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enyearns · 6 months

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Bakugou Katsuki: All the Lovers in the Night

in which bakugou keeps you company (even though you never asked for it)

✧ genre: fluff ✧ cw: some swearing! (sorry! my hands are tied, bakugou is a swearer!); also a brief mention of sex (the characters don't do anything remotely promiscuous, it's just mentioned) ✧ wc: 2.1k

song for this read: Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex

a/n: i think, sometimes, we all deserve a tame bakugou. and, i believe that bakugou really can simmer down when he's with you. it's no wonder why you feel safe with him. (i am an avid fan of this kind of bakugou. very avid fan).

You usually fall asleep easily. Really, you could sleep just about anywhere, even if it were on some rocky surface, or even if people were yelling all around you; you would just need five minutes before you’ll completely clock off the world.

But tonight was one of the nights where your mind was needlessly bustling with thoughts. Your body was extremely exhausted, and your mind was at the brink of sanity, yet your spirit couldn’t commit to sleep. You were, frustratingly, tossing and turning in bed, chasing sleep that eluded you.

You were beginning to feel suffocated and dreadfully alone in your room, so you wrapped your fluffy blanket around your shoulders and grabbed two books, taking off downstairs to the common area. Here it was dark and (unsurprisingly) empty; all the lights had been long turned off and there was no chatter in any corner of the dormitory, but still you felt like you had space to breathe again.

As you made your way quietly to the couch, you felt comfort in seeing the traces of your classmates scattered around. The cake that Sato had baked (which was beautifully spongy and amazingly sweet) was on the countertop, only a few slices left since you and the other girls had graciously helped yourself to some. On the tables were someone’s textbooks. It was probably Sero and Kirishima’s — you saw the two studying (and chatting loudly) together earlier.

Honestly, it were the little things that made you feel safe again.

You curled up on the couch, turning on the lamp by the edge, and for a few minutes you had deliberated on which book to read.

On one hand, you could continue reading Crime and Punishment, a fantastic Dostoevsky classic, or you could finish off Olivie Blake’s Alone With You in The Ether. In the end, you decided to put the psychological crime novel aside and opted for the young adult fiction. Where you’re at in C&P right now is boring, what with the chapter centered around the insufferable Katerina Ivanovna. And, to be quite frank, where you’re at mentally isn’t capable of reading through Ivanovna’s self-wallowing dialogue at the moment.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you were pretty invested in the book, reading each line with a curious focus. You were now laying on your stomach, nose buried deep into the book as you kicked your feet and blushed and giggled to yourself. You were so immersed that you didn’t even notice that someone had come around.

In fact, you didn’t notice until you felt a dip on the couch, making you look up curiously. Your eyes locked with a pair of strikingly crimson orbs, which were weary and slightly hazy.

Bakugou looked extremely tired, wearing just a black tank that showed off his biceps, and some plaid pyjama pants. He was holding onto a half-empty glass. “What you reading, nerd?”

You smiled remembering the scene that you’re on, but your cheeks also simultaneously burned. Hopefully Bakugou would not be able to make that out right now, since the lamp only dimly lit the space. “It’s nothing.”

He raised his brow, but he was too tired to pry, concluding the end of their quiet chatter (if this even counts as one). Bakugou made no move to leave. He was just sitting there and staring off into the distance, not saying a word. You, still lying on your stomach facing the boy, would sometimes look up to see what he’s doing, but you were met with the same listless and unreadable expression on his face. He was so uncharacteristically quiet that you were convinced that he was asleep with his eyes wide open.

But you didn’t urge him to go back to his room to rest, nor did you ask why he was up in the first place. You didn’t want to prompt him to suddenly go away (knowing how easily his mood fluctuates). You enjoyed his company, and, as selfish as it was, you would hate it if he left.

He eventually stood up (abruptly, to say the least), leaving just as quietly as he arrived. Before you could even let the disappointment stir within you, he came back again having refilled his cup. He had brought you a glass too.

You gratefully took a few sips and placed the glass cup on the coffee table, mumbling a thank you, to which he just grunted.

Instead of lying back down on your stomach, you took a risk (Bakugou is a flight risk, honestly) and rested your head on the boy’s lap. You could feel him stiffen under you, and when you looked at him curiously, it was only a moment later before he allowed himself to relax again.

You smiled to yourself, only slightly, and began to read again.

“So something’s botherin’ you.”

You lifted your eyes to look at him again. He was looking at you, his eyes still swirling with fatigue, but his brows were creased in concern. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

His frown only deepened. “Too late, ‘cause shit’s already troublin’ me.” You didn’t respond; you don’t really want to get into it right now. He quickly sensed that you weren’t going to tell him anything, so he just let out a soft sigh. “Still haven’t told me what you’re reading.”

You showed him the cover of your book, and he tilted his head to read the title. “‘Alone With You in the Ether’? Sounds corny as shit.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted unhappily, making the boy avert his gaze elsewhere, fighting back the pink that was crawling up his neck. You're cute. “It’s romantic, but it’s also cynical, and the characters are just so miserable…” your lips curved into a smile. “They’re so cute together.”

“You’re just not right in the head.”

“Hey!”

“So then? If you like it, it must be good. Read me a passage, the one you’re at right now, read it.”

You opened your book once more. The book, you were holding it up over your face, was obstructing his view of you, so he looked back ahead. He was ready to listen, in fact, he was listening for something, but he could only feel you fidgeting on his lap. Moments passed with you trying to start, but growing shy and stopping, again and again. Finally having had enough, he looked down at you, quirking his brows for a second time upon seeing you hide your face behind the pages.

“I– I can’t read it…”

Bakugou clicked his tongue and grabbed the book from you, skimming through the two open pages. He felt his body grow hot reading the words, albeit in a blur. It didn’t click for him immediately what you were reading, but it was definitely a… a you know what passage.

And you got your damn head in his lap right now!!

“I-in my defense, okay, you caught me at a bad time! This is the only one– ugh! Olivie Blake writes it so romantically anyway, so what does it even matter!!” You were flustered beyond repair, and your friend being so obviously at a loss for words wasn’t making you feel any better. So you made a move to lift yourself off him, but Bakugou held your shoulder down. Instead, he reached over you and grabbed your blanket, placing it over your body.

“You’re gonna catch a damn cold. You’re always getting cold too, what are you doing not using your damn blanket properly? You wanna get sick? It’s like you wanna get sick!”

Seeing the boy trying to literally cover up for you, his neck, ears and face coated in a furious blush, it made you want to laugh. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have realised that he was just trying to divert his attention, trying to keep the flow going. You smiled up at him, thankful, and continued to read.

From then on, neither of you exchange another word. He was tired, and he’s never usually up at this hour. He only woke up from his sleep because he suddenly needed to pee, and then he suddenly really needed a drink. It felt like the Sahara Desert in his damned throat. But then he saw you. You looked happy reading, but you were up at this hour, and he knows that that’s usually a tell that you were distressed.

He felt the sleep starting to overcome him again. He was absentmindedly running his hand through your soft hair (he doesn’t even know when he started doing this), and his arm was propped up on the couch in a relaxed manner.

Other than you sometimes squealing or gasping (he found it endearing, extremely endearing), it was completely silent. Before he knew it, he fell asleep in that same position, his hand still entangled between your locks.

You were also feeling calm and relaxed, especially under Bakugou’s surprisingly soft touch. Just being in his presence, you felt healed again. It was weird; in the past, you never thought that he would have this effect on you, but here you are now, quickly falling asleep because of his presence, even though sleep was hard to catch for the past few hours.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Bakugou was the first to wake. When he lifted his head (slowly), he immediately registered a dull ache in his neck. He was blinking his eyes, gradually getting used to the morning light that now filled the common area.

He looked around precariously. The TV was on. Sitting somewhere else on the couch, some distance away, were Tokoyami and Mineta. There were also some of his classmates having breakfast in the kitchen. It’s probably somewhere between 7 or 8 right now.

When he looked back down and saw that you were still sleeping, he felt his muscles relax again. You had curled up into him sometime in the night, your fingers loosely holding onto his shirt.

It might be the fact that he’s too sleepy right now to fight back the smile muscles, but he couldn’t help the upward turn of his lips as he gazed at you with the fondest of fond expressions. He gently brushed your hair away, admiring your pretty, resting face.

But of course, the moment’s too good to last. Too good when the other extras are around, at least.

“HE’S AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!!!!!!!”

An irk mark appeared on Bakugou’s forehead just hearing the grapehead’s irritating screech.

“HOW DARE YOU, BAKUGOU, HAVE A MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS WITH (Y/N)?! HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE SACRED BODY OF (Y/N)!!!”

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t do nothin’.”

“BAKUGOU’S AWAKE??” Pinky immediately came to the scene of the crime with a sly, sly, sly smirk on her face. She is too damn energetic for this hour, and Bakugou just pinched the bridge of his nose (which, now he realises slightly carries the scent of your shampoo). “WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU TWO????! TELL ME, TELL ME!!!”

“The nerd was reading some stupid novel.”

The others were also curious about the situation and started to crowd around the couch. They did (more or less) wake up to Bakugou and you sleeping together on the couch. How could they NOT be nosy, curious, and most of all, invested??

All this attention just irritated the ash blonde though. “Everyone shut up, she’s still sleeping!”

Mina cooed. “Awww, he cares so much for (y/n)!”

“I FOR ONE BE–”

“Shut the fuck up before I make you all shut the fuck up!!” he growled, lifting his hand menacingly. Sparks were coming out of his hand. It did work on scaring most of them, but Mina and Mineta were much too nosy to be threatened away.

The two were about to continue teasing Bakugou, but he felt you slightly stir, and this made his eyes widen in panic. He brought his hand back down to gently pat your head, all while glaring menacingly at Pinky and Grapehead, and oh, would you look at that, the rest of the Bakusquad were here too, looking at him with the same stupid ooh-la-laa expressions on their stupid faces.

One more word and I’ll kill you.

“The affectionate petting is really undercutting your tone bro.” (Kirishima was the only one brave enough to point this out).

“I fuckin’ know! Now scram, the nerd’s still sleepin’ so quit botherin’ us!!”

They eventually cleared because they adore you enough. Mina made a big deal out of it though, booing and showing him not one, but two thumbs down. Sero joined in, doing a i’m watching you gesture with his fingers.

Unluckily (or luckily…?) for Bakugou though, he was stuck in that same position for the next hour. Honestly, he could care less. All that mattered was that you were resting up and feeling safe, because it’s what you deserve.

He’ll deal with the achy muscles some other time (and maybe he’ll just make you pay for it).

en's chitter-chatter: thanks so much if you made it this far! writing really does get my mind off things, so if this had helped anyone get their minds off things too, that would make me really happy! >//< also, i just want to share the books i've mentioned so far!

Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoevsky) is a russian classic. it's a really good read on destitution, poverty, and the degradation of morality/sanity that the main character (Raskolnikov) experiences in the face of it.

Alone With You in the Ether (Olivie Blake) is a young adult fiction about the unconventional romance between Aldo, a PhD student fascinated by time, and Regan, a counterfeit artist. it's a really short read, and the way the words and dialogue flows is poetic. i really do recommend it! in fact, i can't recommend it enough! ^0^

finally, i'm not sure if anyone caught this, but All the Lovers in the Night is a novel by Mieko Kawakami! it's a japanese contemporary that follows the life of a lonely Fuyuko Irie, who has no one, and quietly grapples with the sudden realisation that she is, in fact, not okay with the absence of human company.

final note: i have a little Uncle!Aizawa thing in my drafts, but (to be truthfully) it stems from a bigger private piece that i’ve got going on. writing about Uncle Aizawa has been very enjoyable; it’s cute and personally makes me smile. i do want to post it, but my aizawa in my universe has a bit of an extra backstory. the family of the main character (aizawa’s niece) is well fleshed out, but i feel that aizawa’s character and backstory would be too OOC to be standalone fics ^^’’ anyways… if you guys are A-OK with a slightly different take on aizawa, i would be more than happy to share it!

until then, that’s all for now! please take care, stay hydrated, and remember to eat well <3

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pinejayy · 1 year

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How about a Reverse! Wally (where the personalities are reversed). Well what if the reverse wally went to the original universe, now there are 2 wallys? And as a bonus, his girlfriend the reader came with him. But what if in the original world of Welcome there was no reader. Now the poor reader has 2 wallys fighting for his attention and love? If possible could the reader be human?

If my order is too complicated, forget it, I don't want to burden you.

[ I was thinking about the theory if a character didn't exist in a certain universe how would that affect? As long as it existed in another.. In this case it would be the READER. ]

Two Wally's, at the same time!! It's a dream come true!! It's like a Wally Verse, just imagine how many more different versions of Wally's there are

And I love this request! I hope you have a lovely day Darling~ <3 I hope this is good!! uwu

OBSESSION! (Wally Darling x Reader x Reverse! Wally Darling)

Trigger Warnings: Maybe like two curse words, knife and rope mention. Normal Wally is going to be Wally Darling and the Reverse Wally is going to be referred as R!Wally Darling uwu

What a lovely day. Well it was a lovely day. You were hanging out with your boyfriend Wally Darling and all of the sudden both of you were sucked into a portal, you thought you died but ended up at the Neighborhood, but it seemed different that your neighborhood. How strange, you looked at your boyfriend. "What's this place? Do you know Sweetheart?" Asking your puppet boyfriend.

R!Wally looked at you and he just shrugs. "Maybe we walk around and ask these people." He told you, to which you just nod grabbing him by the hand. Feeling safe around him. He smiled at you, you really loved your boyfriend. He was a sweet and a calm person. And he was so gentle towards you, and caring.

As you guys walked around this new place, everything looked the same but different. When you guys were walking around you ran into the neighbors that were from here. And they looked like the neighbors back from your world. How strange... Sally was Sassy and a brat but here she's sweet and fun, Julie was mean and harsh and here she was filled with joy. Both Poppy and Barnaby were really sweet here and in your world they kept to their selves. And here both Frank and Eddie were a couple! And Howdy was very helpful! Everyone was sure different here.

"Hello Wally! I love your new outfit!!" Sally said, as she ran towards you guys and looked at you and tilted her head to the side as she looked at you. She's never seen you before.

R!Wally looked at her, new outfit? His outfit was a Rainbow stripe shirt. With Khaki pants as he was wearing a small red scarf around his neck. "This is my significant other...my lover."

Sally gasped and started to jump around. She looked like she was a little kid on a sugar rush. Then she ran off yelling. "WALLY HAS A LOVER!"

How odd? You both look at each other and shrug as you guys were about to walk off a voice stopped you. "Hello, are you guys new Neighbors!"

You turn around and gasped. It was Wally! Well not your Wally. He looked exactly the same. Besides the outfit, it honestly freaked you out. You quickly hid behind your Wally.

Both of the Wally's looked at each other as they studied each other. R!Wally spoke up. "It seems like we're in the wrong Neighborhood. We were leaving."

But Wally looked at him, and chuckled. "Non Sense! I'll help you guys! Come follow me." He said in a firm but friendly tone. As you guys had no choice, you followed this Wally. This Wally walked you over to his house. Hmm..His house is also alive. As he invited you guys in he looked at both of you. Well especially at you.

His eyes never left you. It was honestly kinda creepy. As you guys sat down on his living room.

You were sitting by your Wally. You looked down as you still felt uneasy around the other Wally. You don't know but something about him seems really creepy and uneasy.

"So, do you guys care to explain how you guys got here?" Wally said. As he narrows his eyes at his other self. "And if you don't mind explaining who this is." He said pointing at you.

R!Wally grabbed your hand. He smiled at you assuring you everything is going to be okay. And then he looked over at the other Wally. "First off we don't know how we got here. We kinda just showed up. And second this is my lovely significant other Y/N."

Wally growled to himself, why didn't he have someone like you. He had to win you over, he didn't know you but he does know that you belong to him and HIM ONLY!

"Hmm how interesting...I don't have a Y/N for myself." Wally said as he looked at you. His pupils dilated. He was smiling big. He wanted you...he needed you.

You look away, as you try to hide from him. Using your Wally as a protective wall. He noticed this and placed an arm over your shoulder. "Shh it's okay sweetheart, well get back to our neighborhood soon."

You just nodded and smile. This made Wally angry but then he smirked to himself. As he stood up walking closer to you guys. "Why don't I help you guys out."

You and Your Wally look at each other as you guys had no choice and nodded. He smiled at both of you "Wonderful! Now new friends! Follow me, I think I might have an idea where you guys came from!"

Wally took you and R!Wally out for a walk. He walked you guys away from the neighborhood. He was ahead of you guys, you just followed behind. Holding onto R! Wally's hand. You didn't trust the other Wally. Something about him was off, some evil...

As you guys continue to follow him there was a loud "THUD"

You turn around and see R!Wally on the floor holding onto his head. And seeing Wally holding a piece of wood. Wait where did he get that? And wasn't he in front of you guys! How did he appear behind you guys?! As you were about to help R! Wally up Wally grabbed you quite quickly. As he held you close.

"You're mine now, and only mine! Why didn't I get a Y/N! Why didn't I get a sweetheart!" He began saying, as his grip tighten against you.

You whimper out, trying to get away from him. R! Wally looked at you and at the other Wally. Something inside of him snapped, seeing you being held like that made him feel something. Something he's never felt before. Jealously.

Your Wally quickly got up and charged towards the other Wally. "LEAVE MY SWEETHEART ALONE!"

Wally laughed and pushed you to the side as he walked towards the other Wally. "Oh? Didn't like that? Well what are you going to do about that ha ha ha ha!"

"Glad you asked!" R!Wally hissed and punched the other Wally in the face, causing him to stumble.

Soon after both Wally's were on each other. Throwing punches and kicks. You just stood there in horrors, you didn't know how to help. But you've never seen your Wally act like this. It was something new.

"Please! STOP!" You yell out, crying out. As you tried to pull off Wally off of your R!Wally an elbow came in contact with your face.

Wally accidentally elbowed your face. This made R!Wally even angrier. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He yelled out, giving Wally a final punch before running to you.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" R!Wally asked you, as he checked on you. Thank God there was no cut or blood. But you looked at him and tear up not paying attention to what happened to you. You just saw how best up he was and broke.

"Oh baby, are you okay?" You asked him. To which he just nodded and smiled. "Yes I'm alright sweetheart just worried about you."

Wally couldn't help but growl softly as you looked at both of you. He was envy that he didn't have a lover, why did this faker have one. Was the world against him? He just kept looking at you guys. He needed to win you over somehow.

As you guys started to get up, you looked over at the other Wally. Scoffing at his direction. "Thanks for the help asshole."

Walking away from him, you held onto R!Wally's arms as you both walk hopefully you guys find a way back to your neighborhood. As you guys walked off leaving behind Wally. He ran back to you guys.

This time he appeared in front of you guys. Holding flowers in his hands. You guys stopped in your tracks and R!Wally put a hand in front of your body, protecting you. As you were behind him, you stare at Wally. What does he need now?

"Haven't you done enough?" R!Wally said. Stopping in his tracks as he saw the flowers. Is he really trying to win you over? How funny! "It's funny how you're trying to win over my sweetheart."

Wally didn't pay attention to him but he looked at you, you just hid behind your Wally more. Whimpering.

"Please....Y/N I know we are meant to be together! Please I need you, the second I saw you it was love at first sight. You'll be my light to my darkness... you'll be my candy apple." Wally said, as he held up the flowers. As he started to walk towards you guys.

Both you and R!Wally started to back backwards. He held both his arms up. Protecting you. "I don't think my Sweetheart wants nothing to do with you."

Wally didn't pay attention to him, his words just went into one ear and out the other. Wally just kept holding on the flowers, hoping you'll give him a chance.

You were getting overwhelmed, as you heard his words. You didn't know how to feel. He wasn't your Wally but he looked like yours. And that's what really got you.

Then all of the sudden both of them were looking at you. You were about to tear up. "Are you okay Sweetheart?" R!Wally asked you.

You nodded "I don't know how to feel. It just hurts seeing him talk to me like that. I know he's not you but he looks like you." You say, feeling ashamed.

This made Wally smile. he had hope. "I'll give you the best life my Candy Apple!" He said taking a few steps towards you guys. "Why don's you choose instead?" He stood in front of R!Wally smirking.

R!Wally looked at you and at him was he really saying that? Why would you choose this Wally over your actual Boyfriend? He felt it again.... Jealously fill his body. He then pushed Wally quite hard.

Wally was taken back a bit, as they were about to throw a punch at each other you got in the way. Specifically you in front of one of them, holding your hands up. Protecting him. Both of them stopped.

Now you have to choice who it was....

Now if choose your Sweetheart R!Wally

He smiled at you, he knew you would never let him down. He was happy that you protected him. "I love you Sweetheart, I knew you wouldn't leave me for him."

To which you just smiled and nod, both looking at Wally now. He was sad, you could see the tears starting to form in his eyes. It hurt you honestly but that's only because he looked like your Wally.

Wally just stood there he was going to get you no matter what. He just dropped the flowers and walked off.

Both you and your Sweetheart shared a kiss. Today was a crazy day. And you guys started to walk off. Hopefully you guys make it back to your own neighborhood.

Little did you guys know was that Wally would soon follow you with a knife and rope...you belong to him and choosing him over him was your first mistake. Wally was going to show you that your his, that your his Candy Apple.

Now if you Choose Wally Darling

R!Wally just stood there, shocked that you picked him! His eyes started to fill up with tears. He didn't expect you to leave him like this. "Sweetheart.....Don't tell me you're picking him over me?"

You didn't know why you picked him over your actual boyfriend. Maybe it was the guilt or maybe not. As you didn't know what to say so you just looked down and stood by Wally's side. Making Wally smile big, wrapping an arm around your waist.

He brought you close to himself and placed a big kiss against your lips. Making R!Wally whimper. his heart breaking. "Fine, then this is it. farewell my Sweetheart, I'll always keep a place in my heart for you. Maybe in the next lifetime we will be back together."

And with that R!Wally left, leaving you guys alone. Did you make the correct choice? A few tears slipped from your eyes.

Wally wiped them away and smiled. "Shh don't cry my Candy Apple. Come let's go back to the neighborhood. You have a new life ahead of you."

Damn I was tearing up writing that last part! But I hope you enjoy this uwu

#wally darling #welcome home #wally darling x reader #yandere wally darling x reader

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twstowo · 4 months

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Chapter 1-2 [Sorceress!Yuu x OB!Characters]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: Wanting to help the collared people you follow Che'nya's plan and infiltrate the castle to befriend Riddle.

♡︎ Warning: None just Riddle being cute

「 ✦ PREVIOUS ✦ 」「 ✦ NEXT ✦ 」

The plan was simple: get inside the castle, befriend Riddle, and try to change his mind about the collared people. But nothing really seemed simple to you, especially when you were expected to befriend a tyrant.

So, there you sat, perched on a chair, patiently waiting as the trio rummaged through outfits to find the perfect disguise for your role as the new palace architect. Che’nya, with a mischievous grin, mentioned the disappearance of the actual architect, leaving you with a nagging feeling that the details were best left unexplored. You couldn’t help but wonder how Riddle wouldn’t immediately recognize someone he had recently collared. Ace, unperturbed, dropped a blond wig onto your head, bearing an uncanny resemblance to your own hair, just a different hue—an inquiry you dared not voice. Deuce, on the other hand, overwhelmed you with volumes of the Queendom’s architectural styles. Days stretched into a week, your nose buried in dusty tomes, absorbing everything to brace yourself for whatever Riddle might demand. Amidst your studious immersion, you longed for the day this charade would come to an end.

Grim slept next to your books, he looked so peacefull as you reached for his head giving him some pats, brushing his fur with your fingers. At least someone was having a good time.

"What do you mean I, the great Grim, can't go with my Human?" Grim's voice reverberated in protest as he pointed an accusatory finger at Che’nya. The four of you sat sipping tea before the planned departure, and Che’nya had insisted that Grim couldn't accompany you. The rationale given was that Grim might cause disruptions that would compromise the entire plan. Initially, you had reservations about separating from your feline companion, having never ventured anywhere without him. However, Che’nya’s reasoning began to resonate.

"I also believe it’s for the best, Grim," you said, trying to pacify your betrayed friend. "Your help is crucial here." But Grim's disappointment was evident as he refused to meet your eyes.

"Fine. Go without me. But if you need help, don’t even think about calling for me!" With that proclamation, Grim stormed off, leaving you alone with Che’nya.

"How are you feeling? Tomorrow is the big day," he said, flashing a broad smile that did little to ease your nerves. You'd spent a lot of time contemplating what could go wrong—whether Riddle might recognize you, discover that he had collared you, or find your true intentions.

"Nervous, but I think I can handle it," you replied, attempting to project confidence.

"That's what I want to hear, nya!" He rose from his seat, offering a gentle smile that seemed to reassure you that everything would turn out okay. And you trusted him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

In front of you loomed the gates of the castle, towering above you like monumental giants. As nervous thoughts raced through your mind, you couldn't help but chuckle, recalling these particular gate styles from one of the books you had studied. Oddly, this recollection gave you a surge of confidence. When the guards ushered you inside, you encountered Riddle once more, this time greeted with a warmer reception. Surprisingly, he seemed pleased to see you. Perhaps your initial encounter had simply been an anomaly, or perhaps he saw you in a new light now.

Riddle took your hand and bestowed a quick kiss upon it/gave you a quick handshake in welcome. "I've heard quite a bit about you, an architect of considerable renown," he praised, elevating your spirits even though these praises weren't intended for you. "But, pardon my frankness, I had envisioned you differently." His comment made you widen your eyes, and you felt a sudden shiver run down your body.

"I hear that often," you replied smoothly, trying to maintain composure. "Before we discuss the building plans, I'd love a tour of the palace, just to gather some initial inspiration. If that's possible." You glanced around the entrance, taking in the surrounding rose-filled bushes.

"Please allow me to escort you around." Riddle's company led you through various rooms and halls within the castle, each adorned in shades of reds and whites. The floors boasted a chessboard pattern in black and white, a pristine and luxurious atmosphere entirely distinct from the dusty tower you once called home. After an extensive tour, Riddle guided you outside, revealing the verdant gardens and a sprawling rose labyrinth, meticulously tended by the royal gardeners. Finally, your journey concluded at a collapsed building.

"Several months ago, the collared peasants rebelled against my mother's regime and destroyed this beautifully crafted building," Riddle spoke, a hint of disdain evident in his voice as he referred to the collared people.

"Rest assured, there's nothing beyond my ability to build. I'll create something that will please the Queen's desires and more," you assured him with a smile, earning visible satisfaction from Riddle.

"Very well." Some guards approached, and Riddle turned to leave. "I entrust the rest to your capable hands," he stated before departing.

With a sigh of relief, you released the breath you'd been holding. Everything was proceeding perfectly, just as you'd hoped. Gazing at the ruined building, you found the guards and workers awaiting your instructions. "I need some paper and a pencil."

Swiftly, you sketched structures inspired by the palace's designs, blending in elements from other styles that harmonized well. After several hours immersed in the drawings, you raised your head to find all eyes on your sketches. A twinge of embarrassment hit knowing they'd witnessed the entire process. However, the awe and admiration in their expressions reassured you that your work was appreciated. Rising from your seat, you began directing everyone around, bracing yourself for the tasks ahead. This month would be demanding, but you were prepared.

Lying on the bed, you relished the comfort of the room Riddle had assigned you. It was quite spacious, and it struck you that Riddle seemed particularly fond of this architect. It dawned on you that you knew so little about this person—if Riddle asked you something, you’d be completely at a loss. Determined to remedy this, you resolved to locate the palace library the next day and educate yourself about the architect.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You wandered through the palace walls, groggy from the night before, in search of the library. After a long walk, you finally found it and stepped inside. The sheer size of the place left you in awe. The bookshelves stretched like the halls themselves, laden with books of various sizes and hues. Everything was meticulously organized and devoid of any dust. There was so much to read, and yet so little time. For now, your focus was on learning about the architect. You hurriedly looked through the books about this strange figure. Fortunately, their face was never shown, signifying their desire for privacy. Most of the works were stunning, intricate creations, teeming with details you'd never encountered in the books Deuce had provided. You made mental notes about these, realizing that diverging too much from what Riddle envisioned could raise suspicions.

As you returned the books to their places, one peculiar volume caught your eye. It bore your last name, prompting a moment of confusion until you plucked it from the shelf. Inside, you discovered a book chronicling your parents' journey. It vividly portrayed snowy landscapes and recounted how they had earned their place as landowners, working their way into prosperity to establish something in their name. Memories from your childhood flooded back—moments with your mother, interactions with villagers, and the constant presence of a childhood friend who was always by your side. Everything seemed blissful, which made you wonder why they had locked you away in the tower. Questions swirled in your mind, but a strange, unsettling feeling urged you to cease your inquiry, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

Reluctantly, you returned the book to its spot, unwilling to dwell further. With a heavy heart, you moved toward the exit, your head bowed in contemplation. However, just before leaving, you noticed someone else in the library—a surprise visitor. To your astonishment, it was none other than Riddle.

You pondered whether engaging in conversation with Riddle was a wise choice. He appeared consumed by work and potentially quick to collar anyone deviating from his desires. However, before you could depart, your eyes met, and you found yourself captivated by his stunning blue gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted you warmly, rising to meet you, and you were jolted out of your daydreaming.

“Forgive me, I just—”

“No need for apologies. In fact, I would love your company if you permit,” his tone unexpectedly tender. Was this the same person who had erupted when Grim landed on his head?

“Of course. How may I assist?”

“I’d like to hear your thoughts on my designs.” He gestured toward his table, displaying the most intricately detailed building plans you’d ever seen on paper. Your reaction was instinctual, you had to stifle your amazement. If he saw the design you'd given to the construction team, he might have certainly collared you.

“This looks—” You paused, realizing you were playing the role of a distinguished architect whom Riddle admired. You couldn’t merely fawn over his work. “Pleasant.” Despite the underwhelming choice of words, Riddle’s eyes widened with pride.

“I’ve been studying your designs extensively, attempting to draft the building myself. But my efforts could never compare to the real artist.” He regarded you as if you were his shining star, leaving you to wonder if he realized you weren’t the actual architect.

“I’m glad you appreciate my designs. It’s always nice to find a fan.” You offered a smile, and he reciprocated, clearly pleased with your words. Yet, even as he smiled, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, indicative of fatigue. “Have you been overworking yourself?” You posed the question, realizing afterward that it might not have been the most appropriate thing to ask.

“Well, I have my duties as the future king of the Queendom of Roses. I can’t simply set them aside,” he responded, a glimmer of happiness shining through as he realized your concern for him. On your end, you grappled with the situation. Your intention was to grow closer to Riddle to facilitate removing the collars from everyone, so you needed a way to break down his barriers.

“How about baking some strawberry tarts?” you suggested, sporting a cheerful smile. He looked at you with a quizzical expression, seemingly ready to dismiss your idea. “If you need to leave midway, I can finish what we started and bring you the tarts when you’re free. So, no need to worry about a thing.” You offered solutions, trying to convince him, though he seemed puzzled by your eagerness to spend time with him.

“If you insist, I could permit it,” he agreed, adjusting his tie in a nervous gesture. “But everything must be done precisely! And the kitchen must be perfectly cleaned afterward,” he stated, almost as an order. You nodded in agreement.

“Follow me, Riddle!” you exclaimed, taking his arm and guiding him to the kitchen, causing him to widen his eyes at your bold actions.

In the midst of baking the tarts, Riddle meticulously followed the culinary book's instructions, determined to use precise measurements. Any deviation seemed to stress him, and he'd restart if things didn't align perfectly. As he focused intently on each step, you couldn't help but feel frustrated by his strict approach.

“Riddle!” you called out, finally voicing your exhaustion with his rigidity. Startled, he dropped the spoon he was holding, his face flushing with a mix of emotions, perhaps anger or embarrassment, you couldn't discern. But you persisted, “This is why your designs aren’t perfect! Things like this aren’t meant to be perfect, they’re meant for the fun of it!” He seemed to freeze, absorbing your words. “When I come up with new designs, I don’t aim for perfection, I draw what I find fun at the moment,” you elaborated. His mouth opened and closed, as if struggling with your point. He rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

“So… I need to have fun? Stop trying to make my designs perfect?” he murmured, almost to himself, but you caught every word. You nodded, handing him the dropped spoon. He hesitated but then swiftly scooped flour, bypassing the measurements this time. You saw him gulp, battling his instinctual need for precision, yet he bravely added the flour to the batter.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it!” You clapped your hands, prompting a deeper blush from Riddle, who let out a sigh but continued to bake. You sensed that he had relaxed, gradually enjoying the process of making tarts with you. Despite his attempts to maintain a pristine kitchen and occasionally strive for perfect measurements, you noticed a significant change in his behavior, and that was what mattered most.

As you grabbed a large bag of flour, you lost your balance and tripped over your own feet, sending the flour cascading onto the floor and covering you both in its powdery embrace. Panic surged through you, as you slowly glanced at Riddle who also had been covered in flour from head to toe, you anticipated Riddle's reaction to the mess, believing that now even Che’nya could not save you from this one, but unexpectedly, he burst into a hearty laughter. You froze, stunned by his unanticipated response. Instead of anger, his laughter filled the room, and he even walked over, extending his hand to help you up from the flour-covered floor.

“I haven’t laughed like this in such a long time,” he chuckled, his cheeks tinted pink from the flour. His laughter was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile back. However, amidst the chaos and his laughter, you noticed something about him that felt strangely captivating, even covered in flour he seemed to have this angelic look to him, wait, what did you mean with angelic? Did he always look this nice? You shook off the thought, dismissing it as a trick of the moment.

“Sorry, I will clean all of this!” You hurriedly searched for a broom, but Riddle placed a hand on your shoulder, a warm and friendly gesture.

“I used to visit a friend of mine when I was young,” he reminisced, an unfamiliar softness in his tone. “One day, he tried to teach me how to bake. That day, I dropped a full bag of flour. I never heard the end of it from my mom, but it was such a nice moment…” His words trailed off, and both of you stood there, flour-covered but sharing a moment of connection. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment before he withdrew it, seemingly realizing the gesture's duration. “Sorry…” His demeanor shifted slightly as he began to look for a broom. “We should clean all of this,” he suggested, and you nodded in agreement, grateful for the lighter atmosphere between you both.

The rest of your free time was spent enjoying the tarts and tea, chatting about various topics. It became evident that Riddle was gradually opening up to you. Even if it was initially part of the plan, you couldn't deny that you enjoyed his company.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

After a long day, you finally returned to your room, feeling exhausted. The building constructions were progressing smoothly, even better than expected. As you made your way towards the closet to change into your pajamas, a strange knock caught your attention. It seemed odd for someone to visit at such a late hour, but you decided to investigate. Upon opening the door, no one was in sight. You shrugged it off, thinking it might have been your imagination until the same knock echoed again. This time, you scanned the room, even checking the windows, but found no one, until your gaze shifted to the mirror in your room.

“This is the first time we get to talk properly,” the strange woman in the mirror addressed you, her lips moving in sync with her words, yet she remained motionless, fixated on you. You felt frozen, a chill creeping over you—did ghosts exist? Were you so fatigued and sleep-deprived that you began to see apparitions? “I was expecting this reaction, but relax, I am not here to harm you. Quite the contrary, I want to help you.” Her voice, despite standing next to the mirror, sounded distant and echoed faintly.

“Who are you?” You approached the enigmatic figure cautiously.

“I am you from another universe. I believe your friend Che’nya has already explained most of it.” The revelation stunned you. She had been the one to free you from the collar. Hearing Che’nya's tale of being cursed to live inside a mirror, unable to experience the outside world, evoked a pang of empathy. Having been locked in a tower yourself for so long, devoid of interaction and exposure to the outside world, you could empathize with her isolation.

“How do I set you free?” Your directness caught her off guard, her head bowed to conceal her sorrow. It felt surreal—her facial features mirrored yours, almost like watching your reflection cry.

“Only someone with an immense amount of magical power can release me,” she replied, raising her head to fix her gaze on you.

“But is there anyone out there with that kind of power?” You questioned the possibility. While many powerful wizards existed, like Riddle, you doubted they could intervene in such a situation.

“You,” she responded, and your eyes widened in surprise before adopting a more skeptical expression. “I can grant any wish, but with each wish comes a curse that consumes the wisher, slowly eroding their sanity and driving them mad. Strangely, it also bestows a certain strength upon them.”

Your astonishment grew; the thought of losing your mind over a wish you were still uncertain about was daunting. Sensing your concern, she offered crucial reassurance. “Given that we are the same person, this curse will affect you differently. Your sanity will deplete at a slower rate.”

“Why does it affect me differently, and what happens if I completely lose my mind? What then?” You felt the weight of the seriousness setting in, wondering if helping her was worth such a dire situation.

“This is our curse. It works like poison—the more exposure you have, the less impact it will have over time.” She paused, extending her hand toward the mirror’s surface. “If you do succumb, I’ve discovered a way to undo the curse during my confinement here.”

“And what’s that?” You inquired, intrigued.

“A true love’s kiss.” The two of you stood facing each other in an awkward silence. What did she mean by a true love's kiss? You hadn't found someone who made your heart skip a beat, and as you began to voice these thoughts, the image of Riddle laughing, covered in flour, flashed into your mind, reddening your face.

“W-what? S-so, that means you’d just kiss all those guys you cursed?” You blurted out, still rattled by thoughts of Riddle. As soon as the words left your mouth, both of you seemed to stutter, embarrassed like two high school girls gossiping about their crushes.

It took a while for both of you to calm down and realize the gravity of the situation. Sighing, you took a few steps back and settled onto the bed, facing the sorceress. Emerging from a tower, only to be thrust into this chaos, you wondered if things were spiraling further out of control with each passing moment.

"Can't I just wish for you to be free?" you asked her, as this seemed to make the most sense.

"The power of the wish is connected with the magical power of the wisher." She looked at you with a sad expression. "And for now, you don't possess enough magical power. The only way for you to get stronger is to wish for smaller things for now." You nodded, annoyed with the revelation. Of course, things couldn't be as easy as you wanted them to be. How foolish of you. As you thought about any wish, with nothing coming to mind, you watched as she slowly started vanishing from the mirror. Some sort of magical dust slowly made your reflection show in the mirror as it used to. As you heard a strange voice in the back of your mind, "If you ever feel like asking for a wish, repeat these words.”

“Wish and want in sacred verse, Grant my heart's desire, universe.”

That was an incantation. You rushed to grab some paper before forgetting it, but as you started jotting it down, you realized it had ingrained itself in your mind. It seemed intentional, as if you couldn’t erase it even if you wanted to. You relaxed, lying back on the bed, letting your tired eyes close. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

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blackberryshortcake · 5 months

Text

And The Witch is Me

Pt.3 I Can Get to Hell Much Faster Than you

Pt. 1 Pt.2

The sun was setting upon the horizon. A picture perfect sunset just behind the sea of spruce and evergreen trees that lined the border to the garden.

I made my way back to the room he had shown me just a few hours earlier and sat by the window. I had to think of a way to get outta this place. I could stay here but he brought up so many memories I pushed aside. I thought seeing him again was what I wanted but even creatures such as I are wrong. The good memories and bad ones. I thought that’s what I wanted. The thought of the many faces he once wore or the many characters he fronted for past contracts. He’s truly always been a picky eater. Just slightly classier than the normal vermin of our species.

I could feel him walking down the hall in my direction and even before he knocked I knew he was there.

“Miss (y/n)?” His voice was like shallow water just above solid rock at the base of a cliff. So evicting and beautiful ment to deceive me.

I feel the silent treatment is the cruelest form of punishment

“I know you can hear me” He paused expecting a reply he has yet to earn “The young master would like to see you in his study”

I could feel my eyes burning holes in the door.

“Be there in precisely 20 minutes. I assume you can find your own way”

Fuck him that’s all I can think right now. How is he about to get pissed at me for making a deal and going “soft” and all that other bullshit even though he’s a Class A hypocrite. He’s not worth the waste of words, at least not right now.

If it were I don’t know say 100 years ago we got on swimmingly, we co-existed with one another. Some might say we were a couple but you and I both know demons really don’t do “couples”.

The walk to his “study” was long. I never really understood the need for excessive wealth such as this. Sure I’d given many wealth such as this, not without a hefty price,but how could one be happy in a liminal labyrinth such as this.

Coming to a stop in front of that large mahogany door once more I forgo the idea to knock and just bust through the door

The boy jumps as the door swings open.

“Did your mother never teach you to knock?” He seemed overly offended

“Keep my mamas name out yah mouth.”

“I beg your pardon”

“Keep.my.mamas.name.out.yah.mouth”

Existing in that modern era really has changed my dialect. Although “Sebastian” might see that as a change for the worst I see it as one for the better.

“So why exactly am I here?” I already know the answer to that but ask never the less.

“I’d like to play a game” he gestured for me to sit in the chair across from his desk once more as he pulls a dated deck of cars from a desk drawer, all well the demon looks behind his obnoxiously large chair.

“What kinda game?”

“Old maid.”

“Old maid?” I dead pan “Seriously? You do know this really isn’t gonna work.”

“And why may that be prey tell. Are you afraid to lose?”

“Am I afraid to lose?” I look into his eyes once more. He’s dead serious. “You do realize that when you shook my hand I saw anything and everything inside that pretty little noggin of yours. I could quite literally read you like a book but I’ll still play as long as YOU’RE not afraid to lose.”

He’s eyes are wide.

“You tricked me!” He shouts

“You knew the risks and hey don’t yell at me your pretty little lap dog back there did the same exact thing when y’all sealed y’all’s deal.” My eyes drag up to meet Sebastian’s. He’s glaring back.

“Sebastian is this true!” Ciel is now on his feet and he’s pissed. He thought he could play with fire and not get burned.

“To be frank my young lord, yes”

“Get out! The both of you.”

I through my hand up in defense.

“Oooh did we hurt your feelings. Did I make you feel violated.”

“Y/N!” Sebastian raised his voice.

“Alright alright let’s go.” Well that was a quick visit .

As soon as him and I were out the door. It’s was like a switched flipped in him. Yet the silence still stood.

“Soooo….probably a bad time but any ideas on how to get me outta this era.”

He glared and quite literally walked away.

“HEY! I was trynna talk to you yah know.”

I come to stand and block his path.

The look on his face was unreadable.

“What is your problem? Your brought me here cause you said you’d help me know your doubling back. You really have changed the demon I new at least kept his promises.”

He stared down at me I could feel his amber eyes piercing through my skin. Yet he remained silent.

“*sign* I don’t even know why I tried or why I even listened to you. This was a mistake.” I try to leave but he grabbed me by my upper arm preventing me.

“Why did you come here?” His voice cut through the air menacingly

“What?”

“Why did you come HERE?”

“I was on a deal some witch wannabe asked me to come here. London 1889 to kill someone. I know messing with time like that is a big no no but she had something I needed and now Im stuck here. With you.” Is it hot in here?

“What did this witch have?”

“It doesn’t matter not anymore.”

“What did the witch have.” His eyes are fusica at this point not that it mattered though I was exclusively looking at the floor.

“Sh-she was gonna tell me where you were but I can clearly see now she deceived me, okay?” I yank my arm from his grasp and took off running I couldn’t look him in the face. I couldn’t see him. How am I supposed to tell him I missed him, I missed us. He’s never understand, he was never as human as I was.

…..…………………

Sebastian stood in that very hallway still. His eyes wide not much could shock that creature but that sure did. He was under the impression you didn’t want to see him ever again. That you didn’t care for him or need him anymore , and he didn’t let it get to him.

He remembers a time when you were but a girl in a field of flower. A girl who shouted at her executors “If you want a witch Ill give you a witch” A time when stumbled like a fawn when learning to control the magic bestowed upon you. At the time he knew not of the creature you were only that you were like him in a way. He knows now your kind are can destroy realms if they so pleased. Your utter lack of interest in realm destroying pleased him yet your humanity confused him. I brought feelings to the surface. Like a worm fighting it’s way to earths exterior only to be snatched up by a hungry raven in its path.

Good thing he was a crovus and you were simply a fictor.

…continuandum…

@phoenix666stuff

@name-less-666 @mygoldtears

#black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #ciel phantomhive #sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #sebastian x you #dream demon #fanfic

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ashandsweets · 1 year

Text

Haunted

JoelxReader

Drabble inspired by Florence, Bill, and Frank. Joel meets a survivor not too far into the outbreak and takes pity on her.

Warning: Major character death, substance abuse

************************************************

“Look, I ain’t calling you a liar-“

“Just for one night. Please! I promise to be gone by morning.” You pleaded with the man, hands clasped together while you fell to your knees. How long was it since you had a safe place to rest your head? Two days maybe? Didn’t sound long now that you think about it…

He cocked his gun and pulled it back, letting out an agitated sigh. You looked like Sarah’s former school teacher. His heart ached, still reeling from the traumatic loss of his daughter just 6 months earlier. He distracted himself from the pang in his chest by assessing your appearance. Joel could tell those eyes ain’t seen a lick of violence. Those soft hands probably hadn’t either. He motioned upwards from the ground, letting you know it was safe to get up.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” You practically leapt up from the ground and futilely attempted to brush off the dirt staining your skirt.

It was at that moment Joel realized you’d die out here on your own. His nostrils flared in annoyance as he continued to study you. A looker, no weapons, too trusting…your misfortune could be worse than death. Thoughts of Sarah and his innate desire to keep her safe flooded his brain.

You tried to break the thick silence. “I”ll be gone by morning. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just don’t lie to me.” Joel spat, putting his gun back in the holster.

You didn’t lie on purpose. How were you supposed to know this stranger’s pity would override his conscious? A widow, safely cocooned in the outer city limits, until other survivors began looting and shooting your town. You made it out by the skin of your teeth with only the promise of a “safe zone” the next state over from your neighbor who stayed to fight. You’d never make it alone.

“I ain’t calling you a thief,” he tossed the stale bread your way. “Just don’t steal from me.”

You greedily gobbled it down, still trailing behind the gruff stranger by second nightfall. Stars shined bright, illuminating your path. Such good fortune seldom came those days. You thought better than to question it.

“You know, we still don’t know each other's names.”

“Names make ‘em real.” Was his harsh response. You decided you’d had enough of this whiplash. Picking up your pace, you got ahead and planted yourself inches away from him. He furrowed his brows in annoyance.

“Move.”

Instead, you took his free hand in yours. Truth is it warmed him up. Been a long time since he was touched by another.

“I am real…” he started to recoil at your words, withdrawing his hand when you gripped it further, placing a timid kiss on his knuckles. An almost inaudible moan escaped past his lips. You raised your head, shaking a little.

“My name is (Y/N)…thank you for keeping me.”

Keep you? Like a stray? Joel couldn’t help but groan in amusement. Well, what the hell? He wouldn’t be meeting up with Tommy for a few more weeks. Having another set of eyes could come in handy till then. Not to mention, you were easy on the eyes…and kind.

“Joel Miller.” He looked down and shuffled a bit. You had the nerve to smile.

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller.”

“I’m not calling you a ghost, just stop haunting me…”

20 years in the post-outbreak world took a heavy toll on Joel. He crushed up the tiny plastic bag of pills and poured himself another glass of fire. It was the only way he could conjure sleep, the type that made him forget his dreams. Joel was tired of seeing faces, so many he lost count.

“And I love you so much, I'm going to let you kill me.”

Joel tilted his head back, letting the music soothe his senses as darkness took over. His final thoughts before giving into slumber were of you.

A liar that said she’d only spend the night. Instead she spent fifteen years.

A thief that stole his heart, a second chance at love.

A ghost Joel failed to protect, shot down in his arms just like his own flesh and blood twenty years earlier.

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fic #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel x reader #hbo the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #tlou fluff #florence and the machine #tlou drabble #Spotify

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compacflt · 1 year

Note

my apologies if this is too simple or juvenile or personal a question but HOW did you become such a proficient writer? and do you have any tips or pointers to keep in mind? i know you must do a lot of reading and a lot of writing, but your skill is just incredible to me. your prose!! your cadence!! when we get around to talking about it is genuinely one of the best things i've ever read and i'd eat it if i could!!!

this ask was so sweet thank you!! rly made my day when i needed a boost. Hope you don’t mind i took a couple days to think about it cause no one’s ever asked me for writing advice before

idk how i became a “proficient” writer bc I really don’t write that much. something about my fic gave me brainworms and i went into overdrive but that’s…not my usual MO. which is why it’s weird for me too. admittedly i am studying english/creative writing as my second major at uni, but i haven’t learned anything in any of my classes you couldn’t learn by just reading and writing on your own. honestly i should’ve stuck with my IR major instead, i find structured cw classes a complete waste of time. but here are some little tips i thought of that would’ve helped ME:

This is more a “do as I say not as I do” because I’m really bad at habits like this, but keep a diary. You can write about the big events (went to the store, did homework, got laid etc.) but that’s boring—focus on the details (watched someone at west side market throw a glass bottle of olives at a rat, broke a pen and permanently stained my dorm desk and won’t get my deposit back which pissed me off because I move out in a week, this guy’s breath smelled like lemon pledge and it made me wonder if he drank window cleaner before kissing me etc.). Real life is really interesting! How can you write about interesting real life in an interesting way? It’s a good way to practice. You don’t have to do a big reflection at the end of the day or anything. It’s okay to jot down something you saw & then immediately forget about it. It’s the act of figuring out how to translate life into words that’s important

If you type, learn how to type FAST. This is just my experience, but I think typing faster makes your cadence, clause length, dialogue, IDEAS flow better/more naturally. We think in words/sentences, not letters.

This is a super lame tip that’ll make you roll your eyes, but read poetry. Poetry is all about how words/ideas/images sound and interact with each other. Don’t get hung up on one poet—im not really recommending any for precisely this reason—read poetry you love (for me, Ada Limón, Jack Kerouac, Frank O’Hara, ghazals etc) AND read poetry you hate (for me, Rupi Kaur, Emily Dickinson, Whitman, etc)! Read all genres you can get your hands on. (I think there are like “great poetry anthologies” you can find for free online if u don’t know where to start. Also you can’t go wrong with subscribing to/reading a variety magazine like the NYer. It’s pretentious but it exposes you to all kinds of weird topics, ways of writing about them, etc.) Figure out how certain combinations of words and punctuations make you FEEL, and why, and why the writer chose (or not) to make you feel that way. Figure out which literary sounds you like and which ones you don’t. For me, i figured out that I REALLY like alliteration, comma splices, zeugmas, the rule of three, and

“he’s [verb]ing again… yeah compacflt’s characters are [verb]ing again… big shocker”

If you have an idea for a piece, figure out what it is you really want to get out of it—to say something? to experiment with a different style? to see your fav characters do something? to have fun?—and then figure out how, on a technical level, you should write to match that goal (this is where the poetry training comes in handy). If you’re just writing to have fun, don’t listen to any writing advice (incl. mine), because most of it is bullshit and over-generalized and will make you feel bad about yourself. Just take the advice that you think will work for what YOURE trying to write.

But if you’re writing to explore some political idea, then you should think about HOW to best write about that idea. What would be a convincing story/allegory/scene to engage with this idea vs. not convincing. I talk on this blog all the time about how disappointed I am that my very-adult-grown-up attempt to deal with the dynamic of “immovable internalized homophobia vs unstoppable falling in love anyway” is rendered a little childish/immature by some pretty unconvincing plot points like the characters buying a house together—I really should have considered how that plot point would interact with the characterizations I’d built already (hint: poorly). You can think of writing as kind of a military structure if that helps—you have strategy on the overarching campaign (plot/character growth/allegory/theme) level, the battle (scene that advances the above) level, and the tactical (sentence-level construction/syntax/wording) level. They all have to work together. If a scene is failing to properly engage with the idea you’re trying to convey, you’re losing a battle that will weaken the overarching campaign. Same thing if you choose a weird word in a sentence/write in a style or tone that’s weirdly out of place with your idea—it makes your engagement with the theme/idea less convincing. just try to be purposeful and consider your strategy on all levels of your work as you’re writing it!! At the very least it’ll make editing easier lol.

But then again when I read my own writing from just a couple months ago I cringe out of my skin, so like—just also accept that it’s a process and we’re all just making it up as we go along. Be proud of being embarrassed of your old work, because it means you’re growing. Own that shit. When I finished writing WWGATTAI i thought it was the best thing I’d ever written, and maybe it was. But since the day I finished working on it, it’s the worst thing I’ve written since then. That’s a great feeling. Not to be like writing grindset obviously bc it’s supposed to be fun—but if what you want is to get better at writing, the strategy is to WRITE a whole bunch of shit, and then own your embarrassment about how much you’ve grown since you started. And know you’re still always growing and learning. there should never be any “goals” where skills are concerned 👍🏽

#fake it till u make it #the good part about fiction is all you’re really doing is makin shit up #no rules!!!#fiction is just trying to sell a lie right #so it’s all on a sliding scale of convincability (at least that’s how i judge fiction)#and figuring out how to convince people of your lie is where the art is #anyway.#not top gun #asks #writing tips #idk how to tag this #also i love ao3 because trying to get published traditionally genuinely made me hate writing/MY writing #i have indeed had the cliche 100+ form rejection letters experience #unfortunately writing is also one of those things where you can see it as a competition so easily #(admittedly a small part of why i don’t read other TG fics—i don’t wanna read people doing it better than me😭)#BUT you tailor your experience to have a healthy life. it’s not a competition if you don’t make it one. put yourself first

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totallynotadoptingallofthelnkids · 1 year

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Frank Frankly is Frankly Quite Concerning.

Okay so I was writing down my thoughts on each character in a Google Docs because I love this ARG, when I realized that Frank is far more concerning than I would like to admit, quite frankly. So after 30-40 minutes of gathering my thoughts on him, here’s what I think about our lovable lil grump! From what someone else has pointed out, this is excluding Home as they are a separate entity from every other neighbor(at least it seems so), Frank is the outsider of the other neighbors. Every neighbor has a backstory, or a mention of family, or anything we can piece together from their description. Everyone besides Frank, who has a description that almost seems to avoid saying regarding his past, or any known details about him at all. Of every puppet, there has at least been a case where vital information either about their puppet, potential family, or ANYTHING has been found, something we have failed to see with Frank. He not only has the least amount of information on him, but it almost appears as if certain aspects of his character were purposely lost to time. As it stands, Frank is the only puppet that has had no concept work uncovered since the beginning of Welcome Home’s research and revival. While this could be written off as him potentially being a last minute edition, we have concept art from the creator dating back a few years when Welcome Home was initially conceptualized, so that couldn’t be the case. When it comes to Frank, it isn’t just his lack of backstory and history that sets him apart from his fellow neighbors. As someone else kindly pointed out, every neighbor is also united by name. Every single first name either ends in a -y or is still pronounced -ee whether it ends in a y or e. This sentiment is shared throughout every neighbor, save for Home and Frank Frankly. While we would expect this from Home, as it is its own entity and already stands apart from the crowd, this only further proves that Frank doesn’t fit in with the standards set for everyone else. So far he has proven to be an anomaly within the neighborhood. But once more, this isn’t everything. Frank, as one can notice immediately, when compared to the other neighbors, is drastically off color. While his vest may be colorful, and his cheeks a rosy red, that seems to be where his color ends. Every other puppet is composed of bright colors, bright skin, rainbow clothing with splashes of color everywhere. This is something we fail to see with Frank’s character, as he is the only one composed with drab gray skin and black and white splattered throughout his choice of outfit. When compared to everyone else, he is the most rainy individual, in terms of both design and personality. Speaking of personality, that is the one thing that his description was open about. He is believed to be the smartest of the neighbors, with his bookworm tendencies and his loving expertise on butterflies. During the show’s airing time, he was often the puppet his neighbors would reach out to if they ever needed help answering a question. However, for comedic effect, his answers were often discredited and brushed off. While I don’t know if this would be of importance, butterflies, what he spends his time studying, are the representation of both transformation and change. Whether that’ll be of importance remains to be seen. As it appears, if anything were to go wrong in the neighborhood, Frank is the most likely candidate for investigating, and likely uncovering the mysteries behind these ongoing events. As it stands, we know little to nothing about Frank. His concept works from the show and puppet were never found, something that can’t be said about the others. He has no known backstory, everything about him only seems to have started around the time of the show, when he initially moved to the neighborhood. Whether it be due to late addition, or something more, Frank exists as the exact opposite of his companions cheerful disposition and colorful appearances.

#welcome home #wh speculation #frank frankly #he is quite concerning #but fruity so its okay

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mariacallous · 1 year

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(JTA) — The Republican nominee for Congress in Texas’ 7th district is a self-proclaimed history buff, but his take on Anne Frank is not one that most historians would endorse.

Johnny Teague, an evangelical pastor and business owner who won the district’s primary in March, in 2020 published “The Lost Diary of Anne Frank,” a novel imagining the famous Jewish Holocaust victim’s final days in the Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen concentration camps as she might have written them in her diary.

The kicker: In Teague’s telling, Frank seems to embrace Christianity just before she is murdered by the Nazis.

Published by Las Vegas-based publisher Histria Books, the speculative book attempts to faithfully extend the writing style of Frank’s “original” diary entries into her experiences in the camps: it “picks up where her original journey left off,” according to the promotional summary. Teague claims to have interviewed Holocaust survivors and visited the Anne Frank House, multiple concentration camps and the major Holocaust museums in Washington, D.C., and Israel as part of his research.

“I would love to learn more about Jesus and all He faced in His dear life as a Jewish teacher,” Teague’s Anne Frank character muses at one point, saying that her dad had tried to get her a copy of the New Testament. Anne’s father Otto Frank, who in real life did survive the Holocaust, seems to have been spared a tragic fate in Teague’s telling because of his interest in learning about Jesus.

Later, Anne does learn about Jesus through other means, reciting psalms and expressing sympathy for Jesus’ plight.

By book’s end, Anne is firm in her belief that “every Jewish man or woman should ask” questions like “Where is the Messiah? … Did He come already, and we didn’t recognize Him?”

Teague, responding to a query from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency after the story’s initial publication, said his book had been “misrepresented” and that it shows Frank “relating her suffering to the historic persecution by Egypt, Haman, Assyria, Rome and others — all horrific facts of how the precious Jewish people have been attacked for so many centuries.”

Teague said he based Frank’s interpretation of Jesus off of a reference in her original diary to her father wanting her and her sister Margot “to be exposed to the New Testament and the life of Jesus” and, “As she made those entries in her own hand, I could not pretend that the thoughts, lessons, or questions of Jesus never crossed her mind afterward.” He also said he included Jesus because “when the Jewish people were suffering so much torment and suffering, it is impossible to imagine them not contemplating in their turmoil the longing for a Messiah to rescue them.”

While Teague’s version of Frank doesn’t explicitly indicate she wants to convert to Christianity, she makes many comments praising Christians she meets in the concentration camp, noting of one woman, “What I love about her is her faith in God and her faith in Jesus.” Later, Frank says, “I am seeing a stark difference in some of the Christians here, as opposed to the others… It seems Christians are more willing to die than the rest of us.”

Teague says such passages don’t necessarily represent a full conversion to Christianity. “Do I think Anne Frank became a Christian? No one can know what spiritual decisions or conclusions people make in a time of tragedy and persecution,” Teague continued. “This book does not indicate either way.”

He added, “We must stand with the Jewish people and for them.”

Teague also claims in his candidate biography that he “has been affiliated with” the Association for Jewish Studies, the academic membership organization devoted to Jewish studies. Teague’s Anne Frank book appears on a 2021 AJS list of books by its own members, under the author name “Johnny Mark Teague.” AJS did not return requests for comment.

The candidate’s top issues on his website include “Close the Border,” “Eliminate Property Taxes” and his belief that fossil fuels are divinely ordained: “If you believe in a Creator and that everything is here for a purpose, then you have to realize that fossil fuels are not an accident. At the very beginning of time, God knew we would need automation and industry, so in His Wisdom, He gave us the fuels that we would need.”

It’s common for evangelical Christians to engage in proselytizing, including toward Jews, and surveys have indicated that nearly half of American adults believe the country should be “a Christian nation.” But the size and scope of Teague’s efforts to undermine Anne Frank’s Judaism in his book is unusual even in such circles.

The Houston-area district Teague is running in has a Democratic incumbent. It was redrawn in 2020 but is still heavily favored to elect a Democrat.

This is the second time Teague has secured the Republican nomination for a Congressional district in Texas. He previously ran in the state’s ninth district in 2020, where he only received 21% of the vote in the general election. The election was held two days after “The Lost Diary of Anne Frank” was published.

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brothershardy · 4 months

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Frank: Alright, we've tried things your way. Joe: No, we didn't? Frank: I did it in my head, it doesn't work.

#; viva la hardy! (crack)#frank hardy #joe hardy #the hardy boys #hardy boys #clue crew #; here comes a thought (frank; character study)#; don't you ever let them fool you (joe; character study)

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amhrosina · 10 months

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Two Ghosts Part 1B (Frank Castle x OC)

Series Masterlist - Read Premise, Warnings, etc. here!

Pairing: Frank Castle x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Read it on: AO3, Wattpad // Follow me on: Instagram

Previous: Part 1A - Chemtrails // Next: Part 2A (coming soon!)

(1B) - Always an Angel

A/N: Just a quick reminder that all of the chapters that have a 'B' after the number take place in the past, prior to Frank's death. All the 'A' chapters are present day for Lucia!

Lucia was seven hours into her double shift at the diner when her favorite regular walked in. It was three o’clock in the morning, his typical arrival time, and the diner was starting to clear out after a busy Saturday night rush. Her favorite regular - she called him this because she didn’t know his actual name - sped toward the booth he’d unofficially claimed as his months ago when he’d first stumbled in, punch-drunk and beaten to a pulp. They’d exchanged only a handful of words since then, mostly about the specials and once about the pancakes, and that’s what Lucia preferred.

She gathered a menu and utensil set, even though she knew he would end up ordering the same thing he always did, and made her way toward his hunched figure. Most of the other waitresses were wary of him, some outright afraid of the man, and Lucia could see why. He was massive, covered head-to-toe in muscle that stretched against the fabric of his clothes, and had a gleam in his eyes that dared you to try messing with him. He was a scary looking dude. Lucia thought he was handsome, and he’d never given her any trouble before, so she gladly took his table anytime he came in.

“Hi.” She said softly, placing the menu on the edge of the table. “The usual?”

He looked up from his hands, and Lucia steeled herself in order to not cringe away from the swollen, painful looking bruises littered across his face.

“Yeah.” He bobbed his head once. “And some coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. Please.” He added after a pause.

Lucia politely smiled, “I’m brewing a fresh pot now.”

He nodded again, returning his focus to the table in front of him. He was her favorite regular for this exact reason. He never said more than he needed to, opting instead to observe the people around him. He also tipped well, which never hurt.

Lucia went back to the counter, eyeing her other tables, all of which were mostly self-sufficient and rarely needed her intervention, favorite-regular’s included. After she dropped his coffee and food off, she didn’t see the point in wandering from table to table when so many booths in her section were empty or being used by loners, so she pulled the book out of her backpack that she’d been avoiding opening since it was assigned.

Shakespeare was not up Lucia’s alley, so to speak. As an English major, she knew she’d have to study him and other playwrights eventually, but she much preferred the draw of a classic novel. She’d been assigned to read and analyze Hamlet for her final semester project, which wasn’t as terrible as some of her peer’s assignments, but annoying, nonetheless.

She read through the first act over the next hour, stopping every so often to refill coffee cups, run food, and process payments. She made notes in the margins of things to revisit when she was home later, and realized, after the diner felt unusually quiet, that she’d been sucked into the story and hadn’t noticed the comings and goings of the people around her.

Her favorite regular caught her eye, and she jumped up, embarrassed that she started reading so intently when he was clearly trying to get her attention. She hurried over to him, apology on the tip of her tongue.

“I’m so sorry, I-”

“You a fan?” He asked, nodding to the book still grasped tightly in her hands. She didn’t even notice she was holding it until he pointed it out. She had meant to leave it with her backpack.

“Oh, um, sure.” She tried hard to keep eye contact with him, but his gaze was unflinching and focused solely on her, so she inevitably ended up flicking her gaze at things around her as she spoke. It was one of the things that used to drive her mom crazy. “Are you?”

He bobbed his head once, opening his mouth to say something and then decidedly closing it before opening it once more. “A friend gave it to me to read a few months back. Said it would help with-,” He cut his sentence short, glancing away from Lucia. “Anyways, you reading it for some kind of class or something?”

Lucia bit her lip nervously. Since she’d first served this guy, they’d exchanged only a handful of words, and now he was asking her about her reading habits and education.

“I’m, uh, I’m an English major.” She stumbled, subtly kicking her left foot into her right. It was never more apparent to her that she could not act like a normal human being than at that moment. Was it because the stranger, who had become a fixture in her routine, was handsome and smiling at her, or because she was truly incapable of conversing with another human without being weird? She worked the night shift for a reason.

“Looks pretty new.” He said, referring to the state of the book. “Can I see it?”

He was observant. Lucia had purchased it a few weeks before in a bookshop in Brooklyn. She handed it to him, noting the gentleness in his movements. He was overly aware of how scary he probably looked and was actively trying not to frighten her. Her heart warmed at the effort.

“It is. I had to buy the sparknotes version of it too, because I thought all the important stuff might go right over my head.” She laughed at herself as she spoke. He couldn’t hide the grin creeping onto his face.

“I’m Pe-Frank.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Frank.”

Lucia tilted her head curiously and smiled. “Well, hi Pe-Frank. I’m Lucia.” She stuck her hand out. “It’s nice to finally have a name for you other than “favorite regular.”

She had added the last part accidentally and immediately blushed.

“Favorite, huh?” Frank looked pleased, and Lucia impossibly blushed an even brighter crimson than before.

Before she could respond, the unmistakable sound of a large group of drunken party-goers stumbling through the door cut her off. She smiled apologetically before approaching the new table, a little disappointed that her conversation with Frank was over. For all she knew, the interruption would force him back into his shell, never to be heard from again.

After tending to the table, which took a form of patience Lucia had grown all too familiar with being a night shift waitress in New York City, she was finally able to turn back towards Frank, only to find the booth completely empty. Disappointment flooded through her, and she couldn’t really pinpoint the exact cause of it. Frank was still, mostly, a complete stranger to her. Why is she so upset about his sudden disappearance?

She noticed, upon approaching the table, that Frank had stacked up his used dishes in a similar way to how she did it. He had also left her copy of Hamlet on the table with a fifty dollar bill sticking out the top of it. She had completely forgotten that she’d given it to him to look at. She took the bill back to the register, grinning at the incredibly generous tip he had left her. Favorite regular, indeed.

A few days later, Lucia was knee deep in the early morning rush when Frank appeared again, haunting the same booth he always sat in.

“It feels weird to see you in daylight.” Lucia said as a greeting, setting a menu down on the table in front of him.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you.” He grinned.

“The usual?” She prompted, fiddling with the laminated menu. He made her inexplicably nervous, especially when he managed eye contact with her for longer than a few seconds.

“Thought I might try somethin’ new.” He shrugged. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, pancakes are half off on Tuesdays.” She felt bare under his gaze. It felt like having her soul stared at.

“I like pancakes.” He absentmindedly tapped the table with his knuckle.

“You do?” She perked up.

“I do. I really like pancakes.” He said, and Lucia noticed something different buried deep in his tone. He couldn’t possibly be flirting with her, could he?

“Anything else I can get you?” She asked.

“Some of that world-class coffee you guys advertise so much.”

Lucia stifled a laugh. “I’m not sure about its global standings, but it’s hot and ready 24 hours a day. That okay with you?”

“Just the way I like it.” He winked at her. Yes, he was certainly up to something.

She walked away from the interaction with a flush crawling up her neck. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why did this, again, stranger have such an exhilarating effect on her? And why, all of the sudden, had he taken an interest in her of all people?

Lucia didn’t get a chance to think about it, though, because her section was packed. She hurried from table to table, running food to and from the kitchen, refilling drinks, and pretending to be interested in her customer’s anecdotes when really, all she wanted to do was talk to Frank more. When she finally made it back to his table, she was flushed for an entirely different reason.

“You read any more of that play?” He asked, taking a large bite of his pancakes. He let out a moan as he chewed, and Lucia couldn’t stop the giggle from bubbling out of her at the sight of him so thoroughly engrossed with pancakes.

“A little. I’ve been working doubles so I haven’t had a lot of time.” She realized she was wringing her hands again and forced her hands to rest on the table in front of her. “Do you like the pancakes?”

“Love ‘em.” Lucia didn’t doubt that Frank was being completely honest about that. The look on his face showed pure ecstasy and not much else. “You gonna be here tomorrow night?”

Lucia nodded, absentmindedly biting her lip. “I’m always here.”

“What time do you get off?” He continued, finishing the last bite of pancakes on his plate.

Lucia didn’t know why, but she answered truthfully and without any hesitation, which was a big no-no in this city. Frank wasn’t even the first guy that week that had asked her the same question.

“6am.”

“Mind if I walk you home?” He smiled a disarming smile at her, and she realized, after a moment, that she was smiling back at him.

What if this man is a serial killer?

“Sure.” She said, again wondering why she was so at ease around him. Everything she was doing was against her better judgment, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from continuing.

“It’s a date, then.” He winked, and she was sure she could feel her entire heart in her throat.

Later, when she collected his neatly stacked dishes from the now abandoned booth, she noticed something strange. Her eyes flicked between the book on the table in front of her and the book, twenty feet away, sticking out of her backpack. They were the same, and yet, the copy in front of her was clearly used and well loved. Understanding dawned on her as she picked up Frank’s copy of Hamlet.

She flipped through the pages, uncaring that she was in the middle of an incredibly stressful breakfast rush. The margins had been filled to the brim with neat, analytical notes in what she could only assume was Frank’s handwriting. A sticky note had been stuck to the very first page with scribbles that sent Lucia into a giddy haze when she read it.

From: your favorite regular

Figured you could use this for your class. You’re my favorite, too.

Frank was waiting by the diner entrance at exactly 6am, and Lucia did her very best impression of someone who was not overly excited about this walk. Before her shift, she’d considered trying to make herself look more presentable, but figured he had only known her in her diner uniform and wouldn’t mind seeing her in it again.

Lucia had expected their first encounter outside of the diner they were so used to seeing each other in to be an awkward one, but Frank wasn’t really the type of person to make things awkward. It probably helped that they had something specific to discuss - the paper she’d been putting off writing for weeks.

“I’m thinking about analyzing it through the lens where Hamlet is actually the true villain.” Lucia said, walking beside Frank. “Like I know Claudius is the obvious choice, but Hamlet is just as impulsive and reckless.”

“You’re probably onto something there,” Frank agreed.

“I only got the idea after reading your notes. Has anyone ever told you you’re sort of a genius?”

Frank chuckled earnestly, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that.”

“Well, I’m happy to be the first. Frank, you’re a fucking genius.”

Their walks became somewhat of a regular occurrence after that, and even after Lucia’s paper was due and they no longer had to spend their walks discussing the moral and ethical dilemmas of Hamlet, Frank continued to show up for Lucia. Lucia had never experienced a friendship like the one Frank consistently offered her, and while that terrified her, she couldn’t find it in herself to shy away from him. He was her friend, and she was his, and they were happy to spend their mornings together, learning each other inside and out.

“Dogs or cats?” Frank asked her one brisk morning, arching an eyebrow at her. “There is a wrong answer to this, by the way.”

Lucia rolled her eyes, giggling. “I never had either growing up, so I don’t have a preference.” At Frank’s incredulous look, she laughed again. “I’m neutral! I’m Switzerland!”

“The correct answer is ‘dogs’, in case you were wondering.” Frank added.

“Ah, okay.” Lucia teased, “I’ll write that down.”

Comfortable silence followed them down the sidewalk, and Lucia tried to remember if anybody else had successfully managed to make her feel like a normal human being after so many interactions.

She was not used to people wanting to spend so much time with her. She’d long since accepted that she was the kind of person people wanted in their lives only for brief moments, holding tight and then letting go as soon as she’d fulfilled whatever role they needed her to play at that point in their lives. Not with Frank, though, who seemed just as content to walk beside her in silence as she worked through her confusing thoughts, no matter how often she fell silent without realizing it.

“You don’t talk about your childhood much.” Frank pointed out, nonchalantly shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“There’s not much to say.” Lucia said truthfully. She’d moved on from that part of her life and hadn’t thought about it much since.

“You got parents?” He asked, gently probing her into opening up.

“I did.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on her feet. “I still do, I guess.”

Lucia took Frank’s silence as encouragement to keep talking, though they were entering a territory Lucia was not entirely comfortable thinking about.

“They weren’t nice to me when I was younger.” She struggled to find the words that could express the intense dread her parents were responsible for. “I mean, it wasn’t just ‘not nice’, it was mean.” Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. Had it always been that loud? She swallowed thickly. “I was fifteen when I came to New York. I haven’t talked to them since I left. I can’t-”

Frank’s scent enveloped her, and she realized she had stopped walking, curling into herself on the sidewalk as the sun crept behind them. Frank was standing close to her, concern written clear across his face. Lucia inhaled deeply, trying to regulate her breathing. She would not have a panic attack in front of Frank. She would not.

“Breathe. It’s okay.” He ran a finger across the inside of the wrist she hadn’t realized he was holding. “I get it. Just breathe.”

They stood there for several minutes, gazing at each other while Lucia learned how to breathe again. All the while, Frank ran his fingers along the inside of her wrist at a steady pace, matching her shaky breaths.

“You get it.” Lucia mumbled, repeating Frank’s words back to him, as if it had taken her those several minutes of dissociating on the sidewalk to process what he’d said. She raised her eyebrows in question. She wouldn’t ask outright, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she was now even more curious about Frank’s past. He was elusive on his best days, and completely secretive on his worst.

Frank looked more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him. His jaw clenched, unclenched, and then clenched again. He broke his gaze away from hers and took in their surroundings before finally flicking his eyes back down to her curious gaze.

“I’m sorry the people who hurt you were the people meant to protect you.” He finally said, sighing. “I couldn’t protect someone I loved once, and I’m still haunted by those memories.”

Lucia nodded, content with the tidbit of information he’d chosen to trust her with, but he continued talking, seemingly unable to stop once he’d started.

“I had a wife.” He briefly closed his eyes, willing the ache to stay in his chest. “And kids. Before I started coming to the diner.”

“Had?” Lucia whispered, horrified by the implication of his wavering voice.

“They died.” He stated simply, shrugging, as if their deaths weren’t the catalysts for the man he’d become in the aftermath. “It’s a long story.”

“Oh, Frank.” Lucia sighed, and before she could stop herself, began mirroring the comforting touch that had calmed her down moments before against his skin. “Thank you for telling me.”

And she left it at that. He would, eventually, expand on the information he’d just revealed to her, but at that point in time, surrounded by the rising sun and New York’s earliest risers, she was content with just knowing Frank a little more than she had the day before.

Frank appreciated this about Lucia more than he could ever admit to out loud.

The long story did eventually come out, and Lucia surprised both herself and Frank when she continued making plans with him after she learned of his transgressions. He had not, of course, been as thorough with his retelling as he could’ve been. He decidedly had left out the gore of it all, instead focusing on just the events that had led him to that diner for the first time.

He told her very little about his family, deeming it a topic that simply hurt too much to talk about, but she knew, probably better than anyone, the depth of his love for his family, and how entirely empty Frank felt when he thought about them for too long. She took it in stride, encouraging him to be as honest as he felt like being. Frank was, quite simply, astonished at her ability to compartmentalize it all.

“How can you just accept that I was a murderer before I met you?” He had asked her one night over a shared plate of pancakes.

“It was another life. Another you. I don’t know that version of you, Frank, but if I’m honest, I think your actions were justified. Either way, it’s in the past.” She replied, shrugging.

In reality, Lucia was in so deep with Frank that he could’ve been committing the murders in front of her, and she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to push him away. Frank was different from any person she’d ever met before. He was soft in his interactions with her, touching her in places she’d never felt a gentle caress in her life: across her cheekbones to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, along her lower back when they were navigating a crowded subway car, and across her wrists when she was feeling overwhelmed. She was quite convinced that he could kill the Pope and be forgiven by breakfast the next morning.

Both felt as though they’d known each other for much longer than they actually had. What was a month or two in reality felt like years in the dreamlike haze they’d drawn around themselves, separating them from the rest of the world. Neither Lucia, nor Frank, could explain the bond between them or why it had grown to be so fierce, but it was a welcome change in their lives. Very quickly, they’d gone from strangers to friends to something, and though they hadn’t addressed the growing tensions between them, it came as neither a surprise, nor an unwelcome advancement, when Frank leaned down to kiss Lucia for the first time outside the diner one morning.

She was certain her hair smelled like a mixture of bacon and hashbrowns, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to fix the rumpled fabric of her uniform yet, but he didn’t seem to care. She had walked directly into his arms, as if they’d done this a thousand times before, and accepted his kiss with ease. He’d taken her hand in his and whisked her away, because they had done this a thousand times now, and began the journey to Lucia’s apartment.

“What about you?” Frank asked later as he led her across the street. They were amidst a philosophical discussion that had seemingly sprung out of nowhere.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. What do you want out of life?“

“What I want…” Lucia paused, seemingly lost in a memory so potent that it had completely darkened her features, creasing her brow line in a way that Frank had come to recognize as sorrow. He waited for her response patiently, quietly observing the wringing of her hands before she finally opened her mouth and said, “I want to be kind.”

Embarrassment washed over her. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It’s a ridiculous answer, and surely not the one he was looking for. She blinked up at him, a little wary of his reaction. Would he laugh at her? Call her an idiot for saying something so illogical?

Whatever she was expecting never came, because moments went by, and a small smile appeared on his face before he asked, “And your biggest fear?”

This time, she didn’t have to think about her answer. It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“I don’t want to end up alone.”

They both had unanimously stopped walking moments earlier, though neither of them could remember making the decision to do so, and as they blinked at each other in the middle of a seemingly abandoned crosswalk, an understanding passed between the two of them. They were so alike in ways they couldn’t yet fathom.

Lucia, who had spent her entire life searching for a single person to see her, who had grown up in a family that didn’t know how to love her or her damaged parts, who struggled to breathe under the scrutiny of her own gaze in the mirror every morning because it reminded her so much of her mother’s.

Frank, who felt as though he’d been drowning since his family had died, sucked into a violent cycle of grief that, when unmasked, was actually all his love searching for a place to call home again.

Neither moved, and yet the world felt like it was shifting underneath their feet. The sharp blast of a horn, courtesy of a very pissed off taxi driver trying to get around the oblivious pair, was what brought them out of their stupor. Lucia laughed loudly, something she rarely allowed herself to do, and tugged Frank to the other side of the street.

Series Tag List:

@telepathay @messymissy@123passwort@lemon-world1@itwasthereaminuteago

Frank Tag List (Let me know if you want to be removed from being tagged in this series!):

@xleiaorgana@blackwidownat2814@emiemiemiii@mylifeispainandiloveit@mossexe@fightmilk@spikedhe4rt@fictional-hooman@babyslyth@legocity2@quackson03@certifiedhunter@deliciousfestsalad@dumb-fawkin-bitch@thatgirljayy@hiyabyeyababy@theesexystallion@scoliobean@myguiltypleasures21@fxlsealarm@evyiione@gpenguin666@desert-fern@ginnysculture@ryebreadsworld@laaundromat@coacaiyne@niki-is-a-thing@kelp-dreaming@ladymercury8@joalslibrary

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precious-little-scoundrel · 14 days

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What got you into writing/how long have you been writing?

What’s your writing inspiration?

Do you write in silence or need background sounds? Like music?

Do you struggle more with dialogue or detail?

Any tips for someone who wants to write fanfiction?

How do you differ all your OC’s so you don’t rewrite the same characters over and over?

Do you do research?

— from someone who would love to write their own stories lol but yours are great!

My darling. So many apologies for how tardy I’ve been in replying to this, I really wanted to give it due thought because I’m quite touched you’d even ask.

1: I’ve been writing since I was little, my mama was always reading me classics and my greatest ambition was to be some kind of author every bit as colorful as their characters, a la Oscar Wilde. 🥳

2. Writing inspiration? Oh that’s a hard one only in that I could cite a million things and chat your poor ear off, but to be boring and also frank -I just love stories. I think they’re so inspiring and healing and necessary for making sense of things, or else resigning to things that can’t be explained. I love to study love and how very human and fallible and also indestructible it is in its many forms. I love to dig through tragedy and find the refining purpose of it, I love to take characters through hells I’ve been through so that I can imagine their triumphs, too, and my own through them. If this can happen to -name your hero- then I’m no smaller for it happening to me, if -name your hero- can get through it and be loved and admired by a whole fandom? -I deserve the same commendation from myself at the very least. Stories are essential and fun and I never ever imagined I’d have a little group one day liking my own where we could all scream about these things together. I’m legit so humbled each time I log on here and find y’all ready and waiting and interactive. The community of it, that’s the biggest drive right now, tbh. What a sweet season.

3. I usually write in silence, or else at any chance where I have a moment, so that could be public transport or lunch breaks or in the loo during family holidays, ha. However I do find music to be an inspiring mood setter for writing later that day. Especially as i juggle many ongoing projects at once, the genre im listening to before may very well influence what gets worked on.

4. Detail!! Dialogue can be challenging but I hear it so clearly in my head most of the time that it’s not hard. Details can devastate me.

5. Ooof, I still feel like I’m a baby at it, this is only my second fandom to dare for. I’d say for sure write what you find inspiring instead of what appears to be wanted, i firmly believe that’s the only sure way to keep up any inspiration and the niche will draw its own crowd, one’s who will like it all the better for its specially crafted world. Also, for dialogue -replay and replay dialogue from the character before you write. Are they terse or do they ramble? Are they sarcastic or earnest? Do they have a word they repeat often? -I noticed the other day how Rosenthal uses “you know?” often in the show. Also, sometimes switch up sentence structure from character to character, it helps feel like hopping brains without a fully jarring POV change. All these are things I’m currently working at myself, but that’s the best I’ve got for advice.

6. Oh boy I’m still figuring this out myself. Three things come to mind as little helps I use- first off, read real biographies, it helps tremendously with crafting fully dimensional fictional people. Two -have a maturing arc for your OC during the story, separate from whatever adventure or romance that occurs, this will make it feel less like a inserted person into the broader story. Three, choose a personality type or something similar to both keep them separate from the next but also to ensure their virtues have corresponding vices.

7. I do research a lot. But I find that it’s a fine line for myself of when that drains all creativity or bravery. Im massively indebted to so many mutuals who generously share their own with me.

#best of wishes to you Nonnie! dare bravely!!#writing woes #about the author 💋

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harrowharkwife · 2 years

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so, um.

i've been thinking about "pilgrimage" for a while now. and about how we still haven't reached much of a consensus on what we're expecting from that episode.

pilgrimage. definition: a journey, especially a long and difficult one, made to some sacred or important place, typically as an act of devotion, or in search of deeper meaning, healing, or understanding.

the way this show works, i'm expecting to see all the characters on their own personal pilgrimages. some of them are easier to imagine than others.

maddie and chim taking jee-yun on her first beach trip, maybe. maddie, reconciling and processing both her harrowing, terrifying time in the ocean and her fear of jee near water. chimney, there to support her. both of them anchoring and grounding themselves in each other's presence, in the security of their family, and in the comfort that comes from teaching jee-yun to swim. watching her safely doggy paddle and splash and play in the shallow water, a lifejacket on her shoulders and a smile on her face, with the knowledge that she's safe and happy with both of her parents.

hen, finishing med school. becoming a doctor, finally, after her long journey of stress and studying and sleepless nights. she worked so, so hard to get here, and it was worth it. she doesn't necessarily have to leave her job and her home at the 118- she could be captain there someday, after all! but she's armed with so much more knowledge now, knowledge and training that will help her save even more lives, whether that's in a hospital or out in the field. and that medical license? it will help her advocate for every patient she treats, especially the ones overlooked by the medical system- her mom comes to mind. it forces everyone to take her seriously, to give her the respect she deserves, from the moment she introduces herself to them. and above all else, she will have proven to herself that she can do it. that she can chase each and every one of her dreams, at her pace and on her terms. just like she quit her pharma job, just like she became a firefighter despite eva's lack of support- only now, she has the support and encouragement from all her family and friends.

bobby, taking a trip to minnesota. maybe athena's with him, maybe may and harry. or maybe not. the fire at dispatch brought back a lot of old pain for him, even as saving may helped heal some of his oldest wounds. a karmic balancing of the scales, in a way- we know bobby tends to see things that way. but may isn't brooke. bobby buried a wife, a son, a daughter. and visiting their resting place to pay his respects, to tell them about his sobriety, about his new family, about how he creates families everywhere he goes now, about how much he misses them every day but despite it all he hasn't stopped living- that's a pilgrimage. and one i think he sorely needs to take, in order to heal.

for a while, i thought buck might take a trip back to hershey in this episode. but now i'm not so sure. eddie's already been back to el paso, and aside from that, i wasn't sure what a pilgrimage might look like, for him.

but then it hit me.

buck and eddie, going back to the site of the shooting. together. talking about it, processing it- as frank put it, "maybe you should talk about your pain with someone who shares it. think about your trauma. and then talk to someone who can understand exactly what you've been through."

that would be a pilgrimage, wouldn't it?

there's this scene in survivors, that i don't think we talk about enough- understandably, considering everything else going on in that episode. it's a quiet, blink-and-you'll-miss-it little moment between bobby and athena, that takes place only a handful of scenes after buck hauls eddie into the fire engine and desperately tries to keep him from bleeding out. and it goes like this:

athena: you know, after i was attacked, we never really talked about it.

bobby: well, i always got the sense you didn't want to.

athena: no, i mean... we never talked about what it was like for you.

bobby: there's that thing people say... 'i don't know what i'd do without you'. because losing someone you love is such an alien concept. you don't want to imagine what it's like. and i was sitting in that engine thinking i was listening to you dying. and i didn't need to imagine anything. i knew what my life would feel like without you in it. and it scared me.

👀

so, yeah. pilgrimage. i'm a firm believer in buck and eddie having their first kiss in the kitchen- i'm ready to tell you that i'm in love with you, so i'm telling you now, because i need you to know how loved you are, but i also know you need more time, and i will wait right here until you're ready for me too.

but when it comes time for a mutual display of commitment, that we're really doing this, i'm all in if you're all in, for better or for worse moment? i can't think of a better spot than the intersection where everything changed. episode one gave us a call where a man was shot by what looked to be a (large caliber) bullet, but was revealed to be a symbol of gay love and commitment- life saving for one man yet simultaneously life threatening for another. the thing that hurts is sometimes the thing that heals.

remember the funny little thing eddie said to buck in survivors, right before it all went south?

should have gotten here sooner.

pilgrimage: that street corner, no blood in sight. foreheads pressed together, leaning close, shaky hands on each other's faces, teary eyes. a kiss, maybe, or maybe not- the meaning's still the same.

buck, to eddie: nah. we're right on time.

#officially my most unhinged prediction yet but i stand by it! im convinced! if i were a betting woman! etc etc #911 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 spec #911 meta #pilgrimage #i worked so hard on this post if it flops I'll be so sad lol

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dysfunctional-family-fight · 9 months

Text

Round One

The Gallaghers (Shameless) VS the Kirigaya-Yuki family (Sword Art Online Abridged)

The Gallaghers

Members: Frank, Fiona, Philip "Lip", Ian, Carl, Debbie, Liam

Propaganda:

"Unemployed single father, who is alcohol and drug addict, and his philosophy is not to care about his children, then they'll learn how to survive. And that's what they are doing surviving instead of living. The kids have to manage on their own. Every one for themselve. And that's all very nicely said. But it such a fucked up family." More propaganda here

The Kirigaya-Yuki family

Members: Kirito (Kazuto Kirigaya), Asuna Yuki, Yui, Suguha Kirigaya, Asuna's parents, grandpa Kirigaya

Propaganda:

"Boy meets girl, boy accuses girl of war crimes, boy gets real high, girl yells at boy, boy and girl solve murder, boy and girl watch as murderer is beaten to death, boy stabs ghost." "FROM THE ABRIDGED VERSION SPECIFICALLY: Kirito and Asuna are canonically described as 'less people than a loose collection of character defects'. They adopt a daughter to use as a pawn for their mind games after they accidentally got married. Said daughter knew the whole time and deliberately inserted herself into their family out of curiosity. Also Kirito's sister constantly belittles and mocks him but turns out she resents him because they both studied kendo under their grandfather but Kirito quit and their grandfather became harsher on Suguha but she kept doing it bc she hoped Kirito would come back but he spent all his time gaming and coding instead. He had no idea so when she lashed out he thought she was just being cruel for no reason. Also Asuna's dad sold her into marriage while she was in a coma."

#polls #the gallaghers #kirigaya-yuki family #shameless us #sword art online abridged #sao abridged #round one

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yeniiyy · 1 year

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"I saw you sleeping in the library the other day"

Spica said as he sat down in the chair opposite mine, those emerald green eyes peered right into me. I, on the other hand, was letting my thoughts wander somewhere and only got startled by his sudden intrusion.

"Yeah I think I found a pretty neat corner"

I smiled, recalling the memory I had the other day. A library is always a perfect place for napping, even though I was really determined to study, everything just started to fall apart with the right ambience and that impeccable silence.

"Were you tired?"

"Maybe a little bit" I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to make him worry either "I just need time to rearrange my thoughts, you know"

The cafeteria in the afternoon was not too crowded with students. Most of them already left for the afternoon class, some of them remained here, working diligently to complete whatever task was displayed on their laptops in front of them with a bottle of water. And we were there, sitting across from each other, in this undoubtedly quiet area, our chatter was practically the only thing I could hear.

"You know you can always ask me for help, right?"

His sea-green eyes once again delved into mine, as though he was searching for any answer he could find in there. I flinched for a second, but quickly regained my smile.

"That is very kind of you" I hesitated "but, you know, there is stuff I need to resolve by myself. It's not that I don't want your help, sometimes things just got complicated".

I found myself averting his eyes, staring off into space. Those eyes, they were too powerful that I was scared if I looked into it any longer, I would end up coming clean and telling him the truth.

"Summoner" his voice was gentle as if soothing a little toddler "You are avoiding the problem"

I touched the hem of my uniform, not knowing what to say. He was right. As if it's only a matter of time before everyone else notices. Ever since that night, I have been hiding from "him". Avoiding group meetings, switching team missions, I've done everything I could in order to buy myself some time, to figure out what is this feeling inside of me.

"Little do you know" Spica once again broke the hush "That night when you went missing, he was the first one to contact everyone, and also the first one who seems like he would go crazy just because we couldn't contact you through Stella tab" he stopped for a moment before continuing to finish his words "To be honest with you, that was really out of character. Never have I witnessed Vega acting so impatiently before"

I finally shifted my gaze from the hem of my skirt to Spica, who was looking even more thoughtful than before. He wasn't joking, he surely couldn't withstand our little hassle and decided to step in.

"I just don't know how to face him right now" I spoke genuinely "So many things happened at once, and, you know, logically speaking, I'm not supposed to take it for granted and pretend like nothing happened. I just don't know. I feel like the more I look at him, the more I got drowned in my own frivolous thoughts"

"You're so slow, you know that?" I just heard the person in front of me sigh "Let me just dumb it down for you. Do you have feelings for him?"

"I" I looked down "I don't know"

"Then just tell him you don't know. Anything is better than eluding the problem right now" Spica said with concern "It's not your fault, there's no need to feel bad about it"

"But" I blinked twice "What if he doesn't accept it"

"Then we have no choice other than flinging him into the ocean" he said nonchalantly "But to be frank, I don't think that would be the case. Why don't you try talking to him first, or at the very least, listening to what he has to say?”

Surprisingly enough, as soon as Spica finished his sentence, my Stella tab flashed. I instantaneously took a glance at the display and saw that it was unmistakably he - the person we are discussing over - had called.

"Take it" Spica urged "We are not going anywhere if you keep agonizing over it"

I took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Spica" I stood up "I'm gonna take my leave"

He nodded.

I was totally unaware that after I left, Spica stared into the space where I had just gone from with a broody expression on his face.

_____________________________________________________ I have no idea what I just wrote but thank you for reading! :D

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight vega #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight x reader

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that-myllesstrauss-guy · 1 year

Text

Sigma interacting with his co-workers in talon (with his pills):

Sombra

Sigma: Unh? Oh Hello my friend! I haven't notice you there.

Sombra: Oh! Yes! I finaly made it work.

Sigma: I'm afraid i don't follow. What did you made work?

Sombra: It's a old device from the old times on Dorado. I found on a junkward with only It's hopes and dreams to keep it alive. It's a camouflage exo-skeleton that went missing after that accident of transportation to the moon.

Sigma: That was indeed a terrible incident. It's a queit a riddle of how in the many odds that could've happened.

Sombra: For the brigth side, i gain this little one. Look: It's filled with nano bots, they are soo tricky to control though, too many and too complex even with my current technology; imagine back then when i didn't had none of this! Needed like ten years just to hack 100 of them and on the stage that i found it i was already thinking that it was imposible to make it work. But oh man! Más vale manã que fuerza.

Sigma: Outstanding! And that's one marvel of engineering that Horizon was caring, and as you said: Complicated. I unfortunately had little to no contact with this kind of technology, i only saw when It's was being refined, years away from the current time. Seeing it on this stage shows how your handwork really improved after your studies.

Sombra: Learned with the best.

Sigma: Well, thank you but to be frank you're queit the prodigy yourself. I do not believe a admirer of the systematics of relativity is queit, eh, sharp to thought the control ofd sub atomic non-organic devices.

Sombra: It's true though. Without you, i wouldn't be capable of understand none of that right now, it took years just understand their basic composition. I own you alot, viejito.

Sigma: I appreciated.

Moira

Sigma: Could I go outside today, doctor?

Moira: I'm afraid i can't do that, you're under supervision after that surgery that we passed.

Sigma: Yes, yes, immune system weakend cannot be teased with a little clue of fresh air. But.... By the time that is passed here i don't feel stronger.

Moira: Your diagnoses said otherwise.

Sigma: I mean in pratice. My abilities seemed to increse and i showed more results while i was outside. Hitting the walls, going back in furth, this isn't a natural display of mines here.

Moira: We understand your struggle doctor, but for now you will be just the very thing that you are not craving right now, for the benefits of your health and the full sucess of the experiment. So we stay right here, yes?

Sigma: . . . I understand.

Doomfist

Doomfist: Doctor De Kuiper? The subject sigma, still... Instable? I see, i hope nothing unchracterist happens here.

Sigma: Hello mister Ogundimu! Never thought i would see you in flesh.

Doomfist: Unh hum... Charmed. (Takes a step back)

Sigma: i'm marveled for seeing you here. The doomfist! The title behind It's as heavy as It's sounds.

Doomfist: You know my title?

Sigma: And who doesn't? A man that in a battle killed his own master. Now, i know It's sounds harsh for but for pete's sake you are queit skilled, the cloath needed to be changed, in a way or another.

Doomfist: How do you know this?...

Sigma: Many events happens in many universes, universes that comes with mutiple choices of certain characters, and yours my friend, the universe singed your history and It's happens to be true in this variation. It happens time to time, i can't tell why!

Doomfist: Sure... It was good to see you, doctor de Kuiper. (Goes away)

Sombra: Got em'! Best actor ever.

Sigma: He looked very frigthen.

Sombra: That's what he get's for thinking he is high and mighty.

Sigma: You sure are happy with this.

Sombra: Yep! Oh man his face was priceless.

Sigma: Well, this could've got worst. But guess you handle pretty well.

Reaper

Reaper: Get off the way, doctor.

Sigma: How can one desmaterilize and still be asking for space?

Reaper: The very one is thinking in fill you with bullets. So, Get. Back.

Sigma: If a cologne of protozoa makes It's way for the mind of a fish. This means the fish is now passing for a evolutive process or devoluteve process?

Reaper: What?

Sigma: Has a ant ever thought that the universe that it got It's actually just another particle on the grand scheme of things?

Reaper: Have you lost your goddamn mind?

Sigma: purpose has purpose?

Reaper: (grunts) just get away from me. (He dissapers.)

Sigma: Finally peace. (Smiles.)

Widowmaker

Sigma: (singing)

Widowmaker: Could you please shut up?

Sigma: Oh! Why? It's beautiful day today.

Widowmaker: We wipped out a battalion of soldiers.

Sigma: Oh... So you still knows what compasion is?

Widowmaker: Nothing beyond a distraction.

Sigma: So Gerard was in the wrong since the start?

Widowmaker: What did you say? Did sombra made you say this?

Sigma: No, i just heard about it. Did you miss him?

Widowmaker: It's none of your bussines.

Sigma: If you do, Doctor O'Deorain could've failed on her experiment, if you don't that means she is good on her work, and i will trust her. Which is it?

Widowmaker: ... Don't cross my line of sight again, doctor.

Sigma: I know my answer now.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #siebren de kuiper #sigma #sombra #olivia colman #moira #moira o'deorain #reaper #gabriel reyes #talon #doomfist #akande ogundimu #widowmaker #amélie lacroix

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