#like a drubble but not sure

[visionsofmagic]

just came to my mind, so, I wrote. thanks!

leon s. kennedy [re: 4 remake]

you were staring without any shame.

you stared at him all day but when he removed his jacket, allowing you to see him with a t-shirt that stays good on his well built body enough to make you stare more.

however, he knew it. how could he not when you were standing right there as he kept looking at same loot, probably bullets, on the cabinets of an abandoned house in the village, far away from those odd things seemed like humans.

your weapon and bullets stayed on your belt, so, there was no need to rush when he needed more than you do but that didn't mean you could not sit there and watch him while he was breaking something to get ammo.

however, it was the third house in which you acted like this and Leon for sure decided to remark what you were doing aloud.

"liked what you see?" he finally asked, smirking a little with some sparkles on his eyes as he kept doing what he was doing.

"truth?" you asked, confident.

"yes, truth."

getting up from where you were sitting, you slowly reached him, putting right hand on his shoulder only to feel his tensed muscles under it and blushed face.

"I wouldn't look this long if I didn't like it." you said with a kiss on Leon's cheek, giving him more pink color on the face.

winking, you went for the door, ready to leave after turning to frozen Leon who stood still with shocked face with your sudden but open gesture, kissing him like it was a daily routine of yours - oh how you wanted it to be a daily routine.

"c'mon! did I affect you that much?" you teased, already knowing the answer but still curious about his reaction.

Leon shrugged, looking so cute while pretending it meant nothing to him. "no. not at all. it was just a kiss, I get it every day."

chuckling to his response, you opened door and when Leon took a step forward, you pointed to a place behind him, "you forgot to take the gun back pretty boy."

touching his body, he realized he left his gun on the table while he was putting additional mechanism on it and he was going to leave it behind only because of you.

smiling widely with pure happiness, you added before getting out, "didn't affect, my ass."

and you left him there, looking like a tomato with his cute face. he really was making you happy, wasn't he.

🟣

[dross-the-fish]

Can we have a little drubble about Selma’s reincarnation afterwards someday? How were her first days go?

You certainly can, I plan to write a second part to this but I covered the resurrection itself here from Selma's perspective and will cut forward to her first days after part 2.

.....

Harsh. White. Searing.

A painful light invading her eyes. Too bright.

It hurt.

She tried to speak but the sounds coming from her tight throat and thick tongue were garbled. Her skin was on fire, everything was cold and hot, shocks traveling through her body.

“She’s alive!” a voice, familiar and distant.

The sound of scrambling and booming, thunderous laughter.

Eyes squeezed shut. Pain, noise. Everything too much.

She lifted a heavy wrist.

A hand. Large. Shapely. Different. Familiar, grasped hers. So hot it burned. She clutched tighter as the world around her began to sharpen.

Voices speaking, too loud and fast to make sense, blurry, fuzzy. Her head was full of sparks.

Slowly sight and sound came back into focus. A large figure was shouting at the open skylight.

“She lives! Do you see me, Victor?! Do you see?! Your fallen angel is a worthy son! You denied me to your last breath but I am yet your legacy!"  

“Stop that!” the figure holding her hand snarled. She tried to place it; it sounded like a voice she knew but also one she didn’t “We need to make sure she’s alright! There’s no time for you to gloat! I need you now. Please, Mr. Frankenstein!”

He was polite. Why did that seem strange?

As her vision cleared, she struggled to put a name to the face before her. The broad, smooth, face of a man in his fifties. Did she know him? Her head swam when she tried to sit up. The man shushed her and gently guided her back down, “Easy now, there’s a good girl. Don’t try to sit up just yet, we’ve performed a miracle worthy of Jesus Christ himself,” he smiled weakly, the shadow of something-someone familiar in the gleam of his teeth.

He took her wrist in his hand and laid two fingers on it, “Pulse is slow, her skin is like ice,” he muttered, his brow furrowing with concern. As the large figure came into view. The patchwork face of the giant was immediately recognizable to her though how exactly was uncertain. The answer seemed to come to her then drift away, lost in a sea of barely coherent emotions and sensations. Pinpricks speckled across her eyes and she shut them for a moment until the throbbing in her head died down.

“Is she supposed to be this cold? Her heartbeat is so sluggish, is this normal?”

“If I am any indication then yes. Perhaps it is an affect of the chemicals used during incubation. The question now remains did we bring back Miss Morris or is this a new life?”

“Of course, it’s her! It has to be her! There was no point otherwise!”

“Dr. Jekyll, please, restrain yourself. We must remain impartial. It will be a tragedy if Selma is lost for good but we must remember that what we have created we bear a responsibility to. No matter our grief, it is not her fault for being born.”

She didn’t understand any of this and the bickering was beginning to grate on her. She tried to speak but could only manage a weak groan. Somewhere in the back of her mind a memory stirred and she knew one of these men was a doctor and she recalled the concept of a hospital. Was she sick? She felt sick. It would make sense to be sick right now.

The doctor, Jekyll, as he had been called, clasped her hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile. It helped. She tried to smile back but the muscles of her face felt stiff.     

“I’m going to check your cognitive functions, you don’t have to try to talk if you aren’t ready but if you can understand me, I want you to squeeze my hand to indicate ‘yes’, aright?”

She decided she liked Doctor Jekyll. He seemed kind.

Was that right?

She squeezed.

He looked relieved, “Good, very good. It looks like you remember language. Do you know who this is?” he indicated the giant man.

She hesitated. She knew him but it was so muddled she couldn’t be certain how. When the giant smiled the seam through his upper lip parted and exposed the teeth and gums beneath. The ghoulish sight didn’t frighten her as it would have if he were a stranger.

Frankenstein.

Was that his name? Or was it his father’s?

She squeezed.

“Good, I’m not going to ask if you know me. I’m sure my face is new to you. All you need to know about me is that my name is Henry Jekyll and right now I’m taking care of you. Think of me as your doctor and, Adam,” he gestured to Adam, who nodded reassuringly, “Is your friend. Do you remember your name?”

She froze. She tried to conjure up a name. There were flashes of memory, fragmented, disconnected. She tried harder, ignoring the pain in her head as she strained to pull her name to the surface. She knew she had one! What was it? She struggled to find some recollection of identity for herself in the mire that was her brain. She made an agitated gesture, shaking her head. Tears welled in her eyes.

Seeing her growing distress, Jekyll attempted to sooth her, “It’s alright! It’s alright if you don’t remember, it will come back to you in time,” despite its lack of recent use the comforting tones he had once used on his patients came back to him easily. Once Selma had settled, he glanced at Adam expectantly, “It will come back to her. Won’t it?”

Adam shrugged, “I have no idea, I recall nothing from before my own awakening, although I had not the ability to speak or any understanding of language. It seems she has retained at least some things,” he mused. He gestured to a small office off to the side of the lab “I need to go document all of this. Can you take care of her? Would Hyde take care of her if he comes back?”

Jekyll hesitated, he looked at Selma, still clinging to his hand for dear life, “He would. She’s safe with me-with both of me,” he said.

Adam gave a single, curt, nod and lumbered off.

What had happened? Why did her body feel so strange? As her awareness of herself sharpened and strength returned to her limbs she lifted a hand to her chest, where a loud, slow, pulse was beating.

Something was wrong. Where was the wound? Hadn’t there been a bullet? Blood everywhere, running over her fingers, she had felt the wet pulsing through the hole in her skin then…

…then blackness.

Here she was now, no blood, no wound, her fingers were resting against neat stitches. Sewn. Alive! Then why did her body feel so much colder? Heavier? Overwhelmed with pain and confusion, she began to cry in earnest. This was not right!

Jekyll watched her anxiously. Maybe it should be Edward…she knows Edward. Edward, at least, wouldn’t be too much of a coward to give her his shoulder. No sooner had he thought the words when he felt the itch of black fur sprouting from his cheek. No! No, wait! Not yet! I’m not ready! I’m not-

-not who Selma needs right now.

To caught in her weeping Selma didn’t notice Edward’s return. Not until a thick, hairy hand touched her shoulder. She looked up, doing her best to wipe at her eyes.

“Hullo, lass, it’s good to see you again. Do you remember me?” he smiled, his jutting, jagged, teeth seemed nearly too large for his mouth.

Edward!

She nearly fell from the table flinging her arms around him. He caught her, pressing his cheek to hers and when she felt the dampness on his whiskers, she neither knew nor cared which of them was weeping. She squeezed.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Slema Morris.”  

She remembered Edward.

[brighteyedjill]

Remix Smubbles

Thanks to the Smubbles Remix Challenge I wrote ten (10!) short fics over the weekend. RIP my subscribers who got all those notifications this morning. Smubbles is a portmanteau of “smut drubbles,” but they’re neither all smut nor all drabbles. They are all remixes, meaning that they’re each a variation on an existing story from another author. Be sure to check out the originals, too (linked in each fic). Here’s what I wrote:

Fandom: Shadow and Bone

Laid Bare (the As You Wish Remix). Jesper/Kaz. When your fantasies about your boss come true but oops now feelings. (remixing @deerna​)

Proper Business Attire (the Dressed to Impress Remix). Jesper/Wylan. When you have to remind your boss you wearing your boyfriend’s clothes is not his business. (remixing @kallisto-k)

Fandom: The Witcher

As the Tides (the Siren Song Remix), Geralt/Leshen. When the long-lived love of your life is kinda like the sea. (remixing @seasofglass)

Guardian, Aiden/Lambert. When you’re trying to adopt a dog but end up processing your childhood trauma. (remixing @inexplicifics)

Held, Geralt/Leshen. When you’re doing a sex ritual with a Leshen but it feels kinda nice actually? (remixing @eatingcroutons)

Keen, Coën/Lambert. When you discover a new kink while sword fighting. (remixing @ivymandragola)

Near Miss, Eskel/Geralt. When you almost had to watch your best friend get put down like a dog but thank the gods you didn’t. (remixing @bomberqueen17)

Takes One Strike (the Banked Fire Remix), Coën/Lambert. When you’ve given up on having nice things so your friend has to get mad for you. (remixing @gavilansblog)

This Gift a Wound (the White Elephant remix). Eskel/Geralt. When your bestie invites you to a threesome you don’t think you’re gonna enjoy.  (@remixing hobbitdragon)

Your Move (the Patience Pays Remix). Coën/Lambert. When you decide that being edged is kinda fun. (remixing @sassaffrassa)

[malika-carnelian]

🤦‍♀️🔥

Hot Takes OOC

🤦🏻‍♀️ How do you handle anon hate?

By simply ignoring them: it is another thing if anons are trying to give difficult moments in-game to my character after some bad (or stupid) decision Malika made... but it is definitely another to pester my own person, ooc, about futile stuff about your own frustration of how I portrait my character OR some likes and dislikes I do have for this fandom (like... favs ships, fav characters, etc). To not be mistaken with those anons who come to me for giving suggestions for a better environment over my characterization: I'm always open to advices, and surely we all know when an anon comes in with good purpose or just for spreading hate speech.

It's difficult sometimes to ignore the anon haters, but after a while you get used to it, specially into fast-deleting those kind of asks 😂.

👙 What is your take on sexy characters?

My take on sexy characters? Definitely not pure. Lately I stumbled into Dragon Age inquisition and Damn Me someone save me please, I'm becoming unstoppable into drawing nsfw stuff and writing hot drubbles as well NDKKDSKKD

In overall? I become a huge simp if the so-called sexy characters does match my own tastes 👀🤙

Adding the REAL ICON MEME— (sorry for my dumbness😂😂😂)

🔥 What is your hottest take on your fandom?

Well... dunno if I'm correctly answering this meme right now, my hot take is that Megatron is hot af in both MTMTE/TFP/TFE and I would gladly be stepped on by him— *DON'T JUDGE ME PLS*

[kookiestarlight]

Hello, can you write a drubble for «wishing for you” where jungkook and oc first know the gender of the baby? jungkook's reaction to this?

hi lovely!!💜 ah I’m not taking requests at the moment :( I’m not sure if maybe you saw my post the other day about possibly doing some small drabble requests if anyone would like but I deleted shortly after since I realized I probably won’t have time for it😅 however, I would definitely love to take requests once I get a few of my wips done! and I think this idea would be so cute🥺 so I’ll definitely save it for then!! I apologize love :(🤍

[falle-ness]

Writing Asks Time! ✨ So, please tell me:

5. What is your favorite story? Least favorite?

6. What was the most difficult part to write in "Snowblind"?

7. What was your favorite part to write in "Snowblind"?

Thank you! 😊

Hey, thanks a lot for asking, love <33

5. You probably haven't read it since it's in Russian, and it's my first try writing for TBL, but it's a story about a female hacker and Ressler who was secretly in love with Liz *yeah, it was written when I kinda shipped them but was letting go of this idea because I got bored and all* but she died, and all the angst, and then this J appears to be a great girl he actually cares for, and yadda, yadda... I can't say I don't really like this story, I actually do because of the OFC, J, and what I've put into her, but in terms of executing it's subpar at the very least. But without it I couldn't have got where I'm now, so...

As for fav story... Man, it's a tough one. It's like saying whom of my children I love more. I love them all. Obviously, I'm very proud of my stories I've crafted together with Gwyllt @yddraigwyllt, yet I'm equally fond of my Mr. Whatchugot fic where I made Ressler go undercover as a stripper or my, although abandoned, Italian adventure. I'm also proud to translate absolutely stunning Prescott and Ressler fics by Gwyllt. I also very much like my original stories/drubbles in Russian. If the author doesn't like his stories, how can he share his love and passion to others?

6+7. Daaaaamn. Everything?)))

Those who don't know—Snowblind is a full AU where Ressler hooks up on cocaine.

I can tell you what the easiest and the most pleasurable part to write was—and no, it's not the fmf threesome :'D It's that sequence with stoned Ress and oblivious Liz at her bedroom :D

*yo, folks, if you gonna read that, don't expect keenler in its traditional sense; you've been warned*

I was enjoying to build up the tension which had resoluted in [spoiler]. *evil cackle*. And obviously, the part when Ressler creeps at her from behind and stands behind her, touches her was waaay too easy, ha.

Oh, that scene with Vargas at her apartment. Boy, oh boy, I think it's unhealthy to take pleasure at watching a guy do what Ressler did to her (remember how at the beginning he pressed her against the wall and shut her mouth with his palm?)... I'm glad Gwyllt steered me from putting an excessive fangirling there, and we actually made Vargas fight back. I tend to fangirl too much and it reflects on my writing. Which is something I don't want to.

Of course, the final scene with Red. Yeah... *insert me selling my liver to go to NY and give Diego this as a script format* I'm weighing the option to properly edit this fic and send it to the studio although I know the fandom etiquette forbids it. But this isn't your typical coffee shop AU or smut. It's heavy, it's loaded, and, imo, if Diego was given to play this kind of Ressler, he'd nail it.

As for difficult stuff... Threesome was quite challenging though I've already had been writing sex and all that, I've never written something this 'dirty', explicit, without any romantic implication. I mean, I've my Master and Servant, and although it's a one-night stand, it's much more softer comparing with what happens in Snowblind. But Gwyllt steered me through the way, edited where necessary, and I've quite enjoyed the, um, process.

Reddington is a total bitch for me to write, tbh. And Snowblind isn't an exception.

And the hallucination scene. Me and Gwyllt discussed this a lot, and I remember reading about withdrawals, and what happens to those who were on cocaine. They suffer mostly from tactile hallucinations. I struggled with this scene a lot, and Gwyllt told me to use something personal. I'm afraid of bugs/insects of any kind. Turns out, it's super fun to experience your biggest fear in a controlled environment watching somebody else suffer :'D

I'm not sure I'll write something as close in quality like Snowblind, but this was a great bootcamp for me as a writer.

[katiekoff]

When The Plague Comes

Hey guys! Actually I’m an author and write fanfics usually (not drawing, lol). I haven’t write for ages but The Arcana made impossible thing - that game made me want to write again. I write on Russian and I have never ever translated my fanfics. But! The Arcana made impossible thing [2] - it made me translate this. Alas, I’m only imroving my English and I’m not sure if I translated it correctly. So if you will read this and find (and I know you’ll find) any mistakes, please let me know. I tried my best and my only hope is that the translating is understandable.

Thank you for your time!

When The Plague Comes

PG || Drubble || Angst || Asra, fem!MC, Julian, Valdemar is there... somewhere... || Pre-canon

Summary: When the plague comes, everyone has their own reason to stay in the dying city.

Sometimes it seems to her that bright azure sky glows red. That the grass, the trees and even the ground became scarlet with rich ruby shade. People on the street avoid each other fearfully, glare at the faces of strangers, looking for slightest signs of illness. Some houses bare their toothless windows and it’s seems the darkness there takes shape – a human or a demon – and it’s seems the darkness ready to take you, to strangle you, to paint your whites of the eyes with scarlet color of fresh blood.

There are not children’s cheerful laugh on the streets anymore, there are not any strolling musicians with their music; fortune tellers don’t drag the passersby to their booths, don’t spread the bones, rocks or colorful cards. Everyone knows the fortune, both their and the whole city. This fortune flowing through flooded districts with the red water; running along the road with the red beetles; standing at the exit of the city with gloomy wardens – there is no escape from the city, there is no entrance to – even if there will be a madman who would like to get up close to the dying Vesuvia.

She feels the breath of the Death everywhere, even in the shop: tart aroma of the dried herbs mixed with the sweetish smell of rot; this smell rises lump in the throat, lingers in the nostrils. She thinks that this smell has a taste – a taste of rotten fish that covers the coast and the docks. Neither the potpourri, nor water or spiced food can’t kill this taste, - to tell the truth, it seems to her more and more that the food has the same mawkish, nauseous and rotten taste.

She hates the palace and its dungeons, where the brightest minds of the city trying to find the cure. She hates the dark dungeons and their stale air filled with hopelessness and despair. She hates Valdemar’s unwinking gaze – they seem to be the only happy person in the city. Or, maybe, in whole world – she no longer believes there is countries and people anywhere who don’t know what the plague is.

Julian doesn’t sleep for ages and she sees his haggard cheeks, sharpened cheekbones and bruises under his eyes – even his usual grin faded and thin lips fold in narrow line with the suffering fracture. She brings him the new reports every day: the plague is progressing, no survivors, from the first signs to death passes less and less time, there’re only houseless and the doctors in beaked masks on the streets. Julian shuddering at first, looking to her with the hope, but in recent days there’re only despair and muted question in his eyes.

- Ten, - says she today.

- Thirty, - she will say tomorrow.

- A few hundreds, - that will be to the end of the week.

And then they will stop counting.

There is only hatred in her eyes when she watches over the wagons riding to the docks. Everyone knows: this is one-way trip. Next there will be the Lazaret, crematorium and seashore, where they will bury all that remains of you. The doctors look away from the heavily laden wagons: their wheels leave the heavy furrows on the mud, and the horses are exhausted. Sometimes there’re screaming and crying for help heard from the wagons – not everyone loaded in the hastily built carts are dead. These screams haunt her by night and she wakes up, surrounded by ghosts, and almost sees their ruby red eyes.

As Valdemar becomes happier, Julian more pale, and the other doctors – nameless – replacing rapidly, and you don't need to ask where they disappear. The days merge into the infinite change of exhausted faces, groaning, the smells of rot; they coloring in the shades of red – the water, the sky, the ground, the eyes, the ulcers, cloaks and masks of the plague doctors; they fly by like a moment and last for ages and it seems to her that no one could break free from this vicious circle. She almost stops returning to the shop – there is not much time for this, and she spends all her time in the dungeon, and she stays overnight there, in the dark, gloomy dungeon where the blood doesn’t wash away from the floor already. And one day Julian returns from the palace with an unreadable expression on his face and says that the count gets down with plague.

- The eyes only, - says Julian and looks away. – Nothing more.

But she knows: when your eyes turn red, time is running out and all you have is a several days at most.

The Count turns out to be resistant – two, three, ten days pass, and Julian says that he got worse, but he lives.

- Why him? – asks Julian. Everyone think about it – in the palace, in the streets, in the dungeons; the doctors and all the dying patients whispering about it – the rumors spread across the city faster than the plague. The doctors die, the scientists and people around the streets die, but the Count, who is hatred by almost all the city, lives.

It seems that Julian stop sleeping and eating at all, he is locking himself at his office and she knows the Count demands cure from him. But there is no other person who wants to find a cure more than Julian himself and she knows that as well.

Soon the streets become more empty, more houses become abandoned and even ruffians don’t break the windows. One of these days she returns to the shop for changing her clothes and doesn't even try to let fire: she learned to orient in the darkness long ago. Changed quickly, she hears the door’s slam and freezes, turned to the window. They haven’t seen each other… how long? A week? A month? She has already lost the count of these days.

- Selene? – Asra’s voice sounds like he didn’t sleep for ages – just like Julian. – It’s good you’re home.

- I’m leaving, - says she unemotionally, calmly and coldly.

- No, - says Asra and comes closely. – We must leave the city, we can’t do anything here. There is no cure and the city is dying, Selene.

She straightens her back, squares the shoulders and closes her eyes.

- There is always a way out, Asra. Julian will find the cure, definitely. And I will remain with him.

- You can’t really believe it. Come on, grab your stuff and let’s leave. I know how to get past the guardians, - says Asra impatiently. She hears him walks around the room putting his stuff and books in the traveling bag.

- I’m staying, - she repeats.

- No you don’t! – Asra is almost screaming when he puts his hand onto her shoulder. She shakes his soft palm off the shoulder and repeats it again with the same cold in her voice: she’s not leaving.

- But why? – even while she is face away from him, she almost sees the despair in his eyes and feels him runs his fingers through his fluffy hair. – Why do you want to risk your life? I can’t allow you to do that!

- I don’t need your approval, - she says. – I won’t leave the city like a coward. I'll remain with someone who do something. Anything.

- Do you consider me a coward? – Asra asks. Pain, mistrust and emptiness – that’s what she hears in his voice.

- Yes, - she says. – You aren’t worth Julian’s little finger.

- Julian, huh. Is that so? - he says.

- Is it.

It seems her words destroying Asra completely. All she hears are ragged breath, heavy steps while he goes down the stairs and slow, unbearably loud creak of the door.

She exhales and leans her forehead to the cold dusty window. Nothing are reflected in the dark window but it seems to her that she sees reflection of her own eyes – green and unusually bright against the ruby red whites of the eyes.

She works in the dungeon another few days and feels eyes on her: interested and hungry – from Valdemar, sympathetic – from patients. She considers herself lucky – she hasn’t any ulcers, her body doesn’t cramp, all she has is overwhelming weakness. Good fortune smiles at her one more time: when she loses consciousness, Valdemar are busy with something very important and don’t see how one of those nameless doctors lifts her.

Through the fever and insufferable headache, she sees in flashes: a wagon's wooden boards with dried blood drops; a piece of the scarlet sky; smooth surface of water; high walls of the Lazaret. 

When she, like the others, brought down to the cold floor, she can smell the rot and burning – suffocating, sweetish smell which soaked the crematorium walls. She wants to live madly, she wants to go to the journey with Asra, make tea for him, pulling his soft hair; in the same time, she wants it will be over – all that pain and fever, compared to which the flame won’t be felt.

It seems the thoughts about Asra completely crush her head – with the shame, guilt and a timid hope that the resentment was so strong that he won't get back, won't looking for her; that he will be in safety in his Nopal sanctuary or somewhere else. That he will be happy – sooner or later. That he will live.

When she sees scarlet flame strikes in front of her, when she smells the burning skin – her skin – all that she can is to hope that someday, in another world, she could tell him the most important thing.

- I’m so sorry.

[uberhero-chorus]

🆗 Show me the good drabbles!!

Drubbles

The trendiest hangout for teenaged girls in Patapolis was currently the Silver Lining Cafe. It was strategically placed so it would be a reasonably distanced walk from most of the biggest high schools in the city, including AHE. Its specialty was in coffee, as well as small snacks and desserts all marked for a decently cheap price. It was always bustling with students at around 3:30 pm.

The weather that day was very nice, especially for February. In one of the outside seats, a young Karmen sat. She was fiddling with a concrete she had purchased earlier, watching as it  subtly melted as time passed.

Eventually, someone else sat down with her, a Zigoton with a Kakin Hero’s mask. Friendly greeting were exchanged between the two when their eyes met. “Mika! Good to see you!” The Karmen sang. “How did last year treat you?” “Much better, Umik. Much better.” Was the Zigoton’s happy reply. “Wooyari caught me in the hall earlier and said she would be slightly late, said she had to print a paper before she left.”“Oh my.” The Karmen shuddered. “Doesn’t she know that those things smell urgency? We might be here-”“Hellooo!!”

As if on cue, Wooyari rounded the corner and spotted the group. She parked herself in a seat as the other two waved her over.

“That was quick, Wooyari!” Mika snickered. “Did you get that paper printed?”“Nope!” Wooyari shot back. “I was too late, the computer lab was all locked up.” “What a bummer! You gonna try and get it early next morning or are you gonna spin an excuse to your teacher?” “We’ll see!”

The girls were giggly and all around chatty. It wasn’t an unusual sight at the Silver Lining, though. This place had an abundance of those.

“It’s so great to see you guys again.” The Uberhero sighed. “It feels like its been forever.”“It has, hasn’t it?” Umik nodded. “The last time we hung out was um… September.”“It’s our tradition, though!” The Zigoton chimed. “I love hanging out with you guys just to show up the Dragon-Witch Lady.”

A unanimous giggle out of that one. It was a shared experience, after all.

“Yeah, she was a bitch.” Umik smirked. “So were her kids, especially Illi.”“I know what you mean.” Wooyari sighed. “I went to school with her, before I became an Uberhero. After I got my placement with the Dragon Lady, I… Think I know where her mean girl thing came from.”“Right!? What kind of an adult acts like that?” Umik exclaims, slamming her fists down on the table slightly. “I know we could have been literally tortured by other placements, but being in a house full of stuck-up snobs is a very special kind of torture all its own.”“You mean psychological torture or something?” “Yeah!”

In a huff, the Karmen sat back down, giving Mika the chance to speak up again. “Remember how she and her kids liked to call us ‘The Slaves’ or ‘Servants?” “Ohh yeah! Bitch!” Umik began again. “She actually treated us like slaves! That can’t be legal!”“Hey, you guys know the government checks, right?” Wooyari spoke up. “Up to 1000 Kachings a month for each of us, which was supposed to be put towards our needs and wants? I’m pretty sure she was using it to buy stuff for her kids.”“Awful woman.”“Garbage kids…”“Not only that.” Wooyari continued. “But she kept trying to turn us against each other. Um… Umik, remember when you went to visit your mom that one time?”

Umik paused to look at Wooyari while Mika seemed to look away. Umik’s mother had been in a rehabilitation center for a time, which saw her daughter put into foster care until she was clean. “Yeah… What’d she do?”“She kept saying stuff behind your back.” The fish murmured. “She called you to kid of a druggie, and tried to get us to chime in. We never did though.”“’Cause she’s awful.” Mika said. “And her kids! Out of all of them Illi was the worst!”“Don’t remind me.” Wooyari laughed. “Man, you were always the worst one to get it from that trash-wagon.” The Karmen spoke up once more. “I get that she knew you from school before you transformed, but you told her a million times to call you “Wooyari” and not “Non”, huh?” “I know! It was so disrespectful of her!” The Uber complained. “Our true names are only for our family and most trusted friends to know, she can’t just say it out loud like that! Especially in public!”“I hope she gets a clue one day…”

There was a pause in their conversation as Mika caught their attention, and quietly pointed out a little scene happening inside the cafe. A very familiar Megapon waited at the counter with a huge frown on her face as an exhausted crossbreed explained something to what looked to be a manager. There was a fine line of unhappy teenagers being held up by the Dragon-Witch Lady as she made a fuss. The three girls huddled together and giggled, an evil plot coming to mind.

The manager must have said something she didn’t like, Dragon-Witch Lady was storming her way out as the line behind her stared. She didn’t notice the group of girls that she once fostered at an outdoor table as she powered down the street. When she turned the corner, Wooyari, Umik, and Mika quickly followed suit.

Feeling a burst of confidence, the Uberhero took the lead.

“Hey!! Dragon-Witch Lady!” Wooyari called down the street, getting the woman’s attention.“What the hell is-” “Up yours!”

In unison, the three girls made gestures at the horrible woman. “Get wrecked, you toad!”

She was seething at this point, absolutely red with anger. And yet, there was nothing she could do. She had lost her fostering license long ago, as well as these girl’s contact information. Plus… Despite being a Megapon, Wooyari was still a head taller than her. That girl could pick her up and throw her if she wanted.

So, despite how badly she wanted to make a scene, the Dragon-Witch Lady stormed off faster than before. The girls burst into uproarious laughter- petty revenge felt amazing!

“Let’s make sure to do this again soon!” Mika said in between laughs. “Just like we always do! Just to show up that horrible woman!”

[pinktatertots99]

Good day! Maybe you could make a few drubbles with your favorite nanbaka pairings in, for example, high school AU, like in Heathers, or some MMORPG, like Warcraft? I see, pairings with Kenshiro is popular right now. Poor doggie.

…..okay. this is such an out of no where request ahaha. but sure. I guess I could. (I haven’t seen any of those three things though sorry. I’ve listened to the heathers musical soundtrack but that’s about it tbh.)

also…idk why but I haven’t seen any popular ships with ken, I’m assuming you meant that ahaha…

anyways I’m gonna make the drabbles separate cause ideas get long (and because the aus are scattered a bit) and such. so stay tuned.

[seddm]

In episode blood moon ball when know (When the light of the blood moon drubbles down and selects two lucky souls) but in these episode tom was like so sure the blood moon select him and star is the mean tom was actually sure because these dance with star in the new sneak peek

IF the ball scene in the sneak peek is from the past, it’d make a world of sense for Tom to have tried to recreate the first (and probably most) romantic moment he lived with Star, hoping for the Moon to choose them, creating an incredibly romantic (in his mind, at least) moment that might have convinced Star to give him another chance.