#i have the Never Ending Curse of “draw/create characters then never use them” but this guy turned out so precious

[sapphyre-blogs]

i got a Hankering to draw a hound dog, so this is Tanner! he's a Black and Tan Coonhound, and i'd imagine he's a pretty chill dude <3

#aiden.txt #sapphyre art #furry #sfw furry #i have the Never Ending Curse of “draw/create characters then never use them” but this guy turned out so precious

[skz317cb97]

Color Theory

Jeongin x Female reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: Your world is varying shades of grey until you meet your soulmate, Jeongin, who brightens up your life in more ways than one.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! This, I swear to God, went from I have no idea for this story to 7.2k words and I have NO idea how. I hope you enjoy though! If you do please reblog, like, comment, shoot me an ask. I love hearing from you all it makes my day! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, character death, unprotected piv sex (please use condoms), cum shot, cum eating (a teensy bit). I think that's everything but if I missed something let me know and I'll add it asap!

Your mom was teaching you your primary colors. You had learned your shapes and you were working on numbers and letters and now she was working on your colors, an important part of your mother’s world being an artist. Your mom didn’t get why you were having such a hard time getting them right when you had picked everything else up so easily. It was your dad that actually mentioned the possibility of you being color blind as he was passing through the living room where you and your mom were playing during a break from his writing.

She realized your dad might be right so she set up an optometrist appointment for you and had your eyes examined. When the doctor looked, he determined that you had monochromacy or in other words you were completely color blind. It was quite rare really, most people that were color blind had trouble seeing certain colors, but you saw none which was so rare it happened to one in thirty-thousand people worldwide. Being a girl made it even less likely as well since color blindness occurred more in men than women but you were the one in thirty thousand apparently. Your mom’s heart broke a little knowing you’d never get to know and love colors the way she did but she made sure that art was still a part of your life. 

You were thankful for that because art ended up being your outlet, your escape, your fantasy world to get lost inside. Any form you could create in you would, drawing, pottery, pastels, but you especially loved painting. You used an array of colors but only ever saw varying shades of gray so you used a lot of texture in your art as well. You became quite well known among the avid art collectors in your city for your unique style and the lack of your ability to see colors. Your paintings were variations of colors chosen by someone with no idea what color was, with the textures it was art that came off the canvas. Your name finally got passed around enough that one of the more selective galleries asked you to do an exhibition. You were working on some canvases for that when your mom walked into your studio. She set down a tupperware bowl and made her way over to you. She wiped at paint on your face shaking her head. 

“You wear as much as the canvas does sometimes.” You nodded knowingly. 

“I know sometimes I get lost in it and the next thing I know I have spackle caked in my hair.” If anyone understood it was your mom. She looked at what you were working on. 

“You’re using a lot of pinks and reds in this one.” You looked at it. 

“Have I? I stopped looking at the names on the tubes.” Your mother nodded, examining the amazing work you’d done only knowing black and white and the grays in between.  

“I think this one will be my favorite when it’s finished.” You smiled. She was so proud of you. Then she pointed at the food she brought, knowing if she didn’t, you wouldn’t stop and eat. She distracted you just long enough to get you to break away and feed yourself. About halfway through your food your mom got up, squeezed you and kissed the top of your head.  

“I’m going to get home sweetie. I have to make sure your dad eats too.” She shook her head at the likenesses you shared with your father.  

“Don’t stay up all night.” You nodded knowing damn well you probably would. You had paintings to get done. 

“Okay mom I won’t.” Your mother looked at you knowing it was complete bullshit but smiled and headed out. 

“I love you sweetie.” You waved as you headed back towards your canvas. 

“I love you too mom.” You put your headphones on and got lost in your canvas again. When your dad walked up behind you he scared the absolute shit out of you. You looked at the time and were surprised at how late it was, you pulled your headphones off. 

“Dad wha-” The look on his face told you something was horribly wrong. 

“It’s mom...” He said and you started to shake your head no as tears came to your eyes. 

“No.” He walked towards you trying to grab your hand and you backed away. 

“It started to rain, and the car slid...” You kept shaking your head back and forth. 

“She’s okay she’s just hurt. Right?” Tears streaked your dad’s face. 

“Right?!” Your dad shook his head no. 

“She... she didn’t make it sweetie.” You collapsed to your knees and your dad grabbed your shoulders making sure you didn’t hurt yourself falling. You looked up at the half eaten food on the table that she had brought you. If you weren’t so worried about the stupid exhibit, if you had just taken enough care to eat, if she didn’t think she had to bring you dinner, she’d still be alive. When you left your studio that day, you locked it and refused to step foot in it again.  

Your dad made all the arrangements and somehow you made it through your mother’s wake and funeral. You moved in with your dad after your mom died and took care of him. Made sure he ate, lifted his head from his computer from time to time so his eyes didn’t burn out of his head. You had wanted to get rid of your studio. Just sell it and let whoever bought it toss the paintings, but your dad wouldn’t let you. He told you to hold onto it, just because you didn’t feel like you could now, didn’t mean you never would. He hoped one day you’d go back to your painting. Two years went by and as fast as your name had been passed around it disappeared from people's lips just as quickly. You were glad. 

You were starting dinner and writing down a grocery list when the house phone rang. Your dad was elbow deep in his novel, he wouldn’t stop for a house fire, so you answered it. 

“Hello?” You heard a man clear his throat on the other end of the line. 

“Oh hi! Uh, My name is Yang Jeongin...”  

“We don’t want to buy any but thanks.” You hung up and started to head back over to the food on the stove. You just stirred the sauce when the phone rang again. You sighed and walked over to answer it again. More irritated this time, you were going to burn your dinner. 

“Hello?!” He cleared his throat again. 

“Hi sorry, I’m not selling anything I’m trying to find an artist by the name of y/n?” You froze, speechless. 

“Hello?” Click. You hung up again and walked over to the dinner. The phone rang again and you let it but it kept going and going. You stormed over. 

“What do you want!” He was surprised at your outburst. 

“I... I... uh are you Ms. Y/n?" His voice had gotten small and you started to feel bad for blowing up on him for no real reason. You sighed taking a deep breath. 

“Yea. I’m y/n.” He suddenly got very excited on the phone.  

“Oh! Okay um I'm so sorry to bother you but I am a HUGE fan of your art work and I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a commissioned piece for me?” You pinched the bridge of your nose trying to fight off the headache that was creeping up behind your eyes. You sighed. 

“I don’t paint anymore.” He hummed. 

“Oh...”  

“Yea so goodb-”  

“Why not?” You were starting to get angry again. You had listened to him and answered him, what more did he want?  

“That’s really none of your business. Goodbye.” You hung up and finished dinner. You and your dad sat at the table together as you ate. 

“Oh who called earlier.” You shook your head taking another bite. 

“No one.” Your dad hummed looking at you. 

“What?” He shrugged. 

“No one called three times in a row.” You sighed frustrated by your dad’s persistence sometimes. 

“Okay! It was some guy asking me to paint him something. I’m not going to.” Your dad nodded.  

“Some guy? Did he say who he was?” You nodded and continued to try and focus on your meal and not the conversation you didn’t want to be having. 

“Yang... Yang Jeon or something like that. It doesn’t matter, I don’t paint anymore.” Your dad dropped his fork. 

“Yang Jeongin?” You shook your head. 

“Yea that was it.” Your dad sat there speechless. 

“What dad?” He finally snapped out of it. 

“You’ve never heard of Yang Jeongin?” You shrugged. 

“No?” To be fair when you painted you didn’t keep up with anything on tv or the news. Even now that you didn’t paint you still never really turned on the tv. 

“His family is the Yang in the LeeYang corperation. You know that name.” Well yea everyone knew that name, even if you lived under a rock. There wasn’t a single household that didn’t have something made by the LeeYang corp. 

“Jeongin is the grandson of the head of the company and his dad is on their board of directors. He was just named the city's most eligible bachelor; his family is old old money.” You shrugged, picking up your plate and walking it to the sink. 

“Okay so what. I still don’t paint.” Your dad picked up his plate and took it over to the sink too. 

“You could.” You started to fill the sink with water and soap. Your dad stopped you and made you look at him. 

“It won’t start to heal until you do sweetie.” You stuck your hands down in the water and shook your head as you tried to will away the tears welling in your eyes. 

“No dad.” He sighed, kissed the side of your head and went back to his computer to get back to writing while you cleaned up dinner dishes. That night you laid in bed restless, hoping the clicking of your dad’s computer keys would put you to sleep like they had so many times as a child but you couldn’t. At around two you hollered. 

“Bed dad! Brains need sleep to write novels!” You heard him sigh heavily and get up. You weren’t sure when you had turned into the parent. He stopped at your door. 

“Goodnight sweetie.” You nodded. 

“Goodnight dad.” Thankfully, eventually, you did manage to fall asleep and get a few hours of rest. The next day while you were doing the grocery shopping your cell phone started going off. You grabbed it thinking it was probably your dad wanting some sugary snack. He needed to start eating better and if he asked you for cupcakes you were going to get him apples and bananas. It turned out it wasn’t your dad. It was an unknown number but local so you answered it. 

“Hello?” 

“Ms. Y/n? It’s Jeongin. PLEASE don’t hang up!” You sighed and pushed your cart down the aisle. Holding your phone with your shoulder as you continued to grab things. 

“It’s really not a good time Mr. Yang.”  

“I’m sorry I really don’t mean to be a pest. Please call me Jeongin.” You stopped and held onto the phone. 

“What can I do for you Mr. Yang?” He let out a nervous laugh. 

“Uh well I was hoping that maybe you might reconsider doing the commission? Money is no object...” You hummed. 

“I’m aware of who you are and what you have Mr. Yang. I don’t really care. I’m also certain that I’ve told you three times now that I no longer paint.” You hung up on him again and went back to grocery shopping. Jeongin was frustrated. He was usually one to accept a no when that was the answer but he loved your work and he didn’t know why but he needed to get you to paint one for him.

He’d bought so many of your canvas’ from other collectors,for a good deal of money since you disappeared and were no longer painting. No one knew why just that you left the scene two years before, overnight. It had been difficult to dig up contact info on you and after going through all that Jeongin was hopeful that if he asked and said the right number that you’d paint for him. Apparently you didn’t give a shit about numbers which Jeongin found endearing as much as he did frustrating. 

A couple days later you were reading a book in the living room when the house phone started to ring. You closed your book, got up and answered it.  

“Hello?” Nothing silence. 

“Hellooo?” You heard a breath. 

“Fuck off perve-” 

“Wait wait! It's... I’m not... It’s Jeongin.” You rolled your eyes and sighed irritated that this man was calling you again. 

“What do you want Mr. Ya-” 

“To apologize...” You stopped surprised to hear his answer. 

“For what?” He was surprised to not hear a dial tone. 

“For being pushy and not taking no for an answer the first time. If I offended you, I’m deeply sorry.” You felt a little bad. He hadn’t offended you he was just picking at a scab he had no idea about. 

“It’s fine Jeongin...” He let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay, thank you for taking my call. Have a good day Ms. y/n, goodbye...” You stopped him just before he hung up. 

“WAIT!” He hummed acknowledging he was still there. You were already kicking yourself. You couldn’t believe you were about to say what you were going to say. Why were you going to say what you were about to? 

“I’ll do the painting.” 

“What?!” Jeongin couldn’t believe his ears. 

“I’ll do the painting. Email me your specifications and-” He interrupted you. 

“ANYTHING! Literally just do anything you want and tell me a price!” 

“Okay okay Jeongin fine.” He wanted to ask a question but he didn’t want to push his luck either. He took a chance. 

“Uh would I maybe be able to come by your studio sometime? Once you’ve started?” You hadn’t been to your studio in two years. Your dad stopped by to pick up mail every so often but you had no idea what kind of condition it was in. 

“Maybe, let me get it started. Typically I don’t have spectators, especially not the customer.” He understood that and was thankful you were even considering it. 

“Yes okay that’s fantastic! Thank you! Thank you so much!”  

“Okay Jeongin, I’ll be in touch soon.” You both said goodbye and when you turned to go back to your book your dad was standing there. 

“Did I just hear you say you were going to do the painting?” You opened your mouth to complain about his eavesdropping but he quickly cut you off. 

“You know what! Forget I said anything! I didn’t hear a thing!” He ran towards the kitchen for a drink and back to his computer before you could start in and you shook your head going back to your book. It was pointless trying to read anymore. All you could think of was a canvas and how you’d move the paint across it. You slammed your book closed, grabbed your car keys and headed towards the studio.  

When you got there you stood at the door for a long time. The last time you’d been in there was the day your mom died. When you finally willed yourself to go in it was like stepping into a time capsule. All your paintings were exactly where you’d left them and the one you had been working on was still propped against your easel. You walked up to it and looked at it like your mother had, then picked it up and moved it against one of the walls. You grabbed a fresh canvas, put it on the easel and stared at it, looking for the picture inside it. You stared and stared but you couldn’t see it anymore. Something your mom had planted in you was what made you see it before but she was dead and so was the plant. A whole week you kept going back staring at the blank canvas finding nothing in it. 

Week two you were standing in front of the blank canvas, your headphones on trying to find some kind of inspiration. You about jumped out of your skin when someone tapped you on the shoulder. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You turned and there was a man in a button up shirt and suit jacket. He had fox like eyes that were narrow but some how still seemed kind. You both stood there stunned for a moment. You pulled your headphones down. 

“Uh... can I help you?” You wanted to be mad that he’d intruded but he was so beautiful you couldn’t bring yourself to be. You were just curious who this man was standing in front of you staring at you. He shook his head as if he were getting the thoughts in order. 

“OH! Uh, yea! I’m Jeongin, we spoke on the phone?” Oh. No wonder he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. He was a work of art himself. You still had no idea how he found your studio or what he was doing there. 

“Oh Mr. Yang yes, um...” He smiled his eyes scrunching up. 

“Please Jeongin is fine.” You nodded. 

“Yes of course, Jeongin. How did you find me?”  

“I hope it’s okay. I called you a few times and then your house, your father finally answered, he told me I could find you here.” Of course he did you thought to yourself. 

“I don’t mean to be impatient I’m just excited to see any progress that you’ve made, no matter how little!” You turned and looked at the blank canvas behind you as he started looking around the room at your artwork. 

“Which one is mine?” You pointed at the blank canvas and he looked surprised. 

“Oh... I see. Um... well... what’s wrong?” He didn’t mean for the question to come out like it had but as soon as he asked it your face scrunched up angry. 

“What do you mean what’s wrong?! It doesn’t just create itself! Why don’t you try to make art out of colors you can’t even see and see how quickly you get it done!” He put up his hands trying to calm you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you I just meant like... is it why you stopped painting?” You tossed down your headphones angry. 

“I’m pretty sure I said that was none of your business!” Jeongin was doing a terrible job at digging himself out of the hole he’d created. 

“You’re right I’m sorry it is, I didn’t mean to pry I just, if I can help...” You walked over to the door and opened it. 

“Right now you can help by leaving.” He bowed and walked towards the open door. He looked at you as he passed by. 

“I’m sorry I intruded. I won’t bother you again, I’ll wait for your call.” He rushed out and down the stairs towards the exit of the building. You slammed your door shut and walked back over to the canvas picking up your headphones and staring at it angrily. You glanced over at the painting you’d worked on the night of your mom’s accident and then did a double take. You saw the shades of red your mom had mentioned when she had looked at it. How? You rubbed your eyes expecting everything to go back to normal but when you opened them you saw shades of blue in other paintings lying around along with the red.

They were all so bright it almost hurt to look at them and then slowly you saw yellow start to seep into your vision. First a pale yellow then a yellow as bright and vibrant as the reds and blues you could see now too. It wasn’t just the paint though everywhere throughout your studio reds, blues, and yellows popped. You rummaged through your paint tubes grabbing the colors and started smattering them across the canvas adding spackle and sand, cotton and ripped paper. When you stepped back you were covered in the vibrant colors and you had Jeongin’s painting started.  

That night when you went home your dad was as happy as he could possibly be to see you walk in covered in paint. You didn’t mention the colors. What if you went to bed and woke up and they were gone? You decided if it didn’t go away you by the time you were done with the painting, you’d tell your dad. The next morning when you woke up you looked at your coveralls from the day before and there, smeared all over the front of it, was red, blue and yellow. You were ecstatic! You pulled on another pair of old bibs and ran to head to the studio. Your dad hollered on your way out the door. 

“Hey! Breakfast! Most important meal!” You waved as you grabbed your keys. 

“I’ll grab some on the way! See you for dinner dad!” He waved and smiled, grabbing his toast and coffee, heading back to his own work as the door slammed closed behind you. When you got to the studio you started staring at the canvas blankly again. When your cell phone rang it gave you an excuse to look at something else other than your half-finished painting. It was Jeongin. So much for not calling you. You felt kind of guilty for going off on him so badly the day before so you answered. 

“Hello?” He always cleared his throat before speaking to you, like he was struggling to form his words. 

“Hi y/n, it’s Jeongin... well yes... you know that. Uh... would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow?” You were confused, did he have more questions? He probably wanted to fire you or... 

“Like... a date?” You asked and he started to stammer. This man was the most eligible bachelor?  

“Well... um... yes? If you want to! No pressure! I’ll still buy the painting either way!” You were a little flabbergasted. 

“Uhhh... I... yea... I guess so.” He let out a huge breath. 

“REALLY?!” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his shock. 

“Yes Jeongin. I will meet you tomorrow for a coffee date.” He laughed and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Great okay! Uh... eleven? The shop around the corner from your studio?” 

“See you then.” You hung up and started staring at your canvas again frustrated. You made little to no progress the rest of the day and you went home discouraged after having such a burst of inspiration the day before. The next day you went to the studio early, trying and failing to make a little more progress. Before you left to head to the coffee shop you took a couple pictures of what you had done on your phone so you could show Jeongin. When you walked into the café Jeongin was already there waiting at a table. You walked over and he stood up smiling pulling a chair out for you. You bowed smiling. 

“Thank you.” He nodded, his cheeks a little pink. The two of you ordered coffee and broke the tension with a little small talk. The conversation naturally evolved into likes and dislikes and you asked a lot of questions about Jeongin trying to keep the topic of conversation off of you. Before you knew it an hour had gone by. 

“Oh, wow has it been that long?” Jeongin asked. 

“Yea, I should probably head back to the studio and try to get some more done.” Jeongin’s eyes lit up. 

“More?!” You had completely forgot to mention the painting. 

“Oh yea, well... after you left the other day I made some progress and got it started, here I’ve got some pic-” 

“Can I walk you to the studio and see?!” Jeongin’s eyes were scrunched up and his dimples were showing. You’d had a nice time; you didn’t see why not. 

“Okay, but only for a minute, I need to work more.” Jeongin stood up excited. He grabbed your coffee ticket and his and started for the register. 

“Oh you don’t-” He shook his head. 

“Oh no... there’s no way in hell you’re paying for your coffee.” You chewed at your lip and smiled, looking down nodding. He was usually kind of shy around you, soft spoken, so to hear him say something so assertive... well it’s shouldn’t have done the things to your body that it had. Jeongin paid and the two of you walked towards your studio. When you got there Jeongin walked up to the partially finished canvas and looked at it. Something about the way he looked at it from different angles and so closely reminded you of how your mom used to look at your paintings and your heart squeezed inside your chest. 

“It’s amazing the way you use colors like this while not being able to tell them apart. This is beautiful already. I don’t know why you would ever stop painting.” Your heart squeezed tighter in your chest and you looked over at the painting from the night of the crash. Jeongin kept looking at the textures and colors, the words that came out of his mouth next shocked not only you but him too. 

“Was it your mom’s accident that made you stop, don’t you think she’d want you to continue?” He’d seen articles about the accident when he looked you up. Your jaw dropped as tears instantly welled in your eyes. Jeongin stopped looking at the painting and looked at you as he realized immediately he’d overstepped. 

“What?” You heard him loud and clear you were just in disbelief. 

“I...” You had snapped here and there at him but this was an all-out explosion. 

“DON’T talk about my mother and DON’T assume to know me because you like my work Mr. Yang!” He shook his head. 

“It’s not that! I...” You cut him off. 

“Is the painting worth more to you knowing that my mom’s death was what made me quit!? That I couldn’t look at a paintbrush or canvas because all I saw was memories of my mother!? Do you need to know that to feel more connected to it!? My mother died because I was stubborn and she brought me food so I’d eat while I worked on my stupid paintings for a stupid exhibit that didn’t even matter! She crashed driving home after leaving here! I killed my mom! My selfish need to create at all costs killed my mom!” Jeongin shook his head as his eyes teared up.  

“y/n... no...” You looked at him your cheeks and neck damp with your tears. You started pushing at him screaming. 

“Get out! Get out! Just leave me the fuck alone! Leave me! ALONE!” You sank to the ground in front of your canvas just like you had the night your mother died. Tears were streaming down Jeongin’s face now too. He wanted to hold you. Tell you that you were wrong. That your mom dying was just an accident and it wasn’t your fault. 

“Get out...” You sobbed, your words a whisper. Jeongin didn’t say anything else he turned and walked towards the door. Just before he shut it he spoke, his voice low. 

“I’m sorry.” The door clicked closed and you laid on the floor crying until you fell asleep. You woke up to your cell phone ringing. You grabbed it and squinted looking at it. It was your dad. It was dark now, he was probably worried. You quickly answered. 

“Uh... hello?” Your dad could tell he’d woken you up. 

“Oh thank god! I was worried when you weren’t home for dinner.” You started apologizing for worrying your dad like that. 

“I’m so sorry dad, I fell asleep and I guess I slept longer than I...” You turned on the studio lights and when you looked around you saw greens, and purples, orange. You stopped talking. 

“y/n?” Your dad’s voice pulled you back to the conversation. 

“Uh slept longer than I meant to. I’m sorry dad I’ll sleep here tonight and be home first thing in the morning.” 

“Okay honey, text me when you leave and please be careful?” You hummed absent mindedly. 

“Hmm I will dad. Love you.” You hung up and immediately started going through your painting tubes again, you grabbed greens, purples, blues, reds, you mixed new colors and threw paint on the canvas like it would put itself where it needed to go. A lot was still black and white but now there were so many colors! When you finished the painting, you stood back taking it in. It was the most beautiful piece of art you’d ever made. It was vibrant, colors and textures rising off the canvas but it also had a feeling underneath, a sadness, the loss was still there even though you’d gained so much color. You started to cry again, at the pain, at the beauty. When you finally pulled yourself together you pulled out your phone and texted Jeongin. 

You: The painting is done. I’ll have it ready for pick up in two days. 

Jeongin: I... what? 

You: You still want it right? 

Jeongin: YES! I DO! 

You: Okay it’ll be ready Friday by five 

Jeongin: I’ll see you Friday five o'clock sharp 

You saw the chat bubbles appear and disappear over and over like he was writing and deleting something multiple times. 

Jeongin: y/n? 

You: Yes Jeongin, what... 

He tried to write sorry a thousand different ways but no matter what he typed out it wasn’t right. Sorry over text for what he’d done wasn’t right. 

Jeongin: Thank you 

You: You’re welcome  

Two days had come and gone and you could still see all the same colors. Inspiration was coming to you a bit more freely now that you’d completed Jeongin’s piece also. You still hadn’t told your dad that you were seeing colors, you still didn’t know what it meant or why it was happening so how were you supposed to explain it to him? You were working on something new when Jeongin knocked at your studio door. Right at five, just like he’d said. You opened the door and he stood there a moment just looking at you. He shook his head and snapped out of it. 

“Uh hi! I might be a little early.” You opened the door more letting him in. 

“No you’re fine, right on time. You walked over to the completed canvas leaned against the wall and Jeongin followed. When he looked at it his eyes welled up with tears instantly. 

“It’s beautiful.” You bowed. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. Jeongin turned facing you. 

“y/n... I...” He was sorry. He wanted to say he was sorry but his words refused to come out once your eyes bore into his, big and glassy. He took a step towards you closing the space between you, his hand cupped your cheek and before you knew what was happening his soft lips were pressed against yours. Your eyes closed tightly as you kissed him back. He pulled away and you stood there, your fingers pressed to your lips, your eyes closed. When you finally opened them everything was in full color. Red and purple and every color in between. A tear slipped down your cheek and you suddenly realized it was Jeongin. The colors were appearing because of him. He swiped your tear away.  

“Please... don’t cry...” You shook your head wiping your face. 

“No Jeongin you don’t understand... I don’t know how or what is going on but... I can see colors!” His face scrunched in confusion. 

“I thought you’re color blind.” You shook your head smiling ear to ear. 

“I am! I was! I don’t know! Every time I’ve been near you more colors have slowly appeared and just now when you kissed me... I can see it all! I can see color!” You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again. Jeongin wrapped his arms around you, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, taking your breath away.  

“Will you go to dinner with me tonight?” Jeongin asked with his forehead resting against yours and you nodded. 

“Yes, yes...” You kissed him again and then looked down at your paint splattered overalls. 

“Uh... let me run home to get cleaned up and changed?” Jeongin shook his head smiling so big his eyes almost disappeared entirely. 

“Text me your address when you’re almost ready and I’ll pick you up.” You were grinning like a fool, you kissed him again three pecks and started backing up towards the door. 

“Lock up for me please!” He nodded and you dashed out the door to go get ready as quickly as possible. When you ran into the house you almost ran your dad over. 

“Woah woah there speed racer where’s the fire?” You were an idiot. Only just then did you think to tell your dad, everything happened so fast. 

“Dad!” He smiled happy to see you so excited about something. 

“I can see colors!” He stood up straight and looked at you crazy. 

“What?” He asked like he knew you were pulling his leg. 

“Dad I swear to god, every time I've seen Jeongin, after I would start seeing certain colors, then he kissed me today and it’s not black and white anymore dad I can actually see colors!” You thought your dad’s reaction would be excitement, hugging you, maybe crying. His face scrunched up. 

“He kissed you?” What a dad thing to do, miss the whole point and zero in on that part. 

“Yes dad he kissed me.” You rolled your eyes. If at all possible your dad started dadding even more. 

“Well I haven’t even met this boy and he’s kissing you?” You shook your head laughing. 

“Dad! I told you I can see colors and you’re worried about a boy kissing me?” He shrugged, pouting a little. 

“I’m happy but I just would like to know this young man’s intentions.” You hugged your dad. 

“Well you’ll get to meet him tonight, he’s picking me up for dinner in a bit.” You started running up the stairs towards your room. 

“I have to get ready!” Your door slammed shut behind you and your dad finally let the smile creep onto his face that he’d been holding back. It sounded to him like you’d found your soulmate. It was instant like that for him and your mom too. One touch and they knew. Your dad still missed her every single day, he always would.  

Surprisingly you were able to get dressed quickly and you cleaned up nice. A nice black little dress, your hair pulled up and actually paint and spackle free, a little bit of eyeliner and mascara. You noticed a pretty red lipstick that popped out at you and chose that for a final touch. When you walked down your dad was sitting in the living room with Jeongin who looked as nervous as the first time he’d talked to you. 

“Dad?” He smiled innocently. 

“Yes pumpkin?” You pinched his arm. 

“Stop scaring him.” Your dad feigned pain and laughed. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. 

“Have fun sweetie.” You smiled and motioned to Jeongin for you to leave. He stood up quickly and walked over by you, his hand resting at the small of your back instinctively. 

“It was very nice meeting you sir. I promise I’ll keep her safe.” Your dad could feel it when he’d met Jeongin too, whatever pull there was between you was strong. Your dad knew Jeongin meant it from the bottom of his heart when he said he’d keep you safe. 

“I know you will.” Your dad smiled and headed up to his study to put his nose to his screen, he had a novel to finish. Jeongin was an absolute gentleman the whole night, opening your car door, helping you in and out, helping with your chair. You had gotten cold on the small walk you took and Jeongin put his jacket over your shoulders. You burrowed in and it smelled like his cologne and something that was just him, you couldn’t place it but it made you feel warm all over and your body erupted in goosebumps. Jeongin had been holding your hand and noticed. 

“You’re cold, let’s get back to the car.” You nodded and he led you back up the walkway towards his car. He opened the door again and helped you in before closing it behind you. He ran around and got in shutting his door then looking and smiling at you. You wrapped your arms around Jeongin’s shoulders and kissed him deeply. Your lips parted, tongue teasing. He held your face as you made out in the car for a while. When you pulled away you gripped at the collar of his shirt, panting and biting your lips. 

“This is where I’d invite you to spend the night but I live with my dad.” You huffed out a breathless laugh and Jeongin’s heart raced faster, spend the night?! 

“Uh... I live alone, you could come back to mine...” You smiled and kissed him again. 

“I’d love to.” You sat down in your seat and buckled your belt. Jeongin’s smile was so big his dimples looked like they never ended. He started the car and headed towards his apartment. If you could call the penthouse of a building his grandpa owns an apartment. When you were with Jeongin you never thought about the fact that he was a Yang and came from money. He was just Jeongin to you, shy, sweet. The apartment reminded you quickly. 

“Holy shit! You live here alone?!” He walked towards you and pulled you close. 

“Not forever hopefully.” He said cocking an eyebrow at you and you laughed. You started to laugh but then Jeongin’s lips were on your skin moving down your neck and your laughs turned into breathy pants. He claimed your lips again and you started to unbutton his shirt before running your hands up his firm chest and pushing it off his shoulders to the ground. You started to kiss across his shoulder, gently grazing your teeth against his skin and he shuddered. You pulled away and turned, your back facing Jeongin now. 

“Will you unzip me?” He walked up behind you, his face buried in your neck as his hands worked your zipper down. Your dress fell off you and when you turned around you were completely naked and Jeongin’s brain checked out. 

“Fuck you’re a work of art!” You wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him. 

“Take me to bed Jeongin, please.” His lips couldn’t be bothered to leave yours as he led you to his bedroom. You worked at his belt pulling it open and off before tossing it and starting on his button and fly. When his pants were loose, they fell and he stepped out of them as he continued leading you towards his big soft bed. When the back of your legs touched the bed you crawled back on to it. Jeongin confidently dropped his boxers and rightfully so. He was not... lacking. He crawled on top of you hooking his arm under your knee and pulling it up, spreading your legs open for him. Before he pushed into you he looked into your eyes. He looked like he was watching the film of your future in them. 

“I think you’re my soulmate.” When he said it is when it clicked. Of course. You nodded, your eyes tearing up. When he sank into you, you moaned closing your eyes, a tear slipping down. Jeongin let go of your leg and wrapped it around his waist as he pulled out and pushed into you deep again. He leaned over kissing the skin your tear had rolled down. You opened your eyes and were in awe at the sight of him above you. His dark hair, narrow eyes, his strong chiseled frame held up over you so he didn’t crush you under him. You pulled him closer wrapping your arms and legs around him, wanting him to crush you. 

“Faster please...” You whispered and Jeongin’s body moved faster on top of yours. You could feel the pressure building already. You gripped his hair and kissed him as your bodies moved together his cock constantly moving against that place inside you that made your toes numb. 

“God yes! Right there!” He fucked you harder and you could feel your climax making the hundred-yard dash towards the finish line. 

“I... I... I’m g-gonna cum! FUCK! Don't stop!” Jeongin’s lips overtook your moans as he rolled his hips into you. You didn’t know how he kept doing it but every time you were with Jeongin he showed you new colors. The colors exploding behind your eyes as you came were moving and alive. Jeongin didn’t slow down. No, he sat up as your hands still gripped and clung to his shoulders and fucked you faster with the intention of reaching his own climax and prolonging yours. 

“Yesyesyesyes oh it feels so good Jeongin! Mmmm...” a few beads of sweat dripped down the hard lines of his torso as he felt his orgasm approaching. 

“Oh go-fuck! I’m gonna cum jagiya!” You moaned and nodded unable to form words anymore. Jeongin pulled out and came on your tummy and pussy. He stroked his cock as he coated you in his cum. He trembled as he worked every drop out onto you. He sat back on his legs, his head towards the ceiling, his eyes closed as he caught his breath and came down. You laid there a million bumble bees buzzing inside you. You ran two fingers through his cum and sucked on them. He looked down at you sweaty and laughing from the euphoria. Once Jeongin was able to function again he ran and got a washcloth to clean you up with. When you were all clean he crawled back into bed and pulled you close, your head resting on his chest, listening to his slow steady heartbeat. 

Later, after some digging, you found out you were in fact soulmates. Jeongin never knew why he was so driven to collect your art but it had felt like each piece he got was a piece of you, he felt closer to you with each one. Then he finally searched for you to ask you to paint something and well the rest played out. Jeongin took all the artwork he purchased and opened a gallery for you. You continued painting and even finished painting what you’d been working on the night of your mom’s accident. It was put up in the gallery as a memorial to her. Your dad finished his novel, you found the love of your life and your love for painting again. Your life was no longer a theory of color, it was a spectrum, a prism. It was all the colors your mother had dreamed for you and more. 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @jisuperboard @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice630 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda @eastleighsblog @linoification @mlink64 @smally97 @fun-fanfics @chansducky10 @starfire21 @cessixja @siewoon @berryberrytan @binnies-minsung-fanclub @lethallyprotected

#stray kids smut #skz smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤 #skz317cb97 soulmate au series

[beesmygod]

when the cursed princess club does it it's good because it suits the story perfectly, at any point any of the people working on it could google what a possum looks like and improve their portrayal of them, but the way they are drawn right now is already perfect, why "fix" that? I love when the characters do actions and you see the little sound effect of the character doing it, it works so well in there. Also you can see the art has been evolving through time For me I think when that kind of things don't work at all in that type of webcomics is in the a) licensed ones, b) the ones that you know could try to do better and do nothing

one of my favorite panels in CPC is an establishing shot of a hospital that the club is doing volunteer work at (god, long story). you know its a hospital because there's a big red cross outside on the building BREAKING THE GENEVA CONVENTION!!!! god i think i need to actually go find it. the first time i read it i just flew past it because i was invested in the story.

someone actually pointed this panel out and thats when i really looked at it

no windows. no doors. set on a patch of vertical gradient. first of all, this is hysterical. i love this. second, this is the perfect amount of effort required to convey information to a willing audience. i didnt even fucking notice this was taking place in jigsaw's torture hospital while reading it. the art has, at all points, been the bare minimum required to tell a good story. this scene did not require lavish realism or detail because it's a cartoon universe where silly things happen in service of a good joke. i have never been confused about where an event is taking place because the information i need is successfully conveyed to me through the most recognizable icons and things. red cross and building. got it.

i think the sincerity of the work also shines through. this is hard to describe, but there is a large contingent of comics in genres that they believe will make them money either because webtoons the company trends toward financially rewarding it or the perception that those audiences are more willing to spend money to create never-ending streams of emotionally empty sludge. their lack of investment in anything other than clout/$ results in a vapid, hollow shell of a comic with an attractive exterior. but a quick glance through the work exposes the author's lack of investment in their own creation.

the willingness of cpc to draw things fucked up and weird sometimes is charming. its actually taking some risks in going against the aesthetic grain of the sea of webtoons comprised of mostly the same few pre-generated assets. its not like cpc DOESNT use assets, but the light touch and geocities ass fire in the fire place just endears me to it more.

its just Right.

#cursed princess club

[queer-ragnelle]

i’m new to arthuriana but love your posts nonetheless

i am just curious about the many references to gawain sleeping with so many people when, to my understanding, in sir gawain and the green knight he specifically breaks this promiscuous behaviour and makes sure he doesn’t sleep with the wife of the duke

(i apologize if this is a stupid question!)

hello anon!

welcome to arthuriana and thank you so much for the kind words. this is not a stupid question at all! the truth is gawain is nothing if not inconsistent between texts haha. he's different from other knights such as lancelot who pines solely for guinevere across text after text, in that it seems every author wanted to create their own special gal for gawain. he therefore has numerous women attached to him, and when readers try to reconcile those many texts into a single story thread, it gives the impression our mans gawain gets around! (and he does!) i have several examples here to illustrate this so i'll put it below a cut.

for all the textual variance, sir gawain and the green knight is the exception that proves the rule—meaning that it's perhaps the only text in which gawain is abstinent. we know this because one of the five virtues attributed to the five points of his pentacle crest on his shield is chastity.

furthermore, on the wife's second seduction attempt, gawain pleas his own inexperience with "love" (ie: women).

whether or not that's true is up for debate, but it's worth mentioning, as it's a departure from other texts where his virile prowess is well-known, and in the knight of the two swords, he openly boasts about his own attractiveness and popularity. (humble guy, that gawain!)

there are several examples of gawain's reputation with the ladies preceding him and actually benefitting his odds of getting laid. one of my favorites is from lancelot part II in the vulgate. gawain had just cured his brother agravaine of an illness and agravaine's amie basically wingwoman's her sister.

goated of her. so gawain pencils it in on his calendar. later, he locates the castle, sneaks in, and succeeds in bedding the maiden. she's not named here, although malory later refers to her as "the lady of lys," and accredits her as the mother of gawain's three sons, (although the couple never formally wed).

among the strangest of examples is the middle english text the carle of carlisle, in which the carle brings gawain to the bedchamber and orders him to make out with his wife. but things quickly heat up...

so the carle stops gawain from outright cuckholding him, then leads gawain to his daughter's chambers, gives them his blessing, and locks them inside. at the end of the text, gawain marries her.

now i would be remiss not to mention my beloved the wedding of sir gawain and dame ragnelle. i think it's notable that ragnelle specifically asks for gawain by name, much like the lady of lys did (according to her sister and her warm reception of him).

now the conclusion of this poem brings us to another theme of gawain's which ties into his many partners, and that is his consistent subservience to ladies. he breaks the curse on ragnelle by granting her "sovereignty" in the relationship. this seems to be another aspect of character which sets gawain apart from other knights, as this is not a chaste expression of courtly love, but a precursor to fornication, and draws the attention of strong-willed ladies, such as ragnelle, with whom he is "a coward," or according to the translation notes, "submissive."

then again in roman van walewein, he's already famous by the time he meets his ladylove, ysabele, and whilst tied up in her father's prison, he leaves the decision of his own life in her hands.

which then results in their coming together because this is a gawain story and he always gets the girl.

even in the post vulgate, which we can all agree portrays every single character at their absolute worst (and is therefore invalid<3), gawain's choice of words consistently upholds the lady's desires above his own. at first, gawain intended wingman for pelleas by pretending he, pelleas, was dead to begrieve arcade. he discovers instead that she's elated by pelleas's supposed passing, so she and gawain fall in love. but even after admitting his feelings, he still takes great pains to frame the final crossing of that line as her choice, and only relents when she makes her intentions plain.

he might also just like it when women boss him around if his treatment from orgeluse in parzival by wolfram von eschenbach is any indication.

similarly to the knight of two swords, in parzival, gawain is aware of his fame, fosters it, and then employs his orgeluse brain worms as a motivation for sparing lives instead of like...morality.

i think what's particularly interesting about gawain's relationship history is that many of his partners are named, whereas it's pretty common for damsels and maidens in medieval texts to exist without identities of their own. there are so, so many named, interesting, fully developed women linked to gawain, it's actually pretty awesome! here are a few more:

lunette in yvain: knight of the lion by chrétien de troyes...

amurfina in the crown by heinrich von dem türlin...

bloiesine in the 4th perceval continuation by gerbert de montreuil...

marjorie in gawain and marjorie by oscar fay adams (if we extend our search through the 20th century!)...

and on and on forever! so in conclusion, gawain has been pulling bitches for many hundreds of slutty, slutty years, and from what modern retellings i've read, authors have no intention of interrupting this trend. i hope that helps clear things up somewhat. thanks for the ask!

#arthurian legend #arthurian legends #arthuriana #sir gawain #gawain #sir gawain and the green knight #sgatgk #the vulgate cycle #the prose lancelot #the lancelot graal cycle #the carle of carlisle #the wedding of the sir gawain and dame ragnelle #roman van walewein #parzival #knight of the lion #the crown #perceval continuations #4th perceval continuation #gawain and marjorie #oscar fay adams #quotes #resource #ask #favorite ask to date thank you<3333 #my post

[ostrichmonkey-games]

Everything I see from Dark Confluence looks sick, and you should use this as an excuse to talk more about it

I don't think I've actually talked a ton about what Dark Confluence is going to be like as a completed game, so I'll take this as an excuse to do so lmao.

So, I like the souls-borne "series" a ton. But my favorite part of all the games is the world that you're let loose in and get to explore. Piecing together the story through bits and pieces, hidden clues, secrets, implication and interpretation. The goal of Dark Confluence is to do that together at the table.

To that end, Dark Confluence is all about the setting and unfolding story you all put together. It is as much a game as it is a chopped up setting book that never tells you exactly what's going on - because that's the fun! Making it all up! Crafting your own unique crumbling, melancholy universe and then rooting around in it to see what you can make sense of.

Character mechanics draw a lot from my other game Extracausal, so its a lot of tag/trait based stuff, but there's also DNA from games like Wanderhome in there, with how the Realms ("levels") and Lords of the Tower ("bosses") work. I want the game to give the table a bunch of tools for getting into weird and complicated situations, and then stringing it all together into something uniquely cohesive.

Most of the mechanics are mostly done and written at this point, all that's left is just all the other writing lmao. There's 36 character backgrounds (each with their own set of 3 unique items), 12 Realms, 12 Lords, 18 Magical Spells, 18 Artifacts, 18 Major NPCs, 36 Creatures and Wretches (and more!), all of which have embedded within them little "lore sparks" for the table to play around with. Nothing is "canon", but there's a lot of moving parts - building blocks - for the table to play around with.

You're all gonna be wandering around your unique version of the Infinite Tower (the dark confluence of the multiverse), confronting the Lords of the Tower as you shape the universe to come. Along the way, you'll meet weird and interesting NPCs, horrible and dangerous Wretches, and uncover and create your own deep lore and secrets.

As a reward for everyone reading through all this text, here's a new Artifact

Ossifrage Great Bow; tags - ravenous, violent A great bow shaped from many fragments of bones. It glistens in the light, bleeding like an open wound. Effect: The wielder never runs out of arrows, as the bow fires massive, barbed, missiles grown and harvested from the skeleton of the wielder themself. Burden: The wielder’s sternum must be kept pried open, beating heart exposed. Augments The bow can launch a flurry of smaller arrows that darken the sky The bow can steal the bones of another whom it has injured The projectiles fired from the bow leave a burning stream of blood in their wake

And! A new Spell!

Fragmentation Effect: Unleash your manifold soul, allowing the hungry, grasping hands of Fate within you to reach out and unravel whatever they touch. Requirement: Consume an entire age’s worth of Fragments, becoming infinite, fractal, and glorious. Ember Moves Like tangled strands of a knot, all Fragments are secretly connected. All Fragments must take a Curse. The howl of the dying cosmos echoes louder, consuming the dreams of those within the Realm, replacing them with something else. One of your many soul-pieces sloughs off, becoming a Fragment all its own, one with the Fate of bringing about your final Dissolution. They say that souls are the building blocks of the cosmos, and the gods merely stonemasons. From where then, do souls come from?

It's gonna be done eventually. I might be on the lookout for playtesters once I have the text done. So, keep an eye out for that maybe?

#dark confluence #ttrpg #indie ttrpg

[the-insomniac-emporium]

random RL headcanons: game night edition

Mia is weirdly and inexplicably good at charades/any similar games. just anything to do with abstract communication. Poetry With Neanderthals is a personal favorite of hers.

(silly OC addition: Mia and Caldwell have a game they created for parties that's essentially just an alternate version of charades. Caldwell, who is cursed and cannot speak coherently, draws a prompt from a hat, and has to try to explain it. the audience is split into teams and attempts to guess the prompt. Mia, who is an expert at interpreting Caldwell's speech, is usually barred from playing (the exception being themed rounds where the theme is outside her specialties) and acts as a judge/curates the prompt list)

Angie is both very, very good and very, very bad at Monopoly Cheater's Edition. seems to get better the more she's had to drink, of course. gets caught cheating 90% of the time, but usually manages to pull off something insane near the end of the game.

Bela is surprisingly killer at games like Cards Against Humanity. nobody ever expects her to play the cards she does, no matter how many times they've played with her. equally an expert at games where having a good memory comes in handy.

Cassandra excels at games of deception, trickery, and mindfucks. playing a game like Werewolf with her is honestly insane. will attempt to "seduce" (i.e. distract) players she thinks are close to figuring her out. she's also decent at trivia games, but likes to narrow down the categories if the other players are cool with that.

Dani mostly likes chill, shorter games (the kind where you can play multiple rounds in one sitting), especially card games. I can see her enjoying Here To Slay, Muffin Time, and Happy Little Dinosaurs. on a semi-related note I think she low-key went through a magic trick/sleight of hand phase, but these days she doesn't usually do tricks unless she's had a couple drinks and someone brings it up.

Miranda prefers 1v1 games... on the rare occasion where someone (*cough* MC *cough*) convinces her to play. she's decent at actual chess, but is prone to starting out overconfident, only to end up getting flustered towards the end because she overthinks her moves. do not play checkers with her. she will win. you will lose. you will lose by an embarrassingly large margin.

Alcina is only slightly more interested in games than Miranda, and usually uses them as an excuse to socialize. likes big group games where there are opportunities to chat with other players while someone else makes their turn. probably plays the kinds of games that I've seen on TV a lot (classics like Mahjong) but don't personally have enough experience to talk about.

Donna kicks ass at pool, but almost never plays. you (and Angie) would have to talk her into it. totally worth it tho, because she'll have a lot of fun, especially if you're on her team and let her "show you the ropes". if you catch my drift ;) aka that thing where she'll lean a lot of her body against you, her arms alongside yours, helping move you into position. that thing tv shows/movies do to increase sexual tension between two characters.

Mia is also unfairly good at darts. it's honestly really attractive.

#I've been watching too much Smosh Games while doing art #it's my whole brain right now #resident lover #the angie hc is somewhat ironically inspired by angela from smosh #that shit she pulled in monopoly lives rent free in my brain

[tmntforeverinmyheart]

“Tmnt interdimensional vacation crossover”designs for the boys + cursed desriptions I found from scouring Pinterest

If you have any questions about Lee or Leon, please feel free to ask me :)

Proper info below:

Lee is absolutely an oldie at heart. He is happy to listen to corny 90’s music and binge old shows. “Spaceheroes” being his favorite, which he is obsessed with. He used to hold the main character Captain Ryan to a much higher level, but as he aged he saw how much his hero wasn’t really a hero, and only cared for himself. He no longer felt that pull to be just like Captain Ryan, and instead wanted to forge his own path. The one thing lee wants in the world is to be at peace with himself.

In his youth he acted rash, without thinking, taking his fathers advice too literally and twisting it to something that his father never actually said, causing him to lose his sense of self preservation. Caring so much for his family’s health and protecting them with his life, he forget how much he meant to them. Putting his own life on the line, led to him almost losing his life multiple times, he realized later that that wasn’t a good thing. He needed to change.

Calm and rational, he always has a plan in motion. He is organized and performs better with a schedule for the day, and yet needs constant reminders to eat and drink. He struggles with caring for himself when sick or injured, feeling like as the head of his household, he shouldn’t show weakness. When Lee was met with the father of their counterparts, he felt lost. After so long, he wasn’t the oldest, he’d lost his place and felt a misplaced resentment towards the rat. Splinters sons on the other hand, he felt a motherly instinct towards them. Being so young and forced into battles that weren’t theirs, lee could relate to them. He didn’t have a favorite and simply enjoyed being in their company, and they enjoyed being in his.

Lee and the self dubbed disaster twins were inseparable. The twins constantly follow Lee around like ducklings, hinging on his every word and absorbing his advice like sponges.

Leon loved to show off in front of Lee, ninjitsu moves and his teleporting ninpo fascinated Lee, giving Leon a feeling of pride.

Dee was determined to improve lees life, while trying to keep his ego at bay. He can see how messed up lees shell was and decided to construct a battle shell similar to his own for Lee to use. This present brought tears to lees eyes, and he thanked Dee over and over again, giving the young turtle the approval he so rarely gets.

Micheal pulls Lee away to look at his drawings, being the baby brother he wants attention too. Him and lee will end up drawing together for hours, not that lee can conjure up anything more than a stickman. He sees such a strong creative spirit in young Micheal and should definitely get him and Raph to hook up on an art project to keep Raph busy until they’re able to go home. Hes sure Micheal would enjoy something like that.

Rara is tricky to bond with. Lee sees how reserved and quiet he is compared to his rambunctious brothers, and how little he joins them in their activities. Lee comes to find that the best way to bond with Rara, is to just sit with him. Shoulder to shoulder. And if Rara wants to talk, Lee will be there to listen.

Headcannons inspired by @disastertwins9000 “homies in a half shell AU”

Physical attributes:

Lee is short for his age, standing at only 5’4, often with a slight bend in his right knee. He was shocked when his brother Raph suddenly shot up 2 inches taller than him and his brother Mikey also had a growth spurt shooting to 5’1.

Lees shell is badly damaged. Cracks run deep through his scutes and an earlier bout of shell rot left his shell softer and more vulnerable than his brothers. This propels Dee to create a battle shell to help keep lees shell intact and not susceptible to more injuries.

Lee wears across his body, multiple braces, including both his shoulders, his left hand and his right knee.

His shoulders endured multiple dislocations and from his injury’s he suffers from tightness and his joints locking. The brace covers his shoulders and right arm to his elbow, crosses his plastron and wraps around his shell. It provides him support and is part time.

His left hand suffered from an injury that caused osteoarthritis to develop in his fingers, thumb and hand. He wears a brace that covers his palm, wrist and most of his thumb. It lessens the swelling and shifts weight from the affected joints and is part time.

After being ambushed by the shredder, Lee suffered a patella dislocation is his right knee that never fully healed, causing his patella to continuously pop out of its socket. He wears a brace that covers his knee cap, upper thigh and lower leg. It offers support, helps him walk easier and lessens pressure on the damaged kneecap and is worn 24/7.

Mental:

Lee has undiagnosed autism.

Lee has undiagnosed psychosis.

Lee has anxiety.

#Tmnt interdimensional vacation crossover #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #tmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo #tmnt crossover #tmnt 2012 x 2018 crossover

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hurricanes / Hummingbirds: VI

Series Synopsis: As the years go by, you find that it is incredibly difficult to survive wars and fight storms, especially when the only thing you have by way of a cursed technique is the blessing of a tiny bird.

Chapter Synopsis: Your childhood is ended when you lose someone you never thought you would.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x Female Reader; slight Kento Nanami x Female Reader; slight Satoru Gojo × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: swearing, enemies/rivals to lovers, character death, canon-typical violence, angst, gore, original characters included

A/N: the only thing i like more than creating found families is destroying them

Winding your arm back, you threw a rock the size of your fist directly at Gojo. It slowed down in the field of his Infinity, and he plucked it out of the air with a wide grin.

“It looks like it’s working pretty well,” you said. A little less than a year after the events with the Star Plasma Vessel and Hinode’s death, in the heat of the late summer sun, Gojo had finally mastered his Infinity.

“Try your technique on me,” he said. “Let’s see if it can defend against that.”

“Sure,” you agreed readily. “Do you want me to just punch, or should I use the Sword of Syrinx?”

“Might as well use the sword. I know how attached to it you are. You probably couldn’t even take a shit without its help,” he said.

“Very funny,” you said, drawing your sword and activating your technique.

Would you like to use the Hummingbird’s Blessing?

You have been given the Speed of the Hummingbird!

You have been given the G-Force Resistance of the Hummingbird!

You have been given the Maneuverability of the Hummingbird!

As Gojo had worked to improve his control of the Infinity, you had pushed your mastery of your technique. It meant that you had spent much of your time in torpor, recovering energy spent from training too hard, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. You would not be caught off-guard again; you refused to let anyone else die the way Hinode had.

Cursed energy coursed through your veins as you appeared by the motionless Gojo, moving too fast for a normal person to quite comprehend, though it was still nowhere near the top speed you could reach with the Hummingbird’s Blessing active.

You have been given the Dive Power of the Hummingbird!

At the last moment, you used the power in your legs to jump into the air, twisting around so that you could imbue the Dive Power of the Hummingbird into your sword as you brought it down on Gojo. If your strike connected, it would have enough force behind it to not only cut through his entire body but also several feet of rock beneath him.

Just like the stone had, however, you grew impossibly slow as you reached Gojo, the sword almost reaching him but never quite making contact. Dropping to the ground with a thud, you cancelled the technique.

You will now enter the Torpor of the Hummingbird.

You swayed in place. Gojo turned off his Infinity so that you could hold onto his arm, your eyelids drooping as you entered torpor. The familiar blackness took over, but it was more like a blink, passing in a flash. Almost as soon as it came, it was gone again.

“How much time passed?” you said.

“Two minutes,” he said.

“Not bad!” you said.

“And my Infinity is working exactly as it should, even though I haven’t turned it off in so long that it should be completely burnt out by now,” he said.

“Nice,” you said, raising your hand for a high five. He slapped his palm against yours.

“I just have to get my Domain Expansion working without any kinks, and I should be good to exorcise any curse, no matter how powerful,” he said.

That was the crux of it. Satoru Gojo had become, in an unrivaled sense, the strongest. Where once at least Geto could be considered his equal, now, there was no one who could stand beside him, not in any way that mattered. There was not even anyone that could touch him, since his Infinity was all but constantly on.

“I’m sure it won’t be long,” you said as you began to walk towards the bathrooms. “You’ve been pretty quick with everything else. Even Yaga can’t shut up about it.”

Masamichi Yaga was the one who had picked you up when you had arrived in Tokyo. As well, he was the second year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, and a notoriously hard-to-impress man. He was the epitome of tough love, so the fact that he was extolling Gojo’s virtues was massively to your friend’s credit.

You no longer felt shy about referring to Gojo as such, as your friend. To be sure, you had not replaced Geto for him, and he had not replaced Haibara and Nanami for you, but it was true that in the past year, you both had become closer.

For him, it was probably because you were the only one who had the time to help him practice with his Infinity. You could not count the amount of things you had thrown at Gojo, the amount of tiny bruises you had caused to bloom on his fair skin nor the amount of minuscule cuts you had bandaged for him in the pursuit of keeping his Infinity automatically on at all times.

For you, it was the fact that he allowed you access to his family’s records. When you went back far enough, you had found one single mention of Hummingbird’s Blessing. Apparently, it was considered one of the great failures of the Gojo clan, as the single other sorcerer who had possessed it was supposed to marry into the family before her untimely death. The records never explained the technique, nor did they identify that sorcerer, so your research ended there, but the fact that the Gojos had coveted it meant that it was powerful enough.

In return for your help with his Infinity, Gojo agreed to aid you in developing Hummingbird’s Blessing, and now, you were companions; or, if not companions, then at minimum training partners. But training partners did not seem like a profound enough distinction for the easy camaraderie you two had developed, so if you ever needed to refer to him, it was only ever as friend.

“Unfortunately, I think this is where we’ll have to part,” Gojo said as you reached the bathrooms. “Unless…?”

“Get away,” you said, going to shove him but finding his Infinity blocking your attempt. He burst into laughter, wiggling his fingers in a wave as he ducked into the men’s bathroom, leaving you to roll your eyes and enter the women’s one.

The steam and the heat of the shower was good for your muscles, which were always a little sore after you used your technique, despite the restorative effects of the torpor. It was a reminder that when your technique was active, you were breaking natural laws. For the most part, your cursed energy and — if you were really pushing yourself — the Sword of Syrinx bore the brunt of the cost, but your muscles would never escape unscathed. It would be wrong if they did.

The first thing you did when you emerged from the shower was head towards the vending machines. You were in the mood to drink something, and there were some coins in the pocket of the sweatpants you had donned in favor of your uniform.

When you got there, you were met with Geto sitting on the bench and staring out the window in thought. Inserting the coins into the machine and punching in the code for the drink you wanted, you waited for it to fall down the slot and then reached in to pull it out. Popping it open, you sat down next to Geto, crossing your legs and taking a sip.

“If I asked you what you were thinking about, would you tell me?” you said. He flinched, turning to look at you in shock. There were heavy purple bags under his eyes, and his lips were cracked and dry, the hollows in his cheeks harsher than you had ever seen them. Frowning, you wondered when he had gotten like this. Or had he always been this way? You weren’t sure. You couldn’t quite picture how Geto had looked in the past anymore.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” he said. You offered him your drink; he accepted it, raising it to his lips and taking a swallow before returning it to you.

“Meditating, then?” you said.

“You could call it that,” he said. “Have you seen Satoru?”

“I was training with him earlier, and then we went to shower, so I’d assume he’s still busy with that. You know how long his routine takes him,” you said. Geto smiled, though it didn’t warm his eyes the way it used to.

“Of course,” he said.

“Did you need him for something?” you said.

“No, someone had come to talk to him, but they left already,” he said. You thought about inquiring further, but it wasn’t really your place, so you just finished off your drink, tossing the empty container in the trash can and sighing in satisfaction when it made it in.

“I should’ve joined a basketball team,” you said. “Oh, well. Sorcery is a fine second option.”

“Second option?” Geto said. “You mean, this isn’t what you really want to do?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and chose not to respond. “You want a cola or something? I’ll pay.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m not that thirsty, and I’d be a terrible upperclassman if I made you pay for me.”

“Alright,” you said, standing and stretching your arms out, massaging your neck ruefully. “Man, this blows.”

“What happened?” he said.

“Just training and all. Using my technique leaves me achy for a bit,” you said. Geto’s shoulders slumped, and he rested his chin in his hands.

“Why do you even keep using it, then?” he said. You thought about it for a second. You could’ve said that it was for Hinode, or some other such altruistic reason, but that didn’t feel completely correct. It was certainly part of the explanation, but there was something else that you had not quite yet put your finger on.

“If I ever find out for sure, I’ll let you know,” you said. “But for the moment, I should get going. Nanami and Haibara are traveling pretty far for their mission tomorrow, so I want to spend some time with them before they leave.”

“You weren’t assigned to go with them?” Geto said.

“No, it’s just a grade 2 curse. The two of them will be enough to handle it,” you said.

“Right,” he said. “Of course, that makes sense. They’d leave their stronger sorcerers in reserve for when bigger problems arise.”

“When, not if? You seem pretty sure that something bigger will pop up,” you said.

“As long as non-sorcerers are around, leaking their negative emotions as cursed energy, something bigger will inevitably appear,” he said. You arched a brow.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in curse theory,” you said.

“It’s a recent development,” he said.

“Hm,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Well, don’t stay up too late reading, I guess. See you later!”

“See you,” he said, staying on the bench and watching as you walked away.

Once again alone, you mulled over the conversation. Why were you a sorcerer? There were a lot of possible answers. At first, it had been because there was nothing else left for you, but now you had enough control of your cursed energy that you could integrate back into normal society pretty seamlessly. Then, it had been out of tribute to Hinode’s memory, but you had saved enough lives by now that any debt you owed to your teacher had honestly been well paid off.

“Whatever,” you said to yourself as you reached Haibara’s room, which somewhere along the line had been designated as your official hangout spot. “He’s just going through his midlife crisis or something.”

As soon as you opened the door, Haibara was shoving a paper plate with a greasy slice of pizza on it at you. You accepted it and took your usual place on the beanbag he had next to his bed.

“You finally made it!” he said, sitting back down at his desk chair. Nanami, who was on the actual bed, continued to chew on his own slice of pizza, though he spared you a nod in greeting.

“Sorry, I was training with Gojo, and then I got caught up talking with Geto,” you said. “Did you know he’s into curse theory now?”

“He’s always been into technical stuff like that. Why are you surprised?” Haibara said.

“That’s true,” you said. “It’s probably nothing. Are you guys excited about your mission?”

“Excited isn’t the word I’d use for it, no,” Nanami said now that his plate was empty. You wordlessly offered him a napkin, which he used to wipe the oil off of his fingers gratefully.

“I’m excited! It’ll be fun to go somewhere new,” Haibara said. “I wish you could come, though, Y/N.”

Ever since you had begun to utilize Hummingbird’s Blessing in a meaningful way, you had stopped being assigned to missions with Haibara and Nanami. You were considered stronger than them now, often sent on missions by yourself or with older sorcerers such as Yaga. Occasionally, you would even accompany Geto, though that was rare. Although you didn’t use your technique unless you absolutely needed to, just the fact that you had it was enough to push you to a different level from the rest of your classmates.

“Me, too,” you said genuinely. You missed the days when you all had done everything together, when exorcising had been a game and all you wanted to do was make Hinode and the upperclassmen proud. But now, exorcising was a chore and Hinode was dead and you three would never be those kids again. “Let’s ask Yaga to get the higher ups to assign us on the next one together.”

Reminiscing was not a crime. Even if having all three of you on a mission would be excessive, it would still be fun, and you doubted the higher ups would be hugely against it if you promised to be quick.

“Sounds good,” Nanami said.

“Feeling nostalgic?” you said.

“As if. The mission will just be done that much faster if you come along, Y/N,” he said.

“And maybe with us supporting you, you won’t have to go into torpor!” Haibara said. He and Nanami were the ones most affected when you were in that state, staying by your bedside and refusing to do their schoolwork or go on missions until you woke up.

“Oh, speaking of which, I only went into it for two minutes after sparring with Gojo earlier,” you said.

“Really? That’s a major improvement,” Nanami said.

“Of course, my technique wasn’t active for that long, but it did give me an idea,” you said.

“What is it?” Haibara said. You shook your head.

“I’d have to test it out first, but that can be a thought for when you guys are back,” you said.

“Okay, sure,” Haibara said. “I forgot to ask earlier, but do you want us to bring you any souvenirs, Y/N?”

“Souvenirs? I can’t think of anything,” you said.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something you want!” he insisted.

“Give me a second to think about it,” you said, throwing away your empty paper plate.

“One,” he said cheekily. “Okay, that was a second!”

“You are so annoying,” you said. “Bring me back something from a convenience store.”

“You want convenience store snacks?” Haibara said. “That’s really it?”

“Wow, not as demanding as I was expecting,” Nanami said. “Considering what you make Gojo bring back for you…

“That’s because it’s Gojo,” you said. “I know he’s going to go out and do random stuff regardless, so I might as well get something out of it. But I don’t want you guys to waste your time and money on me when you wouldn’t otherwise. So, convenience store snacks will be enough to make me happy.”

“If you say so,” Haibara said. “And you’re fine with watching Sora while we’re gone?”

“No problem,” you said.

“I’d hire a dog sitter, but she really seems to like you,” he said. The dog he had adopted after yours and Hinode’s mission was a fixture at the school now, a friendly face that made the pain of sorcery easier to bear. She could usually be found either wandering the campus or playing with one of Yaga’s cursed puppets, which he readily allowed her to do, and even the most stoic of sorcerers would pet her as they passed through the school.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind taking care of her for a bit.”

“You’re the best,” Haibara said.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Nanami said. “If we have to leave early tomorrow morning, we should get to bed.”

“Right, sorry to keep you guys up,” you said, standing and hugging them, first Haibara, then Nanami.

“Good night!” Haibara said.

“Good night,” Nanami echoed.

“Good night, both of you,” you said. “Good luck tomorrow!”

“Thanks!”

You woke up late the next day, the sun streaming into your room as you leisurely stretched before getting up and getting ready. You took your time — after all, classes were cancelled for the day, since there was no point in teaching to only one student.

After eating a nice breakfast of your own, you chatted with Ieri as you fed and brushed Haibara’s dog. It was one of the rare days that there was no one for her to heal, so she lit a cigarette and walked through campus with you and Sora for a bit.

The two of you didn’t talk about anything that deep, but that was what you liked about spending time with her. The weather, what books you were reading, your plans for the weekend, it was all entirely refreshing and normal. Being with Ieri was like being a regular girl, and you appreciated her for it.

After walking with Ieri, you went back to the dining hall and had lunch. Gojo was on a mission, and Ieri and Geto had to attend their afternoon classes, so you played fetch with Sora and then got your homework for the week done.

All in all, it was a lovely, peaceful day. You even did a face mask before showering, and the pain in your body subsided a little as you finally got the chance to relax for the first time in what seemed like ages.

The next few couple of days passed in the same way, but by the third day, unease began to creep in and soil the calm routine. Eventually you could not take it anymore; dropping the ball and apologizing to Sora, you shifted directions so that you were walking, then running, all of the way until you reached Yaga’s office.

“Why aren’t they back yet?” you said.

“I was just about to call you,” he said. “Satoru found them.”

“And?” you said. Yaga pursed his lips and averted his gaze, and the silence was enough of an answer, though it was one you refused to accept.

This was worse than it had been with Gojo. This was a million times worse. You covered your ears so that you didn’t hear Yaga’s explanation, filtering out whatever muffled words made it past the blockade — Haibara…first grade…too strong. You would not comprehend it.

Even Hinode’s death had been bearable. Even that you had survived. Not them, though, anyone but them, you could lose so many other people and make it but you could not bear to part with them. Not yet and not ever.

You slammed the door to the operating room open, narrowly missing being hit by a stool, which crashed into the wall and then bounced to the ground on its side. Geto was there, covering something — you wouldn’t look, you wouldn’t look — with cloth, and Nanami sat on another stool, leaning back, a towel blocking out his vision.

“Nanami,” you said. His jaw clenched at the sound of your voice, but he did not otherwise react. “Nanami, where’s Haibara?”

His hands balled into fists at his side. “Shut up.”

“Where is he?” you said, looking around, trying to figure out where the rambunctious boy was hiding. He did that, he liked to play jokes and pranks, so it wasn’t out of character for him to be messing around with you. Though this was not a particularly funny trick, and nobody around you was laughing. “Geto? Where is Haibara?”

Geto motioned towards the table. You shook your head. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, though it was trembling, like he could barely keep himself together.

“That’s not true,” you said. “Why would you say such a thing? Where is he really?”

“It ended up being a grade 1 curse,” Nanami said dully. “They said it was a grade 2, which was why we were sent on the mission without you. But that thing, it was some kind of a local god. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“You should rest now, Nanami,” Geto said. “Satoru will take care of it.”

“Can’t he just take care of everything from now on?” Nanami said before fishing around in his pocket, not even lifting the towel from his face before he tossed something in your general direction. Out of reflex, you reached up and caught it.

It was a small box, wrapped in paper. In the corner were three wide-eyed rabbits, and someone had taken a marker and drawn an arrow to the rabbits, writing us! next to it in a familiar scrawl.

“The convenience store snack you wanted. He picked it out himself. Said the rabbits on the packaging were cute,” Nanami said, abruptly standing and marching out of the room, leaving you and Geto alone with the cloth-covered corpse.

“Is that really him?” you said. He removed the hand which rested on your shoulder and stared at it like it held the answers to every one of his problems.

“Yes,” he said. You reached towards the fabric, and Geto did not try to stop you. Perhaps he knew that you would not believe it if you did not see it for yourself, or perhaps he also wanted to confirm it, like the face might’ve changed in the time it had taken for him to cover it up.

It had not. The face belonged to Haibara, there was no doubt about it, though it was blank and dark and bruised in a way you had never seen. He was so animated all of the time, so happy, that the waxy pallor of death was incongruent. His features had dropped into a frown, which was an expression he would never wear on his own, and there was a bloody streak on the fabric where his torso ended and his legs should’ve begun.

“Why?” you said. “Why did it happen like this? He didn’t deserve it. He was better than all of us. So why?”

Why was he dead and you weren’t?

Geto did not respond. You waited and waited, but he never said anything. He just stood there with you in silence, the two of you burning Haibara’s body into your minds, committing it to memory, the exact shade of his hair, the shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw. Then, he turned the lights off and pulled the cloth up over the corpse once again, patting you on the head and leaving you alone.

A few days later, he, too, was gone.

With both Geto and Haibara missing, something in the school changed irrevocably. Gojo didn’t joke around as much anymore. Nanami never smiled. Ieri went through even more cigarettes than usual. You did not leave your room for many days, and when you finally emerged, it was only because Yaga grew tired of caring for Haibara’s dog and someone had to do it.

“Come, Sora,” you said, whistling to call her to your side. She was whining and pawing at the door to Haibara’s empty room, though when you called her, she reluctantly came. None of you had dared to venture inside ever since that day, but every time you took her out on a walk, she begged to be let in. You didn’t fault her — nobody had told her that her owner was dead. She probably thought he just didn’t want her anymore.

Sometimes, you wished you could give Sora away. She was the only one that was still happy, and caring for a creature so reminiscent of Haibara every day was like ripping open the wound daily anew. And this wound, it was one that not even Ieri could heal. It was a wound you doubted would ever heal, so you should at least get rid of whatever kept opening it for you, but you could not do it. A few times, you had tried, going so far as having a manager drop you off in front of a shelter, but every attempt ended with you sitting on the curb and crying as you held her close to you; she, who was the last thing you had left of him.

You still hadn’t eaten the snack he had bought for you. Probably you never would. It sat on your shelf next to the Sword of Syrinx, collecting dust in its place of honor, the us! and the arrow growing faded with time but never erasing completely. The three rabbits still curled together, frozen in happiness, not knowing that one of their group had vanished forever and left the others shattered.

Nowadays, you and Nanami barely spoke. It was too hard, because every good memory you two had together was tied to Haibara, so beyond formalities and school-related business, you did not talk. The last real conversation you had had with him was right after Haibara’s funeral. You had sat together in front of the headstone, and then Nanami had told you he wished he had been the one to die. He said that Haibara would’ve known how to deal with everything afterwards better. You told him that that wasn’t true and that he was dealing with things fine. He told you to stop lying, so you didn’t say anything else. In such a way, you lost both of your best friends at the same time.

“Go play with Yaga now, alright?” you said to the dog, unclipping her leash and shooing her in the direction of his office. She bounded off willingly, tail wagging all the while, and once you were sure she was gone, you got in the car.

“When should I pick you up?” the manager said when you got out in front of a cafe.

“I’ll call for you,” you said. “But not for a while, so feel free to go back to the school in the meantime.”

He made to argue, but you slammed the car door shut in his face, so he had nothing to do but drive off, leaving you standing there by yourself, without even the Sword of Syrinx to accompany you. Digging into your bag and taking out the book you planned on reading, you stepped into the cafe, inhaling the smell of baked goods and coffee and pretending you were a different person. A person not blessed by a hummingbird. A person who had no one to grieve. That kind of a person.

“Will that be all, ma’am?” the barista said when you had finished telling her your order.

“Yes, thank you,” you said. “Oh, I left my purse at my seat! I’ll go grab it so that I can pay. I’ll be right back.”

Internally kicking yourself for being so careless with your things, you snatched your purse up, relieved it hadn’t been taken by someone else, and then you returned to the counter.

“How much will it be?” you asked, rummaging around for your credit card and then brandishing it in front of you as proof that you had money and hadn’t made up the lie about your purse to disguise the fact that you were broke.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.

“Ah, what?” you said. “I still want my order, though.”

“That man over there paid for you,” she said, pointing behind you. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he? You’re so lucky! If you go over and thank him, I’m sure he’ll definitely ask you out.”

“What?” you said, turning around to see who she was referring to. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with him, the wanted mass murderer, the infamous runaway sorcerer, the criminal at large himself.

“Here you go!” the barista said. You were barely aware of yourself taking what you had asked for, your body on autopilot and only regaining some semblance of control when you were face to face with him again.

“Geto,” you said. “What are you doing here? Why did you pay for me?”

“What kind of an upperclassman would I be if I let you pay for yourself while I’m around?” he said, motioning for you to sit across from him. You obliged without complaint.

“You left the school, so you’re not exactly my upperclassman anymore,” you said, crossing your arms, though not before taking a sip of the drink you had gotten.

“If that’s the case, then please call me Suguru,” he said.

“Fine, then. Suguru,” you said. “Let me ask again: what are you doing here?”

“I was in the mood for coffee,” he said, motioning towards his own cup. “For being monkeys, they know their beverages, wouldn’t you say?”

“Monkeys?” you said. He smiled lightly.

“Isn’t that what they are?” he said. “Non-sorcerers, I mean.”

“I see. So that’s how you think of things now,” you said. He was healthier than you had ever seen him. He could be described as happy, even, and you wondered if his new outlook had driven him to actually caring about the world around him, or at least about himself.

“Indeed,” he said.

“Is your plan to enslave all of them or something?” you said with a derisive snort. “Was that what drove your interest in curse theory?”

“I actually mean to kill them,” he said pleasantly. “And yes, it was.”

You gave him a minute, but he made no indication that he was joking. “You’re serious?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“Damn,” you said, shaking your head. “I hope you know that makes us enemies.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “Does that mean you’ll attack me now?”

You considered it before sighing and taking another swig of your drink. “Nope, not this time. It would be rude to attack the person that paid for my stuff.”

“I appreciate your politeness,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me that day, by the way,” you said. “Ever since Haibara died, it’s been hard to find a point in doing anything.”

This was an improvement. You could say his name without breaking down. Before, even that much made you burst into tears.

“I understand the feeling,” Suguru said.

“That’s how I passed the time. I would lie there and think about it — why was I even fighting? What was the point to being a sorcerer?” you said.

“Did you find an answer?” he said.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I hadn’t. Actually, I wouldn’t have brought it up at all, but I promised I would tell you if I ever figured it out, and in the name of our old friendship, I’ll honor that promise,” you said.

“I don’t necessarily need to hear it anymore,” he said. “But if you want to tell me, I will listen.”

“There’s a lot of things I could say. I could tell you I’m doing it to protect people weaker than me, or that I want to save others because I could not save Haibara and Hinode. But, would it matter? Saving other people won’t bring those two back. It won’t change anything. It won’t lessen my sadness; if anything, it’ll only increase it, because nobody can save everyone,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said. “I’ll admit that I am a little curious now. If you’re not doing it to try and be a good person, then why?”

“I want to know,” you said. “There’s things I still can’t understand. Why does the Sword of Syrinx like me so much? Why was I born with an extinct technique? What…what is my reason for existing? I’m a person that has never belonged anywhere, not fully. The school is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home, and it’s also the place I can most likely find answers to these questions, so until such a day comes that my curiosity has been satisfied, I’ll protect it.”

“And then what will you do?” he said.

“I suppose it depends on what those answers are,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t know yet.”

“Do you really think that the higher ups will help you with what you need?” he said. “You’re not as smart as I thought you were if that’s the case.”

“No, of course not. The higher ups help no one but themselves and the clans,” you said. “But…there is someone. There is someone who I’m meant to find, and they will definitely help me.”

“Who?” Geto said. You pushed your empty dishes towards him and smiled.

“I don’t know yet. I think I’ll recognize them when the time comes,” you said. “Anyways, thank you for the food. I’m sorry we’re on opposite sides now. I wish we could be friends still. Is that be possible?”

“I think it would be best for the both of us if I don’t answer that question,” he said with a soft, sad smile. It was about what I had expected, so I wasn’t even upset by it. I just had needed to ask him once before I gave up entirely. “Farewell, Y/N.”

“Farewell, Suguru. Let’s not meet again,” you said, not glancing backwards as you left the cafe.

Your wish came true — you never did see him again, at least not fully. The next time you both crossed paths, he was already dead.

#kashimo x reader #kashimo x you #kashimo x y/n #canon au #reader insert #hurricanes / hummingbirds #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[lxmiko]

shu yamino and his millions of unsaid thoughts about you, you, you . . .

— ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ—

me love shu yamino ooga booga, like screaming crying banging on the walls when i think about him fr .///.

however !! this is a lil ooc ;;; i was having too much fun making shu a powerful sorcerer that i kinda forgot he’s never really talked about the true extent of his powers ;;

ALSO THIS IS SO MESSY I’M SO SORRY YALL I JUST REALLY NEEDED TO GET ALL THESE WORDS OUT

but anyway, have some food fellow yaminions www

characters: shu yamino

— *✧･ﾟ: * —

shu doesn’t need to read to know of the many mythical beings humans have created from the depths of their minds, some real, some fake: centaurs, witches, demons, and sorcerers to name a few (he lists the last one from personal experience).

though, real or not, many of them who have survived until now live among humans, including him.

he lives with his family in a house they bought that he could’ve conjured up with his own sorcery, he lets himself be bedridden instead of fixing himself an elixir, he works when he can just imagine money to appear in the palm of his hand, and yet he still chooses not to rely on his power. he does all these things in an effort to be, to feel more real.

though he may play pretend, he knows he‘ll never truly fit in, forever cursed to be unreal, a figment of humans’ imaginations, cemented in history through carefully woven tales and books that twist the stories of his kind. he knows he’ll only ever be remembered for being a fantastical creature.

but above all else, he knows that you — a human, though he swears you’re an angel — are real, and if you aren’t, if he isn’t, he wants to immortalize you in this fairytale the two of you are living in until his very last breath utters the final words of this story, until the end of his forever.

shu’s convinced himself to be okay with no one ever knowing he’s a sorcerer, that he’s never really minded it, being unreal, but you make him want to be tangible, even if it's only for you. you make him feel as though he truly is living in a world of woven phenomenons about (dare he say mystifying) romance, you make him feel alive.

your touch feels better than the purple wisps that swirl between his fingertips, electrifying and enchanting, comforting him with sweet whispers every time your hands meet his skin. your touch—no, you are magic.

and when he kisses you, he soars, tasting promises of adventures and devotion on your tongue. his skin buzzes when your hands trace the contours of his face and entangle in his hair, his own hands tentative as they lightly graze your cheeks and trail down to your waist.

you make him feel real, he says through his eyes when he smiles at you; he wants to reread every word of his and your story, he whispers silently into every kiss you two share; you are his home, his safe space, his everything, he draws into your skin when he wakes up minutes before you on lazy sunday mornings; and he hopes you know all of this, all of his millions of unsaid thoughts about you, you, you. (even if he can never bring himself to say them).

and as you drag him excitedly with your hand clasped around his wrist to the spot for your next date (a small cafe bakery that smells of chocolate, vanilla, and hopeless romance), he thinks all these thoughts and of these feelings you ignite within him (even the warmth of your hand in his drives him crazy despite the calm facade he shows you).

they bubble and burn for you, like the powerful elixirs he used to make, and all at once, it becomes too much for shu to hide behind layers of stupid humor and unmovable silence.

he stutters in his steps, coming to a stop and making you stumble back slightly at the sudden change in pace. you look back at him and hum, but all he does is gaze back at you with those twinkling amethyst eyes of his.

he’s blushing, yet another thing that he knows and can’t deny — god, you make him so flustered — and you’re being so sweet as you ignore the bustling city around you to focus all of your attention on him.

if this is a fairytale —

“ — i hope this never ends,” he murmurs, and his lips curl up at the confused smile you give him.

he takes the hand you have wrapped around his wrist, slipping it down and into his grasp, threading his fingers through yours.

without question, you squeeze his hand back gently — god, you make him so happy — and in response, he whispers, “i love you.”

— ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ—

SORRY THAT THE ENDING IS KIND OF LIKE THE OTHER SHU ONESHOT BUT I MEAN IT’S SO KFSGJHAKJSFHG, ending on “i love you” is just too good .///.

#shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijien #nijisanji #nijisanji en

[rayar32]

I'm so normal about your OCs I haven't finished the series yet so I don't understand some limited things, but that will change soon! Anyways your OCs are fucking awesome and I would love an info dump on them if you have time

oh boy, an opportunity to not shut up about about my OCs! is it already Christmas??? (not but actually thank you for being interested in my dumb kids)

there's a lot to say about them, since I can't stop myself from thinking about em', so I'll do a bunch of fun facts:

- Luiza's main inspiration is Denji from Chainsaw Man; it's very telling with her feral smiles and uh, vulgar way of speech let's say (there's also the constant search for love by literally anyone but the funnies are more important)

- Luiza has self-taught herself in martial arts: her speciality is the Open Hand Technique, a fighting style that incorporates strong and fast slaps using the whole body.

(also yes she can slap so hard it creates a pressure wave)

- Luiza's favorite musical genre is rock in any variation, her favorites being popular songs from the 2010's. She is a certified MCR head and isn't ashamed to admit it.

- Luiza and Helena are twins: their birthday is on June 1st and they're both Geminis (which was totally intentional and not a happy coincidence thanks to a random number generator)

- Luiza is a flaming bisexual, Helena is trans and aroace, Milia is a lesbian and Rebeca is the token straight friend of the group while Six is Six (genderfluid and extremely pan)

(there's a lot more below but I'm hiding it as to not flood people's dashboards!)

- I have a pretty clear character arc for Luiza planned in a (completely delusional) season 1: Luiza starts out as a doormat due to years of having to take care of Helena during her depressive episodes and constantly failing to argue her down from very self-destructive and hateful thoughts; all of this makes Luiza consistently disregard her own opinions and thoughts for whatever her family thinks. She very much starts the "show" off being someone that burns herself for others and that has a very low opinion of herself. That of course changes when she finds Milia, someone that grows to unabashedly care for her and everything she stands for, making Luiza finally realize that yes, she has an innate worth as an individual even if she can't be useful to people. Also she finally grows a backbone specifically to stand up for herself and Milia.

- I think I already told this through a comic, but the reason they both have white locks of hair is trauma, though the irl reason for it is because white/grey are colors associated with wolves and I felt the need to be extremely obvious they're lycanthropes.

- Helena was the second sister to be made irl, but honestly both of their designs and Kallas' just, came to me suddenly one day. Their final designs are quite literally their first iteration, with a few changes over the months because that just happens when you draw the same characters over and over again-

- on the topic of Helena, she doesn't have a main inspiration as much as she is loosely based on the "mean goth girl" archetype; I say loosely based because Helena is also a theater kid in spirit and a huge nerdy loser under all that black leather-

- Helena's arc for season 1 starts out rough: she believes herself to be a monster and will do anything to keep her family safe. While Luiza wants to cure herself of her curse and interact with people, Helena wants to harness it further and never ever feel pain again. Whenever Luiza brings up her dreams of having friends and going to school, Helena shuts it down by saying it's unrealistic and she should stop thinking about it because they're monsters and it's all they'll ever be. Of course all of this vitriol comes from the sister's years of trying and failing to integrate in society, coupled with Helena's own mental issues warping her view of herself. By the end of season 1, through meeting Milia and Luiza finally having the guts to stand against her sister's ideas while still understanding why she thinks that way, Helena abandons her idea of harnessing her curse and starts to open up more to her family.

- Milia's main inspiration is very obviously Suletta Mercury from the Witch from Mercury; if the round eyebrows and generally anxious personality wasn't enough, like Suletta she grows to be confident and lead the charge for her friends (there's even more parallels but I would be spoiling the shit out of WfM-)

- Milia's birthday is on November 5th, making her a Scorpio (which is mildly funny if you're into astrology)

- her vampire form ripping away human skin to reveal a bat-like monster below it comes from an old concept I had involving vampires. I think it actually comes from somewhere else but I literally can't remember it-

- Milia is cold to the touch and barely feels pain; when first learning to cook Milia constantly cut herself and did not realize she did until she saw blood pouring out of her wounds

- Milia's season 1 arc is considerably simple compared to the twins: she starts out scared and alone and, through the Petroniuses compassion, learns to love and be loved. She learns to value herself, stand up for herself and let go of being scared of everything and everyone. She not only mirrors the sister's arcs, but also inspires them into developing through her honest and kind nature. For that reason in post season 1 Milia grows to be the leader of the Bootleg Gear Gang.

- The Angrvadall, Rati and Ukonvasara were all based on the Babr-e Bayan, Milia's relic. The three Symphogears are actually a testbed for a mass produced type of phonic armor development through alchemy; while they can reach the same insane power level that the canon girls do, the Bootleg Gear Gang aren't put in world ending situations and thus don't reach a power level higher than somewhere around GX and AXZ (though they get XV style Gears because I think they're neat-)

- Rebeca and Six are very much like siblings; though they were forced together into a single body, after years of working through it they became nearly inseparable. They both care for and respect each other's autonomy and personal limits, which is why they both wear gender neutral clothes (since Six is uncomfortable wearing traditionally feminine clothing)

- Rebeca was born August 25th making her a Virgo. Six can't remember his birthday, so they make their implant date, July 14th, their birthday. That makes Six's sign Cancer.

- Rebeca/Six were originally planned to be Milia's older siblings; this is still technically true since Six was part of the same undeath experiments that birthed Milia so... yeah! The idea of them inhabiting the same body came from a shower thought that simply stuck around because I really liked it (and also because it's a Gundam 00 reference-)

- also, they're both the strongest Symphogear wielders of the group; Luiza and Helena are stronger when singing in unison, but Rebeca/Six have a unique advantage with being able to switch from two completely different fighting styles on the fly. Additionally Rebeca's brain is simply built different and she constantly pushes her side of Ukonvasara to do increasingly stupid shit like calling down lighting, throwing thunder and eventually using magnetism and electrokinesis. She's very Maria-like when it comes to having an extremely versatile Symphogear and constantly pulling shit out of her ass-

#senki zesshou symphogear #symphogear #symphogear oc #luiza petronius #helena petronius #milia polidori #rebeca/six #my art #i think that's enough fun facts for a single post- #absolutely went off the rails there but oh well #i have many thoughts about my ocs-

[ashyronfire]

mourning

Title: mourning

Rating: T

Characters: Grimm, Hornet, mentioned the Radiance, mentioned the Hollow Knight, mentioned the Knight

Warnings: POV Second Person, Dream No More spoilers, References to Abuse, References to Gaslighting, It/Its Pronouns for the vessels, Drabble

Summary:

“The King is dead. Long live the King.” A conversation within the Temple of the Black Egg.

Author’s Notes: For @voidsiblings who has been poking me to write Hornet. This is me doing it without doing it. You never said it had to be her point of view.

(Unedited, we do it live)

White and Gray & Red Sky adjacent, by the way.

Read on Ao3 or Tumblr below the cut.

“The world is at its end, sister, and we have lived to see it – together. Separate. But both of us yet live. Both of us are alive and by this time tomorrow, neither of us will be.”

Hallownest.

That is the name of the kingdom you stand within. You visited it once, before the fall; you remember keenly the clamoring of people bustling about their day-to-day life, the sounds of commerce, of trade, of civility, of falling rain and armored guards, clank-clank-clank –

It was beautiful once. Beautiful in the way that the skeletal remains of a carcass left behind by predators was: alluring, a little off-putting, both natural and not, and an unmistakable reminder of the passage of time. You find it poetic, then, that that same reminder festers within the bloated belly of the corpse. Decay has set in, brought with it a stench and the putrid release of gasses, and within the ‘last and eternal civilization,’ the rot comes in hues of molten gold.

Caverns will never be a comfortable thing for you. Your sordid history paints them as an agonizing reminder – of water leaking from limestone, of stalactites reflecting the unnatural light of your eyes – and you usually avoid them. When pushed, though, you can summon up the façade of courage to face the things that you fear. You can paint your face beautiful with a mask of bravery and you might even convince yourself, if you pretend hard enough.

This will be the last time that you ever have to.

You stare at the great egg. It is an architectural marvel, magic breathing through the seals that line the floor, the walls, the door, as if it is alive. On the other side of that barrier lay a creature born specifically for the purpose of containing her – bred, created, the god they would have been ripped from their shell as they and the others like them were sacrificed to the pooling mass beneath the world, the end of all things.

An end.

A beginning.

“I wonder if you can hear me?”

No answer comes. The seals on the door draw your attention. Three crevices rest over it, the black stone polished where they once stood: cleaner and less faded from age, the Dreamers’ symbols acting as a bulwark against the creeping passage of time. The inky color of the egg was probably magnificent once, polished to a perfect sheen, but the ages have stolen it away, faded it to a mottled, uncomfortable gray. The wyrm’s magic has not changed, though. It is still impressive, luminescent, and bright: the white seals glow a brilliant contrast and they hold.

As much as they can, anyway.

Infection blooms in spiderweb vines, pulsing with amber blood, trailing out to pustulant growths that shiver in the cool air.

Her prison is fading.

Her prison is a person and they are losing the fight. As they always would have, really. Nothing alive could ever truly hold an immortal being forever. You are proof of that. Bodies in the waking world are not designed to hold creatures of essence. The two of you exist outside of their sphere and it is your nature to raze to the ground anything in your wake. Harsh is the sun.

There is a spell outside of the door and a letter. The letter is written in scrawl that you recognize well as the wyrm’s handwriting and it is painful to read, his last testament to his progeny cursed with a responsibility to his unnatural kingdom.

For it is unnatural. It is a perversion of the order between life and death. You have never beheld so terrible a spectacle as Hallownest is – and it is not your sister’s ruinous path, carved golden in her wake, that makes it horrifying to you. It is his. It was always his.

Surrender to fear. Fail.

Live on as a dying thing, clinging with crooked claws, gouging great scratches into the metaphorical clock, that it might stop, that death never come. Hallownest is eternal. And it can never rise from its ashes, something beautiful and new in its place. No, it is embalmed as it is, preserved as a mockery of life. As is the wyrm’s way.

He has never understood you.

“You have a chance to greatly inconvenience me, should you win,” you tell her. You think, through his final spell on the cursed prison that he has created for her, that he has given her eyes to watch the land rot and decay. You also think that in doing so, he has spelled his destruction, and its inevitable failure. For how can a creature condemned to a fate of pain resist the allure of something else, something different? And how can she, ever the embodiment of hope (and despair – always despair), not chase glimpses of freedom when offered them?

She hears you, but she cannot respond. The seals prevent it and, you think, for once she is probably grateful for that.

How strange, to be the one reaching out to speak. How strange, to be the one awaiting an answer and have none come. How strange, to be the one free.

She’d beg you to help her. She would scream and plead. You can almost hear her voice, piteously crying, “You are my brother, Fear, how can you allow this to continue? Help me, help me, as I would have you,” and it wounds your heart. There is nothing left for her in this world; there is no one left to mourn the light of dawn rising over the horizon.

There is no one left to remember the Radiance.

Except you. Always you.

The Nightmare King cannot die, after all. There will ever be fear – and the courage to overcome it – and so you are forever: a flame without end. Eternal.

You raise one hand and brush the tips of your claws over the front of the shell. This Temple is built inside of one of the great beasts that the butterflies who worshipped the void also revered. Fitting that her tomb would be within the husk of a creature that she herself struck down in her prime. There is poetic irony in that. She feared the dark and it is the dark that yet comes for her.

There are footsteps, light as a feather, behind you. She has more legs than you’d think, the Protector of Hallownest, but you know the cadence of her steps. She steps in her own prints when she needs to not be bipedal and she hides the rest beneath her cloak, but a spider will always be a spider.

“You should not be here.” She does not come into the Temple proper. She stays at the door. Your eyes lift to see her reflection in the dust and you raise one hand to swipe it off; your hand comes away with a filmy residue that you brush off with the second one. Scarlet meets black. You do not retreat, and she does not draw her needle, though the ever-so-subtle twitch of her fingers lends credence to the idea that she wants to.

The Princess of Hallownest does not enjoy you.

It is, at least partially, mutual.

“Should I not?” You settle your arms beneath your wings and shift, so that they fall to cover your entire body like a shroud.

The spider moves, the fabric cloak that she wears pulling taut on the extra limbs that it hides. Her fingers give another twitch, claws curling into themselves. “This is a place of mourning and –”

“And I am here to mourn.” Your interruption earns you a scoff, and so you finally turn toward her. Your gaze has to drift down in order to meet hers, even with her several paces away, hiding by the exit as if she needs to make a hasty getaway. Her fear is a thing with wings, but it is not your sister’s. No, hers has a distinctly pale light, and it surrounds her; it hides the shadows of regret that paint her black to your vision – you, who see feelings as colors.

The Pale Gift is black and gray over the crimson of her cape. She is drowning in a pain that she cannot let go.

Isn’t that familiar?

“What of you, Princess-Protector? What brings you to this place, forgotten by time?” You know the answer. The masks are gone and the door is ready to open, to fall before your summoner – the reason you are here at all. She knows, too. She can sense that the hands of fate are moving again, tugging on time and destiny like the threads of a tapestry, to rework and weave anew.

Will it be enough to save this dying land? No. But perhaps it will peel aside the second shell that locks it away and refuses to allow it to fade properly.

Burn.

“…I am also mourning,” she answers, her tone even and her stare flat. “It is my sibling in that prison, a sacrifice to keep this land from the clutches of the likes of you as long as possible.”

You smile beneath your mask; she cannot see it. Your hands fold under your cape and loll your head to the side to look at an angle back up at the seals.

“And it is my sibling that will deliver it unto me.”

There is delicious irony in that fact. Your sister does not want Hallownest to die. She wants to own it and its people. Death is counter to her goals and yet –

That is exactly what she is causing.

That is what she always causes, you’ve found. In an effort to keep a vice grip of control on the things that she considers to be hers, she rips them apart. And, unapologetically, she holds them responsible rather than admit her role in their demise. You are sure that even now, to the one within whom she is imprisoned, she must be insisting that she has been wronged – that she is suffering for another’s actions and not her own. For she will never learn and she will never change.

Knowing all of that, why then do you feel guilty, standing before what will soon become her tomb?

Knowing all of that, why then do you blame yourself for not interfering sooner? Or now?

It is your way to hold yourself accountable for things beyond your control. You know that her actions are not your own. You could not have stopped her and you could not have saved Hallownest without first sentencing it to a worse fate. Those thoughts should bring you comfort but here, at the end of your days, when tomorrow you know not if you will live at all, you cannot find it within yourself to be assuaged.

The spider steps away toward you. Each individual movement is measured, cautious and quiet, with an intensity in her glare that would have made a lesser bug cower in fear. When a predator approaches with that kind of stance, it is usually a good idea to step aside. But, butterfly or not, you are not afraid of any natural predator – not even a half-god like she is.

The Princess looks up at the door.

“It is coming back, the little ghost, and when it does, she will die. Do you intend to interfere? Or will you stand by and watch?”

You look down at her over your shoulder and shift your weight purposefully; it puts you on your heels, ready to backstep if she decides to attack. You do not expect her to, but you have never trusted strangers well, and she –

She is wyrmkin. She knows what you are and, if she is anything like her sire, she will seek to stand in your way.

“I would ask you the same thing,” you offer.

Her head bows. “I will not endanger myself in its attempt to put right the trials of time. I have a duty to Hallownest – a responsibility, a charge left to me by our King and –”

You interrupt her rant with a scoff and she freezes. Your idle hand motion earns you a withering, expectant glare, her shoulders tense, and you think you hear her chelicerae click in agitation.

“The King is dead. Long live the King.”

“Hallownest—” she begins.

You hold one hand up to stop her, then move to circle her in interest. “Hallownest is also dead, Princess. You cannot breathe life into its corpse by hope alone. Hope rests in a prison built to contain her. Learn the lesson of her mistakes.” Can she hear you, your sister, you wonder again? Does she know what you are saying? You can envision her seething in response. “I came to say goodbye. If the vessel accomplishes what it means to, there will be no tomorrow. If I intended to provide her with aid, I would have done it long ago. This kingdom is far past its prime. It is time to lay it in the ground and let it fade.”

If it succeeds in its goal, you will die. You have thought many times about what that would be like for you – you, who cannot, who will never fade from existence. Once, you sought the peace of the end, but now? Presented with its very real possibility? Now, you are frightened. You will not let it show, though. Not in front of the Princess of this long forgotten land, and certainly not in front of your sister, if she is watching with stolen eyes through the door.

Be brave, Fear.

The spider looks down. She is considering your words, you think, though her mask does not belie any emotion.

You are afraid. So is she. The little ghost intends to unspool time, to undo the pains of the past. It seeks to change fate from the very onset and you – you wish it luck. You have become fond of it in the time since your summoning, as you always do with those who give you a fragment of themselves by calling your Troupe to their lands. You want to see it succeed. But if it does – you will cease to be.

Perhaps another version of you will remain.

You step away from the egg, yet sealed, and one claw reaches out. The tip of it brushes along the underside of one of the throbbing arteries of infection. It splits under the sharp point and you leave little droplets of gold in your wake; you do not turn around to watch them fall.

“But you will stand idle, will you not?” you ask as you reach the door. “Ever the loyal soldier to your father, to your king. Ever a slave to your duty.” You turn around to look at her and the spider has her back to you. “What if you were not, though? What if, for once in your life… you made the choice to help the family that you clearly mourn? Be brave, Princess. Your time to decide the difference between who you are and who you want to be is running out.”

You hear the needle collide with the wall of the Temple. The resounding echo of the metal splitting through shell is loud in the silence. You do not turn around, nor do you flinch – which you suspect will incense her.

You leave her to her thoughts instead.

None of this will matter tomorrow, if the little ghost wins, and that is both comforting and depressing at the same time. If it fails, you will be trapped in your ailing, dying body, until the Ritual can be completed.

You would rather it win…

…but the end of the world is as bleak as it should be.

#ashe writes #red sky #w&g #hollow knight fanfic #hk fanfic #one shots #drabbles #gift fic

[theroomfloor]

Today I will speak as both a reader and a beginning writer. Sit down because a big text is coming.

And sorry for any mistakes, my English isn't the best

I want to say some compliments and thanks to @evilwriter37! <333333

I've always loved the HTTYD franchise, I've lost count of how many times I've watched the first movie. But I was never part of the fandom, I was always outside of it. Until one day, when I was watching RTTE again, and I remembered how much I liked the dagcup ship. I searched for fanarts but didn't find much on Instagram, so I ventured into Ao3. And it was like falling into a bottomless hole, a hole that I never want to get out of. Guess whose first fanfic I read was? That's it, one of yours. Well, (un)fortunately I choose a complicated fanfic to be my first, it was Ball, Chain, and Dagur, and wow, it was an… experience.

I can't measure how angry I was reading this fic. How painful it was to see my favorite character doing those atrocities. I think I like seeing myself suffer. Every chapter was me wanting to kill Dagur in several different ways. And when I got to the end and discovered that there was no ending because you gave up on the fic (a little warning at the beginning would be nice), it made me want to throw my cell phone against the wall.

Anyway, I just let it go. So at that time I never paid attention to who wrote the fics, I never left comments or kudos either (but in my defense I didn't know how to use ao3, it was new to me). I read other dagcup fanfics by other authors and yours too, but I didn't pay attention to who wrote them. Until one day I read Ruined Together and All Because of a Kiss and I loved it (even though they are far from being cute fics, I always read them again. I think I really like seeing myself suffer).

That's when I first looked at who wrote it, the name was familiar and then it hit me "wait, is this the same guy who wrote Ball, Chain, and Dagur?". It got me thinking, the same guy wrote a story I love and another one I hate. Then I bit my tongue and cursed myself "stop being an idiot, there are people who wrote that".

So I started paying attention to the authors. I went deeper into your fics and threw in the towel, you're my favorite for sure. And with that I arrived here on Tumblr, and god, the fandom was all here and I didn't know. From then I started trying to interact more. You weren't the first person I commented on in a fic, to be honest I was embarrassed to comment especially on your fics, but today I do as much as I can to show my support. And I started to loosen up more here too, making drawings, posting memes, reblogging a lot of things.

It's been a really fun phase and I'm very grateful for it. You were like a light to me, you opened doors to many new things that I never thought I would like. I hope it takes a long time to end.

The irony of it all is that, today, when I think about Ball, Chain, and Dagur I have a feeling of great affection, because it was the beginning of everything. And it's among my favorite fics now, even with all the hate. Whenever you post a new fic, even if I don't favorite it, I'm sure it will be a read that I won't regret, because everything you do is so good and well written, that just for the experience it's worth it.

You brought me into the fandom. And you encouraged me to create for it, with fanarts and now with my own stories. I'm just starting out but I want to move forward with this. So… Thank you very much!!💗

I hope you always stay motivated to continue because I will definitely be here!

#Motivation Monday #fanworks week #fanfic week #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 reader

[subukunojess]

Rabbidsona/OC: Violetta Reference and Info

I got inspired by the Rabbid OCs on my dash interacting with the latest DLC: Rayman in the Phantom Show and I also wanted to create my own Phantom Show OC to the point where I got inspiration to draw it out. First time drawing a Rabbid, so please forgive me. I have a wip one-shot on the way, but I wanted to flesh her out as I'm writing. Character notes under the cut:

Origins, Sparks, and Abilities

Violetta (She/Her) is a neurodivergent Rabbid who once lived in Paletteville, Palette Prime. She is a combination of a Rabbid and violets, so her hair smells like flowers.

I am not sure whether or not in her past, she could have been involved with Cursa and the Spark Hunters. Still deciding on that.

Regardless, Violetta is cursed similar but different to Woodrow. She could write novels fine and there would be no bad luck. However, when she writes with ultimate passion, especially with anything she is very interested in, she summons monsters. At first, no one put two and two together until one day, a giant Piranha Plant sprouted in town, a short story with plants got published and a few denizens saw Violetta playing with the plant. Ever since then, people called her "The Monster of Paletteville" and banished her.

Violetta ended up on a new planet seemingly undiscovered that she dubbed "Monstervania", a dark forest/jungle planet filled with monsters and inspired by Transylvania. She had to find her own shelter in the wilderness and along the way, met three Spark siblings.

Her Spark friends are (from left to right): Chord (They/Them) who can change and mimic voices, Scale (She/Her) who can shrink or grow others, and Tack (He/Him) who can disguise someone with a nice outfit. Scale is considered the older sister for the other two and the most powerful. They were all lost and hiding from Cursa until Violetta arrived, so the four of them joined together to survive.

Violetta's weapon is a Kusarigama, a chain-sickle with the sickle part being shaped like a treble clef. I'll get to that in a minute.

She has an ability that I'm trying to name. Basically, when it activates, she could make it so that her opponents only see her as a beacon or a siren of sorts. In probable gameplay, the enemies will be focused on her while any of her teammates within range would be as if they were Unseen for two turns.

Violetta is best described as the sweet and adorable woman you don't want to mess with. She falls under the trope of "the cute and nice person who writes/likes dark subjects and can tear your heart apart verbally and emotionally". She's a sociable introvert. At first, she comes out as outgoing and curious, but she tends to be shy and quiet.

When she gets overstimulated, not only does she get the urge to write but that is also when her "curse" comes into play the most. Her fur would bristle and fangs would come out from her mouth. She usually tries hiding away from others and if possible, uses Tack and/or Chord to disguise herself.

Like most Rabbids, her eyes turn red when upset.

How Violetta and Phantom meet; Her role in The Space Opera Network

So Violetta and The Phantom meet in awkward and strange circumstances. Prior to the Banishment, Violetta was an avid fan of Phantom's singing and would listen to his music once in a while. When she came to Monstervania, she only had the clothes on her back, some food packed, a cell phone, and headphones, so at night she would listen to the Phantom's songs with her Sparks.

One night during a Full Moon, Violetta gets inspired and writes a story in her journal with Phantom in mind. The curse activates and (with Scale's ability somehow involved) Phantom is summoned and now 100 feet tall.

Violetta understandably freaks out because A) This has never happened before, B) she accidentally pulled a big-time celebrity to an unknown planet and changed him without knowing, and C) She finds it oddly attractive. So she runs away, unknowingly leaving Scale and the journal behind.

Phantom at this point had recently become the director of The Space Opera Network. One moment, he is in a meeting, and the next, he finds himself as a giant in a dark forest. He sees someone run away but meets Scale and reads Violetta's work.

Meanwhile, Violetta, Tack, and Chord end up in a castle where a mad scientist rabbid lives with a monster named Brutus and he wants the Sparks to give to Cursa and Violetta for experimentation/a companion for Brutus.

Chaos ensues to the point where Phantom and Scale catch up to Violetta and they all join forces to escape the scientist and his monster army. It was at this fight that Violetta gets her chain-sickle which is inspired by Phantom.

During the fight and the discussion afterward, the Phantom realizes how creative Violetta is along with her power, her wonderful writing, and how she improvises in the heat of the moment. He decides right then and there to hire Violetta for the Space Opera Network.

After the escape and both Phantom and Violetta have a heart-to-heart, some of the crew from the Space Opera Network arrive on a spaceship along with Phantom's agent to get the Phantom. Phantom does get back to his normal size, but he also takes Violetta to live and work at the Network.

Violetta is now a screenwriter/actor while writing novels and short stories on the side. Most of the crew either don't know of her curse or know of her curse but don't care. They are very accommodating and at this point, it's an open secret with surprises. Despite whatever minor detail or random monster suddenly appears, the Phantom actually takes it in stride and for the most part enjoys the chaos of it all.

The Spark Siblings also get to work at the Network as well! Scale helps around as much as she can, Chord is in charge of the sound mixing, and Tack handles the costumes.

Violetta's Thoughts On Relationships

Woodrow: A good friend and a fan of the poet's work. Violetta finds in him a kindred spirit of literature and their curses. At first, she was afraid that he would be mad at her because sometimes the townsfolk would blame him whenever her curse activates, but he didn't mind. She also does not mind whatever luck happens and would gladly listen to a poem.

Sparks in General: They are adorable, powerful creatures that must be protected! And they are great friends.

Phantom: From being a fan to a good friend/secret crush. She sees him as a creative idol and although she tends not to follow pop culture and trends, she does see the appeal in Phantom's work. She was afraid that he would hate her and look down upon her, but he surprisingly seemed more down-to-earth than other "celebrities". Meanwhile, not only does Phantom want to involve himself with a creative visionary, but during his adventure in Monstervania, he feels a brief emotion of ultimate power/energy with Violetta's attention alone. Basically, when she gets excited about the Phantom, Phantom briefly has a large power boost. He does not overuse this, but he does take advantage of it when it happens. Overall, just casual friends with one playfully teasing the other and the other having a crush on the former.

Dahlia (@hostess-of-horror's OC): A fan of the Director's work. She wants to meet and possibly collab/act in Dahlia's movies, but she's anxious about it and goes into the "OMG, the more talented and cool superstar will not like me and I'm a nobody". Notably when "Rabula" got aired, seeing it made Violetta overstimulate (because she loved it so much) and she hid away while unconsciously summoning a lightning monster of all things. She does stop the monster from destroying the studio and attacking Dahlia, but she is really embarrassed about the whole thing.

Like me, Violetta keeps to herself and gets nervous meeting other people, so she does want to make friends, but it's difficult for her to make the first move.

That's what I have on Violetta and her Sparks so far. They currently appear in two of my fics that I'm in the process of writing. I hope to use them soon.

#OC: Violetta #OC: Scale The Spark #OC: Tack the Spark #OC: Chord the Spark #Mario + Rabbids #rabbids #rabbidsona #rabbid oc #oc #Rayman In The Phantom Show #mario rabbids #phantom of the bwahpera #Tom Phan #SNJart #fan art #oc lore #oc ref sheet #oc x canon #OC: Dahlia #headcanons

[katyspersonal]

Sometimes I just can't shake the feeling that "the curse of Mico simps mysteriously vanishing" I half-jokingly mentioned earlier is simply a reflection of the issue of Bloodborne fandom both being small(ish) and having many very talented artists.

Out of all fandoms I've been at, Bloodborne is the one where literally nothing is easier than to see extremely skilled artists banging out masterpieces every week and feel kinda.. talentless? Mediocre and not wanted, even, especially if you have a simple or cute/silly art style. The only ways to combat this dread is to get on the good side of "cool popular kids" that distribute majority of likes/reblogs, or to find your own supportive group of friends. With Mico fans it just is harder because for some reason the fanbase of this character has always been kinda disorganized, and he himself tends to attract people with very sensitive, intricate souls hahah. Thinking back on Mico fans that mysteriously vanished from the fandom like goddamn magic that I used to know, they all had severe self-confidence issues...? AND no network of "the same two supportive mutuals". Maybe that's why so many of them just deactivated or never posted again? Maybe feeling "small" as artists was too much?

Again, not only this character, but the example I am most familiar with because unlike other characters, this one fails to create a "core" if you know what I mean? But THE funniest thing? Situation with art in the fandom reflects how Fromsofts games feel themselves...? The sense of being overwhelmed by something much bigger and stronger than you, feeling your self-confidence crashed and wondering how THE fuck are you supposed to overcome this? This is the other side of being in the community full of a little TOO talented people, really. It just can be easy to feel like you are worse than others and not wanted.

Basically, I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you feel like your skill and talent are lower than everyone else's - treat it like being kinda not very good at soulsborne games as a player, and if you feel like you just can't join a group or create your own to get enough engagement and validation - treat it like not being able to online coop for help! How would you continue playing in this situation? Right, you would study the game, keep trying new tools and practice on your own terms and at your own pace! If you feel this kind of dread, do the same: experiment with the style, designs, characters, ideas and so on until you feel so engaged and satisfied that you just can't quit. Until it becomes almost like addiction and finishing your art ideas becomes what keeps you here. Before I've found the same five people that always like my art I've also been feeling like I just don't belong and my art is worse than that of "actually" talented artists here. So I've kept looking for something within my art itself and discovered a passion: both for drawing characters in the way that captures every single detail (no matter how much it torments me lol) and for depicting absurd amount of references for characters in every single state of their life! This is what helped me to not feel so bad about what art skills I lack, this keeps me engaged even if I stop getting notes and compliments at all, this is what makes how good other people's art is irrelevant because it is about my goalposts now, and I am sure other people who don't feel confident can find their own ""playing style"" but in creativity that'll make it fun!

Just don't quit, okay? Like... no matter how much you may feel that "everyone else is more talented or more supported or both", I promise you can find the way. Just like how you didn't understand how to beat these games at first but adapted in the end. EVERYTHING Soulsborne goes back to a theme of having to overcome a really hard challenge, right? Creativity too, and our self-confidence is under constant testing which I honestly do not recall being the case in my previous fandoms??

#fandomry rambles #creativity #sorry Ive just been reflecting on all the small artists that just disappeared #yeah I get it. it gotta be the pressure of some insanely talented artists in this fandom

[calmthefuckdownalright]

"A Fall From Grace" Self-Made Angel AU

A/N: I've had this in my head ever since the Origins SMP came out but I never knew what origin to give the reader. THEN I watched Afterlife SMP on Smajor1995's perspective in which he got the "Angel" Origin on his third (I think) death. I know it's not in the Origins SMP, but I wanted to be original and using the Witch origin was just too common. That and the work it's used in is phenomenal and I can't compete with it. SO! I picked the Angel origin from the Afterlife SMP instead and found it very fitting. I hope you enjoy 😊, it's very long just saying now.

Pairing: C!Phantombur x AngelOrigin!Fem!Reader

Genre: 🍃 angst?,🌷 fluff, 💐 spice {implied. Minors keep back}

AU: Angel (self created), Character plane, Origins SMP

TW: Minor violence and some intense flirting if you catch my drift. Cursing too. Minor mental breakdowns

Trope: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: There's a new Origin in town and the Potion Businessman Wilbur has his eye on a stunning prize. But beware, every rose has its thorns and this pretty flower might as well be a whole bush despite her "angelic" exterior.

Edit: my laptop shot crap on me and I don't have the financial stability or budget to get it fixed or a new one so I'm using my reading Kindle and it doesn't like to format texts...so just use your imagination. 👍

°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•

Welcome to the Origins SMP...you're life on Earth had ended and you have been chosen to join this elaborate group of hybrids. Here's your Origin.

🕊 Angel 🕊

Wings

Levitation

Weaker in other realms (Nether, End, etc.)

When you hit a monster it is set ablaze

Unable to weild a totem of undying

Like your Savior, you are able to walk and run upon water

Any and all debuffs via potions or spells are useless against you (enchantments not included)

Warning: Deviants of the Underworld have also been chosen to walk among you. Be safe.

✨✨A New Origin has Joined the World✨✨

The message was sent out across the entire plane. Every creature set and chosen for this version of Earth received it. Everyone knew you had arrived.

"Be safe. Deviants of the Underworld walk among you."

The warning changed in your head as you opened your eyes to the new world. You looked at your hands in awe at the power that radiated through your muscles. You stood and gazed at the landscape around you. A simple forest under a blue sky.

Something felt odd and you stretched out your arms feeling a tug on your back. You looked and a pair of the purest white feathered wings grew from your shoulder blades. They were stunning and as you stretched them you could hardly believe the length.

You tucked the beautiful wings to your back in fear of drawing attention to yourself in this new place.

'First things first...tools.' You thought and got to work with crafting and managing what little resources you could gather before nightfall. You weren't new to the dynamics of the New Earths. Yet you didn't quite know what you were doing. It was like an unstoppable instinct to just survive.

'Stone stone stone. Mountains would be ideal. I don't have stuff for light just yet and I have a feeling the caves won't be as friendly as the surface.' You debated in your head and began the search.

You managed to slay a few cows and pigs, even make a pair of leather boots to keep your bare feet protected.

The only thing covering your body was a robe. A rather thick one revealing nothing but highlighting the fact you were a woman at the same time.

Maybe a cloak of some kind could be on your priority list as well with the pending decision to seek shelter or get more suitable tools. Shelter seemed like a better option. Especially if these 'deviants' were the kind you thought.

[Time Skip to Nightfall]

You'd been walking for ages trying to find your way out of this stupid forest and night was beginning to fall just as you glimpsed an opening. A valley filled with buildings. One in particular rising above the rest into the sky.

You looked around yourself trying to decide whether or not to tough it out in the wilderness or take your chances on the lit up building.

"Might as well test these babies out." You muttered and stretched your wings.

You jumped off the edge of the hill where the forest lay and struck the feathered appendages down in an effort to lift yourself. It worked as the wind rushed under you and altitude climbed.

You smiled at yourself and flapped the great wings again and again till you were even with the ground of the floating island. You landed with a huff and tucked your already tired wings close to your back.

You could hear voices. Laughter and joyous cries of celebration. For what you couldn't tell. Maybe they were deviants that you'd been warned against. But even if they were, you could easily set them aflame with a single punch. You needed shelter. Suitable food and better clothes.

The wind had flung your thick robe and sent dirt cascading all along it. The white of the fabric was no longer that and rather filthy now.

"Take a chance. It can't be too bad." You said quietly and pushed against the door to the building in the sky. Glittering light poured in it stunned you for a moment. Brighter than the sunlight, or at least more concentrated, blinded you. The voices were continuous as you held the door open and stepped in. Your eyes adjusted rather quickly and you let the door close as you stepped into the place.

It smelled of ale and good spirits. Joy and the promise of laughter. The door slammed as the wind from outside sucked it in and the whole place stopped. Time seemed to freeze as your presence was suddenly acknowledged.

The first to notice you was a fellow winged person. A man dressed in a dark blue ish purple long coat with feathers protruding from his jawline. His wings were a darker grey and his hair a bright goldish blond. He seemed older as imperfections in his skin became more eminent as the light flickered under his dark grey and white striped hat. Crows feet by his eyes and lines etching under them. A light blond stubble etched along his chin and up to the dark feathers of his jaw.

"Well this one's new." A light hearted voice rang out amongst the silence. A smaller man, a boy even, with a pair of goggles on top his head and a fur lined bomber jacket leaned against a counter. Four translucent insect wings sprouted from his back and a black and yellow patch drew your attention to his sleeve where a extremely tall man in a simple suit and long purple tail coat stood beside him.

There was an aura about the tall man that unnerved you. His mismatched eyes and the crown that sat crooked on his head gave off an intimidating glow about him. Especially with the floating purple particles about him.

"Finally another girl!" A muffled voice next to you made you jump in your own skin. A fellow female stood in a tank of water, gills growing from her neck and flashes of pinkish scales reaching down her arms.

"I'm sorry?" A slightly annoying British voice jumped over the air and you spotted a small blonde man, again possibly a boy, with a red sleeved t-shirt and a small pair of red feathered wings, much too downy to be considered real ones, peeked over the head of the winged man who spotted you first.

"Who are you?" The dark winged man in the strange dark attire asked cautiously bit with a light smile.

"Clearly she's the new Origin we heard of a little bit ago." A voice came out of nowhere, behind you, and a shot of adrenaline flashed through your veins as you whirled around and summoned the iron sword you had been able to craft with what little you'd been able to find.

The tip aimed straight towards a partly transparent man's throat. His skin was deathly gray and two bright green eyes shone under the shade of a mess of soft looking brown hair.

Your wings flared out defensively causing wind to fly up with them and send a drink or two crashing to the floor. Fear ran through your blood. The man before you had his arms raised in a mock surrender. His yellow sweater was even transparent, torn and weathered in places to just barely reveal a white undershirt. A white collar poked over the edge of the sweater at his neck.

"Wilbur! What have I said about sneaking up on people?" The older man's voice was stern at the ghostly figure.

"Right right, don't. Yeah I've heard it before Phil. Don't get your feathers in a bunch." The ghost, or Wilbur it seemed, leaned to one side and used a finger to push your sword point down as he outstretched a translucent hand with a sort of halfway bow.

"Wilbur S. Phantom." He said cooly as if he hadn't just scared the shit out of you.

You ignored his hand and began to lower your wings and sword as you looked around.

The tall man in the suit had jumped over the counter and was crouched down behind it while the short boyish one with the translucent wings had begun to sort if float to the roof of the establishment.

"Wil you're just scaring her more." The man with wings, Phil, came over and straightened Wilbur up and pulled him aside.

"Hello, I'm sorry for my son's behavior. I'm Philza Elytrian. This is the Pub." The man with the dark wings said kindly with meaningful smile and an outstretched hand. You sheathed your sword and tucked your wings tightly in again.

"Y/N Angel." You said and glanced over all the other hybrid mutants before you.

"I'm Nikki Merling!" The muffled voice behind the glass said excitedly. Her voice was soft and welcoming now that you fully heard it.

"Hi.." You responded, A smile twitching in the corners of your mouth.

"Of course you've met Wilbur. He's a Phantom and tends to abuse his abilities to phase through walls. He's our Potions guy since he can gather ingredients undetected. And my son." Phil began to introduce everyone individually starting with a very sparkly man with stars for limbs it seemed.

"Scott Starborne. He's basically a God so mind not to piss him off or he might explode you."

"Jack Manifold Blazeborne. Immune to heat and a native to the Nether."

"This is Tommy Avian. He's my youngest son and my apprentice since his wings have still not fully grown in." Tommy shook your hand and the downy red wings on his back attempted to stretch out but it only made them curl back tighter. "We think something went wrong with his genetic make-up." Phil whispered to you.

You nodded and smiled at the Avian briefly before meeting the rest of the crew.

"Tubbo Bumblebee. Can float around, poison in his fingers, and is sort of like a flourist around here."

"This is Ranboo Enderian. Enderman abilities combined with his abnormally natural height. He's a good guy to have in your corner."

"Jschlatt Arachnid though most call him-"

"The Fragrance Man. Pleasure to meet you Angel." The Fragrance Man bowed with a smile and the pungent smell of him hit you like a train.

"Please don't call me that." You said with a cringe.

"Moving on," Philza said quickly and lead you to a seemingly empty corner. Then you looked down.

"That's Charlie Slimecician, he's basically a slime but half human. He gets small after a few hits." A blobby green figure stood at the height of you ankles and waved.

"And that's Sneegsnag Inchling. We just call him Sneeg. He's super small and likes to climb on people so watch out if you ever go to fly. You might have a hitchhiker."

"It was one time Phil. Get over it!" Sneeg called up to the much taller Elytrian. No doubt having experienced this 'hitchhiking.'

"Fundy and Technoblade aren't here right now but Fundy's basically just a fox and Techno looks like a pig but was given the Rabbit Origin. You'll know them when you see em." Philza turned back to you and you looked around again.

"Do you maybe have anything for clothing? I don't think this thing is going to last with my flying." You asked sheepishly and gestured to the already tattering robe.

"Ummm..." Phil's face flushed slightly and he glanced around. "Maybe Nikki does? She's more you're speed." He led you to the tank with the Merling. Nikki smiled and nodded.

"It's been so long since another girl was around!" She smiled widely.

Maybe this new plane of existence wasnt going to be so dangerous after all...

[Time Skip to a few Days Later]

Since meeting the Origins you hadn't had much going on. Nikki helped you with clothes, lending you several pairs of leather pants and a few linen shirts that fit fairly well. She never wore them because they weren't waterproof and mostly used them when it rained and she wanted to go walking. Which was hardly ever.

Rain wasnt 'rare' in the valley of The Pub (which you later learned had been renamed The Pube with a 'silent' e by one Wilbur S. Phantom.) But she hadn't wanted to go walking ever. The rain was so exciting that she never thought about it.

"So have you thought of where to build your house?" Nikki asked, her head bobbing in and out of the water cautiously.

"No not really. I found a cave up in the mountains but it's a bit far. Thinking about building right here by the lake but my neighbors aren't very appealing." You grimaced as you spotted the Phantom of the land. He was sitting under a tree with a brewing stand beside him and a book and quill in his hands. His translucent body sent a shiver up your spine as you redirected your attention back to your friend in the water.

"Wil really isn't that bad. He's just a flirty dumbass. He's quite nice really." Nikki assured you and traced shaped in the dampened grass by your boots. Your feet rested in the cool water of the lake with your leather pants rolled up halfway to your knees as the water ran over the bare skin.

"He's still creepy." You said and stretched out your wings as the sun warmed the white feathers.

"It's just cause he's a ghost. I'm telling you, he's nice." Nikki insisted. Her voice was sorrowful as she mentioned the word 'ghost.'

"How is he even Phil's son? He doesn't even have wings." You asked and began to run your fingers down the soft feathers of your wings.

"Well...that's more something to ask him really. It's not my story to tell." Nikki said and ducked under the water, leaving you impromptu to regain her ability to breathe.

"Alright then..." You sighed. Your curiosity tugged at your gut and a bold motive pumped through your heart. While Nikki composed herself you might as well start branching out. Its not like you can stay friends with one person forever.

You huffed and grabbed your boots and started walking across the grass towards the phantom man.

"Well hello. Come to tell me I'm creepy to my face?" Wilbur asked with a sly smile as you approached, not bothering to look up.

"You heard us?" You asked, a wave of embarrassment washing over you.

"No, I read lips." Wilbur said and looked up at you at last. The green of his eyes were stunning without the rushes of adrenaline finding them dangerous. He'd been sneaking up on you for the past few days, earning multiple swords swung at his head. All of them careful not to actually cut the poor man.

"Hmph. Well I actually came over to say I'm sorry for swinging blades at you and ask you a question but since you're clearly busy I'll leave you be." You said and started to walk off.

"Wait!" Wilbur shot to his feet and reached for your arm as you walked into the sunlight. Flames erupted on his skin and began to consume him.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCKER SHIT!" Wilbur exclaimed and leapt into the lake with a surprisingly graceful dive. Steam billowed off the water's surface as you turned around at the noise.

"Wilbur?" You asked to the air. The smell of smoke tinged your nose. "Oh shit you're a phantom!" The realization hit you.

"Yeah no shit." He said as his head resurfaced, water dripping from the brown mess on his head and down his face. "I was just trying to stop you, Jesus Christ." He muttered and climbed out the water, shaking out his head as the shade of a tree cast over him, preventing him from burning again.

"Why?" You asked with a desire to laugh. How could he forget he burned in daylight so easy?

"Because, like you, I'm a curious nobody who wants to know things. So what-" Wilbur paused as he spotted your face. "Are you...are you laughing at me?" He said with a darkening tone.

"Maybe a little." You snickered. Your wings trailed the ground and twitched with amusement.

"Oh hush it you sunloving bitch! I didn't exactly ask for it." Wilbur held a smile of his own back at your childish attempts to not mock him.

"So sorry Danny Phantom, I just think the fact you don't even understand your own abilities is quite hilarious." You sniffed back a laugh and wiped your eyes.

"You're one to talk. You can hardly fly properly." Wilbur shot back, a conniving smile playing his translucent lips, his arms crossing over his chest.

"And what would you know about flying?" You set your hands on your hips, flaring your snowy white wings out slightly as the sun basked over your features.

"Enough to know you flap too hard and too often. Enough to know you should let the wind carry you rather than your own feathers or you'll tire the muscles out before you can ever find a decent landing spot." Wilbur leaned against the oak tree causing his shade.

You fumed as you recalled the many landings you'd had to take. The aching of your wings every night when you went to sleep.

"Yeah? And how do you know this?" You crossed your arms.

"Because, Angel Darling, I used to fly." Wilbur pushed off the tree and snapped his fingers as he walked to the edge of the shade. Just where the border of the sunlight stopped.

With the snap of his fingers a pair of mangled and tattered wings the color of Phil's feathers protruded from the Phantom's back. Bones stuck out of the tips and a bat like skin had been stretched over the limbs, bone poking through at odd angles.

"They don't work anymore sadly, but they were beautiful back in my prime. Now they're just a decoration that gets caught on branches." Wilbur ran a ghostly hand down one of the wings, its stillness bothered you. Usually wings would twitch or flex at the touch of rather anything. Even Tommy's faulty wings stretched or curled each time a branch or shoulder grazed them.

"Wilbur, I'm sorry." You said after a moment of marveling at the damage. "What happened?" You asked cautiously, reaching out a hand into his shade.

Wilbur quickly made the wings disappear with a roll of his shoulders.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Only Phil and Tommy are allowed to know my 'tragedy', as people call it. Family only, if you understand." Wilbur smirked and ran a hand through his brown hair.

"Anyone else who knows has sworn to never tell a soul and anyone who does say will be severely punished." Wilbur growled and your hand retreated. If he wanted to be a prick when you were only wanting an answer then fine. Two can play that game.

"Awww, is the little Potions master embarrassed of his fall from grace?" You mocked with a glare. "A simple 'A bad accident' would've sufficed asshole." You flared your wings to leap off. Wilbur's eyes darkened as a scowl etched his translucent features.

"You're pretty prickly yourself for such a pretty Angel." Wilbur sneered.

"Whoever said all Angels were nice Ghost Boy?" You snarled and beat your wings and leapt into the sky sending wind blowing the leaves of the tree he sheltered under askew and releasing the sunlight upon him once more. You beat your wings proudly as you flew off listening to the string of curses flowing from the burned ghost's lips behind you.

[Several Days Later]

You hadn't run into Wilbur again since you burned him. You'd spent the last few days gathering wood from various trees and taking flying lessons from Phil who's wingspan was similar to your own. Yours being slightly larger "due to your youth." As Phil told you.

It was going wonderfully. You'd been able to gather enough iron to make yourself a chestplate with the guidance of Jack who knew a thing or two about molten stuff. You paid him in a few nuggets of gold and a new flint and steel, should he get trapped in his homeland ever.

Nikki had helped you start building by the lake, on the exact opposite side of Wilbur, and even connected her little underwater cavern to a tank in your house.

Not only had you not run into the ghostly man, but you hadn't even seen the translucent nuisance. It was unnervingly quiet at the lake and maybe he just stopped going out in the day. He did catch fire at even the smallest ray of sunlight so it wouldn't entirely surprise you that the man was keeping to the covers of night.

Tonight however, so we're you. You needed bones for bone meal for your farm so you could feed your cows and make some bread for yourself.

The moon was full and fog had rolled in on the valley of The Pub. You had gone far away from where the lights of the settlements glowed and only had the light of the moon to guide your feet as you listened for the rattling of bones or the string of a bow being stretched.

Courtesy of The Fragrance Man, you wielded a diamond sword. You'd crafted it yourself but the enchantments laid on its blade were all the Arachnid's doing.

Heat radiated off the sword and a glimmer of a protective shield was cast over the diamond weapon. It was supposed to set fire to anything it touched, much like your own fists could with a punch, and it was spelled to be practically unbreakable. In exchange for a favor in the future, the sword was all yours for as long as you wanted it.

The Fragrance Man had denied calling you by your name and still settled for just calling you 'Angel.' The man was a priest, sort of, so you didn't really worry too much about it. He might be creepy but you could set fire to anything you punched. That made you dangerous and him susceptible to your attacks if he crossed the line.

So, with your new sword and chest plate, you set off into the night in search of the undead. You had succeeded as a rattle echoed off in the distance and you shot towards it in a flurry of quick jabs and slices while ducking from arrows. It wasn't long before the skeletons fell and you could collect their cargo.

With a few skeletons gone you decided to head back to your home by the lake. Then the screams of frustration reached you. You were slightly conflicted to help.

The only people crazy enough to get cornered by a horde weren't ones you necessarily liked. But you had time and a weapon fully capable of helping. Not to mention some badass wings to knock a few skulls around with.

"Fine fine. Let's go be a hero I guess." You muttered and leaped into the air with a blow of your wings. You soared high above the fading fog as you got closer to the end of the valley and peered down to the ground with the little light you could use from the moon. You couldn't hardly see the figure surrounded by the monsters but you could hear them.

"You idiotic assholes just get back! Where the fucking Hell are you all coming from?!" The frustrated voice screamed into the night. You smelled bread and spotted a helmet of iron as you swooped down cautiously.

"Phil?" The helmet looked up as your winged shadow cast over them from the moonlight. That's when you realized who you were saving.

"Far from it Ghost Boy." You glared and dived down with your sword swinging flames upon the monsters of the night. "I'm better."

Wilbur scoffed and straightened his helmet and fought the deviants of the night at your back, skillfully ducking under your wings as you threw monsters away where your sword could not reach.

Wilbur's silence as he fought with his own weapon, an iron sword with more than a few cracks, was amazing. Not so much as a grunt escaped him as he swung with effortless movements. Before long dawn was rising and the sky helped vanquish the horde.

Wilbur was quick to send himself invisible once the sun rose though you could still see him due to the helmet on his head and the bread vanishing down what must have been his mouth.

You acted out of mercy and drew your wings over his back and head as the sun climbed up the sky. "Relax Mr. Invisible. You've been through enough tonight." You muttered as he flinched under your shading feathers.

"And what's with the change of heart? Deciding to be a good girl for once?" Wilbur teased with a menacing smile as he changed back to his translucent form.

"I don't know, would you like to burn all the way home?" You narrowed your eyes with a challenge. Wilbur stuffed the last bit of bread in his mouth in a silent no.

The two of you walked in silence back to the lake, you lowering your wings as you opted for a forest edge as soon as one was available. Wilbur 'ghosted' from tree shade to tree shade while you stayed in the sunlight of the valley. When the Pub's settlements were close enough Wilbur stopped, stopping you with him out of quiet surprise.

"Why did you help me?" He asked suddenly.

"Why shouldn't I have?" You countered.

"Whatever happened to 'Not all Angels are nice.'?"

"Never said I wasn't. You'd just pissed me off."

"Because I didn't answer your question?" Wilbur scoffed with a slight of sarcasm.

"Because you were an ass about it. I get it, I'm new. I don't know anything about anyone. Especially you. Especially when you avoid and dodge every attempt I make at getting to know you or being an ass about it and starting an argument." You crossed your arms and tucked in your wings frustratedly.

"It's called flirting, Darling Angel." Wilbur leaned against a tree and removed his helmet to allow a plethora of brown curly hair to fall across his emerald eyes.

"You suck at it Wilbur Soot." You snickered and slipped under a tree yourself as the sun beat down in an unrelenting heat. "And please don't call me Angel. The Fragrance Man does that enough as it is." You huffed with an easy smile.

"Schlatt? Seriously? That's who you're worried about? I can literally phase through walls undetected. I could've been following you all these days watching you bathe or something." Wilbur snickered.

"That's perverted Wilbur." You screwed up your face and suddenly felt very self conscious.

"I said I could. But I would never because you're right. That is perverted and I'm not an abuser of my abilities much to you and my father's beliefs." Wilbur insisted "Believe it or not I'm a rather good gentleman." Wilbur said with a joking smile. You snickered quietly.

"Right right. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say I believe you. I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable on my own again, thanks Wil." You say with a snap of venom. What would one of your conversations be without a little poison.

"There's no wall you can hide behind, Y/N. I can forever find you." Wilbur's voice echoed like it wasnt actually there. You stared at him but his lips didn't move to match the words you heard.

"What?" You asked, placing a hand on your belt where the sword sheath and sword from The Fragrance Man was attached.

"I said, that wasn't my intentions. I said I was sorry." Wilbur phased his way through the narrow chain of sunlight between the two trees you stood under and was soon placing a chilled hand on your forehead much to your very notable surprise. "Are you alright Ang- Y/N? You're sweating like Ranboo in a storm." Wilbur joked with a smile, quickly correcting himself from the uncanny nickname.

What was he always smiling for? He was a ghost with a supposedly 'tragic' demise. He was dead. He was regarded with caution anywhere he went. His potions business was a scam and a half and his cheeky comments and demeanour had no doubt gotten him into many instances of making enemies. What did this man have to smile about so often for?

"I have family and friends, Y/N. That's why I smile. I'm dead but I can still be with them and they know I am." Wilbur answered. You hadn't realized you'd said the first of your thought out loud. Or that you were sitting now. The heat from the sun on your iron chest plate was suffocating. Not to mention it was tight inside of it from moving as much while fighting through the night and hardly any at all during the walk. Your wings dropped to the ground and for once they felt like the heaviest things on this plane of existence.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Wilbur's voice was edging on concern. His hands were freezing on your overheating skin. Skin. Where was he touching you? You squeezed your eyes shut and concentrated. Your hand was under one of his, and his other was holding your face as sweat seeped from your boiling skin.

"The chestplate." You huffed and pulled at the collar of it reaching frantically for the leather straps holding to your body on your sides. Your, now shaking, fingers fumbled with the leather on one side. By the time you'd gotten one undone Wilbur had managed to get the two on the other side. He quickly undid the last strap and the chest plate was heaved off your shoulders by Wilbur, careful not to crush your wings.

"Better?" He asked, his hand still resting on your hand. Grasping it even.

You nodded and flipped your palm to grip his. "Just give me a second and I'll be fine." You huffed and closed your eyes tightly. Breathing in and out and focusing on the coolness of Wilbur's hand.

The heat calmed in your skin until the sweating stopped. You opened your eyes after a moment or two to see Wilbur staring at you with those vibrant eyes.

"What? Have I got a cut?" You asked and reached your free hand to your face. Before you could check yourself Wilbur was holding up your connected hands. That's when you realized.

"Oh shit I'm so-" you started to unravel your fingers from his in a rush. Your wings flared as cold spread through your still heated face. A softness enveloped your lips as you gathered what was happening.

Wilbur's eyes were shut as his face pressed to yours. It was an odd feeling, being kissed by a ghost.

You eventually just shut your eyes too, embracing the action with the little hesitation, pressing back to the cold lips. Wilbur's hand tightened on yours and his other translucent limb reached to your wings, caressing the feathers softly and causing a shudder up your spine.

Wilbur let you breathe for a moment from his impromptu kiss before removing his hand from yours in the grass and lifting your chin to fully face him.

"Is this okay with you?" He asked, his voice shaky and unknowing. Surprisingly something inside you lit up at the question. He'd caught you off gaurd in a vulnerable state from the overheating. Managed to cool you down and was still asking if you were okay.

"Yeah..." You breathed and Wilbur leaned over your body against the tree, trailing a cold ghostly hand up your white wings earning a small gasp before gently reconnecting your lips. He was curious as his hand explored the feathers, each small movement making them twitch and relax under his translucent fingers.

Each flinch of your feathers parted your mouth a little at a time before it was too tempting to explore. Wilbur's tongue was so cold it was like having an ice cube numb your mouth. It was...different. You hadn't kissed anyone since coming into this world and this was one Hell of a first.

Wilbur's hand on your chin trailed up your jawline and reached into your hair, massaging and playing with your scalp and causing an intense cold to spread over you and numb your senses almost completely. His hand on your wings traveled closer to your back where the skin and downy feathers met your shoulder blades. The holes you'd cut into your linen shirts had been a tad big but it just made it easier to fly.

"Wilbur, what're you doing?" You breathed out as he drew away for you to breathe. He didn't need to being dead and all.

"I-" He looked into your hooded eyes and his hand drew away from your back, the one exploring your hair stopping its soft movements. There was a rustling behind him and before either of you could react someone burst through the bushes.

"Jesus mother of Christ foliage is thick as fuck." Tommy's bright accent busted the tension between you and Wilbur and neither of you could move as the small winged man spotted you. You sat with your back to a tree and Wilbur, Tommy's older brother, hovering over you incredibly close with your chest plate thrown aside.

"Tommy! It's not was it looks-" Wilbur started to rush out and leapt to his feet to reach his brother who was frozen in place.

"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" The Avian yelled out and both you and Wilbur flinched.

"Y/N that's my fucking brother what the fuck?! Nikki's been lookin for you and you're out here catching the birds and the bees with my-" Tommy started into a compulsive and loud rant before Wilbur phased under the sunlight and placed an invisible hand over his mouth, reducing it to muffled yells. Tommy pulled away with a disgusted tone of voice.

"Don't fucking touch my face you fucker, I don't know where those hands have been." Tommy gagged at the thought and your face turned a fiery red, the heat returning but this time manageable against your slightly numb skin where Wilbur had touched and kissed you.

"Tommy I swear, I just got overheated and he helped me get the chest plate off that's all!" You rushed to help explain. You couldn't see Wilbur or feel his presence. Did that asshole just leave you to deal with his slightly traumatized brother?!

The anger you'd previously held over and dissipated for the ghostly businessmen returned in full force.

"That-" Tommy started but you cut him off in a stern voice, one built up with anger at Wilbur. Anger that kept rising. After what he'd just done the guy was just gonna skip out on you because someone caught him doing something embarrassing?!

"Tommy just shut it. He helped me get a chestplate off after I got too hot. That's it and for you to think otherwise is foolish. Your brother and me aren't even friends." You spat and went to go retrieve your armor piece.

Tommy stayed silent as you stood straight up and took a deep breath. A chill went through your chest as you felt a pair of eyes watching. These not the unbelieving ones of Tommy, but ones of hurt and slight hatred that couldn't be seen.

'Stop it Wilbur. You know it can't happen.' You shot towards the ripple of light as grass swished under invisible feet. It was a mistake helping him as much as you did. A mistake letting him kiss you.

At the end of the day he was just a flirty asshole who couldn't help but only think of himself. He was a scammer. A coward. The exact opposite of what you would ever want. A businessman of zero shame.

"Do you want a fly home?" You turned back to Tommy with a flare of your large wings.

"No. No I'm out looking for sugarcane." He said, his eyes still slightly in shock at what he had witnessed.

"Right then. Tell Phil I said hi." You muttered and shouldered past the small boy, careful not to hit him with your wings and you reached a sunny clearing in the trees. You waited till Tommy had walked away into the forest before you wrapped yourself in your wings and let a few hot tears run down your freezing cheeks.

"stupid stupid stupid." You heaved out over a choked sob. You could feel his presence lingering around you. Wilbur was still around. Still watching you as you broke down. You were an idiot for believing he could actually be nice.

"Get over it now, Y/N. He's the worst deviant you'll run across." You utter loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear. 'Anyone' being Wilbur. You heard a branch crack and a bush shift as something unseen walked into it. Then you spread your wings and leapt into the sky, careful not to beat too hard and exhaust your energy too soon.

"Wait!" You heard him below you. You could see his ghostly figure clearly in your mind reaching out to the sky though he would surely be invisible from the sunlight.

You soared up above the clouds and let the tears rain down freely. What the Hell was wrong with you?! The guy had been nothing but a creep since your first day here and you just let him kiss you! Let him touch your wings like they were his own. God you felt so stupid. And poor Tommy, he had to see it. Or the end of it at least.

Your mind slowly began to thaw from Wilbur's icy touch. That must've been what caused your submission. The cold that emanated from even the slightly touch from him. Hell knowing him he probably did it on purpose.

Figured out from eavesdropping on you telling Nikki you'd be going out tonight. He probably got himself cornered by monsters on his own and lured you there knowing you'd help. Then he'd get you alone in the forest and take advantage of you with the numbing of the cold he inflicted.

It made your blood boil deep in your chest at the thought. Wilbur Soot would pay for his intentions. Good or not he left you to deal with HIS family. The one he claimed was the reason he could still smile after everything that happened to him.

Curse to his handsome face. To his soft skin. His beautiful and dorky smile. Curse to his swagger in every word. That accent that could make the coldest heart melt. The charm woven into that silver tongue of his. That tongue. To Hell with that tongue.

{LET THE WARS BEGIN}

🕊💀🕊💀🕊💀 [Time Summary of Several Months]🕊💀🕊💀🕊💀

Catalog of the Burning Wars, written by Philza Elytrian

The first attack: Y/N Angel set fire to the trees surrounding Wilbur S. Phantom's home removing all shade from his land for several blocks. She has also drained his side of the lake with the permission of Nikki Merling in agreement to link the lake to a river system going all across the lands of The Pub.

The retaliation: Wilbur S. Soot in retaliation destroyed an upcoming crop field in the process of growing from Y/N Angel.

The Declaration of War: Y/N Angel announced at The Pub on August 9th that Wilbur Soot Phantom was now her enemy and anyone who got in her way of 'making that piece of shit' pay would be as well.

The Accused: As claimed by Wilbur, he hadn't heard of her declaration of war. Merely assuming that the burning and draining of his land was a minor upsetting and his retaliation was to be the end of their feud. He has since not discussed any details of the newly declared war.

The Attacker: Y/N Angel has only disclosed that Wilbur has shamed her in an unforgivable way. She claims her takes on friendship with the Potions Businessman had been rebuked with a key try in taking advantage of her new presence to this world. Y/N has quoted

"Wilbur Soot might be a gentleman to his friends, but to me he is merely a fiend and a deviant that has wronged me in more ways than one. I will no longer tolerate his creeping of my person or the advances he seems to wish to make."

Over the course of the ongoing war, now named The Burning War after the intense use of fire from both sides, multiple scrimmages between the two parties have occurred. All of which taking place in a forest or plain far from the Pub as both parties have agreed;

"Our fighting is amongst the two of us and no one else should pay for our anger towards each other."

Signed,

Philza Elytrian, Scribe of The Burning Wars 💀🕊💀🕊💀🕊[End of Time Summary]💀🕊💀🕊💀🕊

It'd been months. Nearly a year since you declared war on Wilbur and he was no closer to admitting he had done wrong. Over the many negotiations held between the two of you nothing came of it.

Wilbur merely yelled he didn't know what he'd done and therefore had nothing to apologize for. You being the stubborn woman you were, time and time again explained it to him. How he left you to take care of his problems. Their problems. How he vanished on you the second things got a little uncomfortable then tried to play it off like you were the one at fault for it.

You hadn't shared your theory on his intentions that day. His theoried plan you had formed on the fly back home.

How could you? You weren't dumb, you knew it was only an assumption your angered mind had formed. Knew that if you said it and it was false your shame would kill you. Yet you couldn't think of another way to tell him you thought he was a creep when the only 'proof' you had of this claim was that he scared you every once in a while from passing through a wall to jumpscare you.

And now you were back here. In the Pub. Your neutral ground. You'd told Phil, the common ground and mediator between the two of you and Wilbur. As usual Phil told everyone to avoid the place but you knew they were closeby. Sneeg would be hiding behind the bottles of alcohol stacked on a shelf or Tommy perched on top the Pub with Tubbo. Ranboo maybe if he could get a pearl high enough. Jack might be hiding in his little lava hole listening in on rare occasion.

This didn't stop you from trying to negotiate with Wilbur in terms of ending this war. You didn't even know what you wanted from him. A surrender and an apology seemed like the best solution but you knew deep down it wouldn't be enough. He would continually piss you off on purpose. He would dig at you till you cracked and sent an arrow flying at his head or a wing swinging straight into his translucent chest.

Much to your delight, Wilbur was solid as a rock when not in his phantom state. Anything could hurt him just as it could a regular human. You didn't want to kill the man no. You were angry but not that angry. No matter what you did you couldn't wipe that smug smile off his face every time he riled you up.

You clenched your fist now as he walked in. For once he used the doors of The Pub. You sat at a table with your wings brought high up and tucked in tight. The dumbass was eating an apple and each step he took closer to you highlighted a new accessory to his outfit.

A slim fitting tail coat the color of the darkest blue fit snuggly over a blue and lime striped vest and reached down a pair of equally dark blue slacks with a perfect crease down the middle. He wore a circular pair of glasses slightly tinted over his stunning green eyes. Bone shaped clasps reached across the seam of his vest and black slick shoes rested and tapped the wood floor on his fading feet. His hair was combed out but as unruly as ever as it curled over one of his eyes slightly.

He took a large bite of his apple, never breaking eye contact with you as he pulled out the chair across from you, then threw it in your direction. To which you caught it.

"Y'know I had a great deal comin' up for today. Schlatt was gonna buy my whole stock for ten stacks of gold blocks and a half a stack of diamonds. Technoblade would've gladly taken the gold and traded me a stack of diamonds or even some Netherite ingots for each block." The man leaned back and set his ghostly fading feet on the wooden table.

"Your stock is just potions of leaping and some fire res mixed in wth exactly two potions of regeneration." You pointed out. "You and Ranboo literally had to scam Tommy into drinking one you were so much of a failure."

"Yet who's wearing the tailored suit here?" Wilbur examined his fingers before turning back to you with a smug grin.

You scowled at him, debating your response. "The coward and the joke of this negotiation." You spat after a second of letting him think he won. At your words, Wilbur's smile twitched and he swiftly swung his lanky legs off the table and leaned forward, his hands grasped together under his chest as his face reached near the middle of the table.

"And what have I done right or wrong now to deserve such a merciful meeting Angel Darling?" The man said with a venom of sarcasm escaping his silver tongue. Your blood began to boil.

"Absolutely nothing. You don't deserve my mercy Wilbur Soot but here I am offering it." You leaned towards him as well letting your wings cast a shadow over the two of you from one of the lanterns above.

"I don't even know what I could've done wrong to even need your 'mercy.'" Wilbur said and those green eyes of his darted across your face.

"For starters you burnt down my wheat field." You said.

"You burnt my trees. And drained the water from my land." He countered.

"You were a prick and I wasn't going to deal with it any longer." You spat back.

"And how could I have offended you so badly that it warranted so much ash on my land?" He asked, knowing full well your answer.

"Tommy. That day in the forest. You GHOSTED me Wilbur!" You stood from your chair with a bang of your fist. You were tired of repeating this story. "You let me deal with a problem that was OURS by myself with someone who YOU knew how to handle! The boy still doesn't look at me correctly Wil! He thinks I'm some manipulate bitch who tried to get with his brother and cover up for it!" You yelled. This one was new. You hadn't told Wilbur about Tommy being reclusive around you. How he never met your eyes or returned your greetings. How the boy would simply just turn away from you and run or pretend he was busy.

"Angel-" Wilbur was on his feet now and standing before you with a pleading look. The nickname sent you spiraling till that final cord of restraint snapped.

"That's NOT MY FUCKING NAME!" You yelled and grabbed the man by his suit and burst the two of you to the balcony of The Pub. With a single arm you held Wilbur's writhing body over the edge. You'd learnt to organize your negotiations meeting at sunset or dusk in case something like this happened. Which it usually did but never at this magnitude. You'd never lost control like this.

Your wings were flared and tensed, your arm, stiff, at Wilbur's neck as you held him dangling over the edge from a VERY dangerous height. He choked as you tightened your grip. (Which was odd considering he didn't need air to breathe...)

You flinched at his noise. He didn't breathe air. You were actually causing damage. Possibly permanent if you didn't let go. So you stumbled back and released him on the wood of The Pub. You fell onto the ground and quickly cocooned yourself inside your own wings and held you head as the terror of permanently hurting someone sunk in. Hurting Wilbur.

All of this. This war. It was pointless. It was just YOUR anger. You were the only one angry in this battle. Wilbur hadn't DONE anything. Just being a prick but nothing worth lashing out the way you had. Tears streamed down your face and sobs wrecked your throat as you realized the purpose of this war.

The dumbass had stolen your heart. He'd charmed his way into it with each negotiation. Each smug remark and sly smile. Every wink and quip that would've made you roll over laughing had you not been so angry. This frustration you'd felt with every interaction with the ghostly man wasn't out of anger or rage from him dumping you with Tommy, though you were still pretty mad about that. It was from the fact you couldn't help but smile at his words after you were done fighting and you were alone. How you dreamt of being on peaceful terms and enjoying his company more than hating it.

Good God....you were in love with him. Obsessed with him even. He haunted your dreams in a way you didn't know anyone could. His words rang in your head with every movement of your body.

'It's called flirting, Darling Angel.'

'Y/N? What's wrong?'

Every small interaction when you hadn't been fighting was some of your favorite memories. God you'd messed everything up. He probably hated you. No. It was definite he did. You nearly just dropped him off a floating island over a small quarrel that could've been solved from maybe a small amount of yelling and an apology.

Something touched you. Something freezing cold but welcoming with the gentleness of its caress. Your feathers twitched involuntarily under that icy glance of contact. They relaxed and your body betrayed your want to be alone as one of your wings relaxed and allowed itself to be moved enough for Wilbur to poke his translucent body into your feathery cage.

You accustomed your 'cage' to shelter both of you as you wiped your face. The tears of knowing the man you possibly loved would surely hate you.

Wilbur had removed his glasses and coat. A long white sleeved collared shirt ran down his arms though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing the pale ish grey of his arms. And the scars. God the amount of scars on his arms was frightening but you could hardly react as more tears, hot with embarrassment, flooded your vision.

"Y/N...I'm sorry for what I did to hurt you. God I never thought it would go this far." Wilbur's gentle voice was like a melody to your ears. Euphoric and angelic. The apology soothed your anger enough for you to finally be able to focus on composing yourself.

"Wilbur I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have-" You started but felt a chill run down you as something cold was once again your tear stained lips.

Wilbur. Wilbur was that 'something' and it was a blessing. You didn't waste anytime returning the favor. His tongue was quicker to break past your defenses and soon it was numb again inside your mouth. Just like it was that day in the woods, except this time no one would interrupt you and anyone watching or listening wouldn't have a single thing as your wings hid the two of you from the world. Wilbur pulled away and cast a gentle touch up your face till he was cupping your cheek.

"Y/N, I never want you to apologize to me again. I did this. I caused you to lash out because I wanted your attention. I wanted you to look at me like you do Nikki. But more. I wanted to be more than your friend and I started my goal the only way I knew how. Provoking you until I was your main focus." Wilbur panted as he looked into your eyes. Those green irises practically glowing under the amount of emotion swimming in them.

"I can only pray that you forgive me. Forgive me for every wrong I've done and let me fix it. Allow me to make it up to you." He begged with a crack of his voice and you couldn't help but smile.

"Wilbur Soot...you are the single most aggravating man I've ever had the luck of meeting." You said through tears and pulled his collar towards you and kissed him hard.

This time you were going to surprise him. As soon as you felt his mouth part you sent in your tongue against his.

A gasp from him into your mouth sent your head reeling as you tugged at his vest and his hands ran through your hair.

The chill exploded a new kind of warmth through you and you smiled against the lips of the coldest man you knew.

"Angel, I love you." Wilbur said as you broke the kiss for a breath of air.

"I love you too Ghost Boy." You panted out and smiled as he kissed you again. Not the kind of comfort as before. But the one of a man who missed you. You. Not his enemy on the battlefield but you. The angel crying before the ghost. The kiss lingered and you felt something change.

You grabbed Wilbur's hands and lead him to the ledge you'd nearly dropped him off of before jumping with him before he had a chance to even register what was happening. With a smile you pulled him close with a kiss of your own and stretched your wings out, letting the wind lift you up and soar the two of you to a forest. The one where all your battles were waged.

And the one where the final negotiation of surrender would end without anyone to see the declaration of The Burning Wars coming to a close and you finally opening to Wilbur S. Phantom in more ways than one and him doing the same.

{Epilogue}

A few years passed and Wilbur had finally answered all your questions about him. His accident that cost him his wings and everything you might need to know about phantoms. His favorite food happened to be bread since it was easy and very relaxing to make on days he wasn't busy getting potion ingredients.

Which he also changed up. You become his partner at the Potion shop which was quickly renamed Fallen Angel Potions after the fact of Wilbur's accident and your origin.

The Fragrance Man was returned his sword after it was cut down to very poor conditions seeing as he was officially top of your creep list and owing him a favor was not on your bucket list.

It was nice. Blissful having Wilbur by your side. It was a marvel that the two of you had ever fought considered how close you were now. The old battlefield had flourished and was now overgrown save for a small patch in the middle which had been flattened by multiple rendezvous after work or just in your free time with Wilbur.

His trees were replanted and the lake basically turned into a whole wheat field around the trees of his dark 'mansion' and your birch cottage.

After a while, Philza Elytrian earned a daughter-in-law and Tommy Avian grew out his wings large enough to be able to glide into the ceremony as Wilbur's best man. Peace at last.

"I love you Angel."

"I love you too Ghost Boy."

°~•°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°~•

Ho. Ly. SHIT. This is the single longest one shot I've ever done on any platform and on any account. It got so cringe in the ending I'm sorry. I just wanted to get it over with I was so close.

Honestly I was gonna make it multiple parts but I've already got another fic lined up for a part 2 so I didn't want to do that and multi task. Its shitty at some parts I know but those parts are a LOT better than the original bits that were there.

It's slightly edited as I had to keep reading it to see where the fuck I was going with it most the time. I really enjoyed writing in Philza because what's a Wilbur Soot fic without a good Dadza?

Right then, watch out for my next piece. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you shitwads later! Love ya, I do I promise! 💙💙

#osmp #origins smp #c!phantombur #C!Wilbur soot x reader #Fem!Reader #minors dni #Tw: Implied 18+ #tw: violence #angst #enemies to lovers #origins smp wilbur #c!wilbur soot #phantombur #wilbur soot #c!Phantombur x reader

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

As a sorcerer, it is a curse yet as a blessing, that's what I am. For I am Daichi Pheon-X, a sorcerer who fights evil spirits with the flames of the Dark Pheonix within me. And Oh, this is my trusted partner, Eito! Nice to make your acquaintance!

A JJK OC blog focused on adventure, crack! and feel good rps. but also open to dark themes and angst!

Rules,

Daichi & Eito,

Verses

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Rules under read for mobile

Hi everyone! This is Dani, manager of Daichi! I am 25+ old. So here are the rules No hate or drama – I don’t follow people who stir up either.

I usually follow back when it’s a fellow RP blog.

I do not rp smut with Minor RPERS ( That is illegal )

I don’t mind OCs or any fandom, but if it’s a fandom I don’t know about then I might send you an ask so you can help me fill in what the fandom is about if it’s confusing. It will help us both! Or maybe surprise me!

As for OCs! I love OCS. After all, I am rping OC. That said, I don’t mind characters that seem like “sues”. So if you're a rper who is worried about your OC being 'sue', please let me know so I can help out. After all, I know the feeling when starting out as OC rper. I believe as an artist and writer, RPers can help one another, especially when they’re new to the game! I think building an OC is a starting point, what they need is a journey. By 'journey' I mean by threads to see how your OC reacts with their surroundings and the world in general. I believe it's a good way to build character development. OCs never stay what they are at the beginning. They grow. After all, OCs are like our babies, right?

That said, if I notice that you do not wish to develop well-balanced characters when getting feedback after several threads, I can’t follow you or RP with you any longer if it's not working.

Godmodding is not permitted. I won’t do it, so don’t please do it either. However, certain situations with an OP muse ( especially canon muses)  are acceptable, but I would prefer to plot it out (especially in a fight scene) before your muse does anything to mine ( like who wins or loses or ending in a draw or the fight is interrupted by external factors).

As for the font sizes, I can change the font size to match your writing style in a thread if you wish. If my font or format is hard to read or the opposite, just ask!

I have some trouble with my grammar, but if we’re writing together, I invite you to correct it. Sometimes I get overly excited and write as fast as I think and even after double-checking, I might miss a few things like typos or grammatical errors. My apologies and please let me know if I have a typo or is there anything confusing to you, I make sure to fix it right away.

Please message me or inbox me if you have ideas for plotting. I love plotting threads and planning them.

If I made a mistake in the thread, or if the reply is at all confusing, please! Just PLEASE tell me in IM or ask and I can fix it! If there’s a need for any clarification, please ask me and I will answer right away.

I might not get to every one of my threads every single day. I am sorry for any delay, but I can’t write if I’m stuck and I can’t write if I’m pressured. I won’t pressure you, so please don’t pressure me. This should be fun, right?

I create supporting characters or NPCs ( characters that are part of the story thread to move the plot along, like think of it as a mission or case.). If you need clarification, please hit me up.

I also draw my own icons! This includes Eito and Daichi/Kisho. Please, please, please do not take them without permission. I put a lot of effort into them by drawing them.

Note: if I unfollow you which is HIGHLY unlikely for me to do so….please assume it’s a Tumblr glitch or misclick on mobile  ( like I misclick the follow button when I want to click on the ask button and then follow you back which is a likely cause ) which does happen. It happened to me a few times and to others as well. If I plan to unfollow you, I will soft-block you and not refollow after a week. Because of this, if you unfollow me whether I unfollow you first or not ( and I don’t remember that happening.) I will send you an ask to confirm if it’s a Tumblr glitch. If that is not the case, please ignore the ask and I will understand thinking it’s a softblock and I will move on after a week of waiting. There are times when tumblr glitch happens to me!

Interacting with Daichi/Kisho

I love fighting and serious rp, as well as crack! So I’m flexible!

I have no qualms about writing problematic and dark themes. I mean this is JJK, right? Things get crazy.

I don’t mind RPing action, gore, dark or anything! (romance is rare)

Speaking of romance, romantic relationships are rare for me. If you request one, it needs chemistry and time between our muses ( a slow burn) especially if they have incredible dynamics. I don’t like when relationships between our muses don’t develop and go straight to romantic without any reason. I do not mind if your muse wants to date my muses but you must ask and it needs to have a good reason why though. I recommend a good story with a reasonable plot that can possibly build up a romantic relationship between them over time. That said, I have the right to disapprove if I feel if it doesn’t work out.

As for other ships, I mostly prefer platonic, rivalry, mentorship, friendship, enemies, frenemies, dependence, familial, sisterhood, brotherhood, and bonding. Again, romance is pretty rare for me but I’m not against it, it just needs development between our muses to get there. 

That said, I do not ship adults with minor muses in romance ships.

One more thing! You have  FULL permission for your muses to hit and discipline Daichi/Kisho, if he does something stupid or says the dumbest things. It is allowed and encouraged. Sometimes that guy needs a reality check and it’s a way to pull the reins on him if he does something crazy that is dangerous. So if your muse has the urge to smack him upside the head or bonk him because he does or says something stupid, please feel free. 

I think that’s all for now! If there is something that is not in the rules that you need to ask or have concerns about. Please let me know.

With that said, thank you so much for reading the rules! I appreciate it so let's have some fun!

#jujutsu kaisen au #jujustu kaisen rp #oc blog #self-promo #chunibyo-x-sorcerer #original character #jjk rp #mob psycho 100 rp #ao no exorcist rp #animanga rp