The newly brought rapier for Dorothea tucked under his arm brought a smile to Reid’s face. The children were so cute while debating which sword they should choose for their friend. They were such nice friends.

They would make a good adventuring party one day if the children wanted to go that route, he couldn’t help but think to himself.

“I’m home!” he announced as he toed off his shoes and began to look for a place to store the sword until the Choosing Ball.

“We’re in the kitchen dear, please tell Dittany he’s fretting too much!” Tasa’s melodic voice floated from said room.

“Fretting?” Reid questioned aloud as he decided to put the rapier into the sitting room.

After all, it only needed to be there for a few days, and he doubted Dorothea would visit anytime soon. He wandered into the kitchen to see Tasa. She took a long sip of her tea and nodded towards Dittany who was face down on the table. Papers were scattered across the table, some containing lists and others containing notes about training.

“Dittany?” Reid questioned as he reached towards Dittany’s messy ponytail.

Clearly the man had been tugging on his hair again. He hooked a finger underneath the leather hair tie and gently pulled it out. Dittany shifted his face so his cheek was on the table instead and he could talk.

“I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m terrified of messing up.”

“Hmmm…” Reid hummed in agreement as he began to braid Dittany’s hair, “It has been centuries since you’ve taught another Blood Hunter so that’s to be expected, but I remember Tasa making you write it down all your old traditions so you’d have something to look back on, in memory of course.”

“Except she skipped several steps,” Dittany mumbled, “She’s a fourteen year old with Blood Hunter powers. A fourteen year old who talked with me earlier and tried to assure me that this apprenticeship is not a mistake.”

“And?” Reid paused in his braiding.

There was a pause, and Dittany looked honestly pained. Like someone had ripped his guts out, sort of pain.

“She gave me the biggest smile and told me she was already practicing Celestial and the sword forms that Gleam showed her,” he then turned his face back into the table and groaned, “This is a mistake.”

Tasa gave Reid a lost look, she had no idea what to say to this. Reid looked back at Tasa before looking at Dittany and sighed.

He continued to braid once more once the braid was done he took a seat beside Dittany and murmured, “I understand why she’s excited. This venture is her choice, not her mother’s choice, but hers and hers alone, and that’s exciting to a child.”

“And completely ignores the fact that Blood Hunters by design are self destructive individuals who tear themselves open to hunt dangerous creatures,” Dittany’s voice was muffled by the wood as he said this.

“She’s fourteen, what did you expect?” Tasa pointed out, “Fourteen year olds aren’t exactly… bastions of reasonable thinking. Honestly I don’t even know why we require students to choose a specialty at fifteen.”

“Eighteen was probably no better,” Dittany admitted, referring to when he started his full apprenticeship as a Blood Hunter, “But the point is, she does not see the seriousness of this. She only sees it like she sees her wizarding studies.”

Reid was quiet, he could understand why that bothered Dittany. Dittany, both as a child raised by the order and later a mentor for the order, lived and breathed those traditions that gave meaning to the self-destructive behaviour Blood Hunters were known for. They were designed to make the way they used their magic easier to handle, and offered a constant reminder of what they gave up as Blood Hunters. Those traditions were important to Dittany.

“Well…” Reid finally spoke up, “Then the only answer is to make sure she knows those traditions, so she doesn’t just see them as another study.”

“Should I get her a Hunter’s capelet then?” Tasa asked the men, “Oooo you should wear your arm sleeves again. I know you don’t while you teach, but if you’re going to do this, you might as well be proper about it.”

“I thought we were keeping the Blood Hunter aspect below wind,” Dittany finally looked up from the table.

Tasa gave Dittany a look, “Honestly, who in the nine hells is going to know Blood Hunter traditions? Dorothea needs new workout clothes anyways. I’ll provide them! It’ll be a gift from me.”

“And I can gather the ingredients used for the marking,” Reid began and waved Dittany off when he began to get up and protest, “Dorothea normally wears long sleeve dresses, no one is going to notice unless they’re very observant. Besides, it’ll be nice to use it for its intended purpose instead of doodling on each other.”

Dittany stared at the two, as if he couldn’t believe what they were suggesting.

“In fact, for those lessons, have the other children come along,” Tasa added, “These aren’t just lessons about being a Blood Hunter, they are a history that shouldn’t be forgotten anyways. You’re not going to get a chance to pass along your history like this again Dittany. I get you don’t like the fact there is no real choice in this, but you might as well make the best of it, and make sure they’re not forgotten.”

“Beyond just House Eutis,” Reid amended, “Just try, and through that, maybe she’ll understand the seriousness of what she’s getting into.”

Besides, Reid thought, those traditions will hopefully ease any future regrets that Dorothea may experience when she gets older. She was, after all, only fourteen years old.

[baby-grayson]

Kind Stranger| GBD

Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny) Trigger Warning: quarantine talk A/N: This is my first fic post ever! Please let me know what you think about this little teaser. Please please give me feedback about if I should keep going or if I can improve at all!!

The saltwater hit his tongue sharply. His body fell alongside his board in the water. While his feet met the ground again, he quickly scooped up the wayward board before it floated too far away. Arriving back on the shore, he dug the bottom of the board into the heavy, wet sand. He sat next to it, the tide kissing his feet and bare legs as it danced along the shore. He took a deep breath. He was at peace.

Grayson Dolan didn’t feel peace often: at least, not lately. The past two years had been one chaotic haze after another. Moving into a house in LA. Being on Fear Factor. Having his first stalker. Being there to watch his father pass. Starting a fragrance company. Erupting into a workaholic pattern of self-destruction to avoid dealing with the emotions of his father’s death. Announcing to his over 10million fans that he and Ethan had reached their last emotional string and needed to pursue a life that was happiest for them, including projects that pushed them as creators.

The creative projects were as scary and dizzying as they were exciting. He and Ethan traveled across the country in a custom van. They explored the Australian wilderness. They started a podcast with their friend, Ryan, to introduce the real, mature versions of themselves to the internet. Grayson had a small black notebook in his bottom left desk drawer with project ideas and timelines for the year.

But that notebook became pointless when the pandemic hit. He and Ethan were in the process of finding a new house after an incident with an unhealthily obsessed fan when the shelter in place orders hit. The first month was unstable; no one should have to move to a new house in the middle of a pandemic. But the craziness subsided eventually, Grayson and Ethan found a home to call their own for the first time in their lives. After living in close quarters during construction left them at each other’s throats, they found a rental in Malibu to live out the rest of their quarantine days. Periodically, the visited their mother in New Jersey.

Visiting New Jersey did not exactly follow the CDC guidelines. Grayson quelled the risk in his heart with the importance of his mother. If she wasn’t working and he and Ethan only ever saw each other, how dangerous could it really be? Besides, his mother needed him. After the death of his father, his mother was left alone in their house in rural New Jersey. She had nothing but the memories of buying the home, bringing home two twin baby boys, teaching her daughter how to ride a bike, and having tough conversations about her sons’ dreams… Yeah, she needed him. Grayson decided. Grayson still held guilt from not spending enough time with his mother after his father passed. He loved her more than anything, and in a deep place, a place so deep that he didn’t dare think on often, he would never forgive himself for not being there for her in the weeks following his father’s passing.

He thought of her often: like on this beach in Malibu. He thought of how she’d love to pull up a beach chair and enjoy a Mojito while soaking up the sun. The image almost made him chuckle. For a short second, he pictured Ethan and Cameron there with her. Cameron would pull up a beach chair next to their mother, blasting her latest musical obsession from a stereo. Ethan would try to surf, but eventually his more whimsical tendencies would give out and he’d try building the biggest sandcastle a 20-year-old man child could muster.

Grayson chuckled to himself, he buried his hands in the sand at his sides. He played with it in his palms, feeling the fine granules pass over his coarse skin. A thousand little diamonds slowly withering away at a firm and precise exterior. He was also reminded of his mother constantly telling him to exfoliate his callouses from building.

This was Grayson mid-pandemic. The mess of finding a house passed. The initial marvel of staying busy inside the house passed. Hell, even the wonder of cutting his home-grown mullet had passed. Now, he and Ethan traded turns being the more bored twin. Ethan had re-watched Stranger Things about 10 times by now. Grayson spent his days working out, following his regimented daily routine to soon reach a Planche Hold. Occasionally, one of them would reach a deeper state of boredom and go to bother the other twin. They would go to bed and rehearse the routine again the next day.

Unfortunately for Grayson, Ethan slept like the dead. His twin brother usually slept until 11:00 AM; the pandemic had pushed that to a firm 1:00PM. His brother’s sleeping beauty impression left Grayson with nearly half a day to himself. Grayson made a ritual out of going surfing. The beach was secluded enough to not require the precautionary thinking of masks and hygiene in a pandemic. It was just Grayson, his board, and the ocean. He spent his alone time thinking of the important people in his life. In some ways, this pandemic was almost a good thing for him. He spent last year moving too fast among emotions he was too immature to process on his own. This year the world forced him to move too slow in an attempt to let his mind and heart catch up to the rest of his life. His introspective moments on the sand and sea were his own to experience and process alone. Except today.

She looked down at him and smiled, “Good Morning”

His lips turned up softly, “Morning”

He watched as she walked away: a long, dark ponytail fluttering in the wind over a flowy, white sundress sundress with a small, leather purse hanging at her hip. Grayson leaned back on his palms when he noticed something. Her footprints weren’t even. In the sand, one foot was about two inches deeper than the other. He furrowed his brow, pondering it for a second before shaking his head. He dipped his hands in the water and wet his newly cropped haircut. He was seeing things, probably swallowing too much salt. He grabbed his board and headed up shore to his van.

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He wouldn’t have recognized her without the hair. The next day, he was paddling back to shore on his board when she walked by. He could make out her long, dark hair against the pale, sandy background. He squinted: not being able to tell if she was looking back at him. He smiled brightly and outwardly, just in case she could see him. His smile faded in a few seconds. what am I doing? He thought before padding back to shore to make his usually introspective campsite.

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The third day, he was firmly in deep thought about his next tattoo when she walked by. They made eye contact as they flashed each other warm, but polite, smiles. “Good Morning” “Good Morning”.

This secluded little beach not his own anymore. He shared it with a kind stranger. She was a silent reminder that the world continued to turn outside of his fast-paced, modern, social media based lifestyle. Okay he thought maybe I’m being a bit deep …but it’s nice to have someone else around I guess.  

Their routine played for two weeks. She would walk by Grayson, either as he was coming to land again or paddling his way back to shore. They exchanged greetings and smiles as they passed. By the time she turned around and walked back to her car again, Grayson was gone.  Sometimes she saw the imprint of him in the sand when he was gone and thought about him when he wasn’t there. For a few minutes, she would muse to herself about his name. Sterling? No too Disney. Lance? No too King Arthur. William? No too Royal Family.

Occasionally, Grayson would think back to her outside of his beach visits. Maybe he passed a girl with long, dark hair in the grocery store, or maybe he saw someone about her size on the other side of a parking lot, he would catch his breath quickly before realizing it wasn’t her. What would I even say? Are we friends? She probably doesn’t remember what I look like. Why do I care? That last one got him.

Why did he care? Sure, he thought, she was pretty. She seemed nice, well okay her Good Mornings sound nice…nicest he’d heard in a while considering the only other person who wished him a good morning was Ethan. Maybe that was just it, he was spending too much time by himself or with Ethan. Ethan and Grayson had been quarantined together for almost four months now. The only other people he had seen was his mother, sister, and friend Ryan. When you only speak to 4 other people face to face for four months, the girl on the beach was a contender for one of his closest friends. The thought settled well in his brain, rationalizing his anxieties about seeing her in public.

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About two weeks later, on a Tuesday morning, the sky was grey as the sun hid behind the clouds; the ocean water was unusually murky with dense foam. Grayson’s head must have been in the grey clouds because his usual surfing excursion left him tumbling around in the water more than usual. He started back for the shore earlier than usual, sensing that today was simply not his day. When the water reached his chest, Grayson started to walk upright in the water while dragging his board behind him. Not a few seconds later, he felt a sharp pain stab the outer edge of his left foot. “FUCK”, he swore out loud and gasped. The saltwater heightened the pain as he continued to trudge through the water.

He arrived on shore and noticed a jagged, long cut along the side of his right foot. The saltwater washed away the blood seeping through the wound: all that was left was a deep, slender slice taken out of the side of his foot. He tossed his board down, not bothering to dig it into the sand. He sat on the waters edge, trying to wash the sand out of the wound but wincing when the salt returned with its pointed sting. He groaned softly to himself.

I can’t walk back to the car like this, he thought to himself.

He threw his head back, frustrated with the situation. Frustrated with how he might have scratched his board on a rock from tossing it down. Frustrated from the deep wound spewing blood from his foot. Frustrated with his loneliness. Frustrated with the pandemic. Frustrated with his career. It all lead him here: sitting on a beach, more than half naked, with a bloody foot and a bruised ego. He sighed out loud and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are you okay?”

Grayson nearly jumped, not because she was mean or aggressive but because he was having his internal meltdown under the impression that he was alone. He forgot about his little beach friend. Her brow furrowed softly, oh shit I should say something. 

“Yeah, I uhh I just got cut up is all” Grayson waived his injured foot softly from where it lay.

She hesitated for a second, neither of them was wearing a mask. Surely Dr. Fauci would approve of her helping a lone stranger who was in pain. She ignored the premonition, figuring that she wouldn’t be seeing anyone else soon anyway but remembering to put a mask in her purse for any future first aid incidents.

“Do you need a hand?” Her eyes were kind and caring, a deep brown that looked nearly gold in the grey light of that Tuesday morning. Grayson found himself looking at her, really looking at her for the first time since they started sharing the beach. She did not notice Grayson’s awkward gawk getting the best of him. She bent her head down, her eyes leaving Grayson’s gaze to search her purse for something. Grayson realized how small she was, probably only 5 feet tall and slender framed underneath her T-shirt and shorts. She unearthed a small, white package from within her purse. “Bandaid?” she offered, holding it out to him.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Grayson nodded softly and took the package from her. He looked from the white box to his cut and his muscles tensed up, unsure of where to start. He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with uncertainty. She smiled softly at him, reassuring that frustrated place in his heart slightly. “Want some help?”, she was already kneeling down before he could start nodding.

Grayson slipped the white bandage box into her small palm as she started wiping away the larger pieces of sand around the cut. “You think it could get infected?” he asked, “By something in the water?”

She laid a piece of gauze over his cut as she shook her head. “No, the salt in the water would act as an electrolyte to dehydrate the phospholipid bilayer of any aquatic bacteria before it even got in.” He felt his eyebrows raise. She wrapped his foot in a larger bandage before adding, “uh I mean… it’s salt water, so you’ll be fine…..how did you do this anyway?”

“I must’ve stepped on a rock coming out of the water,” Grayson coolly forgot to mention his earlier debacle of looking like a Saint Bernard on a surfboard.

“If a big guy like you can get taken down by a rock, I have no chance in this world,” she remarked while standing up and putting the box back in her purse.  Grayson laughed out loud with a wide smile. Her joke wasn’t even that funny, but it had been so long since he heard someone make a joke besides Ethan.

She smiled down at him, “I like the band” she gestured toward the solid black tattoo on his right ankle. “I think I would go with an anklet though,” she added with a soft confidence.”

Grayson tried to stand on the freshly bandage foot, “True but this way I’ll never lose it in the ocean.”

It was her turn to laugh, she flashed a bright smile at him and let out a happy sound. Her laugh died down as Grayson stood up tall: a tanned, muscular Adonis standing before her. “Well um..I’m glad to see you’re doing okay,” she started to step away from him, “See you later.” She smiled before turning away.

“See you later,” Grayson waved goodbye as she turned her back and continued her walk. He stopped himself, why was a grown man waving goodbye in public like a kindergartener at school? He let his hand fall to his side before picking up his board and walking back to his van. He looked down at his foot, I guess Ethan is taking out the trash tonight..and making me dinner. 

On the other side of the beach, she drew in a breath and cursed to herself, shit..I didn’t get his name..

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Grayson returned to the beach the next morning without his board. He decided that getting his bandaged (freshly done and kissed with love by Ethan) foot was too much of a risk. Also, he feared cutting up his good foot with a matching gash. He couldn’t depend on pretty girls with nice eyes to always be there with bandaids.  Instead, he sat down on the sand, letting the water run over his right foot and leg. He held his injured leg in his bicep, folding his knee up to meet his chest. With his free arm, he tried to skip stones in the water from his position on the ground.

He tried his best to enjoy his introspective morning with the ocean, even though he wasn’t in the water.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your board” she looked down at him from under the visor of a black baseball hat.

He chucked, “Boards don’t pair well with bandaged feet.” He smiled up at her, “Thank you, by the way, for yesterday. I really appreciate it… You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem….just being a kind stranger,” outwardly, she smiled gently but inwardly she cringed at the awkwardness of her own words. Grayson smiled gently back at her, she can’t have been too awkward if he’s still looking at her right?

“My names Kate”

“I’m Grayson”   A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! This is the first thing I am ever posting and would really appreciate any feedback you have about whether or not I should keep going. <3 

[bakugotrashpanda]

Best Bro

Bakugou x Reader Word Count: 1134

 A/N: HI UM I GOT ENGAGED TODAY SO I’M KINDA SUPER FUCKIN HYPED AND SCATTERBRAINED. I wanted to write something and, uh, I don’t know if it flows well, but here it is.

 --

Bakugou was lost in thought as he stored his hero outfit. He went through the moves of putting everything away in his locker, but it was obvious to Kirishima that he wasn’t paying attention.

“You doin’ alright?” Kirishima asked slowly. His best friend had more of these moments where he was uncharacteristically quiet and it was starting to freak him out.

“I’m doing it tonight.” Bakugou turned and Kirishima saw the determined look on his face.

“Wait, for real?” Kirishima started to smile, “You’re going to ask Y/N?”

“Yeah,” a private smile flashed across his lips before returning to his trademark scowl.

“Congrats, man!” Kirishima slapped Bakugou on the back and continued changing out of his outfit.

“They haven’t said yes yet,” Bakugou said quietly. There was a real fear that you would say ‘no’. It sat quietly in the back of his mind, stalking him patiently, waiting for something to go wrong. You had been dating for years at and even lived together. Bakugou was confident you would say yes, but if, if you said no… Bakugou wasn’t sure what he would do with himself. He didn’t like to admit it, but he fully trusted you and had come to rely on you, as partners do. Plus you were one of the few people who didn’t piss him off.

“You know they will,” Kirishima broke through Bakugou’s thoughts, “Y/N loves you, man.”

“It’s their choice,” Bakugou cleared his throat, “but assuming they say yes, will you be my best man?” Bakugou closed his locker and waited for Kirishima to finish changing.

“Hell yeah I’ll be your best bro!” Kirishima gave Bakugou a toothy smile. Pulling his trademark spikes into a low ponytail, Kirishima closed his locker and joined Bakugou near the exit of the changing rooms. “Now tell me what you’re gonna do…”

 You had a whirlwind of a day at work and all you could think about was changing out of your corporate clothes into something comfy. Helping run one of the largest agencies in Japan was no easy feat, but you took each day in stride and rolled with whatever came your way. As per usual, you brought a fat stack of papers home that you would maybe look over if you remembered. Ninety percent of the time you never got to the files piled precariously in your arms, but it was the thought that counts, right?

Bakugou stood in the kitchen, prepping dinner when he heard the telltale scratching of your keys trying to find the lock. A moment after it was unlocked, the doorknob turned and the door flew open with a BANG. You stood balanced on one leg with your files clutched to your chest, your other leg extended from kicking the door open. Bakugou smirked as you walked in and kicked your shoes off, not bothering to put them away yet.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late, work was awful today.” The files were set on the side table with a fwmp and you tossed your keys into the dish that held them. You pecked his cheek as you walked past and dumped your bag on the ground. You really were like a hurricane, leaving destruction in your wake when you wanted to. “I’m going to go change and then I’ll be out to help with dinner.” Bakugou shook his head as he watched your retreating form. As soon as the door closed, he stepped out of the kitchen so he was the first thing you would see when you left the bedroom. Sinking down to one knee, he palmed the little black box and opened it. His grandmother’s ring winked back at him in the light.

His mother caught wind that Bakugou was ring shopping a couple months ago and all but beat him into taking the family heirloom ‘for an option’. It was a beautiful ring, but he put up a front and ‘reluctantly’ took it so it wouldn’t look like he was giving in to her wishes.

The doorknob jiggled and Bakugou turned it around, reciting the four words he had to say in his head.

“You would not believe the bull-” you started as you left the room but stopped when you saw him. “Katsuki?”

Now was not the time to start sweating. Bakugou held the ring box up and said, “Will you-”

“YES!” you screamed and ran down towards him. Bakugou braced himself as you threw your arms around his neck. “Oh my god yes!” You held out your ring finger expectantly and wiggled it. 

“I’m not putting this on you until you let me ask it properly,” Bakugou raised an eyebrow. You pouted silently but waited for him to continue. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” you nodded. Bakugou took the ring out of the box and slowly put it on your finger. His fingers shook as you took your hand away and looked at the ring. Tears welled up in your eyes and you cupped Bakugou’s face before kissing him. His hands went instinctively to your hips and he pulled you close.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear.

 BONUS:

“Stop fidgeting with it,” Bakugou growled.

“It’s crooked,” Sero complained. Bakugou jerked away from him and went to fix it himself. The door opened and Bakugou nearly yelled at the person walking in for no reason besides existing.

“It’s almost time, you ready?” Kaminari poked his head in the dressing room and looked at all the other groomsmen standing there. Kirishima noted the vein near Bakugou’s temple pulse with anger.

“Everybody out, I’ll get him to the end of the aisle.” Kirishima waved everyone out and then it was just him and Bakugou. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fucking ready,” Bakugou sighed, relieved that everyone was out. Kirishima held out his hand and Bakugou clasped it, giving a tight squeeze.

It was a gorgeous day for an outdoor wedding and Bakugou stood facing the officiant for the ceremony. Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Sato stood the opposite direction, waiting for your entry. Bakugou heard everyone stand and stiffened. You were walking towards him now and he couldn’t see you. For some stupid reason he had agreed to wait until you were next to him, and now he was mentally kicking himself, but it’s what you wanted.

“Oh, bro,” Kirishima said softly next to him. He made eye contact with the redhead and saw the sappy grin he was wearing.

“I want to see them,” Bakugou demanded. He nearly turned around but Kirishima kept him in place.

“Just wait, it’ll be worth it,” Kirishima gave him a familiar toothy grin and slowly took his arm away. When Bakugou finally turned, he was rewarded for his patience with a breathtaking view of you. He stood there speechless.

“Told ya,” Kirishima chuckled quietly.

[bxthharmon]

Through the Ages || JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Words: 1870

Warnings: Super toxic relationship, underage drinking, smoking, weed

Summary: The development of your relationship with JJ, from when your first met aged eight to adult life, MAJOR ANGST

A/N: okay i know i havent written anything in WEEKS but im watching obx and im obsessed... i really wasn’t expecting this to take such a dark turn?? contact me if you wanna request anything or make friends :)

masterlist

8 years

You’re eight and when you meet John in front of the school to walk home, he has a friend. You know your brother’s friends - most of them, at least - but this boy is new. He is tanned and blonde and tall for his age, and a girl in your class had told you about how he’s always getting into small playground scraps. You eye each other warily on the way home, your brother between you, oblivious to the hostility. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him - how could you dislike someone you knew nothing about? - it was that John had promised to stop bringing his friends on the way home, because he would end up ignoring you, and now there was a friend walking with them. 

When the boy finally leaves, John looks at you as if he forgot you were there. You watch as the boy goes through the front door, catching a glimpse of a dark, cluttered house. You wonder where his parents are. 

John coaxes you into a race - who can get home first - and he wins. He always wins. A year older, stronger, faster. Your dad greets you, asking about your days, and laughing as you complain about how John ignored you on the way home.

The next week, the boy walks with you again. His name is JJ, and he’s funny. He gives you a twinkie as a peace offering, saying that he wants to walk with you and John from now on. You shrugged, and took the twinkie, telling him it was for the food, and only the food.

11 years

You’re eleven, in your first year of middle school, and you and John ride home from school everyday on your bikes. On the days when you’re not surfing or hanging out with friends, you cycle home with John, JJ and a new member of the gang, Pope. You and JJ, while still at a twinkie-incited truce, are growing more competitive and show-offish around each other. You race your bikes to his, and if you stop at the corner store on the way home, you see who can chug their cola faster. John fights with you when you get home because they’re “his friends, not yours!”

You have your own friends, and sometimes you cross with your brother’s friends in town, sass thrown between the groups like a tennis rally, the twinkie-truce fading into the past. You can’t stand the tall blonde surfer, but you can’t wait to argue with him on your way home from school.

14 years

You’re fourteen, and after a year long break from your brother’s friends, you’re, once again, at the same school. You’ve changed, filled out more over the last year, puberty having hit you like a tonne of bricks since you last hung out. The three pogues now have one female friend, Kiara, and you become fast friends. You can tell your brother has a thing for her, and you wonder if he’ll ever bring her home to meet your dad. 

JJ sees you differently now. You seem less like the eight year old he met six years ago, but you’re still very much yourself. He pulls your ponytail as you pass him in the hallways at school, and you flip him off in return. You sometimes go to the same parties, and your drinking races have switched from cola to beer. John hates you being at parties, claiming your too young to drink or party, as if he wasn’t the year before. John can see how JJ looks at you, and he hates it. He hates seeing how guys look at you now, how they flirt, hit on and catcall his baby sister. He also hates how in your efforts to compete with JJ, you get into fights and run your mouth. He hates how JJ shows off around you, and vice versa. 

Despite his frustrations with JJ, he’s also the only guy who’ll stand up for you when you or John can’t do it yourselves. He hopes you don’t grow up too quickly, and he knows that his friends will always have your back, so he’s not worried. 

15 years

You’re fifteen, and you go to a kegger for the first time. You get drunk quickly, flirting with too many guys and giggling at every little thing. You share a blunt with JJ, and the pair of you practically piss yourselves with laughter when John tries to reprimand you. The night is fun, and you can’t wait for the next one. 

The next one is much worse. You’re one or two drinks in when you see JJ flirting with a touron. In retrospect, that’s probably when you first noticed your feelings, but at the time you have no idea why you’re so angry about it. By the end of the night, you’ve had half a bottle of vodka and two spliffs, and you’re way far gone. You might even have blacked out - but all you remember is the pure rage, and how you spent ten minutes throwing up by the front porch when you got home. 

You saw JJ the next day, and you’re both hungover. He checks on you, and neither of you really understand why you’re so cold towards him, but he leaves pretty quickly.

You cry that night.

16 years

You’re sixteen, and your dad is missing. You lost all your friends when you fell into a depression after it. Nine months later, and you feel happy again. You’re the final member of pogue crew, and you spend the summer surfing and swimming and settle into the routine of summer. You surf first thing in the morning, as dawn breaks, often with JJ, competing over who’s a better surfer (he is). You spend your afternoons on the HMS Pogue, competing with JJ over who’s the better swimmer (you are). The group of you drink and smoke and live your best lives. On the days where you’re not on the boat, you work. 

You know you love JJ, and you flirt constantly. He kisses you at a kegger, barely twenty minutes before he pulls the gun on Topper. You have your first serious argument that night, and it ends with him kissing you.

You wear your heart on your sleeve, and assure him you love him. He doesn’t say it back, but he shows it. You learn about his Dad and his work and how he learnt to surf. You sneak around, and, miraculously, don’t get caught. 

16 ½ years

You’re sixteen and a half when John and Sarah go missing. Kie and Pope try to help, but you don’t pay them any attention. You and JJ struggle, with yourselves, each other, and your relationship. You’re on the rocks, you’re up against the wall. You don’t think you’ll last, and you fight constantly.

Your relationship is toxic, taking your own angers out on each other, fighting and screaming in each others faces only to make up for a honeymoon period that lasts a week, max, and the cycle repeats. You’re both miserable. 

17 years

You’re seventeen, and he breaks up with you. You were too alike - both too impulsive, angry, broken for it to ever work. You apply to out-of state colleges, hoping to escape the islands you used to love.

You wait for an acceptance letter, and watch as the people you call family try to rebuild their lives.

18 years

You’re eighteen, and you get the letter. UCLA, on the other side of the country. You say your goodbyes to Kie and Pope, and eventually, JJ.

He looks broken, when you tell him. He asks you what you’d do if John came back and you weren’t around, but you had resigned yourself to John’s death long ago. You fight one last time. You fuck one last time. You love one last time.

You wonder if you’ll ever return.

22 years

You’re twenty two, and you’ve got a degree. You fly home the day after graduation, and everything has changed.

Kie runs the Wreck now, and she gives you a free meal and you talk for hours when you first arrive. She invited you to her and Pope’s place. 

They have a nice place. Not on Figure Eight, but on that side of the island - Pope’s got a high earning job in marine biology research. They’re happy.

You smoke a blunt with Pope, for old time’s sake. He tells you to see JJ, and gives you a slip of paper with the address. You don’t know if you want to throw it into the ocean or treasure it forever. You do neither.

It takes you a week to psych yourself up to it, and then you knock on his door.

His house is small, but not tiny, not like his childhood home. He welcomes you in, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in years. He sits you down at the dinner table, and you take in the pictures on the mantel shelf, and the mementos stuck to the fridge. 

You see the ring on his finger.

You enter a state of stasis. You were sure he was it for you, but the circumstances were wrong and you were too immature. Right person, wrong time, or something along those lines. No, apparently not. He moved on, he built a life without you, a happier, healthier life.

His wife is lovely, everything you’re not. She’s patient and kind and soft-spoken, the opposite to him, bringing balance. She stabilises him, and gives him what he needs.

You think of how you would argue with him, the screaming, shouting, throwing plates and vases. Your love was so naive, but so passionate. Everything that happened while you were together, everything that went wrong, happened because your tempers and stubborn natures and impulsivity was destructive.

You fly back to California a week later. 

You sit on the plane and reminisce. The night you and JJ broke up, the house got wrecked. You had been standing inches apart, but screaming at the top of your lungs. You had lost your temper and overturned a table, smashing all the crockery left on it. He had thrown a vase at the wall, and you had fought until your voices broke and you were too tired and sore to keep throwing shit at walls and each other. You had sat next to each other, leaning on the wall by the front door, an uncharacteristic calm washing over you. 

You had looked at him, heart aching, and told him that you needed to split up. He had nodded, and eventually, the pair of you had drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a world where you could be together without all the hate in the way.

When you woke up in the morning, he was gone, but the mess had stayed. You had had to tiptoe over thousands of shards of broken crockery and glass to get to your room, a reminder of how you were destined to self-destruct. 

You watched out the window as the plane landed, and vowed never to return again. 

Outer Banks was no longer your home.

[gothamsforgottenchildren]

The Forgotten Children Chapter 3

Zack

“Okay I get why you need to be here, but why did I have to come tonight?” Leigh Ann asks. She is tugging at the collar of her turtleneck like it is too tight or is uncomfortable. It’s a dark red sleeveless, turtleneck top, with built-in armor and has gold accents. It’s paired with a gladiator skirt, boots, and forearm guards. It’s a good thing we don’t have to worry about her getting cold.

I roll my eyes at the radiant girl. She’s been messing with her outfit since she put it on. That’s what she gets for wearing her new suit for the first time in the field.

“You’re here as backup so no one tries anything. Also, stop messing with that, you’re gonna stretch it out,” I say.

She groans, throwing her arm dramatically on the ground, “Do you honestly think anyone will show?”

I shrug, “It’s Gotham.”

She snorts, but nods. This causes her long brown hair to fall into her face. To anyone else, it would cause her features to be lost in a shadow, but for me, I can easily see the grin on her lips, and the fire in her dark brown eyes. Leigh Ann has always been easy to read if you can see her eyes. The light within them is currently dancing like flames in a bonfire, playful.

“Whatcha lookin at?” she asks me, pulling her hair up into a slick high ponytail.

“Just you,” I say. I know she won’t take it the wrong way. We’ve known each other too long for that to happen.

She shakes her head at me, “I love you but you’re a psychoanalyzing dork.”

She isn’t wrong, so I can’t really say anything. We sit in silence for a while, I’m just enjoying the warmth of her company. When I hear something from in the distance. It was footsteps, lots of them. “We’ve got company,” I warn her, standing up and moving into position.

I watch as she climbs off the roof of one of our warehouses by the sea pier in the Amusement Mile. She may not be as fluid as Kat, but she knows what she’s doing. By the time Penguin’s thugs show up, she’s waiting for them and I’m hidden in the shadows.

The Penguin not long ago was injured badly by the Red Hood, and ever since then, his gang has been wreaking havoc on everyone. They have no boss giving them orders, so they’ve turned into essentially a gang of anarchists. The main problem with that is they seem to think that we’re low enough on the totem pole to be a victim of their riots.

When they see Leigh Ann or as they know her, The Devil’s Flame, I see mixed reactions throughout the group. Some of them are scared, some notice that she’s by herself and gets excited, and some are angry. Ignatius Ogilvy steps to the front, he’s Penguin’s right hand within the gang.

He’s a white man with blonde hair. He’s dressed well for a guy who’s supposedly going to get his hands dirty. Honestly, I believe that he’s the boss who sits there and does nothing while his underlings do all the work. It’s going to get him killed one of these days.

I cock my head to focus my hearing on his heartbeat. It’s elevated. I can smell the fear rolling off of him. He’s nervous around Leigh Ann. Good, he should be.

She stands her ground. Her body is open and in a relaxed stance, but one she could quickly fight in. To be fair though, she doesn’t really have to move much to hurt people.

“This warehouse is under the protection of the Second Borns, you need to leave,” Leigh Ann says. She is looking Ignatius dead in the eye, waiting for his move.

I hear his heart rate spike as he debates what he is going to do. He lifts both hands in the air in the classic “I surrender” pose, but then he tilts his head, dropping his hands and shrugs. “It’s dangerous for a beautiful lady like yourself to be all alone in Gotham at night,” he says.

“I can handle myself just fine,” she says.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, before pointing a finger at her, yelling, “Get her!” Then I watch as all of his men storm at Leigh Ann or should I call her the Devil’s Flame because that’s who she truly is in moments like this. She is no longer the girl I know with kind eyes that have a dancing flame, she is now a roaring forest fire that only wants to burn everything in its path. Her entire body becomes alight. Her onyx-colored eyes are engulfed in flames along with the rest of her body. She is the human embodiment of destruction and she does it all with a smile on her face. I have to look away because looking at her is like staring at the sun, which is too much for my sensitive eyes. I hear the screams though. I’m sent here to protect her, as backup, but I’m rarely needed.

I make myself busy by watching the skyline. The entire area around me is illuminated by her power. It makes it harder for me to hide, but it also makes it harder for others. I notice movement in a window a ways away from us, in a building that should be abandoned. There’s a sniper in that room taking aim at Leigh Ann. Or at least trying to. It’s hard to aim at something so bright, I bet they didn’t think it was going to be here in charge of watching the docs. It’s normally just me. We’re currently trying to claim them for ourselves.

I take off anyway though. With one leap from the ground, I unfurl my wings, pushing them down to gain height from the ground. Now even though I am flying I still try to stick to the shadows the best I can. If they try to shoot at Leigh Ann, they will most likely miss or the bullet will melt because of the heat. If they shoot at me, I can be shot out of the air, which sucks.

Flying is one of my favorite things, even if I don’t like how sore it leaves me after. I love the feeling of the wind flowing through my hair. I purposefully keep my brown hair longer than I should because it makes the sensation so much better.

I get to the spot where I can quickly fly across and take the person out. I fly across to the window, left to where they are. I move so quietly that they don’t notice me. I open the window and slip in. The room is empty and dark. I can see a door on the right wall, joining the two rooms. Once I finish picking the lock, I open the door to see an older man’s back facing me. He is a white man in his late forties. He isn’t anyone important, no one I need to think twice about before crossing, or killing. I walk across the room, silent. When I finally get to the other side, where I stand right behind him. I clear my throat. I wish I can see his face, but his back is to me. Before he can even turn around, I’m grabbing his head in my hands and snapping his neck.

I let his body drop to the ground, grabbing his gun and unloading it. Then I step over his body and climb out the window he had shot out of.

I take off again, this time flying towards Leigh Ann. I can tell that she’s finished most of them off, or at least scared them off. Leigh Ann typically tries to maim instead of kill. I swoop down to one of the men trying to escape, grab his head, and twist it while flying up. Once I’m twenty feet in the air I drop his body on a woman trying to run away as well. I look up in Leigh Ann’s direction, her bright flames are starting to dim, as she’s powering down.

I land next to her, just as the last few disappear into the shadows that are Gotham City. She is grinning when she turns to me. She’s upset about something though, judging by the dampened light in her eyes. It looks like a fire out in the rain; fighting to stay alight against the force of the cold attacking it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her. It isn’t right for someone as radiant as her to be so dim.

Her grin slips for a second, “It’s nothing important, I’ll talk to you about it when we’re somewhere secure. We need to leave because this fire show is likely to attract unwanted attention,” she whispers. She knows I can always hear her.

With that, we start our walk home. I feel the ache in my shoulders and back start. I should take a long hot bath when I get home. I must be walking weirdly because Leigh Ann wraps her arm under the coat concealing my wings, applying warm heat, soothing my sore muscles. I wrap my arm over her shoulder, and she leans her head against my side as we walk.

“Does that help at all?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, trying not to shudder. Apparently, I don’t succeed, because she chuckles when I do. “We need to stop and let you change though, or at least throw on a coat. You’re too noticeable in that outfit,” I tell her.

“Okay Dad,” she says, pulling apart from me, and reaching into the garbage bin where we stored her clothes earlier and sliding on a pair of black pants, a red turtleneck, and a dark brown mini trench-coat.

We walk along in silence for a while, just trying to blend in. We have to make sure no one is following us back to our home. I decide that it was safe to start the descent home, when I hear a sound, my knees buckle and I fall, clutching my head. I vaguely catch Leigh Ann’s scared expression out of the corner of my eye before I blackout.

I wake up to warm hands and silence. I’m now in an alley with sound-canceling headphones on. My head is laying in Leigh Ann’s lap, her hands combing through my hair. I reach up towards the dial that controls how soundproof the headphones are, and turn them down slightly. I can still hear the noise, but it’s manageable now.

I look around, taking in my surroundings. There are brick walls on either side of me, Gotham’s starless night sky is overhead. It’s as dull and lifeless as always. There is too much pollution in Gotham to see stars. The weirdest part is the fire escapes. They are the kind installed in residential areas.

“In an alley. We’re just a couple blocks over from where we were,” Leigh Ann said.

I look at her in a panic. Why would she bring us to a random ally in Gotham if one of us is down?

“Don’t give me that look, we’re totally safe,” Leigh Ann said, rolling her eyes at my paranoia, “This area of Gotham is relatively safe. Plus, you’re super heavy.”

I pull myself out of her lap and lean against the brick wall, shuddering from the sudden lack of warmth. I lean my head back, looking up, trying to piece together what happened. I remember the sound. Knowing that the headphones are probably blocking out the noise, I turn the dial down. Then I hear it. It is a high-pitch ringing. It’s super familiar.

My eyes widen, “We have to go! The sound it’s someone’s emergency beacon.”

I watch Leigh Ann’s head whip towards me, causing her ponytail to hit her in the face. She ignores it. She whips her phone out of her pocket. I watch as she presses the first number on her emergency contact list. Riddle.

I know because my phone’s set up the same way. All our phones are programmed to have him listed as our first contact on our emergency contact list.

“Riddle? We have a problem,” Leigh Ann says into the phone, getting up to pace the ally.

I can’t hear his side of the conversation because of my headphones. I’d be willing to bet his response was a shortcut, “What?”.

“Someone’s emergency beacon has been activated,” says Leigh Ann. She stops pacing, tilting her head to the side, and furrowing her eyebrows in the way she does when she’s really trying to pay attention to what someone is saying. This is until her eyes widen, the flames in them sparking for a second. She pulls the phone from her face saying, “Of course you knew this already.” She then turns to me looking exasperated. “Who told you?” she asks, before exclaiming, “Robert!”

I roll my eyes at her. It’s not a hard puzzle to figure out. Robert very rarely leaves the house, and when he does, Riddle’s normally with him.

“Ask Riddle what he wants us to do,” I tell her.

I watch as she asks Riddle my question. She makes that face again, before pulling her phone away and quickly shoving it in her coat pocket. “He wants you to find whoever's triggered the alarm. Once you do make sure it’s safe to enter before you engage. He explicitly told me to tell you not to throw yourself in danger if it can be avoided.”

I stand up, nodding, “Am I taking you with me, or leaving you behind?”

“Behind for now. Once you get intel on the situation, your orders are to engage only if necessary and then call in using our phones to get more orders,” she says quickly. She is clearly upset but trying to stay focused. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to stop and console her, but I know that I don’t. I have to go.

Leigh Ann is caught up in her thoughts. She’s looking towards the mouth of the ally. I take off my jacket, wad it up, and chuck it at her. I listen to her shriek in surprise, before jumping up to take off into the air.

Before I even got to the building I could smell the blood. I know it’s Kat’s. His blood smells different than everyone else's because of his mutation.

“Shit Kat,” I whisper when I land on the neighboring building, “What did you do?”

[lilyhoshikawa]

🎥🎶💕🏳‍🌈💎 for hunters perhaps? >:3c

Oh golly! Ok fndkfnfn let me do this then. This may be difficult-

🎥: Do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

This is hard bc I have a lot of scenes I like and good scenes keep happening dhdjfn.

There are a lot of stand-outs so far. Among them is definitely like, the confrontation in the car between Blake and Sakio, and the recent social link scene with Blake and Lena on the boat.

Scenes that DON’T involve my own character that I adore include. The scene with Sakio and Camellia at the graveyard. The scene with with Lena and Twitch outside the store. The Sammy’s scene where they read Tango’s letter. Also the scene with Sammy and Masumi bc it was just extremely funny.

🎶: If your hyperfixation has songs / an OST, what is your favorite song from it?

Hm. Well time once again to advertise my Blake playlist, which I’m constantly putting a lot of work and thought into tbh dhjddb, I’ve deleted a fair number of songs from it when I feel they don’t fit, and I’m constantly messing with the order of the songs in relation to Blake’s prospective characters arc, and adding more as I find them fndkfnf I’m always on the lookout.

Also, vane is constantly updating the official playlist with some real bangers, and I appreciate that. Amil’s and Twitch’s themes are real good.

💕: Tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

Everybody has really really good characters, heck. One thing that strikes me is that even with taking the backseat and having to be on autopilot for several sessions, Camellia still has such a strong and distinct personality, to the point where everyone is on the same page abt them, and I think that’s just really amazing dhdjfjf, that’s how strong an impression they make every time they’re around.

Lena is also so good, she’s like… I think abt her frequently. Sometimes I just start giggling when I think abt Lena, bc she is a national treasure, and I hope she knows I care abt her. She’s great in this way that she’s both very funny/cute and also has a lot of depth and nuance to her arc, and I’m so excited for more.

In the same vein, Sammy. No one character has made me go from giggling to sobbing as fast as this green goat. One moment Sammy is making their cat do a little greeting and I’m rolling on the floor from the cuteness, and then the next second they’re crying and saying they don’t want to be left behind, and then I am also crying. How do they do it. The absolute range.

I also really appreciate Ilse like, particularly in contrast to Blake sometimes, in that Ilse is very smart in a way that’s quiet, self-conscious and careful, while Blake is at times recklessly arrogant, and those two bounce off each other well. Ilse feels mature at times but every time they quietly like, try to be the bigger person, or to not make a problem of themselves, I wanna give them a hug and be like “u deserve to be recognized and acknowledged and u deserve better” dhdjdndjdn. When u have big personalities like Sakio and Lena and Blake in the party there’s something compelling abt Ilse being with them and not asserting themselves as they try to do their best, if that makes sense, and I want them to know I see and appreciate them.

Sakio is also so good and I’ve talked abt this to vane plenty before but holy shit. There’s so much obvious care and love and effort and skill that went into writing a character who is both wrong in many ways, and who many player characters antagonize for good reason, and yet still so incredibly sympathetic, so likable and so compelling. The fact that both Blake and Lena have this relationship with Sakio where they don’t like or trust her, necessarily, but also can’t deal with her not being there, is so fucking good, it creates such powerful conflict in the smallest of ways. Sakio is great bc I love her and I understand her and I appreciate her, but I also wanna yell at her and think she is absolutely horribly wrong about incredibly crucial things and u can FEEL that turmoil in her as well, with her knowing on some level that her actions are going to cause harm, and she’s just waiting and hoping to take the fall, thinking, maybe foolishly, that she can, and that doing so will save everyone else.

I also fucking love so many minor characters we haven’t seen much of so far. I absolutely love Bee and I’ve told vane abt this but she’s just a total icon. Theo is also great, he is the only valid he/him in the entire campaign djdkfj. I love Twitch as well and I’m very excited for some of the interesting stuff in Twitch’s arc that has been hinted at coming to fruition later on, that’s very exciting. I’m also very excited to learn more abt Amil’s whole deal, I appreciate them a lot and I feel bad every time I have to make Blake come pester them fndkfnf. Oh also Prim, how did I forget Prim… what’s going on with her, I have no idea, but she’s a mean lady and my love for mean ladies is well-documented. Also her look is iconic. Also also Puck, the fact that he’s a child and I didn’t know it for several months shocked me to my core but it has made his brand of Shakespearean mischief that much more endearing, and now I seek only to give him snacks and let him sit in his funny garbage throne. I forgot abt Puck earlier so I’ll say he is the second valid he/him in the campaign but frankly I think Puck should take some neopronouns for a spin, he deserves it.

🏳️‍🌈: Do you have any headcanons (LGBT, race, neuro, etc.) that are important to you?

(*throws neurological disorders at Blake*) jdkdnfkf no but jokes aside. I love that this party is like, 5 player characters, 4 of whom use they/them. Just. The raw power of a persona series written by LGBT+ ppl…

I can’t speak on other ppl’s characters too much but as for Blake, they’re a closeted transfem and also too much of a disaster for a coherent sexuality but probably bi. Autistic, and an abuse survivor who experiences paranoid delusions and self-destructive tendencies. Probably more, but specifics are messy, they’re a fucking mess, what’s going on with them, they don’t even know.

Masumi is a binary trans lesbian, also an abuse survivor and manages quite a bit of paranoia of her own, dealing with mood swings and occasional delusions of grandeur, most of it she keeps internally managed which isn’t great for her mental health.

💎: Are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

Blake’s original characterization was thought up prior to the campaign and was very different from their finished characterization. They lived on a farm with their parents and were pretty quiet and passive before being arrested for a murder they didn’t commit (this part is the same) and their personality was way more quiet, reserved and passive, with the whole celebrity aspect completely absent. They were still going to be the sort of clever leader type character but leaned far more into the background. Their design was also different, with their hair in a low ponytail rather than high and scars on their face from scrapes and accidents working on the farm.

I realized that, even though this character was more of an original idea than Masumi (who I was playing in another campaign at the time and who was characterized somewhat differently as well) I didn’t find myself excited to write them, couldn’t get invested in them in the same way, and as I kept workshopping them I decided to be more self-indulgent and lean more into shamelessly making them an Akechi expy in more ways.

And what resulted from that, ironically, is what I feel is a better character in the end. Blake feels more dynamic, lively and interesting now than the old iteration I first thought up, back when I was intent on making them My Own Creation with their own arc. At this point I’m comfortable saying that Blake, for all their similarities to Akechi, has evolved over the course of the campaign into a more interesting character, into someone I recognize as distinctly different and who stands out. They feel unique to me, and feel like my own character. And I think that only could’ve happened through playing them in a TTRPG like this, in developing them along with others, and having to adapt, and I think that’s the beautiful thing about developing characters with other people. The Blake I’ve ended up with is one I’m really happy with, who I feel is more interesting and dynamic to me than if I had just tried to force something unique just to not feel cringe about making an expy. And maybe I need to learn that lesson before I go through the same thing with Zee fjdkfnf.