#Shinnie does it again

[silverhallow]

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😍😍😍

Cutest fluffiest thing ever

Benophie Drabble - Bridgerton Brothers AU

Surveying the room around him, Benedict smiled to himself as he watched his nieces and nephews keeping Simon, Daphne, Anthony, and Kate on their toes; Colin cuddling into Penelope all the while she laughed and chatted with Eloise; his parents lost in their own little world as they rocked back and forth dancing to the music. It was a far less raucous after-party than the ones they used to have during their early years of touring but now they were all that much older and more settled (and honestly far more easy to wear out), celebrating another sold-out concert with just their loved ones was much more preferable.

There was just one notable absence for Benedict to feel particularly dispirited; his wife.

For the last twelve weeks Sophie had been on her own solo tour across the UK playing sold-out theatre shows, enchanting audiences with her mesmerising violin concertos and pop covers. Much to Benedict's dismay he had yet to be able to attend any of her shows as her tour coincided with the Bridgerton Brothers international one, otherwise he'd be attending every last one of her concerts as he had done with all of her previous tours. He had desperately tried to find any opportunity to be able to jet back to see her, but unfortunately both of their schedules were so jam-packed that there'd barely be enough time to even kiss her before he would have to fly back out for his next concert. Sophie had tried in vain as well to find any openings in her diary in order to see him but they both reluctantly accepted that they had no other options but to endure the separation apart.

At the very least it definitely made the heart grow fonder as with every new day he missed her more and more. Sure they still called and texted and video-chatted constantly but Benedict was keening to be able to see her in the flesh once more, to hold her in his arms and to kiss her and just be in her physical presence. For now however he'd have to endure just another twelve hours before they flew from Dublin to London to be reunited with Sophie once more.

Except, as Benedict looked around at all the loved-up couples; his mum and dad, Simon and Daphne, Kate and Anthony, and Colin and Penelope; he realised he couldn't actually handle waiting just twelve more hours - he wanted to be back with his wife right that very second.

Now that their Dublin concert was over and done with and knowing that Sophie's concert in Reading that night would have finished, Benedict couldn't help but feel that now was as good a time as any to simply hop on the next flight home and be with Sophie at long last.

He quickly got his phone out, putting all of his energy into manifesting a miracle last-minute flight being available to London as he googled flights out of Dublin airport that night - and his eyes lit up as soon as he saw that such a flight was in fact going to depart within the next hour.

Jumping to his feet, he marched straight over to Daphne to run his plan of action past her; after all, she was in charge of the band's itinerary. As soon as he mentioned just how desperate he was to see Sophie again, Daphne assured him to leave everything with her. She'd book his flight and cancel his seat on the one the following morning so long as he left immediately. He pecked his sister on the cheek, thanking her profusely before legging it out the room.

In just under two hours he was opening the front door to the home he shared with Sophie, making sure to be as quiet as possible as he made his way up the stairs and into their bedroom. As soon as he caught sight of his wife sleeping peacefully in the bed they shared his heart swelled up and the feeling of homecoming washed over him.

Typically after any flight the first thing he'd do is have a quick shower but after twelve long weeks apart from Sophie, there was nothing he wanted to do more than slip under the covers and simply hold her. After ridding himself of every garment but his pants he got into bed as carefully as he could, doing everything he could not to disturb her sleep. Rather adorably she was cuddling a pillow - one of his pillows - as well as wearing one of his old sweatshirts and Benedict couldn't help smiling, elated in the knowledge that Sophie had been missing him as much as he had missed her. He gently wrapped his arms around her, spooning her (and the pillow), and buried his head into her curly tresses.

At long last he was back where he belonged; home.

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

Sophie was exhausted by the time she got in that evening and had only just remembered to give a wave of thanks over her shoulder to her driver before she entered her home. Normally at this time she would be buzzing with post-concert energy but as of late once she had finished a show she was desperate to climb into bed and fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

It also didn't help that she was missing her husband dreadfully and had spent the last twelve weeks yearning to be reunited with him in person once more. While his absence had only made her heart fonder of him, she was relieved that come midday the following day he would be home at last. Finally she'd be able to embrace him, to kiss him, to talk and laugh in person, to just be with him - and the quicker she got herself to bed and fell asleep, the sooner she'd be expecting him by the time she woke up.

As she had done since they had been apart, she dressed for bed in an old sweatshirt of his, one she had adopted from Benedict long ago but it still smelled like him and made her feel closer to him despite the distance they had endurd for the past twelve weeks. Then once she was under the covers she grabbed a hold of one of the pillows from Benedict's side of the bed and cuddled into it, treasuring the feel of it against her as her husband's stand-in; and as soon as she was comfortable and had closed her eyes, she fell straight to sleep.

While sleeping soundly her brain flashed up images of her husband, memories of him flopping down on the sofa she was sat on and resting his head in her lap, how he'd always ensure he pointed to her in the crowd whenever she attended his concerts, the way she'd always find his eyes at her concerts and how he beamed proudly back at her, how safe and protected she felt being held in his arms and how she could practically feel his warm breath against the back of her neck as he buried his head in amongst her curls and his hands came to rest on the pillow she was cuddling as he spooned her...

In fact, it almost felt too real to just be a dream.

Sophie's eyes gently opened as her conscious lazily stirred awake and she observed the darkness of the bedroom and the stillness of the night - and then after several seconds it finally registered that there was a warm body cuddling her, the feeling of which was so familiar she knew instantaneously it was her husband.

"Ben?" she rasped, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey." he breathed back against her neck and squeezed her gently in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" she blearily asked, not having expected him home for roughly another twelve hours, and attempted to turn in his hold.

"Couldn't bear to be away from you a second longer." he answered but prevented her from twisting round to face him. "Sleep, my love. We'll have all the time tomorrow." he assured her gently, pressing a kiss against her back, and snuggling into her.

And though Sophie could have blissfully drifted off back to sleep in that moment, before she could succumb to slumber once more her brain kicked into gear and she excitedly remembered a very particular reason why she had been more desperate than ever before to see her husband. Without a second to lose Sophie leaned over to switch on the bedside lamp and shuffled herself to sit up.

"Soph." Benedict groaned, squeezing his already shut eyes even tighter from the sudden burst of light. "There's no need-"

"Oh Ben." she sighed affectionately as she got her first proper look at her husband in the flesh for the first time in twelve weeks, and she leaned down to kiss him tenderly on the lips.

In spite of his disgruntled exhaustion, Benedict was sufficiently woken up by his wife's lips against his as he kissed back without hesitation. He managed to crack open his eyes when she pulled away to gaze at her adoringly, a soft lazy smile curving his lips as he reached out to pull her back in.

"I've got something to tell you." she said as she intertwined her hands with the ones that were trying to drag her into a cuddle.

"Oh, can't it wait?" Benedict grumbled. "The whole point of sneaking in was so I didn't disturb you."

"And that was very thoughtful of you - but this can't wait." she told him; after all, Sophie had been impatiently waiting for the last six weeks to tell him this and there was no way in hell she was going to keep it to herself for a second longer.

"What is it?" Benedict relented with a laborious sigh and reluctantly pulled himself up to lean against the headboard.

Sophie twisted around, opening the drawer of her bedside table, and presented him with a gift box. He raised an intrigued eyebrow, having been under the impression she was about to tell him something but after receiving a nod of encouragement from her he accepted the gift and opened the lid.

As Sophie watched on eagerly, he pulled back the tissue paper to reveal a baby onesie with the words Daddy's #1 Fan emblazoned on it. Benedict stared at it for a few seconds, his brain being affected by tiredness and delaying his reaction when suddenly it clicked and he shot his head up to meet Sophie's sparkling gaze.

"You're pregnant?" he swallowed and she nodded in confirmation. "We're having a baby?"

"We're having a baby, Ben." she answered gleefully and in a flash she was swept up into his arms.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" he chanted into the crook of her neck as he clutched her to him. "Sophie." he choked out and kissed her neck. "Oh god, Sophie I'm so happy. I'm so so happy. I love you, I love you so much." he teared up and punctuated his joy with kisses up the column of her neck until his lips were on hers.

"I love you too." she laughed shakily, blissfully overjoyed with his ecstatic reaction.

"How far along?" he asked.

"Well that flying visit twelve weeks back did the trick." she answered and Benedict's face lit up in amazement.

Having children was always on the cards for them and they had planned to start trying for a baby once Benedict was home from touring, however they had certainly made the most of Sophie's one night in the US to get ahead of their baby-making plans.

"I can't believe it." Benedict beamed. "How long have you known?"

"Six weeks." Sophie exhaled and brought a hand through his hair. "I've been dying to tell you but I wanted to tell you in person instead of over the phone or through a screen. I hope that's okay-"

Benedict cut her off with a searing kiss, an automatic assurance that her decision to hold off from telling him until they were face to face was very much appreciated.

"Of course that's okay." he verbally iterated when he managed to pull himself away from kissing her. "If you had told me over the phone I'd have left the tour without a word of notice to fly home immediately just so I could hug and kiss you. Nothing else would have mattered to me than seeing you and celebrating the baby we've made."

"I guess it's a relief I waited then, for the sake of the fans."

"And for my sake as well, to avoid Daphne throttling me for abandoning the band in the middle of a sold-out tour." he (somewhat) joked.

"Oh well we couldn't have that then, could we?" Sophie giggled and kissed him.

Benedict kissed back, wrapping his arms around his wife and cherishing this very moment for all the joy it brought to his heart. "I love you, Soph." he professed once more against her lips. "I didn't think I could be any happier coming home to you and yet you never cease to amaze me."

He continued to express his overwhelming joy by peppering her with kisses until his lips were sore and he rested his head against hers, professing his unconditional love for her and their baby before they both acknowledged just how spent they were and sunk back down under the covers to rest. Sophie turned over so he could hold her back against his chest and then he rested his hands over her abdomen where he could feel the smallest hint of a bump. With the biggest smile on his face, Benedict pressed one last kiss against Sophie's shoulder, professed his love for her yet again and settled comfortably into the embrace before dreaming the sweetest dreams of the joy-filled future that lay ahead of them.

[suguru-getos]

— Breaking up with Neuvillette —

You had decided enough is enough. Neuvillette was a doting, caring partner. You’d give him that, but he was seldom present. There have been instances where all you wanted was to be couped up in his warmth, to hug him. To ask about his day, to tell about yours. Nothing could be feasible around the busy Chief Justice of Fontaine. That was slowly eating you away. Until one day… your heart decided it’s enough. That you can’t bear the pain of being loved half.

It was then, that something ominous had surrounded Fontaine. The night you broke up with Neuvillette over dinner, it’s been raining harshly ever since. Unforgiving thunderstorm & pours all over. It’s been a week today, the storm hasn’t stopped. It does for some time, then begins again. You have heard of the legend of the Hydro Dragon, and frankly, you aren’t one of the people who’d believe in it.

It was then it clicked, Neuvillette had always been giving you little trinkets, shinny things, sometimes he’d purr while sleeping. Sometimes he’d growl… sometimes he’d be so possessive it was nauseating. Could it—

You rushed towards his place, letting yourself be drenched in the rain and opened his door. There, you saw a half-dragon half human Neuvillette, scales over his skin which shone in ultramarine blue. Weeping over a picture of you. “I’m sorry, Angel. Please come back.”

Oh you were the Hydro dragon’s mate— and you couldn’t help but love him more for it. The fact that he was so busy never mattered, his love was always the strongest. You hugged him, softly kissing his forehead, draping the mess of his long hair away from his face as you mumbled, “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

[dirty-little-mind33]

omg please something for sub! dave lizewski. i am so deprived of anything for him as a sub (i mean we all know that one scene)

SUB!DAVE IS SOOOOO UGHHFUFHTUFHTUF

i love me a shy nerd with a huge cock! he's just so doe-eyed and sensitive you'll have to show him what to do.

like sub!dave getting his first blow job?! finishes within minutes and then apologies furiously while he's all flushed and sweaty, his shinny blue eyes glistening with tears as he sinks his teeth into his lips.

"I'm s-sorry, baby, I- I didn't mean—"

you'd just have to silence him with a sloppy lick around his head and some kisses to his stomach and happy trail. After all, you're not finished with him and because he's so perpetually horny, it doesn't take much for him to harden again.

[xeeljii]

can we talk about Joosts hair?…..and I don’t mean his head. Haven't you ever wanted to, I don't know..Nuzzle his pubis?

I'm only posting this bc it was already written for the ns/wf alphabet lol but that is not even close to being done (,,>﹏<,,) again I'm busy this week sorry ~ but it is very funny when u guys read my mind lol

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

CW: 18+, established relationship.

i think i stole this pic from @slayedpoet again sorry !

You rest your head on his lap as you watch TV, Joost is playing with your hair, scratching softly with his nails at your scalp that has you almost purring over him. You are completely facing his stomach uninterested in whatever is going on the screen behind you, just tracing soft figures on his belly and over his tattoo. He is wearing sweatpants and nothing else, it is deep in the summer and his skin is warm to the touch, the heat has him shinny with a little sweat and it makes you both exhausted but you are too clingy to ever not be holding each other in some way.

You are touching him all over, feeling the soft plump skin of his soft belly and how it gives under your fingers as you move, you trace over the happy trail and smile softly to yourself. The hair is short and coarse under your sweet fingers, darker than the one on his head, darker than the one on his chest but still somewhat a deep golden color that catches the light from the window, there is a little thud that forms into a curl under his navel, you plant a kiss over it and then you twist at the hair softly, just playing with him because he is yours. He trims sometimes but doesn't shave, you like it like that but you won't tell him, but the way you are so entranced by him you don't even need to. You continue your explorations softly swiping your fingers lower and lower until you are pushing down his boxers and sweatpants to give yourself more access. Somewhere in the middle he started hardening under you, you feel it on your cheek poking you lightly but ignore it in favor of kissing soft little pecks on his lower belly, letting the coarse hair of his pubis tickle your nose.

"Do you enjoy torturing me liefde?" He ask bemused from above. You peel yourself form where you were pressed leaving torturously sweet kisses on his happy trail to reply.

"Very much so." You gift him a mischievous smile as you lower your head again to continue pushing him towards the edge but denying him release.

A/N: the letter was H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

[azaharinflames]

I agree, that the show will most likely end with Buck being captain but my personal best case scenario would be for him to be become captain of another house. I want Hen to become captain of the 118 mostly because atm she is the most qualified and I think it would be a very nice circle back to the Begins episodes. Hen along with Chim started the process of changing the 118 for the better and would it be nice to have the evolution from Gerrard, to Bobby to Hen play out on screen.

Buck, for a very long time, made his job and the 118 the sole focus of his life. He once said he has nothing in his life but being a firefighter. Him growing to the point that he feels ready to emancipate himself from the 118, to know that they will still be in his life even of he does not work with them every day would be a big step. Buck changed the 118, too and helped make it the family it is now. I wish for him to do it for another firehouse, too. Become their Bobby of sorts. Maybe they could even end the show with him telling a new probie to sit down and grab a plate in a nod to what Bobby said to him, when he first showed up.

Oh I agree, Nonnie. And I love the way you explained it.

I think there was a misunderstanding. Me having the theory that the show might be hinting at Buck becoming Captain is not me wanting that outcome instead of Hen being Captain. You just explained all of the reasons why I personally prefer that outcome.

I think Buck being Captain of a new house instead of the 118 at the end of the series could be an amazing choice, again for everything you’ve explained. And I do think if he becomes Captain now, it might be prematurely.

That being said, alarm bells did ring in my head when Bobby was saying goodbye to Buck. Because that was passing down the torch if I’ve ever seen it - granted, it doesn’t have to be in a Captain-way! Buck can be the caretaker of their family in more ways than one, and it doesn’t mean he’ll be Captain.

But I’ve been seeing some things that point to this possibility, and I’ve been seeing things that might point out to Hen making the choice to choose her family and not risk their happiness when it’s taken her so long to get it. Would I be satisfied? Not really. I want to see her as Captain of the house she started to change for the better. But I can see this reasoning coming out of her.

And I can also see it coming from Tim, too. Because he likes shinny new things, and Buck being Captain is. I can see him going for it just based on the shock value and wanting to do something different, and not what we were expecting.

Regardless of who is Cap, though, I do think we’ll see a Buck that is more mature and more settled in his personal life (hence why I firmly believe they’re working towards BT being long term). I think he’ll be taking the role of a mentor a bit more. In short: I think Bobby’s passing will make him reflect and mature. I don’t think this will be a regression for him in the way I’ve seen some people fear.

[simp2537]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢

A/n: Hey y’all hope you guys have been enjoying this fic so far. We’re gonna get more into the KiriBaku love story soon. It’s gonna be gradual okay not supper fast. Hope y’all enjoy this one.

Word Count: 1,613k

Trigger Warnings: Gore, Blood, Horror, Cursing, Child Abuse, Human experiments, Child abandonment, Angst, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Insomnia, etc

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

The breeze was nice against her skin as she stood with her class. It had taken a moment for everyone to stop fawning over her costume. She had to admit for a small second she enjoyed the attention.

“Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training.” All Might began. 

“Sir!” Iida announced raising his armored hand. She cast a glance towards him from Shoto’s side. She took an inch closer to him, and poked at the ice coming from his side. She didn’t like his costume, it covered his pretty face.

“This is the fake city from our entrance exam. Does that mean that we'll be conducting urban battles again?” He asked. 

I almost forgot about entrance exams. 

ʏᴏᴜ ꜱɪʟʟʏ ɢɪʀʟ.

“Not quite. I’m going to move you two steps ahead. Most of the villain fights you see on the news take place outside. However, statistically speaking, run-ins with the most dastardly evildoers take place indoors.” All Might announced. 

Y/n hummed softly as she bit into a chocolate cookie. Shoto cast her a look as she held up the other piece to him. He took it with a blank look. 

“Think about it. Backroom deals, home invasions, secret underground lairs. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows.” A shiver crawled up her spine at his words. 

Her grip on her cookie fell as she step closer to Shoto. His eyebrow quirked as he began to tune out All Might. After a few moments of her staring at the floor he brought his arm around her shoulder. Shoto pulled her closer and twirled one of the small braids in the ponytail.

Her tremble stopped as she stayed close to his warmer side. She liked that half of him was always warm. He was a great heating pad when she got cramps. 

“Aizawa and Tokoyami!” Y/n’s head snapped up. 

“Yes?”

“Aizawa!”

“Yes…?” She repeated. 

“You’re related to Mr. Aizawa! How! Look at you! There’s not an eye bag in sight!” Kirishima yelled. He stared down at her.

Her cute nose, her big e/c eyes. Her shinny and healthy h/c locks. Her pretty s/c skin without an imperfection in sight. Her gentle smile. 

She didn’t look anything like Aizawa. 

“You’re what his niece or something?” Midoriya asked. 

“No.” She answered quickly. After a few seconds of silence Shoto nudged her back.

“Oh, I’m his daughter.”

His daughter!

“Everyone else can head to the monitoring room to watch!” All Might said with his normal bright smile.

As she began to walk away with Shoto she caught all the stares coming her way. She cowards back into his side. 

“What are we doing?” He hummed and looked down at her. 

“Mock battles inside. You’re teamed up with Tokoyami.” She nooddd her head softly as she followed next to him.

“After school can we get soba? I got my allowance for this week.” Y/n answered with a smile. Shoto nodded with a smile as the rest of the class caught his hardened gaze. 

He knew that she was sensitive. He always knew that the way they acted made them looked like more than friends. He couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

Contact grounded her when she got lost. When her mind would ramble and rattle. When her eyes would glass over contact would ground her. To hell with whatever they thought.

……………………………….

Y/n shuffled closer to All Might, pulling down her mask. She coughed and he turned down to her. He lowered himself slightly.

“Yes young Aizawa?” 

“Would you like me to go give Midoriya tea? His arm is all ugly.” She asked softly. All Might gasped and staggered back. Her healing tea was a well kept secret of the faculty. She almost never offered it up. 

“Little one… that is a generous offer but I believe Recover Girl can handle this.” Y/n furrowed her brows at his words. 

“I gave it to him earlier when he broke his tiny fingers. Why can’t I now?” Y/n whined with a pout. All Might gasps again, the rest of the class turning to them. 

“Your team is up next, after your match perhaps.” She pouted and crossed her arms.

“That’s not very fair Uncle Might.” She turned around grabbing Tokoyami’s arm. She grimaced softly as she dragged the bird hit behind her. She pulled up her mask as she pulled him through the apartment complex.

She stared at the ugly bomb for a few moments and crossed her arms. She stared at it for a few moments.

“It’s really….. big?” She uttered. 

“We are the villain team, I believe it bets if I stay here and guard the bomb.” Tokoyami’s voiced. She turned to him with a smile.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve got a plan.” She said with a bright smile. She leaned over him giggling as she pulled the deck of cards from her belt.

“And that plan would be?” He asked. 

“Here put this on!” She handed him a long bird like mask to cover his nose and eyes. After a few seconds he took it confused.

“Where did you get this from?” Her ask taking a step towards her. She giggled as she threw her deck around in the air.

“I made it silly. Now let me just go through this deck, then we can talk.” She pulled out five cards. Each with hand painted colorful flowers. She heard the gusset go off and she jumped in the air.

Her body levitated in the air as she looked around. She threw the card them, they pierced through the solid concrete.

“Your mask on?” She yelled down. With a gentle nod of his head she smirked under her mask. Slamming her hands together flowered exploded and planting themselves into the ground. Their multicolored pollen exploded into the air around them. It made it thick, heavy to breathe.

Slowly she fell back to the ground with Tokoyami. She turned to him smiling under her mask. He blinked a few times and went to pull off his mask. Her hands shot up grasping his hands in hers.

“Don’t! You don’t want to breathe this in!” She yelled. 

“What will it do?”

“Nothing pleasant.” 

“Is it safe for our classmates?” She paused. She tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment. 

“Safe enough.” Y/n answered as she turned to the entrance. She smiled as she watched both Kirishima and Sero ran towards them. Cupping her hands she blew all the air out of her lungs. 

The pollen darted into the faces cause the two boys to stagger back. She stood up right, rising into the air. She lifted Tokoyami in the air with her as she watched the boys cough. 

“Now the fun begins.” She mumbles as the ground began to shake. The two boys began to scream as large flowers began to rise from the ground. Kirishima began to attack the large unmoving flower as Sero fell to the ground.

Sero held his head as he screamed. Kirishima panted as he coughed. Tokoyami looked at Y/n as he floated next to her.

“Why is he screaming?” He asked.

“The pollen makes you see things. To Sero those flowers are the most monstrous things he’s ever seen.” She answered as she floated to bomb into the air with them. Tokoyami stared at her. 

He gathered the pollen messed with the mind but then why is Kirishima still attacking. Why can he still move about.

“You’re wondering about Kirishima?” She asked blankly. With a simple nod of his head she continued. “I’m not sure why he isn’t on the ground with Sero.”

“He’s more resilient.” Tokoyami answered and he continued to watch Kirishima attempt to fight at the non moving flowers. Y/n shook her head softly, there was more to it. No one was resilient to wonderlandian flowers but her. 

“There’s something more about him.” 

“Villain team wins!” Just liked that the pair floated down with the bomb. Y/n snapped her fingers and the flowers were sucked back into the cards. She held her hands as both boys froze. 

They both gasp for air as she pulls the colorful pollen from their bodies. Both Kirishima and Sero hit the floor coughing. Tokoyami watched as Y/n helped both boys up from the ground.

……………………………….

Y/n glared harshly at Shoto. Her eyes challenged him as she slurped down her soba. He held his father’s black card while Y/n held her allowance in hand.

“I asked to get food, I’ll pay.” She gritted out. Shoto laughed and leaned forward grabbing tempura. 

“You know the rules Sparkles, I always pay.” He answered as he ate the fried bamboo. Y/n’s eye twitched as she grabbed a fried shrimp. She breathed out deeply as she drank her mango juice.

“I have my allowance  let me treat you.” Y/n snapped. Shoto laughed at her words as she seemed to boil with rage.

“You may pay,” Y/n’s eyes lit up. “When we’ve run through all my father fortune.” Her face fell. 

“That’s not fair! He’ll never be out of money! That damed bastard is practically made of money!” She groaned hitting her head in the table. Shoto hummed softly and handed the card to the waitress. He poked her head softly and sighed. 

“To make it just to you we can get sweets. Sakura mochi? Taiyoki? What about Dorayaki?” He asked softly. She breathed out harshly and brought her head back up.

“All three, if I’m going to pay I need to use up all the money I can.” Shoto nodded his head softly as he watched her finish up her soba noodles. 

“With the way we’re going, his millions will be gone soon.”

[chiropteracupola]

"What Grows on the Oak," 2024.

it's the time of year, once more, for an original spooky story!

The oak trees lie across the hills like low smoke, soft and near, and the road dips down into the valley, as inviting as any road has ever been, but the girl on the bench of the buggy on the hilltop makes no move to follow it.

Rose looks out down the road and over the hills, and taps her fingers beside her on the bench. It’s a quiet enough afternoon that there’s little other sound but the high thin sound of insects, and the wind in the long grass, and Rose’s fingers, tapping. The horse, still in harness, looks up and flicks its ear, as if in protest at the sound, and Rose sighs and forces her hand still.

There is a girl in the nearest tree, Rose notices — the fact of it is idly categorized, without true interest. All the same, the light is catching in her hair, dashing shadows over her face as she sits draped across the curve of a branch, and Rose cannot look away from her.

The Fosters, at whose door Rose waits, have no daughter — no children but the one still-toddling son, who Rose remembers as a colicky, twitchy boy. Besides, this girl looks nothing like Mr Foster and his wife, for her hair stands out about her head like a bundle of mistletoe, pale as sun-worn wood. She is, perhaps, their hired girl. Rose is struck by envy, suddenly, that the Fosters’ hired girl had the time to shinny up a tree in the last light of evening, and still would be paid for her work…

Rose sighs, leaning her chin on her hand. Perhaps it is enough for her to be her father’s driver, and to have bed and board in his house — perhaps some day there will be money for school again, in San Francisco or even out east. And perhaps it is not enough, and perhaps there will not ever be.

“Hello, doctor’s driver,” says a voice at Rose’s elbow. Rose yelps in surprise, then turns. It is the girl with the mistletoe hair — dry moss hair — hair like a cloudy day in August.

“No, you’re his daughter, are you not?” asks the Fosters’ hired girl, and Rose nods. “Miss del Llano, that’d make you.”

“Just Rose, please.” She’ll be Miss some other day — not now, in her too-short skirts and with her plait hanging over her shoulder.

“May I come up?” asks the girl.

“Surely,” says Rose, and the girl has swung herself into Rose’s father’s accustomed seat in a fluttering of pale skirts.

“Your father is the doctor — what does he do here? “He is a leech, then? A bloodletter?”

“Don’t be silly, he’s not medieval!”

“Hm-mm, I shall believe you when you prove it me,” says the girl, laughing, and leans her chin on her hand to make herself Rose’s mirror. Side by side they sit for a while, and the dark gathers in across the hills until oaks and grassland alike are made one mass of shadow. Somewhere in the trees beyond the road, a horned owl utters its deep, melancholy cry out into the dusk.

“If ghosts had telephones, I should think they’d sound rather like that,” says Rose, the early chill of after-sunset driving her quite easily to a morbid sort of cheer.

“How the times change,” says the girl, with an odd, but not entirely unhappy, look in her eyes. “No, my dear; ghosts use the same telephones as you and I, as you well know.” Rose does not know, well or otherwise, much at all about ghosts, so she nods, and feels a little more of the girl’s weight settle on her shoulder.

“You have very cold hands,” says Rose, and the girl from the oak tree smiles and taps at Rose’s cheek with clammy fingers.

“I always have, I’m afraid.”

“It’s no bother, really.” And so they sit and watch the sky, the falling-dusk and the distant fog that creeps over the hills, until there’s light, sharp as a door opening.

Rose turns, and it is only Dr del Llano, leaving his patient with his hat in his hand. She turns back, and the Fosters’ hired girl is gone.

“How is Mrs. Foster,” Rose asks, without any particular feeling in her voice, and her father shakes his head in reply. But the road down into the valley, where lies the town, is before them, and Rose is pleased enough at the journeying that she asks no further questions.

It’s in the hills and on the road that Rose meets, again, with the oak tree girl, the mistletoe girl, the girl with hands like marble in the shade. Once again, Rose is waiting for her father while he attends a patient, and, lazing in the sun, Rose has pushed the sleeves of her shirtwaist up to her elbows.

And then the girl is there again, with her shock of cobweb hair moving, ever so faintly, in a breeze that doesn’t seem to reach as far as the buggy-seat.

“Hello, my pretty-lovely,” says the girl, putting her hand out to the horse still in its traces. Though usually affectionate, the horse puts back its ears and pulls its head away.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” says Rose, half-laughing. “Save your sweet words for someone who wants them, all the same.”

“Has she a name, then?”

“Other than Morgan, for what she is? Not at all,” Rose replies. Neither she nor her father have ever thought of one, for all that they’re fond of the hardworking little mare. “And have you a name, then?” For she’s remembered, now, that her oak-tree girl had never told her of it.

“I’m called Saro,” says the girl, and again swings herself up beside Rose. “What does your father do here, my Rose?”

“Oh, I oughtn’t say,” and Saro looks back at her with a stare of please? and Rose laughs and says anyway. She shouldn’t gossip, but she leans in close anyway, and whispers that “Old Man Lucas has got the clap, and him a widower these ten years!” Saro’s mouth twitches at the corners — she can’t hide her laugh for long, and it bursts, bright, out from her.

“I shall tell, I shall tell!” says she, and Rose coughs on her own laugh with a still-merry “Don’t!”

“You’ll have to catch me and make me, first!” and Saro leaps down from the buggy and runs, her skirts, her hair a flash of white in the golden-dry grass. And Rose, her spirits raised beyond what a grown girl such as herself should permit, follows. She’s less fleet-footed than Saro, earthbound still, stumbling on furrows in the land, catching her heels in ground-squirrel burrows.

Saro, she’s sure, is holding back for her benefit — letting herself be caught. And Rose does catch her, knocking her off her feet and into the grass. Saro’s laughing-merry still, her hair stuck full of grass-seed and foxtails. Close-to, Rose can see the freckles that dapple her cheeks and nose, the squint of her dark eyes when she smiles. Saro flicks Rose’s cheek, the snap of her fingers like a prickle of frost, and Rose lies there in the dusty field, entirely lost.

But Saro’s on her feet again before Rose can blink, before Rose can reach out to her, and Rose is standing, blinking in the sunlight, stumbling back to the buggy as she dusts bits of dry grass from her skirt. She buttons the sleeves of her shirtwaist again, the cuffs of which don’t quite come to her wrists anymore, and laughs when her father hands her up into her seat like a lady.

“The best whip I ever had,” he says, perfectly straight-faced.

“Gee-up!” says Rose, holding the reins in one hand and imagining herself perched atop a stagecoach. But even for all her imaginings, she’s as good a driver as her father says, and draws the horse into a gentle trot to see them home. It’s hill and dale down into the valley, hill and dale again like a song, and in the inner slopes lie trees in amid the dust-golden grasses of summer. Beneath the sparse, spreading branches, it is suddenly cooler, then warmer again, as the horse steps evenly onward and back into the sun.

“That’s mistletoe, you know,” says Dr del Llano, as he’s said a thousand times before, and points up at the gray-green mass that clings among the summer-sparse branches of an oak.

“Isn’t that for Christmastime?” asks Rose.

“It’s an odd thing we bring it in for the Nativity,” muses her father, still looking back at the tree as they pass it by. “Poison, that — and it chokes the life out of the oak tree, too. Not a kindly thing, mistletoe, but we hang it up with the flor de Nochebuena all the same…”

He doesn’t speak after that, but sings instead, an out-of-season hymn of sons newborn and deaths already foretold. If the verse telling of tombs ought to be grim, Dr del Llano doesn’t make it so, and so the story of gloom and gravity is nothing but a blithe eventuality, predicted all light-hearted by a man very certain of the truth of it.

Mrs. Foster dies soon after. Rose sits in the church as the priest says the first of the masses for her, the first of seven that her widower has paid for. She waits at the door while her father makes conversation — how she wishes he would hurry up! But the doctor in his black coat and the priest in his cassock are two crows alike, and so she is there in the doorway until her father says ‘good-by, Padre’ and comes to join her. Rose hardly has the time to shut her hymnal closed over the catalog tucked inside before he bustles past her, eager now to be on his way.

“Damned quiet place now that the mine’s shut up,” he says on the walk home, and Rose nods, though she does not remember the mine-town as her father does. She knows that there is no more coal to be had here and no more sand, and that with the mine has gone much of her father’s custom. Without black-lung and burns and broken bones, there is far less for a doctor to do in these hills.

But there is no other doctor than Juan Soto del Llano, with his limping step and his rosary about his neck and his rattletrap of a horse-drawn buggy with his only daughter to drive it, so he goes on as he has, and mends up broken bones and offers fever-cures to farmers and their wives, and to the valley townsfolk nearer home.

Henry Freeman is twenty-two, the bright young son of a new-money farmer. He is sickening for something, he is grey-faced and cold and his eyes do not focus.

Dr del Llano is at his door with hat in hand — money passes from the elder Mr. Freeman’s worn hand into his, and the doctor closes the older man’s hand over the coins. Out on the bench of the buggy, Rose scoffs and shakes her head. The fog-touched night is cold even through her coat, and she shivers involuntarily.

“He oughn’t to do such things,” she says, to no one but herself. But all the same, Rose turns her head, and Saro is there beside her, smiling.

“What oughtn’t he do?” asks Saro, with the questioning merriment in her voice that Rose has come to like so well.

“He doesn’t ask for payment, when it’s hill sickness,” and, seeing Saro’s quirk of the mouth, the way the question lurks in her well-dark eyes, Rose continues. “Father doesn’t know what it is, still, and he can’t mend it. It cannot be consumption, for it doesn’t settle in the lungs, but all the same — it is as if something is drawing out the life from them, every one.”

“So your Henry Freeman shall die, then,” says Saro, blunt.

“Don’t—“ says Rose, and stops, cold. “Who are you?” she asks, and looks Saro in the eyes, the brown of them so dark that Rose can barely find her own reflection. And the girl with the mistletoe hair reaches out, and pulls her hand across the golden curve of the hill as if she is stroking the grass that lies like dry cowhide on the ground.

“You know my name, doctor’s daughter, is that not enough?”

“Saro—“ Footsteps, and Rose’s head turns without her willing it. Doctor del Llano still has his sleeves rolled up, the edges wet from scrubbing. He doesn’t let them down again as he drags on his coat, hauling himself up to the buggy-seat as if held down by a great weight.

“Father—“ says Rose, and looks to Saro beside her, but even as she turns back, Saro is gone again.

“I’ll not talk of it,” he says, and hauls his bag into the buggy. It might well weigh as much as all the world. Rose huffs, and pulls her arms against her chest, and sets them on the road again.

And so it goes, over and over again — the Misses Hayward, unmarried, a few years older than Rose herself — Martin Foster, only three — the widow Ruiz, whose husband died down the mine before Rose was born. All of them greying, cold, dying quick. There is sickness in the hills, and it is sickness that the doctor cannot cure, and Rose — Rose finds that she barely cares. She stands in the church, once more, at Lillie Hayward’s funeral, and cannot look at the coffin, but only turns her head to search for wild light hair among the townsfolk in the pews.

But Saro doesn’t come to town; that’s not the place for her, Rose knows. How could she stay anywhere else but where the wind drags the points of oak leaves down the sky, where the tall grass parts under her hands like water?

So life goes on as it did before — the spiders building their webs across the age-grey clapboards of the doctor’s house by the old mine, the oak leaves stuck by their prickling edges to the drying wash, Rose’s father singing softly in his parents’ Spanish as he stocks his black bag at his desk in the front-room.

Rose leans against the desk, chipping at the varnish with her fingernails. In concession to the afternoon heat, the eastward window is flung open, and the thinnest breeze flicks at the pages of the last Sears catalog laid idly within her reach. She has begun to resent the sun — she closes her eyes, hunting darkness for darkness’s sake, and thinks of Saro in her white skirts, standing candle-slender in the dusk between the hills, Saro’s hands that are always cold, pressed softly against Rose’s face, her neck, her chest.

Telephone, its jangling sound sharp in the late-summer quiet — her father’s soft noises of questioning and assent — the practiced movements of putting harness to the horse. But for all that the interruption is sharp, there’s a pleased rise in Rose’s heart nonetheless, for if she is lucky, she will see Saro on the road.

She reins in the horse when her father tells her so, and hands him his bag as he jumps from the buggy — once he’s gone, Rose allows herself a secret smile. It’s early in the evening now, with the light all golden, her father’s horse with its dark mane a-gleaming in the last of the sun. Rose has a flask of coffee with her, brewed black as her father’s coat. She drinks most of it, hot and bitter, never mind that it had been meant to be shared. It doesn’t keep her awake — she drowses, head on her arms, and feels a breeze like soft hands stroke along her neck.

Today she has a headache. Her face is hot, even with her collar unbuttoned and her hat laid aside in her father’s seat. The day is warm, and the air tastes of dust, hot and dry in Rose’s throat. Saro’s hand on her cheek is as sweet and cold as anything Rose has ever snuck from the ice-house. Saro’s mouth against her neck is a cool draught.

“My dear sweet Rose,” says Saro, quiet, with only the barest hint of her usual merriment. “You’ve been ever so patient, even while I took my time with others.”

“Mm,” says Rose, and lets the weight of her body press up against Saro’s cold frame. Perhaps — perhaps that cold could leach the heavy heat from her head, the feverish blur from her eyes.

Saro’s fingers are at the buttons of Rose’s shirtwaist, now, the full breadth of her hand an ice-print on Rose’s chest. Saro from the oak tree, Saro with her hair like mistletoe. The hills rise golden around them, the wind rushing in Rose’s ears without touching her skin.

“May I?”

“Please,” says Rose, at the last, and lets Saro draw away the last of her living warmth.

[darkcrowprincess]

Taang headcanon(more so toph with a little bit of taang):

Toph doesn't allow herself to enjoy stereotypical girly girl things because there's so much trauma, misogyny and ableism connected to them for her growing up with her parents. So that's why she doesn't allow herself to like those things, and why she's so obsessed with being as un stereotypically girly as possible. When she meets the gaang she slowly allows herself to be soft again and like new things because no one in the group would ever treat her like her parents did.

One of the few really girly girl things Toph allows for herself is her hair. Out of everything she takes good care of her hair. It's long, healthy and shinny and one of the few indulgencee she allows herself. But she usually keeps it in a bun because that's better to fight with. But she not cutting her hair.

Aang loves brushing her hair out for her, and Toph genuinely likes when he does. Because brushing her hair is all about touch. It's full on heaven for Tophs scalp and senses. Aang doesn't care if it takes an hour to brush out her long hair. It's genuinely nice for him to see Toph so relaxed and still and happy. Like her own version of meditation.

[thebottomfromhell]

The upper moons reacting to reader with facial piercings, like nostril, septum, or snake bites.

Welcome to another episode of let's remember these guys are from edo Japan and so they don't like our culture! /j. [Except Kokushibou, that man won't be happy with anything less than traditional Japanese swordsmen 🫤]

Uppermoons react to your style, facial piercings.

Warnings: Piquerism (non-sexual, but still), Mentioned self-harm, Self-hate, Karaku is a bit horny, Gyokko being Gyokko, Douma being Douma.

Gyutaro:

Gyutaro likes to look at your piercings, a lot. He looks at every piece of metal in your face, wanting to brush it softly with his hands, a little shinny reflection in what would be an imperfection. He carreses every part, gently and softly, a part of him he thought only belonged to Daki, and sees you. He adores it, the opposite way he scratches the black circles covering his own face. He wishes those could be covered with pretty and shinny things. Then again, make-up does exist. Then again, why bother? He will be still be ugly, he will always be ugly, resentful and twisted. Nothing like you or his sister.

He could pierce himself, too. You have asked him if he wanted, as he always touches your face so tenderly, looking with yearning eyes the holes in your face. You specially love it when he carresses your lips as he brushes your snakebites (sometimes you sneak a kiss into his fingers) but "Nah, it would heal anyway. Still, it suits you. Ne." He can't explain it but... it does make him feel less lonely with his own flawed face.

Gyokko:

More than how you look with them, Gyokko likes piercing you. And damn him if piercing your face isn't a rewarding expecience. It took you a lot of time to trust him enough to bring a needle to your face, knowing he is good with them, but that Gyokko might be tempted to use it to pluck one of your eyes out, but you have been wanting a piercing on the surface of the cheekbone, and you would rather not risk doing it wrong.

You bleed from the needles, and Gyokko knows he would never do on purpose such a harm to his own flawless skin, even if he could heal. You should heal as well, but you prefer to expose a wound decorated as a piece of art. Would you be surprised to see that after helping you with this, he started piercing jewelry in some of his victims? "And there. Try not to move your mouth too much for now, we wouldn't want to re-open this, would we~?" But he definetely likes it.

Hantengu:

He is terrified by the concept of piercing one's skin and putting a jewel so the wound can't heal. He doesn't even know why he is so upset about the idea, his own skin would heal instantly if he was ever pierced, if the needle even manages to harm him at all. But WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PIERCE YOUR FACE?! Pierce! Your! Own! Face! "Hantengu, you are having another break down." He gets like this everytime you take the jewelry off, specially the piercings in your eye-brows. Does he genuinely think the hole goes up to your brain or something?

"So scary.... so... so.... scary..." Well, it seems it doesn't matter if that is the case or not, the holes make him uncomfortable anyway. He tries to avoid looking at them, but he always end up looking at them. Not a big fan, it seems.

Sekido:

Why? Just why? "Are you fuck- ANOTHER ONE?!" Another piercing in your face. Of course you got to have another one, he told you to give it a break. It's annoying that you have an obssesion with making holes in your face, then spend who knows how much money on jewelry to plug them instead of healing like a normal human being! Well... not that he is an expert of human beings, but his point stands. "So you don't like it?"

You asked him, and he only frowns. It's irritating how he feels a potencial lack of responsibility. What if it gets infected? What if you regret? Can you even heal that? He doesn't even know and he is not going to make himself look stupid by asking. He just doesn't understand it, the desire to hurt your own face and keep it that way, it worries him too, but he is too irritates to behave properly. Still... "You look ok." It's not of his bussiness, if you want to do it, you can just do it. He will complain, but know boundaries enough to know he can't do more than that without hurting you.

Karaku:

Karaku grins, why not? You look so sexy with those piercings in your face, and there is just something so kinky about it. Maybe is the coldness of the metal against him when he kisses and brushes your face, maybe is the pain, maybe it's the similarity it has to branding and tattoing. But still, he thinks it's hot, he thinks you look hot with those in your face, posing jewelry as if it was part of you. Probably is, so far. "Would you like to get a piercing on your own? I think a tongue piercing would suit you."

He would like to get one, to be honest, but he doesn't know how that would work. The holes would probably heal around the metal, getting it stuck, so he would need to rip his tongue open to take it out if he ever needed to. Also, he might not even get the jewel on with how fast he would heal AND Sekido would give him a lot of crap for it. "Nah, they suit you better hot-stuff. I'm content with seeing and touching your face." Maybe one day if he actually wants to start shit, but he will be satisfiend with you having the piercings for now.

Urogi:

"Ohhhh! Shiny!" Urogi touches your face a lot, specially the piercings in your nose. You more often than not have to tell him to not mess with the septum, he sometimes pulls it by accident and with the lack of control of his own strenght you fear he might rip it out. Still, Urogi is attracted to everything bright, he will steal the pieces if you aren't wearing them, and if you are wearing them he will keep himself all over you, resting and trying to toy with the metal in your face.

Because of his fixation you decided to to a simple piercing in his ear to try it out. It was a disaster. He scratches his ear an hour later and ripped the piercing off, so you will not trust them with ones on the lips, nose or anywhere in his face, even if he can heal. At least he tries to be careful with you. "I really like them, you know? You look very nice!" But well, no harm done to him it seems, he is happy with teasing your face like a pet wanting attention

Aizetsu:

So... humans like to pierce their own skin and plug the wound with accesories to avoid healing, and all because it looks good? That is so sad, specially in the face, where everybody can see exactly ehat they have done to their own body. Set an imperfection. Worst part, as far as he knows, the face is one of the places humans heal the easiest, it's you who insist to keep that hole open. It's a bit sad that disregard for your own skin, but then again, everything is sad for him, so it's not as if it's a big deal for him.

"Do you like it?" He has to ask, even if he already knows the answer. Of course you like it, you would not have them in your face if you didn't. Still, he likes to hear you day it. "Yeah, I do. This is the image of me I like to see in mirrors. The me I want others to see." And so he can accept it with less grief, with the love you have for them. So he can feel less or more sad about it, depending on his mood. "I like it too, but don't get too much more, ok?"

Nakime:

Nakime states at you, quietly, hands still on her biwa. Now, she is not judging, she is just trying to understand. You have a fair face, easy on the eyes, to say at least, or at least that is what Namike thinks. "Why put holes on it?" She asks you after a while, you recently got another piercing, so she had she had to voice her curiosity. The only thing she ever did to her own face was a very little make-up (when she had make-up, that's it. Her husband did use it to gamble or trade for alcohol sometimes, she remembers with resentment), so the idea putting holes in it gives her a bit of an ick, even if she does like any jewelry.

"I don't know. I just like it." You answer honestly, and to be fair? It does suit you, it does suit you a lot. She would never let you bring a needle to her own face, even if she can heal, but Nakime can let her own biad aise to know... you like it, and she isn't meant to have an opinion in what you do with your body. "Good answer." She comments softly before focusing again on her biwa.

Akaza:

Akaza is no stranger to needles, not completely. He doesn't know why, but sometimes he looks at his wrists and has the sensation of needles pushing into them. Weirdly enough, it's only there when he has tattoos spread all upon his body, but he can't help but wonder... does it tickles and stings the same way your piercings do? Or is at a completely different feeling, let it be because the difference of place or purpose? He has marks on his face, and you have yours.

He doesn't know why his face is marked the way it is, maybe there isn't a motive at all, it's just how it is. But you? You have metal and holes in yours, wounds that could heal in just a few weeks with the peoper care. He is captivated by this choice of endure just because you like it. "I like your new piercing. It suits you." And that is enough to enjoy the pieces as part of you, as something as it's as part of you as your flesh. "Thanks." Because it makes up the ypu you want him to see.

Douma:

Douma is curious about the concept, humans are such a delicate species, for he can't tell if it's fitting or not for them to walk around with holes in their bodies. After all, with their, or rather lack of, healing abilities, a hole made in their bodies is meant to stay open, he would know. He does, sometime, keep some pretty corpses as decoration, having to take care of them so they don't start smelling and rotting, but holes do look pretty in the body. Now, plugging them with shinny metals seems like a even nicer idea! How come he didn't come with it by his own? Even more in the face, where everybody can see that a needle went through the skin as a performance, as decoration.

"They look endearing on you, darling." He compliments, as he is genuinely interested. He has your attention, and he knows it, so one day he asks you to pierce his eyebrow, nose and lips, only to pull the pieces of metal out of his body the second the skin closed against them, smiling at you, as it was only to show the difference between you too. Yet he never stopped complimenting you and asking for more, later you find out he uses those piercings he never gives back to mark his victims. "These jewels are beautiful, I definetely see them as so human. Let me carress your face, Y/N." And you do, because he is so gentle and loving. You can't even stop to wonder if it's fake or not.

Kokushibou:

You pierced your face... you pierced it. You have literal holes in it which you plug with metal... that is something that you currently do, and actually walk around with holes in your face when you take the metal off for whatever reason. [You guessed, he hates this one too.] He needs time to think. [He needs to take a nap, he is too old for this 🤣]. It's just that when he was human, your face had to be flawless. Marks and scars on one's face were not seen kindly, he would know. Why would the world become more tolerant now? He doesn't get it nor like it.

Still, you seem happy with those pieces of junk in your face, even the one in your mouth and nose. He can't imagines how talking and breathing would even feel with a hole every time you take the jewelry off. It gives him an ick, so he does prefer you having the piercings on than going around without them. He never comments on it, but you can tell, as subtle as he is... he doesn't like them.

[radio-fmm]

Dance with me

Sanji x gardener!reader

Gn reader + fluff drabble based on this post by @misslovasstuff 🫶��

The orange light that hangs from the kitchen roof contrast with the dark skies and shinny stars all across it, the sea is calm, almost trying to lull everyone on the ship to close their eyes. No danger awaits the crew as they sleep soundly

Well almost everyone

Every night after dinner, Sanji stays to clean up and maybe do some breakfast prep or some quick snacks to toss Luffy tomorrow day

You sit content on the table, feet hanging as they move at the rhythm of the music from the den den radio, humming along completely lost on its melody as you make your dear chef some company

Sanji can’t help but smile to himself, this rare uneventful night that gifts him this moment that feels so domestic and just so right. He steals you a glance, your humming turning into a quiet singing, every note swiping him off his feet

He wipes his hands on a towel before he approaches you, his eyes never leaving your sight. When he comes across your line of vision you smile brightly at him, melting him into a puddle in front of you. He turns the volume of the den den radio up, an offering hand extended your way as he does a little reverence making you giggle at his well known antics

“Would you please be so kind as to gift me this dance, my love?” He says peeking at your expression, expectant

Without hesitation you take his hand and stand up with him, your hands growing fresh flowers at his touch

“I should warn you, I am not a dancer” a slight pink sits on your cheeks, a little nervous to follow along

But Sanji doesn’t listen, one of his hands travel to your waist while the other extends your arm to the side, naturally making your free hand to sit on top of his toned shoulders, the so familiar feeling of the fabric of his tailored shirt settling your nerves

“Just follow me”

Carefully he sways your bodies to the rhythm of the song playing, eyes locked into each other like a bounding spell. The kitchen floor creeks with every step you take, but it doesn’t bother you

The intimacy of it all makes you feel like you’re suspended on air, light as a feather as you move around completely lost on the moment. Maybe the lighting is a little off, maybe you’re both very sleep deprived and exhausted from a long hardworking day, but Sanji looks so happy, so beautiful, so unreal

Ocean eyes looking back with so much tenderness; his hands delicately gripping on your form, as if making sure you’re real, that you’re there with him; his blonde hair moves along with his steps revealing his handsome face; the so comforting smell of smoke and fresh fruit and his sweet smile

You could have this forever

He makes you turn which earns a laugh out of you, and in that moment Sanji feels like the luckiest man on the seas, your laugh even more beautiful of a melody than the music on the background

“And you said you weren’t a dancer” he whispers playfully, his breath hitting your neck

“I guess I just needed a prince to come and show me how to really do it” he immediately blushes, stumbling as your voice calling him a prince echoes in his head over and over again

In a swift move to the right, you remove your hand from his as you make petals fall from your hands all around you. You circle back to Sanji as he remains perplexed at your action, he keeps dancing but his mind is full with you you and you

The song ends and you stay entangled in the middle of the kitchen, smiling back at each other completely lovesick

“I love you” he whispers out of breath, your hands leaving to reach for his face, your lips find his like they always do and you kiss effervescently, like a dream you don’t want to wake up from

“If life by your side is like this, I want it to be forever you”

[thecoolnauta]

GENSHIN WITH A TEEN!CREATOR WHO IS LIKE LUZ NOCEDA PART TWO

okay so this is part two and i'm just so dizzy but i'v been ALL THE MAMAHUEVO day thinking about this so yeah

TW: gn reader, teenager reader (ALL IS PLATONIC), some mentions of bullying but not that many, maybe sm angstand a lot of spoilers abut the archons missions, reader calling themselfs "bad boy" but meh

part one :)

So you were running for your life

No, seriously you're running for your life, don't laugh about it again

Some random people with a very ugly green uniform were hunting you like you were some type of a witch of the 1600's because you tried to ask them for directions

People of the town being so mean to you sounds like a frocking fanfic trope

Your weak nerd legs wouldn't handle it anymore, but you still running like they have told you there is a special product of your hyperfixation on sale.

AND! you have an egg

A magic egg, with... shinny shell

Running, running, running, blahblahblah, you almost pass out when you lost them closer to a beach

Pretty view, huh?

You heard their steps and hide behind a big stone, your legs and lap now wet by the crystal water

They left and you stop holding the staff like your life dependet of it.

Oh! that's your reflection, you haven't seen your face in hours

...

THAT'S NOT YOUR FACE

The horns and the black eyes felt like some very creep vision of yourself, but you couldn't get that first impresion of you out of your head.

You looked like something, not like someone

Even though your face looks "correct" now, the feeling of the itchy skin and the fragile organs aren't something you would forget any time soon.

"Well, let's not think about that, this bad boy needs to find any social community or will cry" you jump of the stone and continue walking wherever the wind guides you

Actaully, why does the wind feels like guiding you?

pointpointpoint

WHATEVER PROBABLY YOUR SKIN FELLING TO MUCH LIKE ALWAYS :D

(Venti actually let out a big sigh lol)

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE GONE, JEAN?!"

"Why do I feel a deja vu about all this?"

And there they were, the most influent persons of all Mondstadt discussin about this very serious problem to solve... and a bard (who is actually their god but shhh).

"But, what do we do now? We don't have any idea of-" the bard was interrupted by the youngest girl.

"Master Jean, we must ask to the Traveler for more information, that letter is the only thing we have? Amber asked, her frown hidding her tears.

"Sadly yes, Amber. This is the only thing we have to prepare ourself in any case" Jean said, her untied blond hair flying around.

"What do you mean with 'prepare ourself', Jean?" Diluc asked, his leg shacking with anxiety.

"Well" the witch started, avoiding eye contact.

"Aether said... that probably his Guide... the new found god that had been helping us is now..." Kaeya said, walking around the room. Everyone felt his nerves, because they were just as nervous as him. "It's now corporeal"

"What"

"Corporeal, we can touch them, they are now... With us."

Silence filled the room, holding breaths and silent screams are all the winds can reach.

"Master Jean!" Noelle enter to the room, feeling the heavy vibes of the place, still stay with a anxious face.

"What's wrong, Noelle?" she replaid.

"Umh well..." She took a deep breath, letting it all out in a shout with a bow.

"There's a prisioner teenager who scaped from the bouild with rare magic, they don't have any visions and they act like they were from another world, like Traveler!" a quiet and long time pass, slow and slow and- "Okay I'm going, anything you need just say my name."

She leave, then, a loud shout singing the same song was heard in any corner of Monds.

"THE CREATOR!"

I'M SO DIZZY THIS COULD BE A LOT BETTER BUT THAT'S IT BY NOW, TOMORROW I WILL PUBLIC THE PART 3, BYE :)

[witchofhimring]

HotD ✨Cat edition✨

Note: I keep seeing cat editions of characters in different fandoms. I will be stealing that idea now.😗

You had been hired to work at a cat café for some extra cash. It sounded like a brilliant idea at first. Being surrounded with adorable little furballs and making money. Great!

No.

Because you were not prepared for the evil you would have to face.

Rhaenyra:

Cat species:

Persian Longhair

Description:

Slightly chubby. Long silver fur. Wide blue eyes with luxurious eyelashes. Has an enormous bushy hair used to swat Otto her enemies. Pink nose. A very pretty kitty.

Personality:

Absolute Princess Complex. She is the most important kitty in the world and you better know that. Feeding time? Her first. Hair not perfect? You better brush it. Many a time she has swatted cats and kittens out of her way. Anything to get that kibble. Her way to get your attention is jumping onto you lap and pawing at you.

She has a more friendly side. When you first met Rhaenyra she was stand offish, looking down at the peasants humans bellow. For weeks you would see her blue eyes looming out from the darkness. At about the three week mark Rhaenyra started to come up to you. A pet here. A pet there. And then she was suddenly all over you. She is actually a very cuddly kitty once she gets to know you. When you have a bad day she will come up and settle on you lap as comfort.

Alicent:

Cat species:

Mancoon

Description:

On the smaller end of the size scale. Brownish red fur that is slightly wavy. Huge brown eyes that look into your soul. Face constantly looks like she's sad.

Personality:

Very shy. It was about two months in when you first caught sight of her. Because she is shy Alicent spends most of her time in the boss's office. She is very peculiar about touching. You have to pet her a certain way or it is bye bye. Does not like to be picked up and it is very rare for her to sit on anyone's lap. Loves personal space. Her bed is hidden away and she shares with no one, except Aemond or Helaena.

Viserys:

Cat species:

Persian longhair

Description:

Skinny with long but thin strands of hair. Has a few bald spots. Has narrow watery blue eyes. His whiskers nearly droop to the floor. Owns a stain that drags behind him as he walks.

Personality:

Sleepy. Boy likes to have his beauty sleep. He's a bit shy but not as much as Alicent. Because of his health he stays in the back room. When you have breaks he will snuggle against you and sleep. Sometimes he's a bit grumpy from the medication. Viserys is a mostly good cat. Not too naughty and enjoys being pampered.

Demon Daemon:

Cat species:

a demon Persian longhair

Description:

Thin, lanky. Narrow blue eyes. Large front paws. Tail is slightly crooked and bobs as he walks. Shinny silver fur that he is very vain about.

Personality:

That cat is evil incarnate. He will look deep into your eyes and bat away a cup of tea right onto the floor. Somehow attracts a gaggle of admirers who thinks him destroying ornate pillows adorable. You know what is also adorable? When you have to fix said pillows.

If he's not destroying property then he plays the "catch me" games. Will rub non stop against you. But the second you bend down to touch him Daemon is gone. Then when you go back to your job he is back again, the crashing of a $40 mug announcing his arrival.

Otto:

Cat species:

Mancoon

Description:

Thin hairs that stick up, crooked whiskers. Has tiny brown eyes that constantly look like they are judging you (because he is). Very thin but large.

Personality:

Unsettling. Sometimes you questioned if he even was a cat. He slinks around the room and will not let anyone touch him. Spends most of his time on a perch glairing down at the servants little people bellow. Hates Rhaenyra for whatever reason.

Laena:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

Black kinky hair that is short. Small and light of her feet. Has big brown eyes and enormous ears.

Personality:

A very sweet girl. Very popular with the customers. Probably one of the few cats that doesn't start fights with the other cats. That being said she is very picky about food. Will stick her nose up at certain kibble if it is not up to her standards. Will not play with toys roughed up by other cats.

Laenor:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

Curly black hair, surprisingly long for a Devon Rex. Wide brown eyes and tiny whiskers.

Personality:

Pretty friendly. He sometimes likes to follow you around. Prefers adults and will usually go up to someone when they arrive. Doesn't cause any problems.

Corlys:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

Curly and surprisingly poufy hair. Straight whiskers that never seem to bend. Large paws with sharp claws (you once tried to trim his nails and people could hear his wails across the street). Brown eyes.

Personality:

Vert stern. He acts like the general of a military base. Marches up and down the entrance, eyeing everyone who comes in. Acts as a sort of peace keeper between Otto and Daemon. He does let people pet him but will not be picked up. He will only sit on your lap if you are a frequent customer or employee/boss.

Rhaenys:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

White curls adorn her body. Her ears are huge and her blue eyes have a water quality to them. Delicate features but do not let that fool you.

Personality:

You swear if she was a person Rhaenys would be one of those posh ladies that lived in your neighborhood. Prefers the company of ladies and will sit like a little person on a chair. Only likes to be pet on the head. When she thinks no one is looking Rhaenys bats around a little a little pink ball.

Harwin: (Dishonorable mention)

Cat species:

British Shorthair

Description:

A heavy set boi. Brown fur and deep brown eyes. A slightly squashed face. A small but surprisingly powerful tail.

Personality:

A sneaky bad boy that sneaks inside and is the cause of more work (aka the kittens he fathered). Is not one of your cats. Bad boy snuck in an got Rhaenyra pregnant. Kept sneaking in afterwards and boom, suddenly three new kittens. You later discovered that he had been living quite comfortable in Rhaenyra's hidey hole, only coming out when you were not looking. It was only when he decided to come out and steal a customers feather boa that you discovered Harwin, a stream of pink feathers in his wake.

[sleepyqweeb189]

Alexa, she was just a normal high schooler. She didn't understand what she was getting herself into... She just wanted to stay up a little longer playing cookie run. But, she felt so tired that she fell asleep over her phone. When she sat up, she didn't know where she was... She was not at home... nor in her living room. She got up on her own and looked around a bit. It was dark and very forest-like. After a while, she heard a scream. She turned and started to follow the sound of screaming. She slowly reaches the sound and looks from behind a tree, and her eyes widen in shock.

She saw what looks like Pure Vanilla but different. She looked in the other cookie's eye that was screaming... she saw the cookie's body turning into dust... shinny... sparkle dust...

Alexa backed away but stepped on a stick and made a loud SNAP. She looks back up and sees Pure Vanilla, but... why does he look different..?

"My dear child... may I ask what you are doing out here..?" Saint Vanilla asked so softly.

"I-I ummm I don't know... I just wanted to..." She tried to come up with an excuse without getting caught to see something she wasn't supposed to see...

"Child, I can see you're in pain... please... let me heal you..." Saint Vanilla gets closer to her.

"N-NO I- I DON'T TRUST YOU," Alexa screamed. He is not the Pure Vanilla she knows.

She tried to run, but Saint Vanilla got close and grabbed her right wrist and attempted to heal her but was shocked that she wasn't healing like the others. She screamed in pain when Saint Vanilla touched her hand. It felt like acid or boiling grease.

"Oh...? you're not healing-" Saint Vanilla was cut off by Alexa trying to grab his soul stone.

Saint Vanilla lightly pushes her hand away from the soul stone. Alexa uses her body strength and pulls away. She was able to get out of his grip and started to run. Alexa has run through the forest and into an opening. But she felt intense pain when she heard, "I will not falter!" until she goes through her entire body.

"My dear child, you're not healing..." Saint Vanilla mumbled to himself.

"I ask if you come close please-" Saint Vanilla was cut off yet again,

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! Y-YOUR NOT PURE VANILLA YOUR CRAZY MAN" Alexa screamed at Saint Vanilla.

The area starts feeling off and tense. Alexa started to crawl away from Saint Vanilla but stopped in pain in her right wrist. She turned herself over to face Saint Vanilla, who was standing over her.

"Child, I can tell you're hurting..." Saint Vanilla walks ever so slowly at her.

Alexa didn't wait and got up and ignored the pain in her whole body. Saint Vanilla didn't chase after her and only just stared out of curiosity.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing her again... I have eyes everywhere anyway..." With that, Saint Vanilla walked away and returned to his kingdom.

Au created by: @cuppajj all rights go to them

[oensible]

Faces, vol. 45 (July/August 2017), pp. 1, 7, 10, 32–38

Photographer: Richard Dubois

(thank you to goose @moregraceful and goose's ottawa anon and also richard dubois 🙏)

Article transcript below the cut.

Faces Magazine: The 2016-2017 Stanley Cup playoffs will be one that is long-remembered in Ottawa as one of the most exciting times in Senators history. Can you describe what the ride was like for you as a player?

Cody Ceci: The ride was amazing; I've never been a part of anything like that before in my life. Getting that far and seeing the city come together like they did was very special. Something I won't forget for the rest of my life and I'm so happy I could be a part of it.

[Faces]: When you look back at the playoffs, what would you say is the moment that you will remember the most?

[Ceci:] I'll never forget winning the first series against Boston. For a lot of us it was the first time ever winning a series. One of the best moments for me was having MacArthur come back from missing the entire season with a concussion and scoring the game winner.

[Faces]: The majority of so-called 'hockey experts' picked the Sens to lose against Boston and then again against the Rangers. They all felt you had no shot against the powerhouse Penguins. Did you enjoy being the underdogs?

[Ceci:] We were considered the underdogs right from the get-go. But, I think it helped us, because there wasn't as much pressure on us. We never overlooked what we had to do and took it one game at a time. We just tried to focus on the task at hand and do the best we could. It felt good to prove people wrong, so that definitely fuelled us to play the best we could.

[Faces]: What was it about this group of guys that you feel was the biggest reason for your success in the playoffs this year?

[Ceci:] We were a very tight group this year, and when that happens everyone comes together, holds each other accountable, and plays for one another.

[Faces]: Does coming so close to bringing the Stanley Cup to Ottawa give you even more motivation to come back next year and finish what you have started?

[Ceci:] Definitely. Playoffs are such a fun time of year and anything can happen. We all had a sick feeling in the pit of our stomachs for a few days after seeing that game 7 double overtime goal go in. We will have to use that to fuel the fire and get us back to where we were, and give ourselves another shot at it.

[Faces:] Do you remember the first time you put on skates?

[Ceci:] I don't remember the first time but I was told I was 3 years old and apparently, I didn't like it much. My mom was a figure skater so she had me skating right from the get-go. I was okay as long as I was on the ice with her but I didn't like my CanSkate lessons without her until I got a little older.

[Faces:] Can you describe the role your family has played in you getting to the NHL?

[Ceci:] My whole family has been extremely supportive of my hockey career. My dad coached me growing up and always pushed me to be the best I could be and kept me on track. My mom always made a rink in the backyard and my sister, brother and I would stay out there for hours with our friends playing shinny and practicing our skating and shooting.

[Faces:] Who was the first person you called when you got called up to the Ottawa Senators and played your first game in the National Hockey League?

[Ceci:] When I first got called up, they told me I couldn't leak the news to anyone besides family until it was announced to the team. So, I got in the car and started driving, and called my dad. I decided to tell him first because I knew he would be better at holding in the news than my mom would be. I was worried the team would be angry with me if the news got out so I just waited until it was released to call her.

[Faces:] You played a lot with Dion Phaneuf this season—someone that was well known to Senators fans from his days as the Captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Can you describe what Dion is like as a teammate and person?

[Ceci:] Right from day one Dion was just a great guy. None of us really knew what to expect as he was the captain of arguably our biggest rival. As soon as he got to the team he just seemed to fit in right away and got along with everyone. We were paired together right away and have been playing together ever since.

[Faces:] Now that it is the off-season for the NHL, tell us a little about what you like to do in the summer. Do you usually stick around Ottawa during the summer or do you have any plans to travel before training camp begins?

[Ceci:] I spend the majority of my summers up at the cottage. Ever since I was a little kid I have been going up there for the summer. My family and friends have cottages up there so we all like to head up and hangout for the weekend.

[Faces:] Tell us about the dogs in your photos… what are their names? What are their personalities like?

[Ceci:] They are both French bulldogs. Zeus (3) is the white dog and Hugo (2) is the black one. Zeus is pretty laid back while Hugo is pretty crazy. But they are both very friendly.

[Faces:] What do you enjoy most about boating and wakeboarding?

[Ceci:] All of my friends and family up here have been boating together since we were pretty young. We head out for several hours every single weekend and it just never gets old for us. Wakeboarding is a completely different sport/challenge for me and as an athlete I like the challenge.

[Faces:] What are some tips for beginner wakeboarders?

[Ceci:] Many people start out so hunched over that I get a sore back just from watching them (laughs). Once they get up, I always remind them to stand up and relax.

[Faces:] Do you prefer the city, or do you prefer to spend time in cottage country like this?

[Ceci:] Such a tough call, I try and keep a good mixture of both. During the week, I'm in the city training and skating in Ottawa. Then once the weekend rolls around I always head up to the lake.

[Faces:] Do you barbecue a lot up at the cottage? If so, what would you say is Grillmaster Cody's signature dish?

[Ceci:] My mom is my neighbour up at the cottage and luckily loves to cook so I'm usually off the hook up there. I'll barbeque the odd steak or sausage but it's never as good as hers, so I just stay out of the way. (Laughs).

[Faces:] Like many NHL Players, you enjoy playing golf during the summer? What are some of your favourite courses in the city and which teammates do you typically get out on the golf course with?

[Ceci:] Mark Stone and I just joined Kanata Lakes so that is the go to. It's a club link course, so we can play around at different courses all over the place. My favourite club link course that I have played in to date would have to be Le Maitre in Mont Tremblant.

[Faces:] Who are some of the best golfers on the team?

[Ceci:] Mark Stone is a really good golfer but I think Mike Hoffman takes the cake.

[Faces:] Which guy on the team would be the one to take selfles everywhere you go?

[Ceci:] We have a snapchat group for the guys on the team and Chris Wideman participates the most…so I'd have to say him. Although there are a few others that aren't far behind.

[Faces:] Which guys have the worst taste in music on the team?

[Ceci:] Zack Smith listens to pretty different music and always takes abuse in the room when he puts his music on. But he would definitely say the same about all of our music.

[Faces:] If you hadn't played hockey, what other career would you see yourself pursuing at this stage? What is it about that profession that interests you?

[Ceci:] Being an F1 driver or professional golfer would be really cool but I'm very far off both of those…so we can just call them dream jobs.

[Faces:] You're stuck on a deserted Island with 4 of your teammates. Who and why?

[Ceci:] I would choose Mark Borowiecki because he could live off the land and is our best chance at survival. Craig Anderson is a pretty smart, handy guy and could possibly rig something up to get us off. Mark Stone and Jean-Gabriel Pageau would try and keep the mood light so we don't drive ourselves crazy.

[supercriminalbean]

Bad day

Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader.

Warning: um saddest, fluff, crying, reader is just crying the whole time.

Summary: Reader has a break down and calls Aaron.

A/N: I was sad so I wrote this, enjoy. Not edited, not ress through, written on broken phone so spelling mistake I apologize for.

"Please just answer your phone" You groan desperately as you do your hardest to keep your breathing steady and your mind clear. Your phone clutch tightly in your hand as you hold it against your ear, the ringing almost driving you insane.

"Yeah this is Hotchner?" His deep calm professional boss voice speaks out.

"H-Hey Aaron" Your voice shakes just slightly as you take a deep breath. The emotions and stress from today tumbling down on top off you, tears spring to your eyes.

"(Y/n), are you okay?" His voice is fill of concern as his eyebrows narrow in concern. Your breathing is deep, almost shaky like, his profiler skills are turned on immediately. You sound almost panicky, like how you sound just before you hit a oanic attack or a mental break down.

"It's a bad day, I uh.." Forcing yourself to take another deep breath as you blink away the tears, along with the negative and burdening thoughts. "I hate to ask, but I need some company* A sob manages to push its way though your lips, forcing you to shove your hand over your mouth to stay quite. You were not breaking down on the phone to your boss and the guy your harvesting feelings for.

"I'm on my way* Aaron stands up as concern and panic runs throughout his body. He has barely heard you be emotional before, and the sob you let out is stabbing straight into his heart.

~~~

It's takes Aaron maybe 10 minutes to get to your apartment, knocking softly on your door. You peel yourself off your couch, your body slowly moving to the door. Your body and mind are present, half your mind is present anyway, the other half seems to be taking a vacation somewhere and is refusing to come back until the pain is gone. You open the door slowly, smiling weakly as your eyes land on Aaron Hotchner. You will never not feel better when you see his shinny eyes, expect today there shinning with concern and sympathy.

"You came" Your voice feels weak as you step back to let him in.

"You called" He walks in slowly, looking around before his eyes land on you. He only saw you three hours ago at work, you looked fine then, happy, content even overjoyed. But now when he looks at you, you seem run down, tear stained face, your hair a mess at where you've been pulling at it. He walks over to you slowly, seeing the far away look in your eyes. Placing a hand softly on your check, your eyes lock on his.

"You should of called earlier" He speaks gently, his thumb rubbing over your cheek.

"I...I know.. I'm sorry" The words gets stuck in your thoart as you try to explain, tears start to slide down again.

"Hey...it's okay, it's okay" Aaron wraps his arms around you bringing you into a deep, comforting hug. You can't help but rest your head in his chest listening to his heartbeat, his soft breath. Closing your eyes as you listen to his soothing words.

"Your doing so good, I know our job is hard but you are doing such a good job and I'm proud of you" His voice has lowered as he speaks, rubbing your back with comfort as he does. It's enough to break you, your knees buckle as the sobs start pouring out of you.

~~~

Aaron has brought you to the couch, laid you on the couch, your head in his lap as he runs his fingers through your hair. You've gone silent, which isn't unusual you get like this after a bad case. He let's the silence fill the air for awhile, you both enjoying this moment. You both stay like that for a long time, enjoying each other touch.

"Thank you" Your voice is rough from the crying, but there's a small proper smile pushing its way onto your lips. One that Aaron has no choice but to response to, your smiles are addicting.

"Anytime love, you know that" He smiles softly as he looks down at you, his hand becoming still in your hair. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything Aaron"

"How long was all that building for, before you decided to let me in?" His voice is soft and judgement free as he ask, the love and concern present in his eyes.

"I...it got really bad yesterday but I was hoping it would disappear...it usually does" You turn your head away from him, not wishing to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"That's okay..I know it can be hard, thank you for calling me" Aaron smiles lightly as he keeps running his fingers through your hair, seeing the sleep floating into your eyes.

"Thank you for being here"

"Always" Aaron reassures you before leaning down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

[akindaflora]

SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT YET!!!!!

HOLLOW MV IS OUT AND I HAVE THOUGHTS

Okay so first let’s just get the basic fan girl out. THE OUTFITS ARE SO FUCKING GOOD! The simple footwork and choreography is so goood i might actually try to learn this dance. The track and vocals work in such a seductive manner that of course has that mermaid like quality.

Now into the actual MV so this is based only on visual as i’m not fluent in korean or Japanese and the mv doesn’t have english subs nor have i gone to try and translate.

But does anyone else get this feeling that this song is about chasing the limelight.

I mean well yeah obviously it has those themes but the dark side of the chase. How at first theirs joy with in and the lights are everywhere they’re cheering and accepting flowers and trophies. As soon as they get the necklaces on, the light is still somewhat bright, but it’s now been associated that they need these lights to keep it at the top.

The light is now curated and materialized rather than what’s always been around them. For them to then start reaching for any source from lamps to shinny objects and it works filling up their cups (buckets but i’m using tarot terms) and yet as they fill it up the light dims again. Now they’re desperate for that joy taking it from literally everything even reaching into each other and going so far to reach for the sun but like incarus they fall leading to their death.

It reminds me of how i described my depression to my therapist once that my joy was like a flashlight full of batteries and i was wondering in the dark. Every so often i would have enough i could see my path and felt less lonely my thoughts weren’t swirling in my mind. But when i would run out of batteries id be stumbling in the forest tripping wondering if the thoughts that surround me would find me and get me. Enticing this anxiety of loosing to the feeling.

And i’m not saying the boys are depressed but referencing a feeling that i can relate to with the themes of the song. But with the english i do get i get this feeling this song is about how much they’re pouring themselves out to be at the top and how desperate they are to stay but with doing so it’s pulling them to a inevitable doom if they keep going at this rate.

But they can’t stop the joy of winning the lights they’re bright and the thrill of the chase is endless that it hollows out them mindless trapped in the the cycle.

Ahhhh it’s so good and i maybe never stop listening to this song when it comes out. Granted i do hope they find new healthy ways to fill their buckets but with the ending with Felix grabbing the freshly lit lights i think they have. I think this is an expression that no matter how desperate they get they’ll find a way.

So fucking poetic so experimental for them and AHHHHHHHHHHH I ULTED THE RIGHT GROUP.

STRAYS KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

And Fin

Y🌸Y🌺

let me know if you agree or disagree just had to get my thoughts out