Might Make A Part 2 - Tumblr Posts

My fictional crushes then

My fictional crushes now

How times have changed

Oh my god! You absolutely nailed how CSD acts as well as KNG9 just yapping on abt random things XD. CSD is super clingy to everyone she likes in my head so you definitely have something there!! I actually like this so damn much it's adorable!!!! I'll even give you a letter to KNG9's name.... (s)

TSB: TSB and Tyler don't really have much in common, but when it come to Tari they'll throw hands. They do share a mutual bond through Smg3 tho, and tend to get along when he's around.

CSD AND KNG9: Tyler enjoys their company, and while she isn't normally one for physical touch, she let's is slide with CSD. She also enjoys just listening to KNG9 talk about almost anything.

SMGL:3: They get along pretty well, considering they're both recolors of an important person in the universe. SMGL:3 likes the fact that Tyler treats her like a normal person, considering Tyler showed up after IGBP, so she has no idea who Peach is or what she's supposed to look like.

T:Do you even have a medical license?M:Ofc I do! I'll show it to you.

T:This is a "Wanted" poster. Tf you wanted for??

M:Medicine!!

Mango: While she does like his humor, she is NOT letting this man? horse? mlp oc? "Doctor" operate on her anytime soon.

Day 7: OC Interactions

ofc, only one of these characters are mine!

SMGL:E belongs to @libbytwq,TSB belongs to @tiredsmashbros, CSD and KNG9 belong to @choppedsouldreamer, and Mango belongs to @its-a-me-mango.

(I NEED to stop bugging ppl I swear 😭)

THE AVEN + HANAHAKI THING YESSS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG BECAUSE LIKE. I know it's always super angsty when it's the reader that gets hanahaki but rine having it. imagine pushing your s/o away because you don't think you can do a relationship rn just to get hit by the stupid idiot in love disease. damn sucks to be you man

(tbh hanahaki as fun as the angst is I love aventurine so much and usually just alter hanahaki to be like less deadly because a) I DONT WANT TO BE SAD and b) the whole guilt of "I developed hanahaki because of you now love me or I WILL die" feels strange to me)(but also yum angst and the consequences of pushing someone away) ((sorry I talk a lot teehee okay bye))

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠. .

. . too bad he wasn't your darling anymore.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au 

a/n: finally wrote the aventurine exes hanahaki au lol ,, had no idea how to finish this but i might make a part 2 !! :3

ever since you had started dating aventurine, you felt like you were a burden to him in some way. but you were never sure if you were actually a burden to him, or if that was your mind playing tricks on you.

but last week had just solidified your beliefs.

you both had fought over something petty--you couldn't be bothered to remember what it was--and harsh words had been thrown around in the process.

words that cut deep into you, practically making you bleed out.

and after that?

aventurine had ignored you for the rest of the entire week. he hadn't even glanced in your direction. it was fine if he needed some space to think, but he didn't even tell you, he just started fucking ignoring you.

your efforts to talk to him had just been met by blank uninterested violet eyes.

everything that happened in the last week had all led up to yesterday.

you stood in front of his door, swallowing your nerves. why were you so nervous?

after everything that happened, everything you felt, everything he said, you didn't think you could handle a relationship at that point.

so, when aventurine answered the door, his blonde hair unruly and lavender eyes tired, you took a deep breath and finally said the words you had been so scared of saying.

"i want to break up."

--

now, you were rethinking your decision.

on one hand, it felt like a large weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

on the other hand, breaking up with him had left you in your current predicament: crouched on the cold tiled floor of your apartment, hurling up bright yellow marigolds. you coughed them up, unwillingly watching as they hit your newly polished floor. they hit the ground ungracefully, clumped together with a disgusting mixture of mucus and blood. you gagged on the flowers as the sickly sweet smell of the marigolds hit you, making you feel lightheaded and sick to your stomach.

you didn't think you would get the disease again after aventurine asked you out.

you had it once, albeit briefly. it was before you had even talked to aventurine, too scared to do so. maybe it had been your shyness, or maybe you were just scared of rejection. you weren't too sure which, but it had caused you to cough out a few lemon yellow petals.

but, as quickly as the disease had started, it had ended. aventurine talked to you and started getting close to you, and your hanahaki had eventually diminished into nothing. after that, you thought it would never start again.

but you guessed you were wrong, since the disease decided to plague you.

marigold petals--slick with mucus--fell out your mouth as you coughed your lungs out. they fell almost gracefully onto the small flower pile.

you took fast and shaky breaths, collapsing. you were too exhausted to move, the hanahaki sucking all the life out of you.

--

it had been a week now, and the disease had just gotten worse. at this rate, it would only take a month or two until you suffocated on the fucking marigolds.

you could talk to aventurine, but he would probably just ignore you again.

you could get the surgery, but you would rather die than forget aventurine. you still loved him.

at this point, you couldn't do anything but hope that the disease would just somehow go away.

--

aventurine was growing increasingly worried as the days passed.

he hadn't seen you at all after you had broken up. sure, that was normal, but his gut told him something was wrong.

horrible thoughts of what could've happened to you plagued his mind, and he couldn't take it anymore.

he grabbed his keys, his coat, and headed towards your apartment.

maybe it was an invasion of privacy, but even your friends felt as if something were terribly wrong. he'd just check on you once, and never speak to you again. you'd be okay with that, right?

--

aventurine had knocked about a dozen times by now, but had received no answer.

he swallowed. he still had a spare key to your apartment, but what if you didn't want him to come in? what if you were just busy? what if he was breaching your privacy?

he took a shaky inhale.

fuck it.

--

he stepped inside your apartment, and was hit by the extremely potent smell of marigolds.

he glanced around, and froze at what he saw.

Certainly Yours | Hoshina Soshiro

Part Two: "Cat and Mouse"

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro × fem!reader

summary: you and soshiro had been friends for a while now. But sometimes he really tests those boundaries of his

warnings: none. Just light touches but nothing suggestive.

wc: 1,420

--

note: first time writing for Hoshina. Sorry if there are inconsistencies or mistakes.

--

Soshiro Hoshina had always been unreadable. Even in the most dire of circumstances, you were always one step behind at predicting the carefully planned steps he took whenever you had the chance of encountering him.

It was evident in the fact that his smile never seemed to reach the crinkles under his eyes. And that cat-like appearance of his, though slackened. Had always made you feel as if he had been observing things thoroughly from a distance. Watching with keen interest as if he knew more than he let others perceive him to know.

And today was no exception.

The constant proximity between each other had been…frustrating to say the least. Whether that would be brushing his shoulders against your own during official meetings. Or placing a steady hand on the small of your back as he moved across the very open spaces of the hallway. You couldn't help but sneak glances at the way his expression had not changed one bit. In fact, it looked rather bemused. As if ignorant to the little touches he'd stolen from you during work. Let alone the glances you two would share even when Captain Ashiro had been right in front of you. Discussing more important matters that surely the Vice Captain had not been listening to.

But to your surprise, he always did. And was usually the first to provide solutions whenever the captain would ask. Leaving you to be the one flustered as you had not been distracted by his knowing gaze.

Because of this, your mind was instantly on the lookout for his next scheme.

I mean who would blame you?

You couldn't help but think this was all another gimmick of his. Entertainment. Just like how he had taken interest in that new recruit they had gotten recently. His motivations are as sly as they are intriguing it seems. And the more you try to decipher his laid-back facade, the less information you get. Keeping his cards close to his chest, as usual.

The Vice Captain had always been like that. His earnesty was often hidden from prying eyes. Though very few were privy to it, there were only very few who were familiar to him. Even Okonogi; likely the one who stuck around with the two Captains, would just let out a sigh at his jubilant expressions.

It had only been a good few years since you had been deployed to work under the Defense Force. Tasked on maintaining the Combat Suits in the case that they needed upgrades, or maybe a few repairs. And since then, the Vice Captain of the Third Division's force had always hovered behind like a thorn on your side.

Close enough so that it's able to poke and scratch you, but far enough away that it doesn't overstay its welcome. Yet somehow you lingered for those touches to stay just a little longer.

His usual friendly quips and visits had been frequent. But they were always curt, his teasing would always leave you with heated cheeks before he would soon disappear as quickly as he came. Like a storm who came to pass by momentarily. He was sure to make a mess out of you.

But the tension had always been palpable between you and Soshiro. Especially now when he had just so happened to enter the premises of your Lab. Wearing that familiar Tight-fitting Combat Suit of his. Respiratory mask and all.

“Vice Captain.” you had smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having you grace me with your presence.”

“Just a maintenance check.” He replied just as quickly. Making you raise a suspicious brow.

“Oh really?” You had moved away from the desk. Neatly brushing away the stack of blueprints that had been piling up. Likely a courtesy from Izumo Tech who were your previous employers. “What's wrong with the suit?”

Hoshina had not wasted a second to step much closer to you. And though normally you would feel a little giddy from his proximity, you wasted no effort to move closer yourself. Hand against the coarse texture of his Combat Suit that hugged the hard ridges of his body. Willingly searching around for any such deformities in the armor. As even the slightest malfunction can mean life or death for frontliners like him. But alas, no such cracks were found. Leaving you to stare at his unwavering eyes.

“I don't see anything wrong with it. Can you tell me anything specific that I can fix up?”

Soshiro had hummed for a moment. Taking his time as he pretended to be deep in thought.

“I guess there's none that I can think of.” Soshiro had let out a soft chuckle. And although the mask had covered half of his face, you could tell that grin of his was definitely there.

“What? Then why did you even come here?”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again.

“Aren't I allowed to visit a friend?”

And you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes. The clear faux reasoning of his was amusing at most. But it's definitely making you second guess yourself.

“Friend you say?” You had chuckled, leaning back on your chair whilst facing him. His form had towered over you who had been caged against the chair and his arms.

“First time I've heard of it.” You shrugged. More of a jest in your tone.

“Hey now, and here I thought we had something special.” He chuckled, displaying faux hurt.

And you couldn't help but be frustrated at the way he so meticulously words things.

Something special, huh?

If it were any girl, they'd probably start getting delusional from his words alone. But Soshiro was someone who had no trouble deceiving. Facades and all. And you knew better than to take his words at face value.

But if it were not a joke, then..

…

“Are we Friends?” You had asked again. Just to make sure that you had not been misunderstanding things.

And there was another moment of silence between both parties.

You didn't know exactly what came over you at the moment. It just blurted out, almost as if you had been so frustrated at the way he tiptoed around you. Any confrontation, any meaningful conversation would always be cut short as soon as it started.

And you wonder if you had made the mistake of mentioning the giant elephant in the room.

His expression is as unreadable as ever. And for a moment, you thought you had made a fool out of yourself. Maybe whatever hint he was playing at had all been in your head. As if you had convinced yourself somehow that his interest in you was something more. Something that could indeed grow special. But second-guessing is part of Soshiro's package. And you can't really trade one without the other.

And for a moment a sinking feeling had placed itself in the pit of your stomach. Like you had made a painfully unwise decision that would leave you embarrassed for the next seven years of your life.

But Hoshina had simply stared. It felt like only mere seconds before he leaned in. Hands gripping the arms of the chair you sat on. Effectively trapping you with his body. With no chance of escaping away from his answer.

And just as you are sandwiched between him and the back of the chair. His face had neared your ear. And you could hear the faint breaths from the mask he wore.

“I'm yours certainly. Whether you are mine is up to you.”

His voice had gone an octave lower. And it made you wonder if you were truly hearing him right.

Yeah, no. Friend was definitely not the right word for this. But the admission of it was harder to coax out of him than when you had internalized the thought. The only way to have him say it straight is if you yourself came in like a bull seeing red.

And you sigh at your own lack of subtlety. “Is that your way of asking me out?”

“Maybe.” The slight hesitation in his answer made you raise your brow at him. And you end up sighing, letting go of a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“Your delivery could use some work.”

“I know.” He spoke with an awkward smile. “Do I take that as a yes?”

You smiled. This time, intent on playing his game of cat and mouse. “Maybe.”

And god will you be the death of him.

Big City Greens Headcanons!

Pretty much the whole green family are autistic.

Gramma has a private criminal record, especially in other countries.

Tilly owns a butterfly book that Bill got for and often talks about butterfly fun facts.

Bill sometimes shows a photo of his family to people and talks about how he loves them.

Remy introduced anime to Cricket and Tilly, Cricket's favorite is Pokémon, Tilly's favorite is Little Witch Academia while Remy and Vasquez loves DragonBall and Code Lyoko.

Bill is Bisexual, he's pretty shy about opening up his bisexuality, but his family supports him, especially Cricket and Gramma.

Gloria still keeps the homemade Eiffel tower that Cricket made.

Bill and Remy love listening to ASMR.

Nancy is also Bi, Gloria is Pan while Gramma is a ally.

Chip's favorite movie is American Psycho.

Andromeda loves the X-files.

After the events of Quiet Please, The greens still practice ASL.

Chosen

Sick of waiting for someone to write a Lady Bone Demon-centric story so I’m doing it myself

When she was born, the air was bitter, and the sky was sickly.

She’d awoken from a heinous dream, in which a skeleton with its lips painted red stood over a world in shambles- and apparently, the real world was no better.

There was no love or light in sight, and drops of rain randomly and irregularly hit her face, as if the rainwater didn’t want to be there, either.

Like any good newborn, she screamed at first, jumping up and swatting her arms at nothing.

She heaved, taking in as much of the putrid oxygen that she could stand, welcoming and hating it as it enters her lungs, like a two-faced bastard welcoming his worst enemy into his home for the sake of appearances.

“Oi!” She heard a man’s voice call along with something else, though she was unable to make out the words.

Her hearing was muffled, like she was underwater- though the unforgiving smell of smoke and pollution riding on the air refused to let her forget that she wasn’t drowning, but breathing.

Breathing- yes, breathing. She was breathing. She was alive.

Her mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to say, names to call out, but nothing came. Her eyes stung, and she frantically rubbed at them. They burned with dirt, soot, and from the smoke in the air.

Once her eyesight had stabilized to ‘just a little bad’ she had the cruel misfortune of being able to look around.

In the air, there was smoke. On the ground, there was fire. Her ears rang, as if trying to drown out the sounds of shouting and screaming for her convenience.

As far as she could see, troops were being pulled back, supposedly finding the wreck they’d created of this town to be sufficient.

She saw whatever belongings that were salvageable being picked out of the rubble and stored, and the dead being picked up by surviving men and piled onto the backs of carts to be dumped into mass graves.

Carts like the one she was on. Her nose stung with sudden realization, and she took a moment to look around herself.

She was sitting on one of the carts carrying away the dead, surrounded by putrid corpses.

Her vision instantly blurred and she screamed, taking her first steps as she pushed out of the cart and stumbled into the dust.

The man who called out earlier said something again, voice rough and angry. He grabbed her by the arm, words slurred together as he cursed and jabbed at her, calling her clumsy and useless and stupid.

He spoke with familiar hatred, as if he’d known her for several years and despised each one, but she’d never seen the man in her life.

She’d never seen anyone here, for that matter.

His dirty handprints had bruised her arm by the time he let go, shoving her into line with a bunch of elderly, sick, injured, women and children.

Their faces were wicked, mouths curled in contempt, expressions forming hideous snarls and sending anyone and everything dirty looks, as if looking for someone to hate- as if their situation wasn’t enough.

The had no idea how to speak or what to say, so she huddled into the crowded corner of the ashy tents, nearest the other lonely-looking women.

Whenever she looked away from the ball she’d curled herself into, she could see the women’s eyes- clutching onto their hatred like soldiers held their swords.

She looked away.

Eventually, men came and plucked the older boys from the tent, forcing them into work, too. She watched as the contagious were burned and the elderly were beheaded to whittle down mouths to feed, too afraid to move.

Maybe she wasn’t alive after all, she thought. Maybe she was an awful person in the life she couldn’t remember and this was Hell.

And then a little boy tugged at her sleeve.

He called her by a name she did not recognize, and she stared at him in response, looking down into his eyes, eyes that held so much sorrow and madness that if he told her he’d served in the imperial army for forty years, she’d believe him.

Despite it all, he smiled a big, toothy grin, closing his eyes and sniffling as a bit of snot escaped him.

“Big sis-ter don’t be sad,” he’d stuttered, tripping over his words. “Big sis alw-always protect me. Big sis my hero! She- she save the world one day!”

Her throat was dry and it hurt to breathe, but she laughed, tears that had been waiting for hours to flow washing away the dirt in her eyes.

She laughed and she pet the boy’s head, and she screamed and thrashed and cried when he was taken away to he burned with the rest of the sick, even though she couldn’t remember his name, or who he was.

An old woman, who, big surprise, she didn’t know either, took a wooden ladle and beat her with it as punishment for her outburst in response to the boy being taken, dragging her back inside the tent when she tried to run out after the boy.

“It’s hopeless,” said one of the oldest men, moments before he slipped into unrest, never to wake again.

Beside herself with rage for the little boy’s death, she stood while the others sulked.

“You are all fools!” She’d said. They looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“You’re giving up and throwing your children to that mess? For what? Can’t you see that you, as the people are still here? Rebuild, I beg of you!” She pleaded. “Try!”

She spoke for this random village she had no attachment to as if it were her own, like it was her own child. Why, she had no idea.

One of the old crones from the corner scoffed in response. “The village beauty,” she sneered. “Always the first to lose it.”

“Yeah,” A teenage girl agreed. “We’re not the gods, you know. We can’t just magic our village back! And even if we could, those hooligans will just burn it down again!”

The teen jabbed an accusing finger at her, as if it were all her fault.

“Who can save us!?” She demanded, voice shrill and bitter. “Who can possibly fix this?”

For that, she had no answer and faltered. The boy’s face flashed before her eyes, clearing her vision and guiding anger back into her tone.

“If you cannot help yourself, then I will find somebody who can!” She snapped. “I’m not going to give up on all of you, no matter how faithless and unsightly you’ve all become!”

The crones howled in injustice and the old men jeered at her, calling her slurs and names. She blocked them out, leaving with her dignity and faith.

The next days of her life found her finding that she didn’t need to use the bathroom, or drink water, no matter how much she wanted some.

The gods decided to favor her one day, and she found a clear river with water to drink from. In it, she saw for the first time her reflection.

The face she saw, she did not recognize.

Before the month ended, she had found another village- this one not in ruins. It was bustling and busy yet poor and beggarly, all of its money and taxes fiendishly boarded by the village’s gluttonous lord.

I ought to give that fat cat a stern talking too, she thought, but the lord refused to see a woman outside of the bedroom, let alone for a political discussion.

She had no power to do anything! She was angry, so regretful that she’d been born a woman with no status, or even a name to her unfamiliar face that her own flesh cowered before her anger, molding and reshaping itself.

The next day, she entered the rich man’s mansion as an innocent old man, demanding that he share his wealth with his citizens.

Apparently, while being a man might grant you an audience with the land’s lord, it certainly did not mean he would listen to anything you have to say.

But she didn’t let it get her down- she could shapeshift! Who cared if this meant she was likely a demon now, infesting a skeleton and wearing her human corpse like it was a designer hat?

Imagine all the people she could help with such a power! The lives she could save! Her very own flesh quivered in fear of her rage. Soon, all evil would feel the same way.

As if she’d been newly awakened, she was greeted by her first- or second dream that very night, sleeping outside among other homeless people.

A kind-hearted boy on the heavier side with a warm, handsome face waved to his people, eyes slightly watery as their city flourished under his care.

Beneath the ground, six feet under, was the fat lord the citizens currently lived under and his lustful son, side by side, souls being pried from their corpses and pulled into the Diyu for their sins.

If only that boy were real, she thought that day, as she packed her things to move on to the next area.

And then she saw him.

Shopping for bread, smile as warm as the sun as he treated each person he came across with kindness and compassion. The lord’s son, she’d soon found out. His second son, the son of not his wife but his mistress, who could never inherit the land unless his father and brother were gone.

If a moment, vile thoughts filled her head.

If the other two were gone, she thought, then this kind man would rule peacefully, unlike his oafish father and brother.

But no- she couldn’t possibly. Just because she had a dream about it didn’t make it real.

A colder side of her whispered; “But how did your dream know the son’s face? A face that which you’ve never seen? Look at these people,” it hovered over her, its lying tongue flicking against her ears. “They need you. Do you think you had that dream for no reason? Don’t be a fool, girl.”

She packed her things as quickly as possible. She wanted to run away from this. She decided against the unholy thoughts that invaded her mind, asking her to do things she, as a human, could not possibly do.

The cold side of her snapped and snarled, curling against her flesh. Wickedness and seething rage twisting its voice, it spoke to her again.

“You’re not human.”

These words played on repeat in her mind, hands trembling as she poisoned the lord’s wine in the garb of a servant, wearing the face of an old woman.

They went from a whisper to a raw-throated scream when she stopped by the lord’s mistress’ room, and stained by her side for a few hours and she sobbed into her plush pillow, patting her back, and assuring her that everything would be okay, as if she couldn’t see the bruises, burns and bites that marred her arms and neck.

“Why do men like that walk the Earth?” The poor woman cried, dirtying her expensive blankets with snot and tears.

“Dear Lord, strike him down!” She begged, hands clasped in frantic prayer to anyone who would listen. “Demons, claim him for your Hell! Take him away, please! Somebody! Somebody!”

She’d fallen asleep that night, only to be greeted with another dream. The demon hidden beneath her flesh shivered with excitement, twitching underneath her skin.

It tugged and pushed her all around the dream, pointing and showing her what it wanted her to see like an excited child pointing and laughing at a jester.

The lord was to be buried with his late first wife, and his eldest son near. No one attended the funeral, callously rejoicing in the streets and in their homes that their wicked lord and his wicked son were dead.

The mistress’ eyes watered with relief as she hugged her son, who was greeted by the people who shook his hand and bowed to him.

“Call to me,” the skeleton wrapped her bony fingers around the mistress’ shoulders.

The words were spoken to the mistress, but were meant for her. “Call to me, and it is yours.”

A day later, she smiled for the first time in a long time. She smiled, because this time, it wasn’t just a dream.

It was real. At her hands, in response to a prayer, two men had died. Two men who were surely being welcomed by Hell’s embrace.

Poisoned wine turned sweet as chugs were sold by the dozen in the square, the bustling city ablaze with happiness and hope she hadn’t seen since her birth.

This wasn’t a punishment, she decided. She wasn’t an awful human, cursed to remain on Earth as a skeleton demon. She helped people! She could make a difference if she just held on!

It hurt at first, sure. Sure, she’d seen a lot of things she didn’t want to see, and would have liked to forget. Maybe she didn’t like… killing people.

But that is why she was reborn a demon. A demon with magic power unfamiliar to the world of man. It may hurt, but nobody else would bother doing it. There was a reason for everything, wasn’t there?

She was chosen for this.

Perhaps that is how she was able to hold on for so long.

She had continued her work in several other areas. She had held many positions of power over her years, ceremoniously being called names such as, The White Bone Spirit, Baigujing, or The Lady Bone Demon. She wore whatever face necessary to her goal- nay, her purpose.

She advised countless leaders, eased political tensions, and worked in trade over the Silk Road. Every now and again, she would succeed. But mortals were finicky, evanescent, parasitic creatures that either took or were taken from and stomped their morals out like lights at the slightest gust of wind.

Nothing ever lasted.

She wasn’t doing enough. She hadn’t gone far enough.

Her blessed precognition had even been failing her lately, replaying the same horrid vision of her demon prying itself from her flesh and smiling hauntingly as it engulfed the world in blue flame, eating light and darkness alike.

She’d soon begin avoiding sleep. There was much to do, and none of that was obsessing over a nightmare.

Much to do, yes… she thought. She wasn’t doing enough. Helping cities individually was inefficient and there was nothing guaranteeing that it would stay that way. She needed to talk to the person in charge. Somebody with real power!

Today, her skeleton wails in injustice as she stands at the feet of the imperial palace, dressed in white and pink traditional robes, face carefully made up and jewelry adorning her hair.

She carefully folds her hands behind her back and heads up the stairs. She doesn’t care how long it takes.

Destiny cannot be hurried.