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bomber-grl · 7 months

Text

Nico Di Angelo fluff alphabet

₊˚⊹ Pairing(s): Nico Di Angelo x Reader (no pronouns/no specific godly parent)

₊˚⊹ Warning(s): cuss words, could be ooc, T*ktok/gen z humor/language

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He adores everything about you

No,it isn’t some cringe ass thing I’m saying to say

I honestly do believe he likes everything about you

Sure he’s bias on what things

But he loves the way you laugh, smile and even those cringe ass jokes you make.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Honestly I definitely see nicos favorite part of your body being your hands.

He loves his hair being played with and he’s always moving your hand to his head or his head to your lap.

Your lap being his second favorite place because he can rest there whenever.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Nico definitely hates physical touch of any kind

I think we all know that, however you’re the exception.

So going on, he sleeps all over the place

But, he likes when you hold him. Poor boy had been traumatized enough so having his trust and comfort and enough for you to cuddle him is 💯

So it’s pretty comforting to be able to hold him and cuddle whenever.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Honestly broski is glad ur even dating him

He’s an obvious introvert and prefers you and him alone somewhere like in your room or outside having a picnic.

Definitely prefers just the two of you but if you decide to go out he doesn’t say anything in the moment but suggests u don’t ever do that again later on.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Def emotionally stiff and outwardly constipated

Inwardly his emotions are out of control

Ofc that changed eventually but still

He learns to be more expressive and it gets to the point where you’re the only one who understands what he’s feeling/thinking

F= Future (What are their plans for the future? Do they see themselves getting married, having kids?)

He doesn’t rlly have plans of a family or kids or anything

He’d only ever thought of surviving and recently, you

He doesn’t really need anything besides his friends and you, especially you

So don’t expect him to ever bring up kids or anything because u and Hazel are his family so 🤷‍♀️

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He likes giving you stuff but not rlly

He likes pampering you and stuff but rlly he just shoved it in your hands and if u mention it, well just don’t.

Same vice versa except he down rlly know how to react so he’ll look like he’s trying to shit but can’t

Be gentle cuz broski might like ur gifts but can’t express it

It’s ok tho 👍

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Def not into pda

However, he will still hold your hand and partially because he wants to be close and protect you and cuz you’ve been arguing that he’s too cold and needs to warm up

Most likely to hold your hand while you two walk alone or if he holds your hand while he has it in his hoodie pocket

The second one happens mostly during winter

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Horribly

Yea he knows you’re strong and capable but he’s horribly protective

Anyone who hurts you will know his wrath and he’s not afraid to make sure it’s known

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Def becomes a bit of a jokester after you get past his cold demeanor

His humor is so broken and mostly consists of online bs

Definitely includes some dark humor too

I can def see him joking around w u or even playing pranks on each other.

It seems like he’s a completely different person when he’s joking around

Def scares the campers

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Mostly in short but sweet pecks on the lips or cheek

Mostly on the cheek

Doesn’t rlly kiss that often but he likes being kissed

Mostly around his face and stuff but it don’t matter

Kisses change depending on the mood too so sometimes it’s desperate and even a bit heated

Nothing ever rlly comes of it tho

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He’s always showing you his love and care

Even the most obvious ways, in which he’s hugging you and wanting to be close

And even if it’s most dreadfully annoying, his love language is to scold or even tell u off for scaring the shit out of him when it comes to monsters and stuff.

So yes Nico Di Angelo loves you even tho at times it seems like he doesn’t,if you ever doubt he doesn’t love you he’ll be seriously hurt

M = Melt (What do you do that absolutely makes them melt?)

All the stupid shit you do

Especially for him

Like going out of your way to buy him a bouquet and accompany it with a cringe love letter.

Or even singing him a romance song to “proclaim” your love despite the fact you’ve been together for a good while now

He honestly finds it endearing so don’t ever stop

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

His worst nightmare is losing you

He lost basically everyone in his life and you’re one of the good things left of it

So when he wakes up from a bad nightmare he appreciates you being there and rubbing his back or just hugging him

O = Obvious (How obvious do they make it that they like you?)

Not obvious whatsoever

To you (if you’re really oblivious or the average person)

Let me elaborate

Nico is very obvious if you know the difference between his normal and unnormal behavior/ if you can read him.

Otherwise you don’t got a clue

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Cringe ass ugly ass nicknames

Based off your godly parent and powers and stuff

Def goes along when u call him pookie wookie or anything of the sort

Would be disgusted if u actually meant it

As if he wasn’t calling you his sugar booger just a sec ago

Hypocrite.

Q= Quiet (How are the calm, quiet moments with them?)

Incredible

It’s nice to just lay back and admire the stars or even each other in silence

No matter how cringe he insists it is, it’s still obvious how much he loves it especially when you get to see him smile.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

R= Romance (How romantic are they? What are their go to ways of being romantic?

Kinda see him as a romantic

But like doesn’t know how to be romantic

Yknow?

He definitely reads romance books, listens to romance songs but never saw himself being in a romantic relationship

So he’s rough around the edges but once y’all become comfortable he goes out of his way to show u affection

Kissing your cheek, laying on you, buying you food, etc.

S = safe (What makes them feel safe and comfortable around you?)

Cuz you’re u

You’re his boyfriend/partner and you’d have to be super close to even have this level of relationship

You guys can joke around without it being awkward or forced and that’s what he loves

He feels especially safe when he’s tucked warmly in your arms

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

It took awhile

He was pretty closed off and traumatized so it makes sense

But once y’all got closer you were inseparable so it was worth it

T= Tend ( How do they act when you’re hurt or sick, and vice versa?)

He’s not exactly a healer but he uses his scariness to give u the best treatment

He’s very cold to others during this time and on edge with anything involving you.

Very protective as well

If he’s ever sick or injured the he’d appreciate if you didn’t speak too much or loudly

Don’t coddle him, he hates it

Acting as if he doesn’t smile when u do)

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’s pretty much like

“Cowabummer” if it’s sum not that major

Like he’ll sympathize but move on

If it’s major he def gives u space and doesn’t say sum bs like “I understand u” or whatever

He listens and asks if u want some feedback, if not then he ain’t saying anything

Eventually gives unsolicited feed cuz he always gotta give offhand comments)

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’s proud of you and your guy’s relationship

He won’t exactly show it off per say but he won’t hesitate to be proud of you

He doesn’t rlly show u off but mostly just says stuff like “yea (your name) can do that but like 100x better”

But what he really thought was “(your name) would beat that guy in a sec”

Rlly admires you

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Fighting is kinda sorta and essential to survive as a demigod soooo…

But when it comes to fights he’s obviously protective

Just not too much where it’s annoying

Only if u got hurt or weren’t able to protect yourself

He def fights for you and besides you

If anyone insults him, ok he’s mad

But if anyone insults you, he’s fucking pissed

U better do the same broski)

W = Wash ( What’s it like taking a bath with them, or helping them wash up after a fight?)

Nicos pretty quiet and doesn’t talk after a fight

He’s exhausted and he’s too tired to, he might try to reject your help but with much perseverance you pushed through and finally was able to clean and wash him up

You bandaged him up and fed him some nectar

He was pretty obedient, not putting up a fight for the most part.

Quiet too

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He can read you pretty well

Atleast what you’re thinking overall

Sometimes he overthinks and begins wondering what if…?

Can understand you a decent amount

X = XO ( How do they show you affection? How much PDA are they willing to show?)

Pretty affectionate when he wants to be

Mostly when he’s sleepy and off guard

He’s warmed up to you so that includes occasional physical touch

Mostly with your hands, now he hardly fidgets with his skull ring, mostly fidgeting with your hands or something on you

These little displays of affection go unnoticed by others but not you

In terms of PDA, he hates it

Please don’t ever kiss him in front of anyone, especially Hazel

He doesn’t mind hand holding, and if you were in a life or death situation PDA is off his mind and he’d rather cry and hug and sob w u then not have you near him just cuz he’s unaffectionate in public.

Y = Yearn (What do they do when they miss you?)

Yes.

When he misses you he becomes grumpy and cranky to everyone

He’d probably lay in your bed for comfort or get one of your hoodies and put it on.

Falls asleep and hopes when he wakes up you’ll be there

Even if you’re not ,he hopes he’ll dream of you

Regrets it cuz then he misses you more even in his dreams)

Z=Zzz ( How do they act when they get sleepy? How is it sleeping in the same bed?)

He’s dizzy and a bit delirious

And you both end up cuddling after laughing and talking about random shit at 2 am

He’s kind of a crazy sleeper and has notoriously bad bed head

Cute, but rlly bad

Same when he’s sleepy

He’s so cute and most times he says what’s on his mind instead of filtering it out.

Makes you pay for it when he’s in a clearer state of mind 😔

———————————————————————————

A/N: added two prompts for a couple of letters just cuz I felt like it and don’t hesitate to let me know if there are any spelling mistakes! :)

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modelbus · 3 months

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MODEL HELP-

i just typed a long ass message and it all deleted itself-

question, do you think you want to do another part on cut chaos? No pressure ofc, but I’d be cool! (I have a bunch of ideas for it I’ll send seperate (maybe) feel free to ignore them but like free crappy inspo man)

Request: Y/N is a part of SBI but they aren’t treated that great by the fandom or really the rest of the group. Its not like SBI MEANS to disregard the ‘hate’ towards Y/N like its nothing but they tend to dismiss or just ignore it, of course, they are still really close and care about Y/N, it still just hurts a little that they ignore it. But where the creators don’t realise they’re neglecting their friends emotions, the fans? They are fully aware they constantly joke about Y/N being the worst member of SBI. They are fully aware they also always ‘joke’ about forgetting Y/N exists. They are fully aware that despite Y/N being in as many if not more ‘SBI’ streams or videos than the other creators, they act as if they’re not actually a part of SBI. They are fully aware many of them aren’t joking when they say Y/N is not a member of SBI, or when they say they wish Y/N would stop showing up to streams. They are fully aware that the main ‘joke’ people think of when they think SBI is something along the lines of; “Whos Y/N?” or “Y/N is SO the middle child of the SBI, we all forget them!” or “Y/N? Ohhh you mean the one that’s annoying but its not funny!” .. When the SBI are streaming bedwars 2v2v2’s with a random viewer each game and that viewer happens to end up on Y/N’s team (and be an asshole) they, of course, decide to complain that out of every member they could be teamed with, they got the worst member of SBI! (Even though Y/N and techno practice pvp together regularly and the only person in SBI Y/N can’t kill is techno) While Y/N does what they always do and laughs it off with a SICK comeback (despite how much it hurts when they realise they expected that kind of reaction to being teamed with them), the rest of the SBI seems to snap as though that was their final straw (starting with tommy yelling ‘THATS BULLSHIT’ or smth) and all collectively go on a rant about how shitty most(?) fans treat Y/N, to Y/N’s surprise most of all of the fives chats are agreeing..? Y/N starts to realise maybe they aren’t as hated as they thought.. and maybe, just maybe, they are a lot more loved then they realised.

MODEL I’M SO SORRY MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS SO LONG-

Its funny how I’m not motivated to write actual fics but I can write 800 word requests-

LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK!!!

✨🌌🌙 Annon-

I’d love to write more for Cut Chaos! My writing has been all over the place lately because I’ve been really busy (school stuff :/) but I do enjoy writing for that (not-so) little series

Pairing: Gn!Reader X CC!SBI (Tommy, Techno, Phil, Wilbur)

Found Fury

You aren’t unfamiliar with the term unwanted. If anything, you’ve burrowed yourself a home in the word, splitting it in two. Accepted yourself for what you are.

Quite honestly, if there was a record for ‘most hated SBI member’ it’d go to you. Actually, it wouldn’t, considering how most people don’t even see you as a member of SBI. The forgettable middle child, adrift alone.

There wasn’t much you could do except accept it.

Bothering the others with it was unfathomable. Besides, they’ve surely seen some hint of it. They aren’t quite that blind, even if Wilbur and Techno do wear glasses. And, seeing as how they haven’t said a word… maybe it’s best if you didn’t nag about it.

It’s not that you’re partial to the so-called ‘suffering in silence,’ because you really aren’t. But you’re uniquely acquainted with brushing things off, pretending that your friends’ continued silence doesn’t sting and that being excluded from the group isn’t heart-wrenching. In the end, who really cares what strangers online think?

You can ignore the messages in your inboxes. The emails to your professional email asking if you’re really a part of SBI. All the replies to all your posts. Every fucking comment on every video you’re in.

Sometimes, it piles around you so high that you can’t see past it. Words strung together to form sentences that rephrase ‘Who even are you’ a thousand times. Or the more creative, ‘How do you manage to be unfunny AND annoying’ mixed with a side of scorn. It’s worse when it trends on Twitter after a stream, but who are you to complain?

After all, you’re just lucky to be following SBI around according to Twitter. Blessed to be in their fucking presence.

For the most part, you just hire more mods. And they’re pretty strict with bans, so your chat tends to err on the positive side. Everyone else’s? Well, let’s just say there’s a reason you don’t have their chats open.

Today is no exception.

Bedwars with viewers, everyone being randomly set into 2v2v2. Tommy’s idea, although he’s lost every round that Techno wasn’t on his team. That was mostly due to you sneak attacking him while he targeted Techno, but still.

“POTATOMAN!” Tommy shouts, practically bursting your eardrums. “YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE!”

“Christ, mate.” Phil laughs.

“…my ears…” Techno mourns quietly, making both you and Wilbur laugh.

“We’re getting in! We’re getting in!” Tommy says excitedly, and everyone spawns into their teams.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’re with the viewer on white team. Their character, a potato in a suit, stares at you as you walk backward to collect iron and gold from the generator.

You’ve been lucky up until this far, always getting placed with one of the others. Logically, you knew you’d eventually be placed with the random, but part of you still hoped. Still dared to relax into the game.

Potatoman’s character stands there for a few minutes, and you buy wool with your iron.

“Funnel me the gold, Tommy.” Techno says calmly.

“No! Fuck off! This is my gold!”

“You’re just going to walk off the edge with it!”

“No I won’t! When have I ever?!”

“Last game.” Wilbur inputs.

“Wha— I was pushed! That’s different!”

A message pops up in game chat, and your eyes flick to it for a moment, too busy with building a bed defense. When you realize it isn’t Tommy’s death message (it would’ve been really funny, let’s be honest), you do a double take to read it.

<Potatoman> My luck omg

Your eyebrows raise. For a split second, you dare to hope that the viewer is a fan of yours. That they want to be on a team with you. Hope is a dangerous thing; it just makes things worse when it dies.

<Potatoman> Stuck with the worst member <Potatoman> Not even a member fr lmaooo

Ah. And there it is.

Seeing the messages doesn't hurt; it's the fact that you knew to expect it right from the start.

That's not to say you're even the worst member, because in PvP you're a God. Hell, you and Techno train it all the time for fun! Even Tommy cheers when he gets teamed with you in PvP games like this. Being teamed with you for Bedwars was a pretty good thing, in theory.

Always in theory.

Because somehow, someway, you're never liked enough. Never enough for the viewers in general, even. Too annoying, too loud, too imperfect, too showy, too quiet, too anything. And you know to expect that feedback rather than to expect any semblance of compliments.

"At least the so-called 'worst member' didn't walk off the edge, unlike someone on my team." You quip, targeting your words at the viewer.

"Heh?" Techno asks.

"Oh, uh, nothing-"

"Look in chat." Wilbur interrupts.

There's a pause, then:

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!" Tommy screams into his mic. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"I'm agreeing with the kid here." Techno sighs.

"Actually, we really should talk about how the fans have been online. It's not even a recent thing." Phil says, his calm a stark contrast to Tommy.

"I've seen it a lot too. Let's be clear; everyone here is part of the Sleepy Bois. I made it, I make the rules." Wilbur declares.

"You did not make it!" Tommy protests, but Wilbur doesn't stop for him.

"To make it clear, we won't tolerate any hate of anyone in this group, especially not to the extent that we've been seeing recently."

Your eyes glance over at your chat, already stunned, only to have your jaw slacken when you see that your chat is spamming hearts and "YESYESYES."

"Guys, you don't have to... do this." You try.

"I'm pretty sure we do." Techno deadpans, and you can practically imagine the optifine zoom on his character's face he's probably doing/

"The fans treat you like shit, and we're all tired of it." Wilbur agrees. "It's stupid."

"They're all internet assholes." Tommy chimes in, this time at a reasonable volume.

"So from here on out, anyone who says mean shit to you gets banned. From all of our chats." Your eyes go wide at Phil's words, and you quickly pull up his and Tommy's streams to see what their chats are saying.

But... that can't be right. The outpouring of agreement can't be right. The fans all hate you, you know this. There's no way they're agreeing with Phil, Tommy, Techno, and Wil.

So you open Wilbur's chat, then pull up a YouTube tab for Techno's stream too.

Agreement floods every chat, and for just a moment you can't breathe. You were the supposed forgotten middle child, the one nobody cares to stand up for. But that was wrong, wasn't it?

You are part of the Sleepy Bois, and you're just as deserving as everyone else. Of the fans, of the support, of being able to open chat and not see overwhelming hate.

Of being loved.

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #philza x reader #technoblade #philza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc x reader

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isa-ghost · 2 months

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amfmn missa.. p please.. please mother … feed us

I'M BEING ENABLED PPOVERHEAT

He's an actual grim reaper. That's where he's disappeared to so often in canon, reaper duties. It's a very demanding job, you know.

Doesn't stop him from feeling terrible about being gone so often though. He misses his husband and kids and hates how often he's out of the loop :(

Fr though Phil and the kids make him so so happy after spending countless hours working such a sad job. It's also partially why he sings and makes art. That brand of fun is catharsis for the soul.

He has all his canon weapons but I ALSO gave him a reaper deathscythe. And boy is he gonna use it. Fucking AWOOGA MissaSinfonia when he's angry.

Btw as a reaper he can FEEL souls. He can see their power, their condition, feel the surface level emotions and personality of its owner. This will come in handy later in the fic. ;)

As per the post I made asking for Missa appreciation so I can characterize him properly: He's undyingly loyal, he fights hard and loves even harder, he's protective, silly, and goddamn can he flirt.

All his wet cat behavior is a result of getting too overwhelmed by The Horrors. He's seen A Lot as a reaper. But somehow Quesadilla Island and all its... Everything. Always manage to show him a new brand of What The Fuck he's never even imagined before. Hence all his screaming and weeping when he's caught up on what he's missed. Like how tf else is he supposed to react??

Somewhat attached to that, he and Phil rlly were a match made in Federation Heaven bc they both have issues with self-doubt despite being insanely skilled and sharp-witted. Missa is better abt it than Phil though. His only acts up when he messes up a lot or just. Doesn't have a clue how to handle a situation where it's dire that he does. It's more of an insecurity about being unprepared and failing his loved ones than it is a doubt he has skill. He KNOWS he does, he hates when it's not enough. That's how he differs from Phil, who thinks he has none at all.

Btw when you fuck with the people he's protective over, he gets PISSED. We're getting a LOT of pissed off Missa in AMFMN <3 Ofc there'll be a lot of reaper tears too, his husband is suffering and there's little he can do about it. :( But ohohoho when the sad turns into rage. BARK WOOF. Eventually he decides EK is catching these hands and scythe.

He also shakes hands with his husband on being a self-sacrificing little shit. And. Yeah this is gonna happen later in the fic. (He's not dying dw dw)

You have no idea how excited I am that I basically get to build his dynamics with Fit, Etoiles, and Bagi from scratch. I'm so hyped. People are welcome to reply with this with any crumbs we have of their dynamics in canon but afaik they've rarely interacted outside of very minor moments, so AMFMN will largely be a sandbox for me to establish what I THINK they'd be like. Which in my fic plan so far, is largely taking each character's personality and applying how I think they'd react to a situation, and how that would look when two of them are interacting in that situation. Ex: at one point Etoiles has to comfort Missa bc he's just having a ROUGH time with this saving Phil stuff. But Etoiles is NOT a comfort guy. So he does his Etoiles thing: hearing Missa out while also cracking his usual brand of jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

I also have a plot point planned with him and Bagi when shit is hitting the fan the hardest and OUUGHHH. That self-sacrificing shit am I right.

God I'm being so mean to him specifically in AMFMN though. Ender King is a sack of shit, he knows exactly who to harass most using Phil's body >:/

See in my AMFMN Fitza headcanons, I said they're each other's confidants. Which IS true. However, no one in the fic gets the honor of Phil FINALLY communicating with someone about his issues other than his husband. Missa is the person he caves and confesses things to. Missa gets the HC Deity lore and what's been happening to him lately. This is actually what Chapter 3 is :D

Also I am so sorry but I'm sliding a Missa Romantic Love Confession attempt into the fic and it gets interrupted by The Horrors. But yeah Missa is romantically in love with Phil, he just respects that Phil sees things platonically. He still wants to communicate his feelings though.

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #AMFMN things #deathduo #qsmp deathduo

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redjayson · 2 days

Text

system numbers (and miscellany) in chapter 17 of second-hand alibis

you will notice that airplane’s outline is a .doc file while the system’s log for its convo with shen yuan is a .docx file and that’s because airplane was not up to date on his microsoft word. the system is though. yes, the shitty google translate-voiced system uses microsoft, ofc it does!

worldInstance=37.09.5/r/tr.hst is “time relative to transmigration host” aka how long Shen Yuan has been in PIDW up until that point (37 years 9.5 months)

SysJuniorInt-47336 = GREEN (because this System is relatively new at its job; also jokes to be made about the world under its purview turning into a danmei instead of a stallion novel and specifically the bit in bingmei vs. bingge where sy!sqq calls lbh a "homegrown green jj gay")

InfoTechSyst-84733 = TIRED (if you work in the IT department and have to deal with dumbass errors by some of your fellow Systems then yes by god you are tired)

protocol 87 = TS for Twin Swap

protocol 32 = EB for (Transmigration 2) Electric Boogaloo, subset 69 = MW for Mind Wipe (subset A for “All/Everything,” a total reset; there would presumably be other subsets, where there’s only a partial wipe or it was meant to be something that could be gained back through quests or other things depending on what the System in charge wanted to do with the story. our system, obviously, Fucked That One Up)

#fic: second-hand alibis #shen twins au

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

one. you make loving fun (sweet wonderful you)

content (for this chapter): smut, drinking, bad jokes and flirting, cursing, fluff, some insecurities (both frankie and camila), child surprise (not a pregnancy fic), general softness, mentions of food, some lengthy prose

word count: 9.1k

a/n: she is here. i've wanted to write something inspired by fleetwood mac for so long and frankie (alongside @lcvenderblues meddling, ily) just lends himself so well for it. as i've mentioned in the series notes, this was supposed to be shorter but, in true me fashion, not only did it turn into a never-ending thing, i also somehow ended up with camila (whom i love dearly). so there you have it. i'm also currently without a beta reader so if you see mistakes just... pretend you didn't

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

“We didn’t necessarily do things the proper way–Will would say we actually did them backwards, which I think is just partially true, I’m not giving you the satisfaction, Miller. You see, when I first met Frankie we didn’t say a single word to each other for exactly three minutes and thirty-four seconds–and I know that, because that’s the exact duration of You Make Loving Fun. Technically, the first thing I said to him was Sweet wonderful you, and after all this time I still stand by those words. We could’ve done things in order, we could’ve done everything scrambled through whatever amount of time, but the result would still be the same–Francisco, my sweet wonderful you, you really do make loving fun.”

Frankie couldn’t remember the last time he’d belted out to a single song while driving–if he drove alone, the music would be loud and he would just keep the rhythm by tapping the steering wheel or nodding his head, never taking his eyes off the road; if somebody else was with him, there would either be no music or he’d just feel too self-conscious to sing.

Yet there he was, a drop too much of tequila in him (in the morning he would chastise himself for the rashness of his actions), windows down and music high, singing his heart out with a woman he’d just met at his side, her hair whipping wildly in the wind, McVie’s bass making the speakers of his car tremble.

He hadn’t planned any of it–he was meant to go to the bar, have a drink, maybe two, and then go back home and fall asleep on the couch with a movie he wasn’t even interested in. But he’d turned in his seat as You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac had started, and met the eyes of this woman–dark hair, big smile–who, pointing directly at him, had started singing and beckoned him forward. He wished to pretend it had been the beer’s fault, making him stand almost immediately, but truth was he was completely enthralled by her.

Frankie had danced with her as she sang along with the song, her hands in his, her body warm against his–they’d kissed before knowing each other’s names, her own shouted into his ear: Camila. He’d laughed, offered to buy her a drink, two, three, the conversation flowing so easily they’d found themselves moving outside for a smoke, and then to his car, where she’d seen the Rumors album tucked in a compartment of the car and her eyes had lit up.

He hadn’t thought he’d end up bringing somebody home, but her enthusiasm had warmed his chest, and suddenly he found himself kissing that smile off her lips as they stumbled into his house tangled together, shedding shoes and jackets through the corridor until they fell into bed.

She huffed a breath when he landed on top of her, laughter bubbling in her chest as she pulled back from the kiss and regained her breath, raking her hands through his hair while he lifted his head and, wide-eyed, looked down at her flushed face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, arms bracketing her head, as he lifted himself off of her, kneeling between her parted thighs–he lowered his gaze to where her dress had bunched up around her hips, uncovering her legs and giving him a peek of her underwear. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and when he looked back up a grin crossed her lips. “You alright?”

“Being crushed under someone’s weight was not how I imagined I’d go,” she snorted, hands falling to his shoulders, down to the front of his button up–it was already wrinkled from her touch, and as she thumbed a button he arched his eyebrows and lowered one hand to her skin, fingers brushing across her exposed collarbones.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” goosebumps crossed her skin in the wake of his touch, smile still pulling at her lips. He lowered his head into the crook of her neck, lips brushing her pulse point–he felt her heart jump under his mouth and grinned against her skin. “Feels like you’re alive to me.”

She laughed again, the sound making Frankie’s smile widen, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down her neck, throat, chest, following the path he’d traced with his fingers down to the neckline of her dress and then further down, across the wrinkled fabric, her back arching as he moved down and down and down, a shuddering breath making her chest heave.

His hands followed, a too brief touch over her chest, cupping her breasts before moving to her hips, pulling the dress further up until her stomach was exposed and he could kiss the bare skin there, right above the waistband of her underwear as he caressed down her thighs, pulling them up slightly, parting her legs furthermore to slot himself with his shoulders underneath her knees.

His shoulders had been the first thing she’d noticed in the blinking lights of the bar, broad and constricted by his shirt, tugging at the top button she’d undone while they were dancing with a grin–he’d lifted his arms at some point, shirt riding up his stomach and giving her a peek of a sliver of skin. She’d thought about kissing the skin there, just as he was doing with her, the gentle scratch of his beard making her shiver.

“You don’t have to -” she gasped when he nipped her inner thigh, hips lifting off the bed with a curse muttered between her teeth that had him chuckle and look up.

“Where would the fun be in that?” he kissed her thigh again, moving slightly up as he hooked his arms around her legs and placed his hands above her hips. “Let me make it good for you, baby.”

A shudder of anticipation ran down her spine at his almost-request that had her flushing and push herself onto her elbows–she barely shifted over the bed, his hands keeping her pinned down.

“Is that the tequila talking, Francisco?” he grinned as she reached down, tracing his jaw with the tip of her fingers before pinching his chin gently, angling his head as if to lean over and kiss him. He liked the way she said his name, r rolling off her tongue, hissing s, hard c.

“A little,” he admitted, thumbs playing with the hem of her dress. He wasn’t drunk to the point of not remembering anything the following morning, but just enough to act cocksure. “But I mean it–only if you want to.”

Camila bit down on her bottom lip, another rush of excitement running through her–between the dancing, the drinking and Frankie’s kisses, every single part of her felt aflame. She dragged her thumb across the seam of his mouth, his lips swollen and slightly red in the dim lights of the bedroom parting under her touch–his pupils dilated, eyes dark and expectant. When she nodded, a shimmer crossed his gaze, and after kissing the palm of her hand he lowered his head between her thighs, pulling her gently closer to him–Frankie was eager, and with a loud sigh she fell back onto the pillows.

His lips never wandered too far from the soft skin of her inner thighs, peppering gentle kisses as he tugged her underwear down, parting just enough to expose her–the cooler air of the room hit her core right before he bowed his head, a kiss to her mound that had her eyes flutter shut. Pinning her hips down, Frankie pressed the flat of his tongue against her slit, and the moan that ran up her spine at his first taste of her made her shudder, hands grasping for the covers at her sides.

Another muttered curse left her lips as he dragged his tongue up to the apex of her core, her legs threatening to close around his head when he nudged her clit–he kept her thighs apart, fingers digging into the flesh as he glanced up at her. She kept her lips parted, short bursts of air leaving her each time he repeated the motion, lapping again and again, his tongue coated in her slick to the point he couldn’t feel the aftertaste of alcohol anymore.

Her thighs burned where his beard dragged with the motions of his head, muscles trembling as he picked up his pace, the noises filling the room almost obscene–had she been a little more sober, she would’ve felt herself flush with embarrassment, granted she could get past how good he felt. When he wrapped his lips around her clit, she clenched around nothing and moved one hand into his hair, tugging onto the locks somewhere between pulling him away and pushing him closer.

He moaned in response to the burn across his scalp, the vibrations making her back arch off the bed–again he pinned her down, hand spreading across her stomach, her muscles tensing under his touch. He shifted his arms, one half-draped across her hips with his hand reaching up, past her belly and towards her chest, underneath the now ruined dress–the other tucked into his side, hand dipping between her legs.

“Jesus, Frankie,” she moaned his name when he pushed his digit inside her, a mix of spit and her own slick aiding his movement–one knuckle, two, her chest heaving and she pulled onto his hair again, his name falling like a chant from her lips. He lifted his head then, enough to get a glimpse of her face–eyes glossed over, she looked down towards him and trembled at the sight of his glistening lips.

“This alright?” his voice was raspier, a little hoarse, caressing the skin of her stomach like a ripple of warm water. She nodded, eagerly enough her hair ruffled all around her head, and rocked her hips slowly into his touch. He began pulling his hand back, the drag of his finger making her moan and drop her head back.

“Please,” with a sigh, her hand heavy on his head, she arched towards him–he lowered his mouth to her again, tongue flicking over her enlarged clit as he slowly sank two fingers back inside her.

Frankie’s pace was agonizing, alternating between curling and pumping his fingers, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Camila had the fleeting thought she could not remember the last time someone had made her feel so good, right before he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot she never managed to reach on her own, and simultaneously sucked her clit–her vision flashed white as her legs locked around his head, orgasm washing over her with a broken moan of her own.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered breathlessly, hands slowly reaching for her chest–her fingers interlocked with Frankie’s over her stomach as he pulled his head up, the hair locks she’d tugged at falling messily over his forehead as he chuckled, the tip of his tongue peeking between his glistening lips.

“Thank you?” he tilted his head slightly, cheek brushing her red-marked thigh as her legs eased from around his head, falling heavily still over his shoulders. She snorted, squeezing his hand and letting her eyes flutter shut as he shifted upwards.

With her free hand, she took hold of his shirt, tugging him up to her until she was kissing him again, bracketing his hips between bent legs as he leaned his weight on her once more, their joined hands moving up across her body, her skin warm even through the bunched up dress and his shirt.

Frankie rutted his hips into her when she licked into his mouth, a muffled moan as her whole body shuddered at the drag of his jeans growing too tight. She locked her thighs around his hips, belt digging into the soft, uncovered, already slightly reddened skin, and with the hand previously interlocked with his, she reached for his hair and tugged slightly.

He huffed out a surprised breath when he found himself on his back, both her hands now on his chest to push him fully down as she tilted her head, hair tumbling to the side as she left a trail of kisses down his patchy beard, his neck, button after button undone by deft fingers until his shirt fell open and she was kissing his chest, the room rocking slightly in his hazy vision. He bucked his hips again as she undid his belt.

“Top drawer,” buckle, button, zipper, some of the tightness against his bulge easing as his hands quickly fell to her uncovered knees, trailing up and up to sneak underneath the dress that had fallen back down her frame.

“What?” words slurred against his skin, she was kissing his shoulder, shrugging his shirt off fully as she did. He sighed heavily at her insistent kisses, at her fingertips dragging down his arms to bare him, the tickle of her unbound hair to his other shoulder and chest.

The last thing he wanted was for her to move away, so he wrapped one arm around her waist, pushing her close to him–in doing so, her knees slid up a little and she settled on his stomach as he shifted up across the bed, moving one hand away to reach for the nightstand, blindly grabbing a silver-wrapped condom, movements hasty and quick as she went back to kiss his neck, grinding down on him with soft whines. He followed the movements of her hips with his free hand spanning against her side, dress wrinkling under his touch.

Camila pulled away almost abruptly, a little gasp leaving her lips as she straightened her back with her hands resting on his chest–her fingers pushed gently into him to balance herself before reaching for the bunched up hem of her dress and pull it over her head, letting her hair fall right down over her shoulder.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” her hands once more resting on his chest, Frankie’s fingertips dragged up her side–knee, thigh, hip, waist, thumbing the soft skin underneath her breast and making her sigh softly, eyelids fluttering shut as a smile still pulled at her lips.

“‘Cause you look real pretty,” he shifted his hands past her legs to tug down the rest of his clothes, the movement making her lean her weight forward, fingers curling against his chest as she snorted–and felt her face heat up.

“Lights are off, Francisco,” she lowered her face to him, simultaneously lifting her hips from his as he kicked off his trousers and underwear almost impatiently, belt-buckle clicking somewhere on the floor over the edge of the bed.

“Would you like them on?” the sound of the foil ripping made her eyes wander downwards across his body–she licked her lips at the sight of his hard length, tip red and leaking resting against his stomach. “Mila,” he called her softly–so softly she shuddered, lowering her lips to his in a quick kiss.

“I don’t want you going anywhere,” with one hand cupping his chin, she spoke against his mouth, his lips parting to chase another kiss as he rolled the condom on, reaching to grab one of her hips right afterwards, slowly guiding her down.

Camila moaned into his mouth as the tip of his cock nudged her entrance, her legs parting a little more around his hips to give him more room as she sank further down his length. The stretch had her dig her fingers slightly into his cheeks, working his jaw open as he now gripped both her hips, steadying her movements.

“Fuck, it feels good,” between one kiss and the other, inch after inch, Camila began pulling her head back. “So good,” muttered over and over as she moved her hand down–Frankie felt the blunt edge of her nails across his neck, chest, fantasized about there being marks the day after. “You feel so good, Frankie,” she cried out his name as she straightened her back and sank fully down on him.

They remained still for a moment, panting as they both adjusted to the position, a slow, gentle grinding on her part as she tipped her head back, hands resting on his chest–Frankie’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of him and rest on her palms, the grip on her hips tightening as he groaned softly.

“Look at you,” he hummed, kneading her flesh as he pushed himself in a seated position–her hands slid from his chest to his shoulder to the back of his neck, again a gentle scratch that rose goosebumps in its wake. The shift of positions made her sigh heavily, eyes fluttering shut as she bit down on her bottom lip and her chest heaved, pressed flush against Frankie’s. “Tan hermosa,” he mouthed against her exposed throat, seconding the next rock of her hips with one of his arms wrapping around her lower back.

She squeezed around him at his words, tiny breathless gasps at his words and the push of his arm, her back arched and her thighs trembling again. One of her hands threaded through his hair, a tingle spreading across his scalp when she tugged on the strands–but she did not pull him away from her neck as he kept kissing her, tongue dragging across her collarbones, tasting the salt from her skin. He could stay like that the rest of the night, he thought, buried to the hilt inside of her, nursing hickey after hickey on her soft skin, listening to her uttered praises.

But then Camila began moving, rolling her hips once, twice, held back moans trapped in her throat each time she lowered herself fully onto him, taking on a rhythm that had stars shimmer at the edges of Frankie’s vision–he knew then, resting his free hand behind him for balance, digging his heels in the mattress, that he was not going to last long, the smooth drag of her walls up and down his length pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

When he snapped his hips up to meet her half-way, she stuttered, bowing her head until she was muffling a loud moan into the crook of his neck, movements suddenly erratic. Frankie repeated the motion, again, and again, and again, the arm around her hips keeping her in place as he fucked up into her, each thrust punching the air out of her with a low cry.

“C’mon, baby,” he tutted, nosing at her cheek. “Let me hear you. Let me hear you, I’m close, so fucking close, so–” he groaned when she picked up the rhythm again, half-moons craved by her nails into his shoulder and a louder moan leaving her. “Attagirl.”

Camila did not hold back after that, the encouragements he kept murmuring through kisses making her dizzy, making her stomach flutter–thighs trembling, her rhythm started to falter again, clenching around him.

“Can feel you–little more, baby, just a little more,” he moved his hand from her back to her hip, reaching with his thumb to the apex of her core. She gasped at his touch, the quick, small circles he drew over her clit as he twitched inside of her–her lips on his neck brought his orgasm forth, dragged it on until she stilled with a cry of his name.

She went heavy against him, hot, long breaths caressing his skin as she clung to him, and slowly he shifted back, bringing his arm around her waist again to keep her close, guiding her to lie down on top of him. She peppered his neck and shoulder with small kisses, brushing her hand through the hair on top of his head, each strand standing on edge under her touch.

“You keep doing that, you might just be the death of me,” he murmured, the sudden quiet broken only by their breathings. Camila chuckled, grazing her teeth against his neck–he tilted his head and gave her more space, her kiss lingering over his pulse point.

“Feels like you’re alive to me,” she echoed his words, and Frankie laughed, his whole body shaking with it. She placed one final kiss on his neck and he could feel the smile on her lips before she rolled onto his side, a sigh leaving her before she moved one hand to her hip.

“You alright?” he asked softly, turning his head towards her. Her eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing her flushed cheeks, and her lips were curved in a smile still, as she slowly rubbed down her upper thigh.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” she returned, and he brought his hand over hers, pressing down gently to massage her flesh. She sighed again, relieved, lowering her chin to his shoulder. “Just need a moment.”

“You can stay, it’s alright,” she flickered her gaze up at him, a few rapid blinkings before he leaned in, placing an almost ridiculously chaste kiss against her lips before pulling back. “I’ll be right back.”

She hummed softly, her eyes shutting right away as her hand fell to the empty space previously occupied by him, fingers curling as if seeking to hold onto the warmth he’d left behind. His gaze lingered a moment longer on her, the way her hair fell across the covers and around her head, soft waves now tangled. He didn’t need any brighter light to see how beautiful she was, her body curling up onto herself as her breath slowed down furthermore.

When he returned from the bathroom, mere moments later, the air in the room was heavy with the smell of sex, but underneath lingered that scent that had driven him wild from the bar–rosemary, fresh and pungent and somewhat familiar. Camila’s body was completely wrapped up in his covers, untucked and twisted from the bed, only the top of her head peeking from underneath, the whole thing shifting slowly in tandem with her breathing.

“Mila,” he called her name softly, just leaning against the edge of the bed with the towel he’d brought for her resting on his forearm. “You’re hogging all the covers,” he whispered with a smile, and a quiet groan left her–a noise of protest as she shifted and lifted one arm, uncovering herself and the empty side of the bed. All through it, she did not open her eyes.

Chuckling, he climbed by her side, leaving the towel on the nightstand and shifting close, until her warm skin touched his again. She dropped the covers and her arm back down, right across his chest, and bowed her head until her forehead was pressed to his shoulder, the other arm tangling with his, interlocking their hands together.

Frankie looked down towards her again, unable to help the delicate smile curling his lips, and ever so slowly leaning in to brush his lips to her forehead. She squeezed his hand at that–the only acknowledgment she managed to give other than another soft sigh, warm hair brushing down his shoulder. So he said nothing else–there was no need to–and just fixed the covers until she was fully covered. It didn’t even matter he was still partially uncovered, the sheets mostly tangled around her body instead–he was warm enough with her at his side.

When Frankie opened his eyes, he realized he’d slept all through the night without waking a single time–no nightmares, no fear for his child needing him all of a sudden, and the warmth radiating from the body next to him a comfort he hadn’t felt in a while. The morning sun filtered through the drawn curtains, hitting the lower edge of the bed with feeble rays, and though his head hurt terribly he forced his gaze to shift at his side.

He shouldn’t have drank that much–he wasn’t used to it anymore.

Camila had abandoned her curled up position during the night, shifting almost onto her front with one leg hooked over his, and her arm still draped across his chest, fingers extended towards where his farther hand was. The hand he’d fallen asleep holding was tucked under her chin, just above his shoulder, and was pushing upwards slightly, so that a pout formed on her lips–his own arm was stuck underneath her, a little numb, disappearing underneath her curtain of hair.

Her eyelids shifted as if chasing a dream, her breathing still even, and against his side Frankie could feel her heartbeat, regular and soothing. Shifting ever so slightly, he tried to angle his body to face her, but her arm tightened around him, and a groan of protest left her as she pushed herself closer, brows knitting in a frown that was immediately covered by her hair falling across her face.

“Sorry,” he murmured softly, mouth parched. He reached forward with his free hand, brushing the locks back and tucking them behind her ear. There was a smudge of mascara underneath her eye, and he cupped his hand over her cheek to rub at it gently. She hummed, leaning into his touch before slowly licking her lips, smacking them a couple of times.

“What time is it?” she blinked several times in his direction, frown returning until she cleared her vision and he came into focus, brown eyes wide that showed her smile before he glanced at her mouth. “Hi,” she whispered, almost breathless, and Frankie chuckled.

“Hi,” he repeated, mimicking her smile. “Still early, I think. I have no idea where my phone is,” he cleared his throat–he needed some water desperately, but couldn’t bring himself to move away from her. “You can get some more sleep, if you want.”

“Do I look that terrible?” she turned her lips in an exaggerated pout, moving her hand across his chest, shoulder, following the curve of his neck before she was cupping his jaw, thumb brushing across his patchy beard.

“Quite the opposite,” some boldness from the night before clung to him still, in that moment of otherness from the rest of the world they were lingering in, in tangled limbs and tentative touches. Though she attempted to maintain her expression of mock-offense, a grin broke across her lips–lips he was glancing at over and over–and a flush spread across her cheeks. She grew warmer, pressing herself into his side.

“Even without the alcohol?” she teased, the tip of his nose brushing his–neither of them seemed to care about morning breath, or the way both their mouths felt padded with cotton. As long as they were close. Closer.

“Especially without the alcohol,” he retorted with a nod, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers.

She kissed him with a smile still on, scratching his jaw as she pushed herself up to meet him, and he let his hand wander back, fingers brushing through her hair until he cupped the nape of her neck. Camila sighed in the kiss, and he took advantage of her parted lips, licking into her mouth as her whole body went soft and heavy against his.

Frankie moved slowly, slotting his leg between hers as he shifted on his side, deepening the kiss and then moved again, guiding her until she was lying on her back, and he hovered over her, forearms bracketing her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and parted her thighs to accommodate his hips.

He groaned when she arched her back to cant her hips towards his, a muffled whine at the rub of his underwear he’d pulled on before getting into bed against her bare core. It was suddenly clear to him that it hadn’t been the alcohol making him dizzy the night before, but her, her kisses, the way her body pressed against his, the soft sounds she fought to hold back.

For a moment, that was all he heard–the rustling of the covers, her breathing quickening, his heart beating faster, louder, his name hanging from her lips once and twice and then again–and then the doorbell rang, and Frankie’s head snapped upwards.

“Were you expecting someone?” Camila asked, a little breathless, turning her head towards the door of the bedroom, the echo of the doorbell breaking the glass that had shielded them from outside, from the day ahead.

“I think it’s my mother,” he spoke in a lower voice, flinching at his own words, and the woman’s eyes widened as he snapped her gaze back towards him, a hint of panic crossing her face. “It’s alright, she’s just–she’s not staying, just passing through, I’ll–” he brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth as he moved from over her, the half-kiss hurried and messy. “I’ll be right back.”

He cursed himself as he stood from the bed, scrambling to find a pair of trousers to put on with a shirt that wasn’t wrinkled–he pushed the clothes from the night before aside, the doorbell ringing again and the realization of what was going to happen making him suddenly unable to look at her.

“Frankie,” she called softly, and he turned his gaze to a vague point of the duvet, right next to where her hand rested now that she’d sat up. “Where’s the bathroom?” she fidgeted with a loose thread of the duvet, and on her other side she drummed her fingers quickly. Nervously.

“Down the corridor to the right,” he stalled for a moment, then forced his gaze up. Her eyes were still wide, still worried. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated, and headed for the door before the doorbell could ring a third time.

The night before was a blur until the moment they landed on his bed–bits and pieces, snippets of songs and rumbles of music, bitter and sweet from alcohol and then her. They’d talked for so long, and yet he knew he’d never mentioned Alba–and with the way they’d moved through the house, she sure hadn’t seen any picture of her either. It was why he hadn’t brought anybody home in a long time–hadn’t even thought about it, before Camila.

“Ah, tienes mala cara,” was his mother greeting as he opened the door, and the little child in her arms immediately squealed, all but throwing herself towards her father. Frankie was quick to grab her, huffing out a breath that he hoped didn’t smell too much of tequila, stepping aside as the woman walked in.

“Hola, mamá,” he muttered, watching as she perused the living room. “¿Están bien?” he asked then, turning to look at the child with a smile–he couldn’t help it, the child’s joy infectious even when he felt like death. He needed water. And breakfast.

“Nuh-hu,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a smile already pulling at her lips. Frankie sighed. "¿Es bonita?” she asked–he felt his chest and face warm up, and was quick to glance away, focusing on babbling Alba instead. He could try and bullshit his way out of the conversation, but there was no winning an argument like that with his mother.

Mostly because he knew it was clear as day on his face that he’d actually had a great night.

“Sì, mamá, es muy bonita, pero–” she waved her hands in the air, as if shooing gnats away.

“Vale, vale, me voy,” she scoffed, walking back towards them. Frankie bowed his head, letting her kiss his forehead before she pinched the kid’s cheek gently, making her giggle again. “Ten cuidado, ¿sí?”

“No es como si me fuera a robar, mamá,” he chuckled, the sticky feeling of her lipstick on his forehead familiar and somewhat welcomed. He reached over to squeeze her shoulder softly, reassuringly, but his mother just looked back up at him with a sigh, patting the back of his knuckles.

“Me refiero a tu corazón, Cisco,” she murmured gently.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly with a shake of his head, but his eyes trailed up towards the ceiling, where soft steps came from upstairs. His mother shook her head, humming her dissent as she followed his gaze. “Mamá–”

“Al menos pídele una cita,” she whispered, the steps drawing tentatively closer, stopping somewhere down the corridor. “Chau, nena. Proteges a tu viejo, ¿vale?”

Frankie scoffed, a quick peck to his mother’s cheek with a thanking under his breath before she showed herself out, one last glance over her shoulder, towards the stairs that creaked–the situation was almost hilarious, his mother trying to steal a look towards Camila while the woman tried to be as quiet as possible down the stairs. All the while, Alba squirmed in his hold, curious about the noise coming from inside the house, too distracted by it to see the door close in front of his grandmother.

Camila’s head appeared first, the rest of her body still a step back, and she glanced inside the living room with a careful gaze–she saw Frankie first, her expression relaxing. She took the final step forward and then stilled, her eyes falling to the kid still in his arms. They regarded each other, and Frankie had to clear his throat a couple of times while she pulled at the hem of his shirt over her wrinkled dress.

“Well, I thought it took longer to get one of them,” she tugged the sleeves of the shirt almost over her hands, taking a tentative step forward before frowning. “Didn’t we use protection?”

Frankie hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he huffed out a laugh, holding Alba a little closer before crossing the space from the front door to Camila. Her gaze flickered from him to the child, her giggled pulling a smile on her lips as she tilted her head.

“Hi, nena,” she whispered softly, pushing her hand out towards Alba. The child grabbed her index, tugging it towards her face and immediately trying to put it in her mouth. Camila snorted, keeping her head tilted to look at her face. “I don’t think that’s very tasty, honey.”

“Alba, don’t,” Frankie chastised softly, trying to pry Camila’s finger from her grip. “Sorry, she will try and put everything in her mouth lately.”

“That’s alright,” her voice had a softer edge, eyes fixed on the giggling child. Frankie had managed to wrestle her hand out of the kid’s hold, and was now wiping her hand clean. “So she’s–you have a daughter?”

“Yes,” he looked up from their now joined hands to see her nibbling at her bottom lip, the hand he wasn’t holding fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, thumbing the loose button.

“Just a daughter?” she asked, her voice lower, and looked up at him. Wide-eyed, her bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, Frankie’s heart clenched at the hint of doubt in her words.

“Oh, God–yes,” he spoke quickly, and moved forward as much as he could while still holding Alba against his chest. “I’m sorry–yes. Her mother and I haven’t spoken in months.”

The tension left Camila’s shoulders, a long exhale that tasted minty and made Frankie all too aware of his own breath–he tilted his head to the side, keeping only his gaze directed towards her.

“You’ve been raising her on your own?” at her question, Alba tipped herself forward, lounging for her with open arms–Camila’s hand rested on her chest before his own could, keeping her upright and stepping closer, a wide and gentle smile as she murmured something under her breath as she rubbed her thumb across the child’s chest. Frankie shrugged.

“My mom helps, keeps her some nights if she thinks I need it,” he watched the soothing motions of her hand, the way Alba’s breath began to even, how the woman’s eyes did not leave the child for a moment, how her cheeks had a gentle flush that was somewhat different from the one of that morning, in bed. “My friends too–some of them. Benny can’t be trusted with a child on his own, I’d find her with purple hair or something.”

“Sounds like a charmer,” she chuckled, and after another beat looked up, meeting Frankie’s gaze. He sucked in a breath, his head bowed awfully close to hers–he wasn’t sure why it felt different now, to be so near her he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. In the new light, he could see faint shadows under her eyes, some remnants of the makeup she’d tried to wash off clinging to her eyelashes, the freckles dotting her nose, the grays at her temples that matched his own.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, shuffling on the spot. “I’m sorry, Mila.”

“What for?” she frowned. Frankie’s gaze shifted from her to Alba, her head now tipped back against his chest, eyelids drooping. “Hey, it’s alright–it’s not like a child is something you discuss with a one night stand. I understand,” she sounded so genuine, Frankie’s heart clenched again.

His mother’s words echoed in his head: at least ask her out on a date.

“What if it wasn’t?” he asked before he could stop himself, and watched the circling motion of her thumb still on Alba’s chest stop–the child grumbled in protest, turning her head to hide in the crook of Frankie’s neck. “A one night thing, I mean. That is, if–”

“Yes,” she replied immediately, almost breathlessly, then cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’s plenty of kid-friendly places, too.”

“I –” Frankie hadn’t even thought of suggesting Alba went with them, whenever it was, wherever it was, if it ever was– he already imagined calling in favors, finding a babysitter. Camila hadn’t even hesitated. “Might be a little rusty, but I don’t remember dates including one-year-old kids, y’know?”

“Oh, you meant a date?” Camila’s head tilted to the side, and Frankie’s expression fell, the little smile that had begun forming dropping quickly as his lips parted. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said right away, covering her mouth to keep herself from laughing. “Bad joke, I’m sorry,” she repeated, moving a little closer to his side, dropping the hand she was keeping on Alba towards his arm, wrapping her fingers around his wrist as she moved close enough to rest her chin on the opposite shoulder of the one the kid was falling asleep. “Whatever works for you–I’d just like to see you again.”

“Even without the alcohol?” he tilted his head so that he was looking at her still–from underneath the collar of his shirt, bright against her neck appeared a bruise in the shape of his lips. He stared at it a moment longer, while her smile widened and she nodded, chin digging into his shoulder.

“Especially without the alcohol,” she echoed, and he let his eyes flutter shut with an exhale.

He let himself linger in the moment, Alba’s warm puffs of air as she fell asleep against him, soft body slumped heavily over him, and Camila’s weight on the other side, the barely-there contact of her body against his side, fingers brushing his wrist with the same circling soothing motion she’d used with the child, the other hand resting over his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, afraid of breaking whatever spell had been cast over the three of them.

“Of course I am,” he felt her shift her weight forward before she kissed his shoulder from above his shirt. “D’you have your phone?”

“Back pocket,” he’d realized he pulled on the trousers from the night before as he walked down the stairs, and the phone was still there–before he could fix his hold on Alba and reach for it, Camila dropped her hand from his shoulder and took it, turning a little so he could watch the screen too as she thumbed in her number.

“There. Whenever you’re ready,” she smiled up at him, and almost put it back in his pocket, then stalled. “Actually, can I use this? Mine’s dead and I should get a ride back to my car.”

“I can take you,” Alba stirred in his arms, the few minutes of sleep seemingly enough for her, a grumble leaving her as she tried to squirm out of his hold and reach for the floor.

“I’m a big girl, Frankie, I can make it,” she smiled, and her eyes wandered immediately towards the child, gaze softening as he lowered himself carefully to let her down. Alba toddled towards Camila, her arms out for balance–it still astounded Frankie, the way she could cross rooms by herself now.

“I know, just–” he followed the child with his gaze, hands outstretched to grab her should it be needed. But she went on, straight towards Camila’s legs, arms lifted towards the hem of the shirt, tugging gently on it. “We could get breakfast–Alba, pórtate bien,” he chided.

“Breakfast sounds nice,” the woman crouched down, bringing herself at eye level with the child–her dress pooled around her ankles, and his shirt brushed the floor, Alba grabbing the hem and pulling it towards her. “I know, nena, it looks familiar,” again her voice softened, a mock whisper as she leaned in and pulled one corner up. “I stole it from your dad because I couldn’t find my jacket–but don’t tell him.”

Alba giggled, looking between the two of them but leaning against Camila’s bent legs, one cheek squished against her knees. The woman’s hand reached for her head, gently brushing her dark curls back and out of her hair. Frankie had only ever seen his mother use such tenderness with her. His mouth felt dry.

“Give me just a moment, I’ll be right back.”

He got ready in record time, brushing his teeth while simultaneously trying and failing to make his hair make sense–he pulled one of his caps on, not wanting to waste more time. A part of him was apprehensive, leaving the two of them alone–but the other trusted Camila already, and he hoped this once his gut would not betray him. He really, really hoped so.

When he returned–still in the middle of buttoning his shirt–Camila had abandoned her crouched position and was sitting on the floor instead, her back against the couch and her purse abandoned on the side, as Alba sat between her ankles and placed one toy after the other over the woman’s dress. She babbled as she moved a stuffed bear towards the other, which Camila held against her stomach, her eyes crinkling at the corners while she smiled. The moment Frankie walked back into the living room, she looked up towards him.

“That’s an interesting shirt,” she commented, eyebrows arching, unable to hide the grin as her gaze roamed across the print of his button-up. Dark green with a floral print, it had been a gift from his mother, and he rarely ever wore it, the pattern a little too bold for his taste.

“I’m behind on laundry,” he muttered, fingers hovering over the last button, eventually deciding to leave the neck a little open. “And you stole the other one,” he pointed an accusing finger at her, and Camila immediately brought one hand to her chest, stuffed animal and all.

“Who told you that?” she gasped in mock-offense, her eyes falling back to Alba who had been following the conversation, eyes wide and attentive, giggling between their words. “I thought we were becoming friends, and you went and betrayed me like this!”

“Don’t blame it on the child,” reaching their side, Frankie offered her his hand to help her up, and once she was standing, a couple of staggering steps before he steadied her, he lowered his head towards her a little. “Thief,” he added in a whisper, and Camila smiled up at him.

“Is this alright?” she asked then, almost tentatively. “I really have no idea where my jacket is,” she admitted, sheepishly. Frankie rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, gaze falling from her lips to the places his shirt draped over her shoulders and collarbones.

“Of course–I’m sure it’ll turn up,” he didn’t say it gave him an excuse to call her afterwards, to actually see her again if for a minute.

“Thank you,” she cleared her throat, letting go of his hand to reach up and fix the collar of his shirt, fingertips brushing his neck while doing so. “I was just messing with you–it looks good,” she hummed then, smoothing it across his chest. He scoffed, a light roll of his eyes before turning to pick up Alba, the child already lifting her arms towards him.

“Come on, I’m starving,” he said instead, and the woman scowled at his dismissal, walking just ahead of him to open the door for him and Alba–she’d picked one of the stuffed bears with her, and when Alba noticed she squealed happily, looking over Frankie’s shoulder all the while to keep her eyes on Camila and the bear.

The drive was quiet, except for the initial moment, the radio starting again where they had left it on a too high volume the night before–the final notes of The Chain leaving place to the beginning of You Make Loving Fun, a nervous laughter leaving them both as they reached for the volume at the same time. In the backseat, Alba squirmed in her booster seat but was otherwise unfazed, the bear secured in her arms, and they glanced at her half-guiltily before turning towards each other.

Frankie thought he could’ve kissed her right there and then, above the handbrake with their seatbelts pushing into their chests. He also thought he’d had the same idea the night before. Was sure of it, actually. He’d probably done it, too, the alcohol making him bold enough.

But he didn’t need courage, he realized. It was so easy to be at Camila’s side, to talk about nothing and everything all at once, to joke and laugh and listen to her hum along with the songs, watch as she looked into the mirror towards Alba and made faces at her that made the child giggle with unabashed glee.

He forgot, for the whole ride, that they hadn’t even known each other for a full day. It didn’t feel like it mattered anyway.

Inside the café–right in front of the bar they’d been the night before, her car the only one still in the parking lot–there weren’t a lot of people. They sat themselves in one of the corners, Frankie between her and Alba, and ordered an exaggerated amount of food with two strong coffees–acknowledging for the first time their hangovers.

Passing in front of the counter, Camila had gotten an orange, and as they waited for the food she began peeling, the oils soaking her skin that still smelled like Frankie–a combination from his shirt, his sheets, his soap she’d used to rinse part of the night from her. In the meantime they spoke of her job–a boring office job that she needed to pay rent as she looked for something she actually enjoyed–and his job which left Alba with her grandmother during the day, how he still tried to be home early every afternoon.

“Yesterday was an exception–I barely ever get out when I don’t have her, and most of the time I just get a drink and then go back home to crash on the couch,” he looked down at the small white plate in front of him, the orange slices she’d dropped there dripping juice down the sides. She’d done it without thought, alternating between eating some herself and giving it to him as she listened, stealing glances at Alba every now and again. “I don’t–I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve done any of this.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to apologize?” she tilted her head as he bit into one of the orange slices, then removed the skin from the remaining half and gave it to Alba, her hands already extended towards him. “I thought this was going well.”

“It is!” he said quickly, his thumb catching some of the juice at the corner of Alba’s mouth. Camila repeated the process–one slice for her, another on Frankie’s plate. “I just–I feel I might be rusty, and I don’t want to f–” he stopped himself, a quick glance towards the child, “to mess this up.”

“Frankie,” she lingered on his name a moment, soft-spoken and tender. It hung in the air a long moment as they were brought their food, her gaze on him like a rooting force. He exhaled slowly, and only when the waitress left did he manage to look away from Camila. “I haven’t done this in a while either, you know? Any of it.”

He took a blueberry muffin, split it into tiny segments on the plate still covered in orange juices before handing them to Alba one by one–at the corner of his eye, Camila still looked at him and the child, the cup of coffee already in her hands.

“You can go ahead, she’s been obsessed with these lately,” he murmured, and to prove his point the kid began stuffing her face with the bits. “You still seem to be more at ease with all of this,” he admitted then, his voice still low.

“What about tonight?” she tilted her head to the side a little, food still untouched.

“You said it yourself–that was the tequila,” with a sheepish smile, he looked up at her, wiping his hands on the nearest napkin. “Made me think less about the fact you actually asked me over like that,” at that, she gave a quick laugh–a sudden noise that seemed to surprise both of them.

“Sorry, just–” she cleared her throat and took a quick sip of her coffee. “Why’d you think I asked you?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged, honesty weighing his words. Camila’s gaze softened.

“My last relationship ended a little over a year ago–yesterday was the first time I actually got a night out for myself,” she spoke calmly, and for the first time that morning she did not meet his gaze openly, rather focused on the table as she ran her index all around the rim of the cup. “I just wanted to have fun. I spent so much time during that relationship staying quiet, staying still, and I just wanted to sing and dance for a while.”

“That doesn’t explain me,” her expression shifted quickly, that same scowl from the house at the way he’d just brushed off her compliment. He almost apologized right away.

“You looked like you might need it, too,” she shrugged, leaning with her elbows on the table and cocking her head to the side again, meeting his gaze once more. “And I really wanted you to need it. Which made me really really nervous.”

“You seemed anything but,” she smiled then, lowering the cup to the table to fill her plate once she saw him eat, too.

“Liquid courage,” she said it almost conspiratorially–her voice low, not enough that he couldn’t hear her, but had to lean in a little. Camila’s gaze flickered from his eyes down to his lips, and when she reached over to rub her thumb at the corner of his mouth, Frankie’s shoulders sagged with a slow exhale. “We could just test out the waters, you know? Slowly. See where this goes–it doesn’t need to be a grand thing.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” her fingers were still brushing his face, and when he shook his head his stubbled rubbed against her fingertips.

“You’re not,” she replied in a soft voice, dropping her elbow to the table. With the motion, his head followed her hand down, resting his cheek into her palm. Like the night before, Frankie believed he couldn’t possibly get close enough. “I think it’s worth a try, if–I mean, if that’s how you feel, too.”

“I really do,” he murmured, and she smiled again, so bright and pretty his heart ached. “I just have no idea what to do.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” she shrugged, and then, lowering her head a little so she could look at him fully from underneath the visor of his cap. “Can I kiss you?”

The warmth in her voice took him aback, the knot in his throat melting with it, and before he could register he was even leaning further in, he nodded.

“Yes,” he added, pointlessly, feeling her hand moving to cup his chin, leading him close, closer, gently pushing his cap back so that it didn’t stand in her way. Camila’s kiss was delicate, nothing compared to those of the night before, nothing like that morning–chaste, familiar, almost casual, somewhat tender.

There, then gone, leaving Frankie with the thought he could be kissing her all day long and never grow tired of it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Santi’s voice sounded metallic and distant coming from the car speaker, his greeting as soon as Frankie called him back.

“I’ve got Alba, mind your tongue,” he retorted, watching as Camila’s car moved out of the parking lot, her arm sticking out of the window to wave at them. Alba laughed, returning the gesture and squirming in her seat. “Did somebody die?”

“Hola chiquitita,” Santi called, and Alba squealed in delight. Frankie suddenly wondered if he should’ve given her that muffin with all its sugar. “I could’ve died. I’ve been calling since yesterday.”

“Well, you didn’t,” for a moment he stared at the tail of Camila’s car–up until he could see, and then began driving the opposite direction. “What’s up?”

“No, not what’s up,” Santi argued, his voice growing in pitch. “Where have you been, Fish?”

Frankie flinched, shifting his grip on the steering wheel–he cleared his throat.

“I was on a date,” there was no going around it–not with Santi. A clattering and a muttered curse, Santi’s voice was suddenly closer.

“Excuse me?” he turned the volume down a bit, sighing as he tipped his head back towards the headrest, eyes still fixed on the road. “For the whole night?”

“Yes, actually,” he sighed, glancing towards Alba in the mirror–she was tilting her head at the sound of her uncle’s voice, over and over, as if trying to find him right there in the car with them. “My mom had Alba so I went out. Camila stayed the night. It’s not a big deal.”

“Camila, hu?” the other man almost taunted. “I’m assuming the night went alright, since it’s almost lunchtime.”

“We went for breakfast,” Frankie shrugged, even though Santi could not see him.

“You–” a pause, “wait, with Alba?” “With Alba,” he confirmed, a careful note in his voice.

“And it went–” Santi let the sentence linger, unsure. Great, Frankie wanted to say. It went great. I can’t believe my luck. It feels too good to be true. I’m afraid I’m about to wake up from a wonderful dream and be met with a disappointing reality.

“Alright,” he said instead. “Alba adores her, and she was–it was alright.”

“So, you’re gonna see her again?” he could hear the grin in his friend’s voice, and he almost rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to hear the end of it anytime soon, he knew. He also knew he didn’t care, Camila’s perfume lingering in his car, on his bed, the promise of going on a walk soon, to keep things easy.

“Yeah–I will.”

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funnier-as-a-system · 8 months

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I'm sorry, I need to get this out somewhere and I'm kinda looking for advice ig (feel free to ignore if ya want ofc) ok so I have voices in my head (about 3, they all have names, personalities, ages ect and 2 of them have been around since i was 8) and alot of my friends say that it sounds like I have DID, which I mean I might but even if I do I wouldn't be able to get diagnosed, but anyways my issue is that I've never switched?? Like I've dissociated some at certain points but never switched, I didn't have schizophrenia nor do I suffer from delusions, so I've always joked that I'm just crazy when I tell people about them -✨️

As I read once in a post, "plurality doesn't require switching, but switching requires plurality". You don't need to switch to be a system, it's just a very common experience, to the point it's how a lot of systems discover their plurality. There are plenty of systems who don't switch often or at all, and instead experience their plurality through internal voices/communication, feeling influenced by their headmates, blurring, and/or only having partial switches, where (a) fronting headmate(s) don't completely lose control over the front, others just gain partial control.

If you're looking at the disorder/diagnosis side of things (which I assume you are based on your mention of DID), there is a diagnosis known as P-DID (Partial Dissociative Identity Disorder) that describes systems who rarely or never switch. Depending on where you live, you may not be able to be diagnosed with this, but I think looking into it and the community may help reassure you. There's also a general term for this kind of system, known as specutien.

This is one of the rare cases where I'm 99.99% certain what you're describing is systemhood (as opposed to cases where I'm more unsure or don't have enough info), so congrats, anon, welcome to the club! *toots tiny party horn* Again, switching isn't necessary to be a system, just the presence of more than one self, so if you've got that (which it seems you do), you can call yourself plural, a system, whatever! No need to stress, anon. Switching is just one aspect of system life, and it's certainly not a requirement.

#thanks for the ask!

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apollos-boyfriend · 1 year

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What kinda ultimates do you think the members of QSMP would have?

to absolutely No One’s surprise i have, in fact, thought about this extensively. so here are all the ones i’ve decided on

jaiden is, obviously, the ultimate animator. not only is it true to her, it Also matches up with sdr2’s backstory as to how despair spread (as stupid as i think that explanation was). if they’re in a simulation, it would make sense for a danganronpa au that they were put there for the same reason that the 77th class was to return them to their pre-remnant states. (additionally, i think the explanation for the new arrivals would be that the brazilians, french, etc weren’t captured with the original cast and found later, hence why they weren’t added in at the beginning)

roier calls himself the ultimate spider-man. no one knows his actual talent because he’s ADAMANT on that being it, but they’re pretty sure it’s something akin to ultimate traceur (parkourist) or ultimate stuntman/stunt double.

arin is the ultimate AI, kind of in the same sense of alter ego. except instead of inhabiting a computer, he’s taken residence in luzu

charlie is the ultimate gymnast OR ultimate acrobat. i’m leaning towards acrobat as to not have Too many titles match those of the actual games. inspired by him being el backflipo :]

i think it’d be funny if mariana was the ultimate superhero based on his skin alone. what does that title even mean? fuck if i know! but it’s funny

foolish is, ofc, the ultimate builder.

similarly obvious is phil being the ultimate survivalist

and wilbur being the ultimate musician

bad is currently the ultimate caretaker! i say currently because considering his backstory partially consists of killing thousands with cellbit in the hunger games, i think he originally had a much darker title. not ultimate assassin like maki necessarily, but something akin to it. unlike maki, his new title isn’t any sort of cover-up, and just genuinely what he’s turned to nowadays

i’m not too sure on fit yet, but i definitely want to make him something sports/body-building related because of his gym. maybe ultimate bodybuilder or coach? he’s in that field Somewhere

someone joked about ultimate yandere for forever and ADMITTEDLY i did toy with the idea. as funny as it is, i think he’d more accurately be the ultimate terraformer/landscaper, considering his past clearing of a mountain and current clearing of an entire desert. maybe ultimate yandere could be a secret title, like junko’s ultimate analyst or the ultimate hope title?

pac and mike definitely have matching ultimates in the science field somewhere, considering they’re currently building their laboratory/factory! i’m not sure what exactly yet tho, just that they’re somewhere around there

and lastly, cellbit is the ultimate cryptanalyst/code breaker! he’s individually devoted himself to any and all mysteries, but his biggest strength is by far code-breaking.

that’s all i got so far! i don’t know enough about the other members/don’t have enough to go off of to give them titles sadly :( additionally, rubius doesn’t get his own ultimate because he’s one of the “helpers” (like monokuma, monomi, the cubs, etc)

bonus: the eggs get their own ultimates too :] going off the lil ultimate system being strictly named after classes

tallulah is the lil ultimate music (based on her flute)

bobby is the lil ultimate art (based on his room being full of his + his family’s paintings)

dapper is the lil ultimate woodshop (based on his interest in create!)

richarlyson is the lil ultimate p.e. (based on him wearing a futebol jersey)

#muse talk #anon #qsmpronpa #long post #anon you’ve unleashed a monster <3 i am not sorry #i WILL rant about this at the drop of a hat okay. i have no qualms.#please talk to me about this au idea please i have so many thoughts #<- picture me as a wet cat saying that bc that’s the right vibes. i’m so unwell

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mayflowers515 · 30 days

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@tiaragamin

I played two games of Mario Party 9 not too long ago + a minigame mode!

First time through, I played as Bobby (Peach) with Hoppy, Kickin, and Picky (Daisy, Wario, and Birdo respectively). Kickin chose the board most likely (it was Blooper Beach anyways). So basically some interesting notes I picked up from that + potential hcs...

Kickin seems like he would be pretty good with minigames that require some skill. Bro literally got a perfect strike in Goomba Bowling. Funny enough, Picky also got a strike there- (she was determined ig). Ngl, Hoppy only got 13 points there, but I feel like she might've done better with that minigame (taking account the events that DID happen though, she probably was a little salty Kickin and Picky got it with that much ease-). Meanwhile Bobby didn't get any points. She tried copying what Kickin and Picky did, but... it didn't quite work out for her T^T

Okay, when it came to that and the previous minigame Player Conveyor, it made me think that Bobby isn't the best with certain minigames compared to others. She managed to get better in this round after the mini boss with Lakitu, though. (She struggled with that a little in the beginning but has pretty much gotten the hang of things by the time he was all mad and stuff-)

At one point, Kickin landed everyone on a 1v3 space and he picked the minigame Mob Sleds. I feel like, talking about characters here, he picked that thinking he wasn't going to get caught. But no joke- LITERALLY AT THE LAST SECOND BOBBY GOT TO HIM- Hoppy just dying laughing in the background and teasing Kickin when that happened. Picky was probably like, "Oh damn..." and Kickin is just sitting there with his jaw dropped like- "HOW?? HOW?!?!" (his ego got crushed there lol) Also, made me realize those Wario poses are literally him 💀

By this point, Bobby has gotten a better hang of the minigames. She was likely more desperate to try to catch up at least since she was in last originally- The others are impressed but also probably like "Oh, now it is on!" with her lol (if we're talking character here, she may not be so desperate to the point she would make everyone else get in the path of Mini Ztars, which I feel bad about btw because that's literally what I made her do and then I was thinking back about that decision and made me realize that Bobby would've just taken the Mini Ztars for the party's benefit T^T Ig the excuse I could put here would be that she was desperate because she kept falling behind before)

She still didn't do THAT good with all the minigames though. Particularly Upward Mobility (she wasn't as fast with it as the others were; partially due to my own inability to win that minigame lmao). I think she also does the memory related ones well. She wouldn't have THAT good of a memory as Bubba ofc, but she did good in minigames such as Plunder Ground.

Btw, not only is Bobby a total tild card in the minigames, but she is also pretty much the group's savior. The second the event happened where Mini Ztars were filling the board she just happened to get the right number needed to reverse them back to Mini Stars. The group was probably relieved as heck when that happened-

HOPPY'S MINIGAME SHOWED UP AT ONE POINT :)) Unfortunately she didn't win though 😔 (she definitely would win that more going by character though) Kickin and Picky were neck and neck by the end, and Picky ended up beating him. He was pretty salty about that since he was sure he would win now that Hoppy's rocket fell behind (his ego recovered in that gap between Mob Sleds and Launch Break ig and now it cracked again lol). Bobby did lose ten mini stars from getting 4th this time tho since they got Launch Break through a Fire Bro battle minigame... (this is weird cuz like, you want to feel bad because she keeps getting the short end of the stick when she doesn't win. She got fourth in quite a few of the minigames where she didn't get first, but like- she's also doing very well with them at the same time 😶 She literally kept swapping between receiving 1st and 4th with BARELY an in between- Talking character though, I feel like she'd be more likely to get like 2nd or 3rd in minigames. When she loses though, OH BOY SHE LOSES-

By the homestretch, the party was getting more into the Bowser Spaces (not AS frequently as that one experience that was mentioned for a different round but it was still a lot). Mainly Kickin kept getting those spaces, and let's just say... my dude's got LUCKY with those! 2 times out of 3 he landed on giving mini stars to last place, but the thing is... HE IS IN LAST PLACE LMAO. HE JUST KEPT RECEIVING MINI STARS FROM BOWSER. Even in the one time Kickin didn't get that in the Bowser Roulette he still didn't lose Mini Stars. There was a reverse mini game at one point (Thwomper Room) and he WON. By that point, Kickin was just joking like- "BOWSER SURE LOVES ME TODAY". Hoppy and Picky were just rolling their eyes. Bobby in the background just listening but also being sad that she didn't get out first (she and Kickin got hurt by the thwomp around the same time, but Kickin seemed to have gotten to it a frame before she did TvT' Also ig the excuse for Bobby wanting to get out here is that she couldn't imagine the others getting hurt by the Thwomps lol- The others would be like "Sure sure..." She can be mean against them if she wants to, but probably wouldn't be so mean to the point that they can't recover).

Also thought it'd be funny to mention that during the homestretch, Bobby just to happened to get the lucky space TWICE that led the party to the star island, but Picky was always the one that won all the Mini Stars at the end. She really did get lucky there- After this point, most likely everyone was certain Picky was going to win considering where she stood between the rest of the party, so they started to get a bit tense about that I think lol.

Near the end with the Bonus Stars, I genuinely thought Picky was going to win the Minigame Star since she kept getting first in many minigames. I guess I didn't keep track of how often she did, tho- Bobby still won it despite how many times she got 4th in some of them (she has really gotten better near the end ig). Speaking of Bobby and Picky, Picky had a LOT of Mini Stars in general, but because of Bobby landing on the Boss Battle space, receiving first place from Wiggler AND the captain bonus, I'm pretty sure that was the upper hand she needed cuz SHE WON!! Nobody was mad completely though since she was getting kind of screwed during the rounds. Though I can imagine Hoppy used what Kickin said earlier about Bowser loving him to her advantage though since he ended in 4th lol. Hoppy herself got 3rd (she was a little salty about that since she thought she'd do better, especially with the minigames but they were surprisingly not her strong suit this time. Kickin probably tried to tease her back about that lol). Meanwhile, Picky was just proud of Bobby for winning, though deep down kinda sad because she thought for sure she would win ;v; Bobby beat her by ONE mini star lol. For context, Bobby got 71 Mini Stars, Picky got 70, Hoppy got 53, and Kickin got 46.

Alr, second time through, I decided to play as CatNap (Shy Guy) with DogDay (Toad), CraftyCorn (Yoshi), and Bubba (Koopa). The board chosen was Toad Road since two out of the four Critters in that round (DogDay and CraftyCorn as was mentioned before) have that as their favorite. So what happened here that could be potential hcs? Well...

Not TOO much happened at the very beginning. Though at 10 to Win, I can imagine Bubba was absolutely trying his hardest to remember where every single card was despite how scrambled they all were. He didn't do too badly, but some of the cards were mainly ones he didn't want to get completely. CatNap's the opposite I imagine. He just chooses whatever seems right. That didn't work too well for him in this round, though (he got last ;-;) Crafty kept getting cards that supported everyone from what I remember (probably relieved her to know she could've gotten worse than she did). Pretty sure DogDay mostly won because of the cards the others chose (like a 1st card Bubba ended up getting at some point, DogDay was in 1st at the time and I can imagine Bubba just facepalmed when he did that-)

Just want to mention that Shy Guy's fourth place animation did make me think of CatNap, though I feel like if CatNap showed how he'd react to last place, he would just sleep away his sorrows if he got last lol

Speaking of CatNap, I feel like he's a menace in Mario Party. Like, anywhere else he's pretty chill, but make him play a game? Oh, it's like there's another side of him sorta- (he still keeps his laid back energy but he's clearly having fun against the party) Mainly thought of that because of him getting a 1v3 minigame (Spike-n-Span) and he pretty much wasn't holding back. He got EVERYONE.

I guess Bubba learned about how easy it was for CatNap to win that minigame because literally when he landed on a 1v3 space himself, HE CHOSE THAT SAME MINIGAME- He probably leeches off of the experiences he witnesses in the game and uses what he has seen to his advantage (it doesn't help for the others that Bubba has really good memory so he would probably know what to do to win; this could go for Mario Party in general tbh). Unfortunately, Bubba lost the minigame that time- Ironically enough tho, CatNap got out first lol

Every time the party kept getting Bowser Jr spaces, it was because of DogDay. I find it funny that Bowser Jr always paired him with CatNap tho (probably bc of him being first player tbf tho). First Bowser Jr minigame they played together wasn't so good. They played Sand Trap, and CatNap was a little confused on what to do. DogDay wasn't faring much better though. I feel like he was mainly waiting to see what CatNap was planning so he took his time. When they lost that one, I feel a part of CatNap was probably thinking "If we go down then we go down together :>" but another part of him felt bad because he legit had no idea what he was doing. DogDay was likely assuring him after that, hopeful that they'd win against Bowser Jr again next time. Sure enough, when DogDay landed on another Bowser Jr space, they did :) That minigame was Double Pounder. The instructions were easier for them to understand by that point. CatNap didn't really mind that DogDay got Mini Stars too that time (pretty sure DogDay wasn't in first by that point from what I remember). DogDay was just happy the two were able to win together. Probably gave CatNap a small hug after that. (Meanwhile Bobby in the background is just going: AWWWWWW 🥹🥹)

Oh yeah, Crafty was just chilling with her first place status in the first half too. She had about 33 mini stars during that point. She's not exactly planning on bragging about her status. She was just internally hoping she wouldn't get destroyed later TvT (she got this ahead because of a lucky space she landed on where climbed up a vine and got all the mini stars in that area- 12 MINI STARS) At some point, CatNap was catching up to her in terms of Mini Stars so there likely was some tension by that point. Crafty is just scared but at the same time defensive about her stars. Meanwhile CatNap was probably just silently hoping something happens to her stars and that he can get ahead-

This especially shows when Crafty got the Captain event. She legit chose CatNap to go last 💀 She was hoping it would be less likely for him to get the stars at the end if he was last. For more context, she chose Bubba to go first, then either herself or DogDay, but considering she was still in first, I think she was thinking that she could get the Mini Stars if she rolled high enough, so she would've needed to be the third person to do that- Unfortunately, Crafty's ploy didn't go too well. CatNap STILL got the stars at the end. Pretty sure that made them even in Mini Stars by that point-

CatNap just casually dominating most minigames... Pretty much like that with minigames like Pinball Fall. My guy literally didn't fall down a hole ONCE during his run- I think he probably has a bit of luck similar to Picky but he also is genuinely determined to win and happy to see the others struggling in the minigames deep down. Doesn't exactly voice this, but if you paid attention to his expressions, you'd know

Also, I think CatNap just pretty much wins a lot of the Reverse Minigames. The minute he hears that's what happens when the group lands on a Bowser space, he's like "K. I always wondered what happened if I just willingly jumped into this" in the most casual tone. DogDay would just look back at him concerned-

Meanwhile for Bubba, poor guy barely won many of the minigames (much less end up in 1st). I feel like he would still do very well in certain minigames taking character into account. He probably wouldn't be super fast though since he would prefer to calculate his moves I can imagine. Probably why he waited so long to even try to hit in the minigame Logger Heads (ironically enough though, he still ended up hitting a bomb at one point-) What made things worse for him was that he got no points and it was a Bowser minigame where they fought between half of the whole party's Mini Stars. He was already in last place by that point. He was likely frustrated about that, but pretty calm about the frustration anyway. Just silently facepalming and grumbling at himself for doing something he sees as dumb. Can also imagine that in general, Bubba would get much more quiet if he was in last due to the frustration but also because of trying to focus and think about ways to get himself back in the game. The party would probably be concerned about that-

Okay, I just wanna say for the record... The bosses in this round are the exact same as last time. For highlights there, Bubba got the captain bonus for the Lakitu boss and Yoshi's 4th place animation legit made me think: "Yeah, that looks like Crafty right there" because I could imagine her doing that 🥺 As for the Wiggler boss, CatNap was literally dominating everyone in that. He didn't even lose any points either. He also had the captain's bonus lol I imagine he just did all that with the most chill expression ever, too lol. He'd probably just be like "Imagine losing..." to everyone else in a casual way. If Kickin was playing against him, he would get offended by that so much lol

Speaking of dominating, there was NO CONTEST with the winner by that point. CatNap beat everyone by at least 60 MINI STARS- HE GOT 104 TOTAL COMPARED TO CRAFTY'S 40, DOGDAY'S 37, AND BUBBA'S 30 NEAR THE END- I blame that on Logger Heads tbh. The minute that minigame happened, CatNap just dominated Crafty in winnings. There wasn't really a chance for her to win now T^T Bubba was disappointed in himself but at the same time, not surprised that CatNap won now. He also blames CatNap's winning on Logger Heads and luck (since CatNap could get the captain's bonus easily since he was only a couple spaces away so he could use his 4-6 dice he kept on him) Meanwhile DogDay is just absolutely amazed by how well CatNap did. No bad blood against him at all. He's just happy for him :> (We love the golden retriever and black cat energy)

Finally, I decided to do one of the minigame modes for fun. I chose to play as Kickin this time and also adding Bobby, Crafty, and Bubba. I chose for them to do Choice Challenge. They had to choose between five minigames, which were Thwomper Room, Urn It, Tuber Tug, Polar Extreme, and Pit or Platter.

Bubba was the only one to choose both Thwomper Room and Urn It. LITERALLY JUST HIM. He got 200 points right off the bat. Bobby and Crafty were pretty worried by that point, but Kickin wasn't at all expecting that- He was probably making sure he won the next minigames he chose. Funnily enough, he was trying to go for Thwomper Room, too, but he must've accidentally chose another minigame. It would've been a StarStudent matchup there (sorry StarStudent shippers ;-;)

Bubba didn't choose Tuber Tug and Polar Extreme but Bobby, Crafty, and Kickin did, so it was literally just competition against those three for a bit. They practiced Tuber Tug first through Kickin's plea because he was wanting to make sure his Wii Remote worked (he wanted to make sure he could dominate his competition- Don't blame him). I can imagine Hoppy would likely be calling him a chicken in the background for not going straight into the minigame despite knowing how to do it. Either way, Kickin won the minigame and got 100 points. Crafty got 50, and Bobby 30. No practice was done for Polar Extreme as the instructions were simple. (Btw, this was the minigame Kickin accidentally picked over Thwomper Room-) All three of them still never made it to the goal, though Bobby survived the longest so she won. This time Bobby got 100 points, Kickin got 50, and Crafty 30. Considering how well she did with the minigames last time they played together, I can imagine Kickin would get pretty suspicious of Bobby. Though he isn't nearly as worried about her as he is with Bubba. Y'know... THE DUDE WHO GOT FIRST PLACE AND DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO TRY TO GET THERE.

Everyone chose the Chance minigame, Pit or Platter. Kickin's ego was probably kicking in again by that point because he's usually good with skill minigames. This one wasn't his best attempt at it though. Hoppy calling him out probably cut him deep so he didn't choose to practice this time, even though he probably needed it- Either way, he just wanted to make sure it wasn't Bubba that won. Sure enough, Bubba didn't win that minigame. Bobby did

Bobby really proved to be a wild card when it comes to minigames, but it actually goes in her favor this time- She actually won against Bubba by 30 points. She had 280 and he had 250. Crafty and Kickin were pretty far down in terms of points though. Poor Crafty didn't get first place once- Kickin meanwhile is just glad Bubba didn't win but also a little salty that Bobby won since she won against him last time- It didn't really matter to Bobby that she won anyway. She was just happy to play with her friends. She let them know that too through her usual affection :>

(Sorry this was so long, but I had a lot of fun doing this- It's not everyday I'm able to play on my Wii due to college stuff 🙃 I hope you liked what I listed tiara, and in general, I hope y'all enjoyed =v=') Speaking of tiara, credits to her for the Mario Party 9 headcanons idea for the Smiling Critters. These were fun to come up with :)

#smiling critters #smiling critters headcanons #bobby bearhug #hoppy hopscotch #kickinchicken #pickypiggy #catnap #dogday #craftycorn #bubba bubbaphant #mario party 9

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