#THIS IS YOUR SIGN TO DRAW YOUR OCS AT FUNNY ANGLES!!!!!!!!

[calabridragon]

Why are u laying on the floor

[mosswillow]

Appropriate - Mob Boss!Bucky x OC

18+ Adult content, Dark, rape/noncon, punishment, violence, face slapping, spanking, oral (m and f receiving), more to come. this is DARK.

Summary: I thought I knew who I married... I thought. 

Word count: 1250  

A/N: This series is not one that I’m putting much thought into. I do maybe 1/4 the editing and read throughs as my other stuff. It’s just supposed to be dark and problematic and that’s it. I’m converting the first few chapters to an OC btw so be aware of that while reading. 

By clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over 18 and understand that the following content is dark and potentially triggering.

“Your outfit today was inappropriate Arla, I don’t want you dressing like that anymore. Understood?”

It was just too much, his constant need to dictate everything about my life.

“No,” I snapped.

“Excuse me?” His voice deepened into a tone that I knew meant he was at the very least moderately agitated.

I didn’t know this was what it would be like to marry him, that he would become like this. He was so nice when we dated, showering me with flowers and love. It all changed the second our marriage was final. He sat me down and told me who he really was, a criminal. He didn’t, or really wouldn’t explain what exactly he did. He only made it clear that he was the boss, the top dog in whatever gang he belonged to.

At first I tried to make it work. I married him for a reason. He was handsome and funny, had a charming personality that pulled in everyone around him. Within days of my marriage it was clear though that his possessive and controlling behavior was there to stay. Who he was when we were dating was a lie.

“I-I want a divorce,” I stammered.

He signed and put down his fork.

“Babydoll, I can’t let you out of this even if I wanted to.”

I stood and glared at him.  “You tricked me, I would have never agreed if I knew it was going to be like this,” I yelled.

“Lets calm down ok, I don’t want to have to punish you.”

My eyes widened in shock and I took a step back. He had always joked about punishment while we dated. It was a red flag that I had missed completely. During sex he would say dirty things. He would pull me onto his lap for a spanking. We experimented with some bondage and role playing. I was into it, and loved the dominance he showed. I loved being treated so special, likeI was so sexy that he couldn’t control himself. His mask was slipping during sex but I didn’t realize it. I thought it was a sexual preference but I was so wrong.

“You wouldn't touch me, you - you would never.”

“I’ll do what I like with you, you’re mine, now sit,” He commanded.

A tear fell down my face and he rolled his eyes at me which only made me more upset.

“I’m getting tired of this,” He sighed.

“So am I,” I took off, reaching the door and running as fast as I could down the driveway to the gate that protected Bucky’s property. I was fast but not fast enough. A large set of hands easily pulled me from the gate and I thrashed around in a blind rage.

“Hey, don’t hurt yourself,” I recognized Steve, Bucky’s right hand man’s voice and tried even harder to get away.

“Let me go!” I screamed, nails digging into Steve's arm and drawing blood.

“You’re just making it worse for yourself,” Bucky called as he sauntered lazily towards me.

“Fuck you!” I screamed.

Bucky gave a nod to someone behind me and moments later I felt a needle in my arm and was collapsing on Steve.

-o-

I woke up the next morning naked and sat up quickly.

“Good, you’re awake,” Bucky acknowledged.

I gritted my teeth and crossed my arms as he walked over to me.

“I’ve been too patient with you I think,” He stroked my face.

I brought my hands up to push him away and he quickly pulled back and slapped me. It wasn’t too hard of a slap but it shocked me into submission.

“No,” he yelled before returning his hand to your face. “You don’t ever push me away. ever.”

He put his thumb to my mouth and pushed it in slowly. I was so dazed that I complied immediately. The smirk he gave at my behavior pulled me out of the stupor. I wanted to bite his thumb off, the bastard.

“Bite and you’ll regret it,” Bucky growled.

I loosened my jaw reluctantly and let his finger explore my mouth.  When he finally pulled it out I shifted back and sniffled, pulling the blanket over my head in an attempt to hide.

“None of that doll,” He climbed over to me, pushing me down on the bed. The blanket was yanked from me and I was flipped over and held down.

A slap came and I jumped and cried out. It wasn't like the sexy spankings he had given me in the past. This was painful. Like really painful. He kept it up until I stopped fighting and took what he gave me.

I didn’t move as his finger prodded my entrance, only burrowed my head into the bed embarrassed at how wet I was. The tiniest moan escaped from him as his dick completely filled me.

“See, being obedient feels good,” He praised.

“Being free feels good,” I stupidly bit back.

The next slap came with a sudden increased pace. I cried out and tried to wiggle away but he grabbed my shoulders and thrust faster and harder. He flipped me back over and pushed one of my legs up over his shoulder.  I whimpered while he came and sighed in relief that it was over.

It wasn’t over though. He started going again but this time his full attention was on me. He was going to make me come, force me to enjoy the assault. I tried to think of other things but Bucky was skilled. He angled his dick in just the right way while playing with my clit. I didn’t have a choice. I came strong and fast, crying out in ecstasy while he watched with a smug look.

He left me without a word, walking to the closet and coming out dressed in a suit. He threw a dress on the bed and I took it gingerly. It felt like a normal day, him moving to the dresser to  pick a watch.

“Did you learn a lesson?” He asked, sliding the watch over his wrist and fastening it.

I nodded slowly and he picked a tie up and slid it on his neck.

“Let’s try, yes sir,” he scolded.

“Yes sir,” I said quietly. It was fucking embarrasing. I was a full grown women and hadn’t called anyone outside of clients ‘sir’. That was the point though, he wanted me to be humiliated. Or maybe he wanted to feel superior. Either way I did as he said and pulled the dress over my head.

“Yes, that’s much better, more appropriate,” He kissed me on the head. “I went ahead and got rid of anything that I don’t approve of. I was going to let you wear your old clothes in private but your little rebellion cost you that luxury.”

He left and I rushed to the closet, seeing that he did indeed go through my clothing. I started to grow angry as I realized that he had taken every pair of pants I owned. I liked wearing dresses and knew he liked me in them. I didn't want jeans on my sore bottom but the fact that he took them away enraged me. A pair of scissors sat on the counter and I picked them up. With shaky hands I brought the scissors to my skirt and cut. I looked in the mirror at the newly shortened skirt and held my head up high.

“Yes, that’s much better, more appropriate,” I whispered.

[writinginthedarkwood]

I had an idea for an OC if you want it. A woman/girl with a love quirk that makes it so anyone who looks her in the eyes falls madly in love with her with like everything that comes with it whether it be lust or possessiveness or snuggles and the person under her quirk is just the maxed out version of themself in love. She doesn’t intentionally use her quirk because she learned really quick how awkward it is to look at someone and them to propose so she wears a blind fold everywhere.

You didn't say who your favorite character was.... so I picked someone for you 🥰

Shoto Todoroki x Reader: Eye Love You.

“What a pretty little girl.” Your mother beamed with pride as the man smiled down at you. You were five, around the same age as all the other children who started developing their quirks when the first incident happened. Your mother and father felt like they had no reason to be concerned about your future powers. Your mom was a gentle heart, who could ease people's anxieties with a soft touch. Your father had piercing golden eyes that could see into the hearts of people, and find out who they loved the most. Both unique quirks, but nothing incredibly powerful. So when you woke up with the same liquid golden pools one morning, they were happy. You had hidden behind your mother's legs that afternoon, and she pushed you to say thank you to the man. “T-thank you.” You stuttered out, looking up to see the wrinkled face of the older gentleman. The man staggered back, gripping his head like he was in pain. “Sir are you alright?” Your mother asked, reaching out to touch him with her hand. He quickly stood up straight with a pained look on his face. “How much to marry your daughter? I have my check book right here!” He tried to grab your mother’s shoulders, she reeled back in horror, the shouting man starting to draw a crowd. “What are you talking about?” She picked you off of the ground and held you tightly to her chest. “Get away from us!” A patrolling hero strolled over to help, placing himself between the two of you and the increasingly more aggressive man. “Please mam, I love her! I’ll pay you any amount if you just give her to me!” The hero ended up escorting the man away, taking him into police custody as the man started to fight. 

Your parents have never outwardly said to you, that they fear your power. They didn’t have too. “See Y/N, we got you masks in every pretty color. This one even has sequins.” Your father said, trying to convince you to wear your blind fold. “But papa I don’t wanna wear a mask over my eyes...” You whined and cried, but eventually it became routine to wear an eye covering everywhere you went. You got fairly good at navigating the world without being able to see fully. Your eye coverings blurred the world, but didn’t completely darken it. 

Lost in thought you were startled by someone brushing past you sort of harshly, their shoulder shoving you to the side and forcing you to slam against the locker. “Ow!” You couldn’t tell who had pushed you so rudely, they continued to walk away without much of a glance in your direction. 

“Hey you!” A lower voice you hadn’t heard before called out from behind you to the person who gave you a push. “What?” The shover called back, annoyed. “You hurt this girl and didn’t say excuse me.”  “So?” 

“So you should apologize.” The voice was monotone, but stern. 

“Or what?” The bully sneered. A softer voice, like the person was trying to whisper spoke up. “Hey didn’t you know that’s Endeavors kid?” 

Endeavor’s son? You’d heard of him, but you’d think he would be too busy to stop and help someone from the Management class. “Hey man look, I don’t want any trouble but she was walking too slow. Sorry or whatever-” The kid said before shuffling off. 

“Are you alright?” Todoroki turned to you. You had a few good friends here, but most people generally ignore you. Rumors at your old school flew around that you would curse people who were mean to you, forcing them to fall in love with you and do your every wish. It was frustrating to have people view you in such a negative light, you’d never use your powers on someone on purpose. It was cruel to watch people lose themselves, you could ruin someone’s life with your quirk. Break up a happy home, destroy someone’s relationship in a flash. You’d only ever used your quirk by accident, and hated yourself for it every time.

It was easier not to have anyone too close to you. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. You didn’t have to say anything to him.” You angled your face to the ground, seeing the outline of his shoes. “Where are you heading?” Shoto asked. 

“I’m meeting some students from the support class in the library. We’re all working on a project together.” In management you got to work with a lot of other students at U.A. You might not be the best at punching villains, but you could run numbers and execute ideas in a group setting really well. “I’ll walk you there. I’m heading that direction too.” You didn’t know, but Shoto was actually head the exact opposite way. He had plans to return to his dorm, but for some reason he felt intrigued by you and your strange little mask and decided he would make sure you got to the library without any more trouble. “Oh, well great.” You smiled, feeling a bit shy. 

The next morning you heard a familiar voice call out to you. “Good morning Todoroki. Did you find that book you were looking for?” You asked sweetly. Surprised and happy he greeted you. “What book?” He asked, sounding confused. “The book you said you needed from the library last night, silly.” You giggled. Todoroki hadn’t checked anything out. He lied so you wouldn’t think he was just trying to walk with you. “Truthfully I didn’t really need anything. I just wanted to make sure nobody else bothered you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. He spent the entire night tossing and turning, picturing your lovely cheekbones and smile. “That’s very heroic of you, but I can handle myself.” 

“I’m sure you can. Can I walk you to class?” 

Everyday, Todoroki would wait for you and walk you to your classroom. Much to the jealousy of a few girls who felt a little obsessed with the quiet fire prince. He didn’t seem to care, or even really notice how popular he was. It took a few weeks, but he started to open up more of his personality for you to see. Making a few jokes, laughing a bit at your witty and sarcastic comments. You were both similar in the way that it took some chipping down to open up about things. The two of you sat outside in the sunshine, feeling the beautiful spring air in your hair. “My mom always loves the flower blossoms this time of year.” Shoto said quietly, he had his hands clasped tightly together in his lap as the two of you relaxed on a bench. “I wish I could see them. They smell beautiful.” Shoto was quiet for a moment. “Well why don’t you take your blind fold off? I’ll watch for anyone walking by.” 

Your heart lurched, this always happened. The closer you got with someone, the more comfortable they were being around you. It’s dangerous to not be on your toes, you thought. “I wish I could Shoto.” 

Without saying anything he loosened the knot on the back of your head, the thin cloth falling into your lap. You quickly covered your face with a gasp. “Shoto! That’s not funny.” You felt panic rise in your chest. “I need you to look away while I put it back on. I’m serious.” 

“I would never pull a prank on you. Do you trust me?” He said softly. Shoto reached out and gently took your hand and pulled it off of your face. He lead your chin to look his direction with his finger. You had your eyes shut tightly still. “Open your eyes Y/N. Please, I want you to see my face.” 

You wanted to cry. “Shoto, I can’t control my quirk.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I-I do.” You said meekly. 

“Then please, open your eyes.” 

He was beautiful. You had imagined what he looked like for weeks now, but you never thought he would look so lovely. Your heart lurched seeing the scarred patch of skin on his face. Your awe was quickly smothered by a wave of panic. “Shoto I’m so sorry, are you okay?” You reached out and grabbed his face, looking for any signs of a change in him.

“I feel perfectly fine Y/N. I promise.” He gave you the sweetest, slight smile. 

“Wait... does my quirk not work on you...?” You asked confused. 

“It doesn’t have too.” He leaned in, closing the space between you two and planting a soft kiss on your lips. He pulled away, admiring your stunned expression. “I already love you.”

[stardust-aesthetics]

Stepping Sideways Ch.1 (Umbrella Academy x OC)

The day was grey. Rainy and grey. Which meant most people would be flocking to the indoors. Staying at home, or going to work. Some might try to plan outings such as shopping or even going to a museum. Like an art museum for example.

Baz Matsen was one of those people. The art museum in the city was free, and heated on cold days, which is one of the reasons it became a safe haven for the teen over the last year. Open from 9 in the morning to 9 at night, Baz could spend most of the day there, and not be kicked out as long as they moved around every few hours.

Baz was also lucky enough they enjoyed drawing, so any guard who saw them more than one day in a row, just assumed they were an art student, so in the end it all worked out, except during winter holidays of course, that wasn’t ideal.

Baz never drew the paintings, they drew the people, specifically what would happen to the people. Baz was blessed with the power to see the future, although it was a pretty hit or miss power. Sometimes Baz could draw a person tripping and it would happen in the next two minutes, and sometimes what they saw wouldn’t happen till years into the future. It was kinda annoying, and Baz didn’t think too far into it, they didn’t want to mess with ‘destiny’ anyhow.

This rainy day was like any other rainy day for Baz. They sat on a bench, in front of several large paintings in a large room with a balcony that allowed people to see the art from other angles, a sketchbook balanced on their knees as they started a light sketch of a man running into a wall. They laugh to theirself as they push white blonde hair out of their face. They could see the man clearly in their head, accidentally walking into the white wall to their left, instead of the hallway 4 inches to the left.

A loud voice breaks them out of the funny vision inside of their head. “I’m just saying, if Five gets to start picking places for our family outings, I think I should get to pick as well.” A tall man with uncontrolled curly hair and leather pants complains to a dark skinned woman who seemed rather annoyed.

“Klaus you don’t get to pick family outings because last time your idea of a fun outing was watching you shop for 4 hours, and then insulting the rest of our fashion sense.” The woman says, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Behind her a few more figures filtered into the room, including a (very)large man, a small boy, another woman, and a grouchy looking male who scanned the room as if he was afraid of being attacked. His eyes scanned over baz, if only momentarily, before turning to the eclectic looking group, giving a small nod as they spread out through the room to look at the paintings.

Baz took this as a sign it was time for them to switch rooms, as the young boy had taken to looking at the painting right in front of Baz. He had dark hair, and wore what may have been a private school uniform, Baz had seen weirder, but something had stirred an image in the back of their mind. They start flipping through their sketchbook as a vision fills their eyes.

The dark haired boy stands in front of a large painting, dead center. There's a yell and then the sound of gunfire and he falls to the ground, blood splattering the painting in front of him. He looks up as there is more yelling, and more gunfire. He disappears after a few seconds in a flash of blue.

Baz blinks a few times, looking at their sketchbook, the image of the back of the boy’s head was in front of them, dated to about two weeks ago, that vision didn’t show the outcome. Ba scans the room, and up on the balcony are three men, all holding bags of various sizes. Baz throat tightens, they never interfered with a vision, then again they’d never been been this close to a murder scene.

“Uhh excuse me? Can you move a few inches to the left? I can’t see the painting.” Baz speaks up, deciding that today they were gonna tangle with destiny and fate. The boy is drawn out of his thoughts as he looks back at Baz. 

“Yeah sorry.” He steps sideways, away from the painting so it was now looking at it at an angle. Baz lets out a small breath, and starts flipping through their sketchbook, maybe they could make this work. 

They were running three people following them, yelling in a chaotic fashion, their voices all merged as Baz started to twist and turn through alleys. Left. Right. Duck. Stop. Continue. Left. Right. Left. Left. Climb. Jump. Left.

Baz blinks. That was going to be important. They reach into their pocket and write as much as they can in sharpie on the inside of their arm, with multiple other notes. They pull down the sleeve of their black hoodie, and stick their sketchbook and pencils in the backpack situated at their feet, they apparently had to be ready to run. Maybe.

The boy was looking at Baz strangely. His eyes were cold, much colder for someone his age, but Baz had no time to react as the loud ring of gunfire filled the room. Bullets spray the painting right where the boy had been standing. He looks over to the painting and then to Baz. “ You’re coming with me.” He grabs Baz’s arm before they can protest, and drags them over to where the other strange folks were beating the shit out of the three gunmen.

The boy drops Baz on the floor, as he disappears in a flash of blue light, appearing in front of one of the gunmen before tripping him, and disappearing again, only to end up behind the gunman with a small pocket knife, which Baz realizes was their pocketknife from their pocket.

The largest of the three gunmen is making a call, his words not quite making sense “Girl”, “Knew we were coming” “Umbrella”, were the words that stood out besides one right at the end. “Backup.”

Baz blinked and the three gunmen were down. Almost everyone had fled. Everyone except the group that had taken down the gunmen, and they were all looking down at Baz. The dark haired boy was holding out their pocket knife, and Baz takes it out of his hands, sticking it in their back pocket. “Well thank you for taking care of that very dangerous situation, I believe I should go before the police get here…” Baz says quickly, standing up. A knife embeds itself in the wall beside them, which Baz realizes was thrown by the Grumpy man who had checked the room earlier.

“You knew they were coming, didn’t you?” The boy asks, his tone harsh, yet curious.

“Nope, just getting ready to switch rooms you know? Just dumb, dumb luck.” Baz replies, taking the knife out of the wall, and dropping in on the floor.

“ Bullets hit exactly where I was standing, I would have gotten seriously hurt, but you asked me to step to the side.” He retorts back.

“I’m an artist, I couldn’t see the damn art.” Baz’s voice grows, they weren’t gonna win in a physical fight here, they needed to get out before the aforementioned backup appeared.

The large man looks as if he’s about to say something, but he’s quickly shushed by the dark skinned woman. “Look, we don’t want to hurt you, we’re just curious..” she says, stepping a bit closer. “And I heard a rumour that you’re going to tell us the truth.”

A/N: A New Fanfic, and I am so excited to share this! I love Umbrella Academy so much, and I’ve been developing Baz and their power set/story for weeks!

[cancerianprincess]

Birkin Bag (2)

|Part One|

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits

Warning: Language, Angst, Kidnap Mention(s), Mild Violence

Quick A/N: Didn’t plan on doing an OC, but still wanted ‘Reader’ to have a name, so you are Aniya, Aniya is you, & that’s “Y/N” for the series. That cool? Everybody got it? Aight bet 🙂👍🏾

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

____

“It’s been two days now, can’t we just kill him already?”

“No, stupid! Do you want to start an international incident?”

Erik could only roll his eyes at the bickering taking place in front of him. They couldn’t have possibly been professionals, because professionals never discussed business around their captive, or argue, to put it more accurately. Still, they weren’t totally inexperienced either, and that’s probably what pissed him off the most about this situation.

“Man whatever, I’m tired of this ‘being patient’ shit.”

“Well that’s what yo’ ass get for giving him the wrong injection! Ain’t nobody fault but yours he was out for a day and a half, we coulda been got somewhere with the operation.”

Him of all people, Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens, Prince N’Jadaka of Wakanda, had been taken down in his own home. And even if it was late when he got home from the range with Aniya, he still should’ve sensed them from a mile away. Though he couldn’t be too hard on himself, because thanks to the big, burly, Harambe looking nigga in the corner, he had given him a run for his money in that fight. That dude was damn near bigger than M’Baku!

“Fuck the plan, I’m bout to just shoot this nigga right now.”

“Tee, put the gun away. What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

Nevertheless, now wasn’t the time to think about that. Before the vaguely familiar woman could put a cap is his ass, Erik needed to concentrate on how to escape without breaking the promise to his aunt and cousins that he’d never go on another psychotic murderous rampage ever again.

“Please? Just one to the shoulder, that’s all I’m asking.” But Harambe wouldn’t give in to the whining.

“You heard what the man said, we gotta wait til she notices he’s really missing.”

His brain had been multitasking the entire time, dually focused on both the conversation and breaking free of his restraints, but when the word ‘she’ hit Erik’s ears, he only had to ponder for half a minute until it registered. There was only one female he was tight with that would think to immediately come to his aid in circumstances such as these.

‘It’s a trap.’

Alarm rapidly grew in the pit of Erik’s stomach, but he refused to let it show. He wasn’t sure how to make it happen, but if there was any chance to prevent Aniya from getting hurt, he would have to play it cool in trying to get the two captors to accidentally disclose pieces of their strategy to him.

“Aye...Aye!”

They turned around at his second shout, realizing that Erik was actually speaking to them now.

“Look, Jay, he’s finally talking to us,” the girl cooed, pretending to be honored. Her partner whipped to peer at her with a hint of panic. “How the hell you gon’ just throw my name out there like that, Tracee?”

She simply scoffed. “Bruh, you literally did the same thing to me, like just then.”

“And?” Jay shot back. “He been awake for a good minute now. Ain’t no telling what he already done heard.”

“Exactly. So stop bitching, aight? He gone be dead soon anywa-”

Erik cut into their dispute with an intentionally exaggerated laugh, which gave him precisely what he wanted.

“Yo, y’all funny,” he joked, drinking in their irritation expressions. Time to follow his asshole side with the playboy act. “Listen, y’all two real cute and allat, but say shawty, why don’t leave ol’ Magilla Gorilla over there alone and come talk to a real man?”

Tracee’s face fell blank for a second or two before brandishing a wicked grin that was semi-genuine. She retrieved something from the table they were working at and began stalking her way over to the chair Erik was strapped to.

“Yeah, gone head and cut me out these ropes, ma.”

He didn’t really except her to comply that easily, but if she got close enough, one good head butt would do the trick. All he’d have to then was get loose, grab the gun from her hip, and tag Big Boy one good time so he could dip.

But unfortunately for Erik, the woman advancing on him wasn’t about to let that happen in the slightest. Tracee knew if anything could weaken her prey, it was the file she held in her hand. Which is precisely why she threw it open in Erik’s lap after drawing her weapon, placing it to his temple. She nudged him with the barrel, silently prompting him to take a look at it.

“You know if I were you, I’d shut my mouth and open my eyes instead,” she purred. “Save as much energy as possible.”

Erik bore his daggers at her for another moment, but reluctantly did as he was told and inspected the image lying on the very top of the pile of paper.

“Because that smooth talking ain’t gonna get you far with me,” Tracee continued, her voice growing darker with each word she spoke. “Unlike it did with my sister, sadly.”

That’s when any sort of guard Erik had up began crumbling away.

He thought he recognized the crazy bitch towering over him, and when his gaze fell on the name at the top of the folder, he knew exactly how he knew her. Through clenched teeth Erik asked her, “‘The fuck is this?” His voice was low but the bass in it caused his barely audible question to be heard. Tracee responded with malicious snickering rather than an actual answer as she backed away from him slowly. Erik repeated himself again, only this time he roared it, finally tearing away from the black and white photo that was now burned into his memory.

Still the woman said nothing, merely flickered her eyes to a spot behind Erik to glance at the source that would rebuttal in her place.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, homie.”

It was a third voice that Erik had yet to hear since waking up in the foreign location, but before he was even able to identify it the third stranger struck him with something blunt, delivering a hard blow that knocked Erik out cold.

********

You felt something was up by the third day. Erik never missed a chance to taste your mom’s cooking, except for the rare cases when he was otherwise occupied. Even in those instances, he would always ask you to snag him a to-go plate to retrieve later on. So when he never showed up for dinner that Sunday afternoon without a heads up, it had been icing on the cake.

Granted, it wasn’t like the two of you constantly stayed up each other’s asses and talked every single day, but 72 hours of complete radio silence? No texts, no call, no stupid Snapchat, absolutely nothing. There hadn’t even been one single funny tweet sent to your DM’s and it just didn’t seem right. Plus, Erik’s fatass never turned down some good soul food, so after lumping two and two together, your better judgement was done taking the back seat. Something was definitely wrong.

“Your boyfriend not coming for dinner today, Aniya?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Ma,” you said, rolling your eyes at her obvious teasing. She merely smirked, thinking otherwise by how frequently you were checking your phone. You fed her the first sensible excuse that came to mind as an attempt to downplay it.

“The center has some kind of conference or something coming up, so they probably had Erik on call for the prep work. But because you’re so worried about him, I’ll go fix him a plate since he’s your ‘favorite child.’”

That had been several hours ago, the recent memory playing back of you ambling into the kitchen to mask your jittering leg. Now you were hurrying towards Erik’s front door, having practically sped over to his apartment the minute you reached your car. But after making the walk from the elevator, your hand stopped short of knocking, eyes alert once spotting that the door was already hanging open slightly. You inched it open a little further, tapping twice with your knuckles just in case anyone was still inside.

“Erik,” you called out. “Yo, you in here?”

No answer came so you proceeded to investigate with caution, but instantly felt a wave of queasiness bud in your stomach due to what you saw next.

Nearly everything in the main room of the two-bedroom had been trashed. The couch was slanted at an odd angle, no longer in its designated place, while both armchairs had been overturned on their sides. Shards of what used to be the glass coffee table laid scattered across the living room floor along with all the items it once held. There was even a rather large hole in the wall closest to the hallway. All clear signs that there’d been a struggle or fight of some kind.

As soon as shock loosened its grip on your body, panic took over and sent you searching through each section of the apartment, yelling for Erik the whole way. Your feet raced from room to room, your mind going twice as fast trying to piece together what could’ve possibly happened. None of them appeared to have been damaged; the kitchen, bathroom, home office, and Erik’s room all remained untouched, but unfortunately empty as well.

Returning to the starting point of your search, anxiety continued to flow through you as you placed your hands on your head, thoughts bouncing around like rapid fire.

“Who would attack Erik? And in his own house, at that? I mean, sure he’s done his fair share of wrong, but he’s been making up for it all since coming back from his first trip to Wakanda,” you thought.

No matter who was behind this or why, you knew you had to track them down quick before Erik relapsed back into his old ways, or worse. The list of enemies was potentially endless, with the outreach center opening and newest addition to the United Nations and all, but you figured you had to start somewhere. Right as you reached for your phone, racking your brain on where to even begin, it went off in your pocket. In fact, it buzzed continuously, signaling more than one new notification:

Unknown (3)

At first you raised a puzzled eyebrow at the screen, but given the circumstances decided to click on the messages rather swiping them away. When it opened the first thing you saw was a shared location, leaving you even more confused than just a few seconds ago. But when your gaze drifted up to the bubbles above it, confusion quickly evolved back into panic.

‘If you want your boyfriend back be at the old Stokely Warehouse by midnight. Come alone.’

The next one was even more grim than the first.

‘No cops or we put a bullet in his skull.’

You blinked at your phone several times, gradually letting your mind wrap around the seemingly unreal situation that was now at hand. You had to have been staring at it for a good bit, because you only zoned back into reality long after the device’s screen had went black.

And that’s when it all hit you like a ton of bricks.

Erik had really been taken by some mysterious ass goons.

Who had evidently been tracking his whereabouts.

Or the movements of the apartment at the very least. That had to be it, for it was the only way they could’ve known to send you the demand right then and there. And now they wanted you of all people to be the one to go and retrieve him.

But that was the question, though: why you? If it was money these people were after, you certainly didn’t have it. They should’ve hit up the Wakandan council for that; it wasn’t necessarily a secret anymore regarding their wealth, or Erik’s true identity, so demanding ransom from them would have made more sense.

None of that mattered now, though, because the bottom line was that your best friend was in danger. You registered the fact that Erik’s specific skill set would probably kick in and he’d off every last one of those dumbass bums, but instantly remembered that he was on a different path now. You were so proud of him for attempting to overcome all the traumas of his past and trying to shy away from the ‘Killmonger’ persona, and now who knew if this would trigger a setback for him? Just thinking about either dilemma and its following outcome was enough to launch your anger into overdrive.

You bolted from the loft, dialing a number while backtracking to your car. Starting the engine and reversing from the parking space in record time, you began leaving a voicemail for your boss when she didn’t answer. Not going into specifics, you simply spun a tale about some ‘family emergency’, knowing it would get you at least the next week off. That way, you’d have plenty of time to save your partner in crime and put the bitches in the dirt who’d started all this. Maybe ask questions first, if you felt like it.

But before any of that could happen, you zoomed through the night, shredding back to your place for a swift pit stop inside. Because if you were gonna do this, you would need the bag Erik had brought back for you from Wakanda.

~~~~

*Y’all I’m so sorry 😭😭 I know this one might have been a teeny bit long but it’s just how it ended up flowing but still, thanks as always for reading and sticking with it!! 💋”

|Part Three|

~Taglist~

@iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @eriknutinthispoosy @wheredidallthedreamersgo @sonofnjobu @bidibidibombaclaat @turn-thy-paige @ayellepea @another-imaginesblog @mzbritt @youreadthatright @chaneajoyyy @theunsweetenedtruth @marvelpotterlove

[anokaiwritingblog]

Branching Paths- Start

A/N- This is actually a multipart short story that breaks into two branches of two different point of views. These point of views are of my main OCs, Onyx and Echo. I wrote this not because I want to share these characters with others but also to show my ideal yandere through Echo. He was my first yandere I written and also expanded on. So without a further ado, here’s branching paths.

“If you’re scare, you can always cling on to me.”

Standing side by side in an eerie mansion was a pair of two strikingly different individuals.  The sound of thunder could be heard going incessantly outside yet no rain or lightning made an appearance. But paying that no mind, a pair of yellow and red eyes stare at each other with varying expressions. Playing on the face of the owner of those yellow eyes was an easy going smile. With a laid back posture and a hand in his pocket, the white haired male would have looked exactly like the definition of “carefree” if it wasn’t for the fact there was a heavy blush that dusted his light colored skin. Slowly, it can be seen that the blush grew even brighter as the equally red eyes before him stared back at him. These red eyes belong to a short woman who was staring up at the male with an equally embarrassed expression. Her black hair was a stark contrast to the albino’s white hair and her golden bronze skin seems to practically glow due to the numerous candles that were lit.

“Echo…” the woman start, “You’re so brave… not.” Without a hint of hesitation, the woman goes for a punch; landing an impressive hit on the male’s stomach. Instantly, he hunched over in pain and cradled his injured gut.

“Onyx… you’re too cold!” Echo whine. He looks up to face the woman before him with a clear pout on his face. There were beads of tears that were hanging off the corner of his eyes. With his stunning looks and this pitiful expression, this was a double whammy that would have broken anyone’s heart. Yet the woman looked at him with an unflinching gaze of annoyance.

“Stop playing around. Saying such cheesy lines like that is making me queasy,” Onyx spoke in a harsh tone. She then reached out and pinched the male’s cheek with one hand. Echo let out a little yelp as the dark skinned woman pulled at him. “And what’s with this act, huh? Knowing you, the opposite is going to happen instead. You’re going to jump at every little thing just to have a chance to cling on to me. Isn’t that right?” At her question, the female stared down at the male before her. Under her pressure, Echo couldn’t help but turn his eyes to the side.

“Well… you’re not wrong…”

“I knew it! You stupid god!”

It was a humorous scene to behold. If anyone was to walk in at this moment, they would see a much smaller woman dragging around a young man from wall to wall just by his cheek alone. Though it could be mistaken as bullying, there was more of an air of a mother scolding her child for acting up. Regardless of the feeling, it was a funny sight and it was taking away from the actual scenario at hand. Even the haunted manor was feeling a like a third wheel  with how its guests were acting. Almost as if nature itself was tired of this nonsense, lightening finally striked and the sound a heavy rain could be heard; drawing the attention of the couple.

“You better have learned your lesson. Next time you try to mess around, you’re ground from dessert for a week,” Onyx warns him, finally letting go of the young god’s cheek. With his cheek finally released, Echo quickly held his cheek in a defensive manner and stood up straight.

“No way! This is cruel and unusual punishment!” Echo complains. Though his childish complaints quickly took a turn when he covered his mouth. “But I mean… if you’re into punishing me, it’s something I can get behind,” he spoke under his breath, just loud enough for Onyx to hear.

“Hah?! Are you a pervert or-”

Before another round of scolding could being once again, there was another flash of lightning and thunder to break up the budding fight. Standing up straight, the two look deep into the mansion. The hall looked almost unending with no exit insight. It was well decorated and elegant yet the floating furniture made things clear that this isn’t a normal mansion.

“Hm, sounds like he’s getting impatient,” Onyx simply remarked, changing the topic. She crossed her arms as a bored expression settles on her face. Seeing how the conversation took a serious turn, Echo started to fiddle with his ear piece to make sure it was properly put it.

“He’s pretty eager for someone who’s going to die soon. You sure we’re related?” Echo asked, looking to his partner.

“Yup. I’m sure. Plus I’m sure your mother mentioned about it you,” the woman replies, causing the male to groan.

“Please don’t mention that hag. She’s a nutcase,” Echo spoke with an irritated sigh. The sound of this made the corner of Onyx’s mouth twitch a little. But she somehow managed not to laugh.

“Really now?” she spoke with a slight teasing hum in her tone, “I think you two are quite similar. She is your mother after all. It wouldn’t make sense if the acorn fell far from the tree.” At that, Echo gave Onyx a grieved expressions which cause a small smile to appear on her face. At the sight of the smile on the normally grumpy woman, Echo’s yellow eyes widen. He was opening his mouth to say say something about it but Onyx was quick to turn and start walking ahead. “Come on now, silly god. We don’t have all day,” Onyx said. She was already ten steps ahead when Echo finally snap out of his stupor.

“H-hey! Wait! Was that a smile?! Let me take a picture at least!” Echo exclaimed, doing a quick jog to catch up to the black haired woman.

“A picture of what? Honestly Echo, you should get your eyes checked,” Onyx remarked, what ever smile that was on her face was gone. Her ever usual frown was there as usual. At this, Echo internally sobbed a the miss opportunity.

The two beings walked for what felt like five minutes before they found a fork in the hall. Two paths built right next to each other. From what the two can see, both paths are practically identical with each other with no difference other than one being a left path and the other being a right one. Onyx nudge Echo and gestures to the fork.

“Which way is it?” she asked him. Echo observes the two paths before him with a concentrated look. He hand up, waving slightly as if he was feeling for something. First he feels to the right then to the left. He does this for some time, his serious expression turning into a confused one. Finally, his arm dropped to his side and looked to Onyx.

“Er, it seems like both paths would lead to him? I also checked and found that neither of them have traps or enemies… they’re completely the same,” Echo explains. He proceeds to walk up to the left path to inspect it a little more.

“Are you sure? Not even a trace of the Rot?” Onyx asked, “They wouldn’t have given us this mission if the task was this simple.” Mimicking Echo, Onyx walks to the right path and peers into it.

“I’m pretty sure. You can feel it too, right? The only signs of the Rot is from our target,” Echo told her. He turns to look at Onyx but his eyes widen when he felt an invisible barrier being enacted. “Onyx!” In a panic, Echo turns his body to run towards the female but Onyx raised a hand and shook her head. She took several steps forward before stopping right where the barrier is being put up.

“Don’t worry, Echo. Let’s play along for now to see what angle he’s going for,” she comforted him, “If anything happens, we can just break this wall. It’s a flimsy thing.” Though he could tell that Onyx was trying to pacify him, Echo couldn’t help but feel some anxiety for being separated like this. He wasn’t scared for Onyx. He knows more than anyone that she can handle herself. She’s the strongest person in the universe? Who could ever even think in going toe to toe with her? No… he was scare in being away from her. If she’s not by his side…

Knock knock knock

Almost as if she knew what was going on in Echo’s mind, Onyx caught his attention by knocking on the see through wall. When she noticed that she has his attention, she gave him a gentle look. She pressed her hand against the wall. At that gesture, Echo quickly pressed his hand against hers.

“Don’t overthink about, my prince. I’m right next to yo-” Unable to finish her statement the wall completed its build; silencing her voice on the other side. Though Echo frowns in not being able to hear her voice anymore, he does gain some confidence. The two gave an understanding nod to one another before turning to walk down their respective paths.

They’ll reunite in no time.

[Echo’s path] [Onyx’s path]

[spider-bih]

Rainy Kisses

Pairing: Peter x OC [Though you can read it like a reader insert bc I don’t go into much detail on my oc’s looks]

Warnings: None- unless fluff counts? And cursing?

This is a snippet from a fic I’m writing on a different website <3

Spring break had finally arrived. It was well deserved and much needed. The first day off she had slept in until about four in the afternoon- much to her boyfriends slight disappointment. He'd swung by early to see if she wanted to go for a little coffee date, but she ended up pulling him into her bed and cuddling him close. He was tired too, but he didn't want to spend the whole day sleeping, despite how much she insisted that he needed rest, even more than she did.

He gave in easily though. She was warm and soft, wonderfully cozy in shorts and a tank top. She wrapped herself around him the minute he changed out of his suit, lulling him into a deep sleep by tracing soft little patterns on his chest through his shirt and laying her head on his chest. It was the best sleep Peter had gotten in the past few months. He didn't regret a single second of it, even if he woke up wondering what year it was.

Seeing her all curled up against him had him grinning like mad for the rest of that day. His girlfriend was adorable..

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

The next day started off more.. productively. They were actually up in the morning, and not groggily so. They set off on their favorite kind of mini-date. The kind involving coffee and sweets. It wasn't the coffee or the sweets that made it their favorite, though it was a sweet little bonus to it. It was the soft smiles and brushing fingertips. The tiny giggles and adoring glances. It was the whipped cream on his nose and the pastry crumbs on her lips that he loved to kiss away. The way she tasted sweet as sugar for an hour afterwards, adding to the already sweet taste her lips had.

He lived for that sweet taste, his own personal drug, leaving him on a high for hours to come. He lived for the feeling of her hand holding his as they walked out, the warmth in the smile she wore and the way the sunlight spilled along her bright red curls. It was a sight that often took his breath away, a sight that had him yearning to kiss her and hold her and never let go.

However, he never once considered adding rain to the mix. They'd started dating in the chilly months of the year, filled with warm sweaters and laughter. Winter had faded into spring, and as they say, April showers bring May flowers. He never expected to get caught in it on their way back, so he was surprised when it slowly but surely began to pour down on them, eyebrows furrowing as he turned to look at her. She wasn't looking at him, not yet. Instead, she was looking up at the sky, at the grey clouds it was covered in. He thought she might be a little mad, considering the rain would ruin the extra sweets they had in a brown paper bag. She was far from it, an even bigger smile pulling across her lips as she let out one of the most joyous laughs he'd ever heard from her.

In that small moment, he'd learned something new about her.

She loved rain.

Her face turned to him, still smiling and laughing, causing him to do the same. It was pretty funny, of course their luck would lead to this. Lead to them being one of the few people caught by surprise in the rain with no umbrellas- not even hoodies to shield them from the rain that fell on them. He found himself falling for her all over again, melting into the happiest puddle at the sight of her. His heart was signing and flying in his rib cage, smiling that dopey smile while she continued to giggle, tilting her head to the sky to let the rain drip onto her face, welcoming it with outstretched arms.

"This is perfect!", she cried out happily over the pouring rain.

"Yes, you are..", he found himself murmuring, not caring if he was heard. Which he was, making her pause to look at him with red cheeks.

"That's such a cliché thing to say, you dork.."

"Guess I'm cliché then.", he hummed, stepping closer to her, hands reaching up to cup her face. He was having one of those moments again. The ones where his feelings overpowered him, his usual awkward and sometimes shy demeanor falling away, a surge of confidence and pure adoration filling him instead. He angled his face slightly, lips brushing against hers, her heart bursting in her chest the moment he uttered out, "I absolutely adore you..", against her lips before pressing a kiss to them.

He sighed into her, her sweet taste making him weak at the knees. Her lips were wet from the rain, as were his, but it didn't feel as funny as he thought it might. He wasn't sure if it was because he was too into the moment or not, though, he was sure he didn't care. The sweet smell of her perfume mixed in wonderfully with the warm caramel drink she'd had earlier, drawing him in closer, making him become greedier. A soft whisper of his name had him groaning into her, gripping her face a little tighter, pressing himself a little closer to her. 

His hands soon fell from her face, shifting to grip her hips tightly while her arms draped around his neck, pulling him to her, only allowing him a short break for air before pulling him in again. Greedy for his kiss, her fingers finding their way to his hair, running through his curls. He could kiss her forever, and he absolutely wanted to. He loved the feeling, loved the thought of having his entire world right before him, kissing him back with as much emotion as he was. Softly tugging at his hair, breaths becoming heavy, sometimes mumbling his name in between kisses. She had him turning to mush, thoughts swirling and spinning, yet somehow all focused on her only.

This was the longest they'd kissed without being interrupted. They were the only ones standing in the middle of the sidewalk, kissing in the pouring rain. Basically, they were being that couple. The couple that decided to ignore the world and kiss each other unashamedly in the middle of anywhere other than privacy. Though, they didn't care. Not within the slightest. Not even when a person or two speed walked past them, muttering in disgust or irritation.

Still, neither of them cared.

There was always a calm before the storm..

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

"Can't fucking believe we got sick..", Ariel hissed before blowing her nose into a tissue.

"Well- it usually happens-"

"It does not! Everyone always says you'll get sick- but it never happens! Now we're sick on our Spring Break.", she pouted, wrapping her blanket tighter around her.

He just grinned a little, even sick with a red and runny nose, she looked cute- but no matter how much he wanted to kiss her- he wasn't gonna. He was sure she'd actually hit him this time if he tried again. She'd already mushed his face four times, whining about how gross she was and how they'd never get better if they shared germs, "At least we're sick together."

"Oh so now you're optimistic? Last I heard, May said you were whining like a baby that you were dying this morning-"

"I was not!"

"I heard you over the phone, Peter. My Mom had you both on speaker."

He huffed, "Your word against mine."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"This is your fault."

"What? How is this my fault-?"

"We could've ran back to my place! But nooo, you had to kiss me! You just couldn't help yourself-"

He gave her a little glare, sniffling as he stared her way, "I didn't hear you complaining while we were kissing. I'm only hearing you now, after the fact! You could've stopped me-"

Ariel sneezed, "Its so rude of you to argue with your sick girlfriend-"

"What? You started it!"

"I did not! I'm gonna tell May on you-"

"Oh, so we're five now? Five year old tattle tales-"

"Right. Snitches get stitches. I'll get you back on my own-"

He glared again, "Go take a nap, you're acting like a child-"

"You go take a nap, I'm fine!", she huffed.

"Ariel. Your eyes are struggling to-"

"Shhhhhut up."

"I don't get enough kisses for this-"

"Well because of you, neither of us get any kisses for awhile!"

He huffed and blew a raspberry at her, earning himself a pillow to the head, "I'm keeping this one this time!"

"Rude! Give-"

"Both of you take a nap! I left for five minutes and you're acting like kids again, this is why neither of you are getting better. Ariel, you really need to sleep before your Mom comes to pick you up from work. I'm scared she might actually drag you out by your feet if you throw a mini-tantrum again."

Ariel and Peter looked to each other for a moment, then back to May, both blowing raspberries her way. She only sighed and fought back a smile.

Ah, young love-

[feralphoenix]

best of 2016

i actually did write some things other than undertale this year, but this top 10 is undertale all the way down.

01. love does not make me gentle or kind (Undertale - Chara/Asriel, ensemble); February

And so this is how—Sans bossing you every step of the way—you wrap both your hands around Papyrus’ middle and carefully, carefully lift them up into the air. Judging by the squealing and wild waggling of tiny fists and bootied feet that ensues—that and Sans’ laughter—Papyrus is enjoying it too. You can’t help it—you start to grin.

“Nyooooom,” you croon, gently making Papyrus “fly” around you and Sans while the skeleton siblings both laugh. “Nyoooooooooom.”

You swivel your waist, still making zooming noises and grinning like an idiot—and there, in the doorway between the living room and foyer, is Chara: Standing still with one hand on the wall, with an expression you’ve never seen them wear before. There’s something raw and burning in their eyes, intense enough to give you chills even though there’s no anger or hostility there at all. They reach up to clench their left fist around the locket that sits golden and glowing against the black yarn of their sweater, and they never look away from your eyes even once.

As you bring Papyrus back down to sit in your lap, Chara startles a little and turns to their left. Prase is there, one pale hand on their left shoulder, shaking their long orange hair back. They ask something, so quiet that even you can’t hear them, and Chara makes a face and signs something to them. Prase signs something back. Chara wrinkles their nose and starts to smile. Both of them begin to laugh.

All the happy bubbles in your stomach from playing with the baby pop, leaving something sour in their wake.

a four-years-later followup to somebody out there needs you. the previous fic was a portrait of the repercussions of this series’ premise for chara, so this one focuses on what the far-reaching repercussions are for asriel and how he’s grown. the main plot revolves around chara trying to take a few steps towards independence and asriel, who over the past eight years has formed big chunks of his identity around being their caretaker, balking Very inelegantly.

at the time i remember this being very controversial characterization for asriel, lmao... but i like to depict the ugly parts of codependency to really show how unhealthy it is for everyone involved. expanding the worldbuilding for this series, and further developing the soul ocs who appear (prase and rufus), were also really fun.

02. don’t you let the thunder in (Undertale - Frisk & Chara, Toriel, the Player); February

They skip across the cracked-floor puzzle in light steps that don’t match their usual careful gait and they breathlessly hum Toriel’s old lullaby and they miss all the exact same pitches and it’s too much, it’s too much.

What’s wrong? they think at you. Their concern and uncertainty seep syrupy and horrible into all the wounded parts of you and it’s only then that you realize your helpless panic and rage must be bleeding into them the same way.

You want to tell them nothing but it’s too raw and you can’t, so: You scream instead, curl up and rage. You’d cover your ears if you were corporeal, if you had a hope of blocking them out. Stop looking, you howl. Cry. You want to throw things and stomp your feet and punch the wall and grab something sharp and slam it through your brain. Frisk flinches. You want claws so that you can dig them into wherever your minds connect and tear yourself away.

I’m sorry, they say, and they’re miserable and you’re miserable and you hate it, you hate it. I’m not doing it on purpose.

Figure out a way to STOP doing it! you shriek at them. You’re aware that you’re not helping, that in general it’s not going to do any good to throw a tantrum like a ten-year-old, but—but you ARE just a ten-year-old. So are they. You’re just a couple of stupid kids. It’s funny. It’s just—so funny.

a fic that i wrote for a friend on the premise of frisk and chara’s bodysharing/soul link also involving mindsharing, and the difficulty in drawing and maintaining boundaries. the same friend wanted to see a little more work involving the player as a neutral or benevolent entity, since undertale players irl aren’t uniformly evil but it’s really rare to see the player appear in fic except as the Ultimate Badguy(tm) or as a self-insert in sans/reader fics.

anyway, i alternated perspectives to show how the weird mind meld is hard for both kids, and the little hints about how they might work it out to something more beneficial and symbiotic in the future.

03. the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul (Undertale - Chara/Asriel, Chara & Asgore, ensemble); March

“If—it wouldn’t be imposing,” you begin, and falter. Take another deep breath. Let it out. “I want to learn how to fight, too. Will you teach me?”

Asriel’s eyes go wide, his expression blank and shocked—but behind him, Asgore breaks out into a wide, proud smile.

“Of course I will teach you, my child,” he says, every word filled with warmth. “I would be more than happy to help you learn to defend yourself.”

Your hands shake a little as you breathe out, relieved. “I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I know that I’m not—very strong to begin with, and there will be difficulties because of my problems with mobility, but—”

“There are ways to compensate for those things,” Asgore says. “If this is what you want, then we will find the methods that work for you.”

Your vision blurs, for a moment. The smile that steals across your face is shaky, probably ungainly and too-wide—it feels so much more natural than the contained expressions you’ve learned to produce for the sake of interacting with strangers. But the birdsong and sunlight in your chest make you feel warm and weightless, and you don’t care, you don’t care; finally, you have a place to start.

Asriel pushes back from the table in a great scrape of wood on wood, erupting from his chair and rising to his full height.

“No,” he says.

Your heart seems to—stop in your chest, for just a moment.

“I beg your pardon,” you say.

this one is a three-years-later followup to love does not (listed above). i wanted to follow up on the events that the previous fic had set in motion, with chara’s desire for change vs asriel’s fear of it. since asriel was a very unreliable narrator in love does not (and chara was also pretty unreliable in somebody out there needs you), from chara’s adult perspective we get a clearer picture of the ways that asriel’s overprotectiveness and control issues are harmful.

unfucking codependent fuckhell continues to be a cherished hobby. it was also a lot of fun to write the combat training scenes here and start to build groundwork for improving chara’s relationship with toriel too.

04. like ships had come home in me (Undertale - Frisk & Chara & Flowey, ensemble); April

One of the interesting things that’s happened as a result of monsters rejoining the surface world is that there’s been a great surge of interest in “retro” things from the humans who’ve welcomed them. Up until Alphys fixed up all kinds of new gadgets and appliances for everyone, at least, all monsters had to use of technology was whatever humans had thrown away and made it into the Waterfall dump in one piece. Sympathetic humans have helped the monsters get used to new technology, but monsters’ familiarity with old things makes them exotic in the eyes of young people.

This especially goes for entertainment. You’d guessed as much from Alphys’ Mew Mew obsession, but sometimes all the monsters could scrounge of human media was decades old—while everyone was more than happy to try out new things too, they still had a lot of love for everything they’d enjoyed in the underground. This brought old human fans out of the woodwork, and made new ones out of monster sympathizers, and, well.

Somehow or other this led to the revitalization of some things that were still new when Chara had fallen into the underground a hundred years ago. The old multiplayer game about squids fighting over territory with paint, for one.

“You think of this as new,” Chara says with despairing fondness, “but I never got to play this kind of stuff when I was alive. I was never allowed to have my own video games! Ree was, but he had, like, this ancient SNES and that was it.”

“Hey, shut up,” Flowey interjects from your lap. “You had fun with it. I know you did.”

“Once I got over my perfectly reasonable disgust that you thought Super Mario was the cool new game in 2015,” Chara says archly. And to you: “We found an N64 a couple months before we… y’know. He cried.”

this piece mostly started out as a way to explore the flowey-joining-everyone-on-the-surface concept because this angle on his characterization isn’t something i see very often in that context (or, uh, any other). the story winds up following two narratives - the trio’s adventures on the surface in the year after breaking the barrier, and also how flowey and chara sort of “came out” to everyone about their true identities, for lack of a better term.

it’s all mostly positive postcanon stuff with some wistful things and (naturally, because it’s me) trauma recovery-related content too, and i think it came out pretty solid.

05. a wish you tell a star and no one else (Undertale - Chara/Asriel, Asriel & Alphys, ensemble); May

Heat rushes into your face and chest, and you curl up like you’re a kid again—too shy to try to break down the barriers of politeness and status between you and your subjects yourself, and with no one willing to break them down for you except for Chara, who came from a place where your status never meant anything. “I guess,” you say.

They curl up next to you, shaky. You wonder what it is they’re holding in. The desire to order you not to talk to Alphys anymore, maybe, or a plea that you not leave them alone. It’s so weird, being in this position, after all the time you spent terrified that Chara would be the one to leave you for all their new friends.

It’s also weirdly embarrassing, watching Chara at least try to keep jealousy and anxiety buttoned in, when you were such a mess about it for such a long time. To teenage you’s credit, it’s probably easier to do when you have a lot of friends and you’re twenty-five, versus being fourteen and suddenly having to fight with the very human who’d scared your partner half to death for their attention.

But you’re gratified too: That they value your attention and affection so much to fear losing it, and that they respect you enough to urge you to do what might make you happy instead of clinging.

So you wrap your arms around them and hug them tight to your chest, closing your eyes and resting your chin atop their head again. “Thanks for encouraging me,” you tell them. And, after a pause: “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chara doesn’t say I know or try to joke. Instead, they make fists on your sweater and tremble a little, and they say “thank you” in a voice so tiny you almost don’t hear it over your father and Innig’s footsteps off in the middle of the garden.

a four-years-later followup to the subtle difference (listed above). this fic returns to asriel’s perspective, following a number of various plot threads - his upcoming coronation, the need to find a new royal scientist, his first friendship aside from chara and their social circle, and his attempts to propose to chara. it was a very ambitious story and covers a lot of character development on asriel’s part that was a long time in coming for this series.

doing the asriel+alphys friendship was unexpectedly fun and rewarding. they’re not characters i see written as friends very often, and the setup for this series allows them to have a very different dynamic from canon.

06. you in your veil and your pale white dress (Undertale - Chara/Asriel, ensemble); July

It’s good to be curled up half on Asriel’s lap and with your legs bent up over Prase’s, your toes on Undyne’s jeans. You have your pizza boxes propped on your own lap where they belong, topped with tomato sauce and substitute pepperoni and steamed peppers and none of that awful cheese; everyone else’s pizzas are more or less free-for-alls, with only yours and Liron’s clearly labeled in bold marker, since the others’ food generally has things that neither of you can eat.

You’re hungry from more or less skipping lunch earlier, you’re relaxed and sleepy from your afternoon spent messing around with Asriel, and as noisy as everybody is, it’s very calming to be here, amongst a friendly press of bodies—amongst people you like and whom you know are safe. Your and Asriel’s work is important, but it’s draining, so these chances to kick back are very valuable.

“Anyway, what are we going to watch tonight?” you ask. “I know we agreed on Sailor Moon last time, but I don’t think I’m quite steady enough for arguing with Alphys over whether the nineties adaptation or the reboot is better.” You having been introduced to the series by reading the manga at the library and her first finding it through someone’s discarded box set of the first anime, your opinions on the subject are very different. Debating it can be fun, especially since you do agree that you’ve got the right to think how you want even if you’re both pretty sure the other is dead wrong, but it can be stressful if one or both of you have brittle nerves.

Alphys, who understands this even if her anime opinions are occasionally incorrect, grins and shrugs, nodding. “Th-that’s fair, I think,” she says. “D-does anyone else have requests?”

a five-years-later followup to a wish you tell a star (listed above). it mostly deals with the separate plot threads of wedding preparations, the current state of chara’s recovery, and chara making friends with astis over the book kitchen and sharing food. aside from the literary references part of the plot, there’s a lot of discussion of chara’s past trauma and their frustration with growing up nonwhite & marginalized in a very white area with no connection to their cultural heritage.

this fic also happens to be a nice example of a plot that flagrantly disobeys the western conflict-centric model. i got a lot of confused and/or curious comments from people who didn’t know how the story still works and is entertaining despite its lack of overt conflict sources/things going wrong or getting worse. i don’t know whether to be smug about this or despondent that the conflict model is the only one western education will ever touch.

07. under my skin, there will be flowers (Undertale - Chara/Asriel, Yellow Soul Human); September

“Chara, when we talked about this earlier… you said you meant to… to destroy your whole village, when we were kids. I dunno... I don’t think your feelings, the hatred and resentment that made you want to do that, are bad or wrong. But I’m still glad that I was able to stop you, because taking people’s lives away is… it’s a really serious thing. It’s bad, you shouldn’t do it unless you have no other choice.

“I stopped you then. I… Chara, you’ve made it this far without ever gaining any LOVE. Wouldn’t it be great if you could avoid that now, too?”

“It would be,” you agree. “It would be great if there’s a way to end this with no one killing and no one being killed. But just like you acknowledged yourself, there are some situations where you don’t have a choice. You’ve hypothesized that that’s how it may even have been for the human, haven’t you?”

Asriel huffs. “Well, yeah, but.”

“If the situation arises where it’s kill or be killed,” you say, gentle as you can, “I will kill. Because if it’s her life or your life, your life is more important. To me—to the whole underground. I won’t let you die, Ree. If the only way I can keep you alive is to kill someone, I’ll do it. I can live with that. I know it may not sit easy on your conscience. You’re a better person than me, after all. But even if it makes you hate me, I won’t let you die.”

Your voice wavers only a little on that last sentence. Asriel holds you tighter.

“I won’t hate you,” he says, soft and velvet. His nose presses against the crown of your head. “After all the talking I did about how having LOVE doesn’t automatically make somebody evil… golly, I’d be such a hypocrite to. I’d still love you no matter how much LOVE you gained, even if you did really bad things—the kinds of things I couldn’t forgive. I’m always going to love you, Chara. That was the choice we made—all the years we’ve put into this.”

a four-years-later followup to you in your veil (listed above). whereas the previous fic had no conflict, this story is very tightly focused around conflict: how to prevent the new violent human from killing anyone, and also the friction between chara and asriel over methods. plus the fact that something’s definitely fucky here.

this fic was fun to do because the setup is basically playing undertale but from the defensive side - chara and asriel remain in new home where asgore is in canon, and spend most of the story directing their deputies, planning, and arguing about those plans while holly progresses through the underground.

although this fic ought to have been asriel pov based on the alternating pattern i set up, this story is really chara’s, no way around it. so i gave asriel the pov for ycouyo 6.5 instead (lmao) and let chara take center stage where they belonged.

08. the first shoots of green after a wildfire (Undertale - Flowey, Chara); September

The human child emerges into the light. They’re wearing clothes he doesn’t recognize—jeans heavily stained in dirt, orange-and-yellow striped hoodie with a cutesy leaf pattern on the sleeves. They’re shouldering a heavy-looking black backpack. Their hair’s in the same rough bowl cut as it was when he last saw them, and they don’t seem to have grown much. Their eyes are still hooded in the bright light pouring from the hole above him, but he can see slivers of red iris beneath their protectively lowered eyelids.

Flowey thinks about saying something rude and nasty to make them go away, and a little to see what it will make them do, little to no hope though there might be of getting pacifistic Frisk to lash out and end his miserable existence for him. Then he sighs and droops. “Do you seriously not have anything better to do?” he asks. It comes out sounding whiny.

They trudge stoically up and start shrugging out of their backpack, setting it down at the edge of the golden flowers that mark Chara’s grave. It clanks. If there’s a flowerpot and a trowel or something in there, he will scream and hide in the soil for a million years.

“C’mon, Frisk,” he says with a sigh. “I told you already—I don’t want to subject everybody else to some accident of science that’s missing his love and compassion glands. I’m fine with this.” He is a lying sack of shit, but this isn’t at all new. “Go home. Go be with the people who love you.”

“Frisk can’t come to the phone right now,” they say, a little flat and a lot sarcastic, and Flowey feels some phantom jolt in the vicinity of where his heart would be if he were still a monster.

i got the idea for post soulless pacifist chara trying to make things up to flowey using the only method the player has ever taught them (i.e. indiscriminate acts of violence) and it was just so awful and wrenchingly sad that i had to write it.

doing flowey’s pov for the first time was a fun way to flex my characterization skills, and this is one of only a very small handful of undertale fics i’ve done in third person.

09. to rest in crypts and wake in gardens (Undertale - Chara/Asriel, Frisk & Chara & Asriel, ensemble); September - November

“You’ve—fallen down, haven’t you,” they say, and take a step closer. “Are you all right?”

You shrug a little. Where are we? you sign, not thinking. I didn’t think anyone lived on the mountain.

“Oh,” they say again, eyebrows raising. And—so quickly that you can hardly believe it’s happening—they raise their own hands and sign along as they reply, “Technically, no one does. These caves are inside Mt. Ebott, not on them, and they’re certainly populated.”

I can hear, you sign back, stupidly, rudely, because that’s definitely what you need to say to someone who’s courteous enough to reply in the same language instead of being mean to you when they see you trying to communicate. You flush so badly that your ears feel scalded. Sorry, you add feebly.

The person actually smiles a little as they drop their gaze. “That’s all right,” they say, and then look back up at you hastily. “I didn’t want to assume either way, and now I know.” They rub at their upper arm in what you think might be self-consciousness, and then reach the same hand up to squeeze their pendant. “I am Chara,” they say, and then they finger-spell C-H-A-R-A for you, and show you a sign you don’t know: It looks like the sign for knife but in reverse, their right index finger sweeping towards their chest instead of towards you. It has to be their name sign. They make it a second time, and this time you repeat it. They smile again. “That’s very good. What do you like to be called?”

You spell F-R-I-S-K for them, and follow it up with the name sign you chose for yourself—an F with your right hand tapped twice over your chest in the same place as the sign for heart.

Chara mimics you, getting the sign right on their first try. “Frisk?” they ask, and they smile when you nod. “And what pronouns do you prefer?”

The relief that rushes over you when they ask this is as tangible as if someone has wrapped you up in a warm blanket and given you a tall glass of strawberry milk. They, you tell them, smiling.

This time they grin. “Will you look at that, we match,” they say.

a four-years-later followup to there will be flowers (listed above). this story shifts to frisk’s perspective as we follow them from their fall into mt. ebott through their adventures exploring the underground, guided and assisted by both chara and asriel. this allows for both an examination of the smaller changes in the world that have been created by this au’s setup, and for a comparison with the canon neutral/pacifist storyline of undertale.

i’d planned for this scenario literally before i wrote the second fic in this ‘verse, so it was really rewarding to finally get to write it. i originally planned to post it all at once, but it became so long that i had to split it up into chapters by area...

10. remember weather by the voice of the wheel (Undertale - Frisk/Chara/Asriel); December

You’re not old enough to buy things online yet, so you pull your mother aside late at night when Chara is in the shower and Frisk is upstairs. “I can pay you back for these later, I think,” you say quietly just in case, “but Frisk and Chara have been really miserable this year and I want us to have some nice memories of the holidays too, dang it.”

She doesn’t chastise you for saying “dang”; she just lifts your phone to give it a look herself, producing her reading glasses to appraise the pages more closely.

“This is very thoughtful of you, my son,” she says at last. “I would be happy to help procure these gifts. And—because I know that they are quite expensive—I would also be happy to negotiate a few extra chores in place of part of the price, if you would like.”

There were several timelines when you had the entire supply of gold in the underground to yourself. While in many ways you’re relieved to just be the prince instead of an aberration with godly time-warping powers, having to go through Mom or Dad for your allowance is not one of them. You sigh so that she’ll know how very put-upon you are, and that you’re deliberately choosing to be Mature when you say “Okay, Mom.”

return of the son of frisk and chara are jewish because i say so, the end, so there!!! it would be nice to start a tradition of hanukkah stories for every year i’m still writing undertale...

anyway this wound up being... mostly a story about trying to enjoy the holidays and find a way to keep your head up even when times are tough, both in a general sense (microaggressions) and a personal one (the kids’ various traumas).