#Tags for each article: FASHION

[jackdawsfavorite]

My ad blocker doesn’t like that link for some reason. Here’s a direct link to the article in case yours doesn’t either.

[superbat-lmao]

The Waynes having a youtube channel (Tim) where they’re occasionally tagged in challenge videos or different things. It began with the ice bucket challenge and they did it to donate money. Now it’s for laughs.

One of their top viewed videos is: My Siblings Buy Me Outfits. The second ranked video is: I Buy My Siblings Outfits.

The first one is each of the Batkids buying Tim different clothes. Their preferred method of trolling is getting hero merch. Steph puts him in heels as payback for dragging her to a gala. Cass gets him a ballet outfit so they can dance together. Duke gets him wildly political t-shirts and a bunny suit for lab work.

The second video is Tim buying 2-3 outfits for each of his siblings. Dick can’t be trolled, he unironically looks good in everything. Alfred paid Tim in cookies to get Jason a suit for the next gala. Steph and Cass get crazy halloween costumes. Damian gets kakis and polos because it makes him look awkward. Duke gets an astronaut outfit. Like, the genuine article that is cleared to be used in the shuttle missions.

Overall it’s the fashion show for Bruce that sells each of the videos. They do a runway look and pose for him while he’s drinking a glass of champagne, wearing sunglasses indoors, and clapping.

[scvrgrl]

delicate | vinsmoke sanji x fem!reader

sanji, the gentleman he was, ignored the pounding of his heart and the aching of his cock under his tight pants to ensure your pleasure before his. as much as he wanted to bend you over and fuck you over the countertop, he bit his tongue and used it to tease you instead...

word count: 2.9k

cw/tags: afab/fem!reader, curvy!reader, brief mentions of insecurity, mature language, porn with a lil plot, fingering, squirting, oral sex (f! receiving), brief mentions of masturbation and vouyerism, some fluff tho!, use of name calling (“sweetheart”, “baby”, “my love”), hardly proofread chill on me, MDNI pls!!!

it was no secret that sanji absolutely adored you. his admiration allowed himself to be completely at your disposal, wishing you would selfishly take advantage of his graciousness. however, sanji believed that it wasn’t fair for him to be the only one to recognize your beauty. no, he wanted you to see it for yourself. he caught onto your self-consciousness early on — the way you would shy away from his gaze when you wore a bikini out on the deck, shielding your belly with your arms. in truth, you were worried sanji wouldn't treat you the same as the other women aboard. your festering insecurities caused you to believe that his generosity only extended to those with smaller figures and slimmer waists. but that couldn't have been farther from the truth. he worshipped your body as if it was a sacred temple, worried that his impure thoughts would tarnish its pristine condition. sanji lusted over your curves, dreaming of exploring each fold and crevice, every mound and arch that decorated the smooth valley of your figure.

there would be times when your skirt would ride up just enough for sanji to sneak a glance. the way your ass consumed the thin fabric that hardly shielded it from the outside world sent him reeling. images of you bent over in these miniature articles of clothing (courtesy of nami's taste in fashion) seared into his memory, which he later used to pleasure himself in the confines of his bedroom. he would tug and stroke his aching cock, pleading to be touched by your delicate fingers. sanji could imagine the sensation of your warm breath ghosting over his leaking tip, the thought just enough to have him writhing against his sheets. his releases were so strong when you were in mind — his orgasm causing him to see stars while he whimpered your name into the night sky’s abyss. he could only dream of being suffocated between your pillowy thighs while he ravaged on your dripping core, exploring its taste as if it were an exotic delicacy.

the morning after such perverse activities always had sanji on edge, especially around you. anxious that if you peered into his dusty blue eyes long enough, you could read the absurdities that plagued his mind. sanji would avert his gaze, lighting cigarettes and taking a long drag every few minutes to ease the racing of his heart.

this particular morning the kitchen reeked of cigarette smoke, your stomach churning at the scent. you'd grown accustomed to sanji's smoking habit, often taking a drag when he offered it to you. but this was nauseating, causing you to cover your nose as you entered the room.

"jesus, what the hell are you trying to do? hotbox the kitchen??" you question over the loud clanging of pots and pans, playfulness mingling with your concern. the ventilation in the kitchen had been so poor that you had to physically waft the clouds of smoke out of your sight.

preoccupied with balancing the cigarette between his lips so the ash didn't fall into the dish below, sanji jumped at the sound of your voice. his ambiguously colored pupils dilated, eyes wild with fear and shame as if you had caught him in the middle of doing something bad.

"[y/n], my love. what are you doing here?" he asked, dropping a spoon as his hands trembled slightly. you smiled, even when he's nervous he's charming.

"just came to see if you needed any help," you responded innocently. however, your thoughts were anything but as you admired the sight before you — sanji's sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the bundled fabric tight around his biceps. his baby blue shirt was buttoned down a few notches, exposing the supple skin of his chest underneath. your breath hitched slightly as he hovered over the counter, palms pressed against its cool surface to stabilize himself. oh what you'd give to be pressed between that small space.

his head tilted at the sound of your request, yet the adorable confusion plastered across his face did not match the racing of his heart. sanji was ecstatic that you suddenly wanted to spend leisure time with him rather than tending to your own needs. he huffed a laugh, a small cloud of smoke billowing from his rosy lips, "i'm sure you have other things you'd rather do than be trapped with me."

"no, please. i'd love to help you," you insisted, smiling as you made your way over to where he was stationed. "i'll be your sous chef! your wish is my command, just show me where you need me."

sanji looked down into your eyes, amusement and fondness fusing into a blush that danced across his cheeks. your last few words lingered in his mind — oh boy he really did need you. his lips quirked into a smirk, pearly teeth flashing as they held the cigarette in place. "okay then."

you squealed at his approval, excited to finally get your hands dirty. sanji was extremely particular about who he let into his kitchen, worried that the crew's carelessness would disrupt the precision he worked so hard to maintain. it was his safe space — a place perfectly designed for him, a place where he could go blow off some steam doing what he loves most. so when he agreed to have you, your heart couldn't help but soar in your chest.

sanji directed you to cutting the fruit, granting you a simple task as he believed you shouldn't work too hard — you were too pretty for that. a comfortable silence grew between the two of you, each in your own little worlds while simultaneously enjoying the other's company. the only thing filling the silence would be the occasional scraping of the knife against the cutting board and the sizzling from the various pans occupying the burners on the stove. sanji would steal glances your way, chuckling to himself as he caught the way your brows furrowed in concentration.

"need some help?" sanji asked, fixing his sleeves as he walked over to you. your eyes met his, bashfully averting your gaze and returning it to the fruit before you. he gently places his hand over yours, seizing your continuous cutting motion.

“was it that obvious?” you laughed, turning to meet him as you held the knife up, gesturing for him to relieve you from your task. however, sanji had a better idea — taking advantage of your blissful ignorance and using it as a way to get closer to you.

he placed a gentle grip over your fingers, holding your hand in his as he steadies the knife. his other hand traveled down to meet the one you reserved for the small piece of fruit, lacing your fingers between his as he closed the gap between you two. your lower back now rested against his stomach, the friction of solid abs beneath the linen surface sent straight into your core. you leaned to rest against his chest, bodies pulled together by some invisible magnetic force. such proximity allowed you to feel the rise and fall of his chest, drinking in traces of cologne mingling with cigarette smoke. his scent was enough to make your head swim, your heart racing as your breathing became slow and deep.

"make sure you keep your fingers nice and tucked in like this when you cut stuff," sanji informed, using his hand to ball your fingers up. "can't risk damage to those pretty fingers of yours."

as someone who cherishes his own, it would be a lie to say that sanji hadn't paid attention to your hands. it was only in his wildest dreams where you showed him how skilled you were with yours — revealing yourself to him as he watched you explore your own body. he yearned for such a privilege, envisioning the way your fingers glided in and out of your core, white hot pleasure building inside as you brought yourself to a sweet release.

the two of you remained in this position until the rest of the fruit has been complete. thick, malleable tension gradually filled the atmosphere, both of you scared to disturb the beautiful moment shared. you were the first to break silence, bringing a cube of sweet honeydew melon to sanji's lips. his mouth accepted the offer, teeth grazing against your plush fingertips. you were mesmerized by the way his jaw worked to chew the fruit, gaze lingering on the way his lips never left your hands.

sanji caught your hand in his as you faced to meet him once again, gently placing a kiss on the rest of your fingers, "you did a wonderful job, my love. thank you for your help."

a fierce crimson blush colored your face, holding his gaze in yours, "i learned from the best."

the gap between the two of you shrunk with every passing second, sanji's large hands traveling down your body. a small gasp released from your lips as he made his way to your waist, pushing you farther into the countertop. his thumbs brushed gently against the space where your pants and soft flesh met, causing you to shiver from his touch. sanji brought his delicate hand to your face, cupping your cheek as his fingers slowly raked through your hair. you could see the hesitation in his eyes, worry swimming in his light eyes, afraid to cross such a boundary. yours, on the other hand, filled with a strong desire, a sweet plea that gave him a sense of reassurance. i want this.

in one swift motion, sanji discarded his cigarette by tossing it to the ground and sealed the gap between the two of you. he planted a long, hungry kiss across your soft lips. you could taste the smoke in his breath, the burn of the nicotine accelerating your head rush. your hands explored his chest — raking your hands over his smooth pecs as you made your way up to his collar, tugging on it to pull you closer. this small act of desperation raised a laugh from sanji's lips, his smile breaking the rhythm, "be patient, baby. i've got you."

sanji's words made their way straight down to your core, heat pulsing with desire for his touch. his fingers tightened slightly in your hair, just enough to tug your head backwards as he explored the skin across your neck. a sweet moan fell from your lips and into the hot kitchen air, each kiss traveling lower and lower down your body. his hands followed soon after, trailing down your navel as he followed every curve and ridge that resided there. sanji paid special attention to your breast, his mouth opening just a little wider to release warm, husky breath over supple skin. his pearly teeth worked to nibble and suck, a light trail of hickeys making their home on your chest. sanji pulled back to admire is work, to admire you.

"god, you're beautiful," he breathed, his voice raspy and hardly above a whisper. you moaned into a smile, raking your fingers through his honey-blonde hair to push it out of his eyes. you wanted to see him while he ravaged your body, your eyes tracing over his curly brows and dark eyelashes as he peered up at you.

he continued his passionate rhythm, planting kisses atop your stomach as he worked to unbutton your jeans. sanji, the gentleman he was, ignored the pounding of his heart and the aching of his cock under his tight pants to ensure your pleasure before his. as much as he wanted to bend you over and fuck you over the countertop, he bit his tongue and used it to tease you instead.

sanji wrapped his arms around your plush thighs, hoisting you up and placing you onto the countertop before him. you squealed at the sudden height, bringing his face to yours as an act of gratitude for handling you with such tenderness. sanji's hands ran over your thighs, blindly feeling his way up to your ass. he gave it a gentle squeeze before hooking his fingers into the small pocket where your back and pants met, tugging it down to expose your ruined panties to the outside world. your hips bucked to assist him, peeling them off slowly and sensually as he observed you. the hunger in his eyes told you that he was ready, licking his rosy lips as his breathing increased rapidly underneath the confines of his shirt. oh that won't do.

your eyes quickly flickered down his shirt before you pulled him into you — unraveling each button with a speed sanji couldn't catch up with. his trembling hands made an effort to help you out, but you beat him to the punch, finishing and shrugging the fabric off his broad shoulders. nothing could have prepared you for the beauty he beheld. you'd always recognized sanji's handsomeness, admired the way his pale skin glistened in the beaming sunlight. or the way his broad shoulders swayed gracefully with each step, a strong arm swinging just below. but right now, underneath the warm kitchen light, he glowed.

sanji pulled you into one final kiss, a parting gift as he lowered himself into the warm space between your thighs. he brought his hand to the small of your back, pushing you closer to the edge of the counter to get a better angle of you. mesmerized at the sight, sanji smiled — trailing kisses into your thighs, stopping right before your soaked panties. he pulled back and returned his gaze to yours, running circles into your waist with his thumbs, “are you sure you wanna do this?”

you nodded breathlessly, pushing his head closer into your aching core begging him to touch you, “‘m positive.”

he huffed a laugh that ghosted right over your cunt, your hips bucking at the warmth of his mouth, “okay, then just sit still for me, sweetheart.”

he took his long, delicate fingers and gently slid your panties to the side, strings of warm slick connecting to your heat. the slight draft blew over your exposed cunt, its juxtaposing temperature causing you to shiver. sanji placed a tender kiss on the space just above your clit, his bottom lip grazing it ever-so-slightly. he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace down your legs, unraveling you as if you were a precious gift sent from the gods themselves. his tongue explores your folds, lapping at your aching entrance, begging to be filled. the salacious sounds of him groaning and ravaging your cunt meshed with the moans erupting from your mouth, loud and shameless.

"fuck, sanji. don't stop," you pleaded, your fingers grasping at his golden locks for stability as your climax builds.

"not yet, darling. we're just getting started," sanji groaned, his words slurring underneath you, drunk off your slick and pheromones. his dark lashes fluttered against his rosy cheeks, beads of sweat beginning to coat his forehead. sanji parted from you with a final suck, a pop reverberating as he released his suction from your clit. once he was sure that you were teetering the boundary of orgasm, sanji inserted a finger into you, curling it up to find that spongy button that would surely send you over the edge. the way you flinched, brows furrowed and mouth agape in pleasure let him know he succeeded. bingo.

a second finger slides into you gracefully, your lust allowing for easy access. sanji begins to pump his fingers rhythmically, curling them so they're able to hit that spot just right. your thighs tremble and shake as his speed increases, his soft thumb tracing circles over your puffy clit, hot and throbbing from the attention. as if this sex couldn't get any better, sanji raked his tongue straight through your folds, electricity buzzing and building into an overwhelming climax. your arms grew weak from holding yourself up, exhaustion from fighting back a premature orgasm eventually led you to give in to the cool surface of the countertop. you watched the way sanji worked between your thighs, completely lost in his own thrusting. what you hadn't realized was the way his hips bucked beneath you, grinding his cock against the fabric of his pants to relieve its tension. precum began to leak from his swollen tip, a seal of approval as you drove him to make such a mess of himself without touching him at all. sanji wanted this moment to be about you, his own pleasure an afterthought.

you began to lose touch with all reality, eyes lolling to the back of your head while you writhed beneath sanji's hot mouth. the moans escaping your lips were so primal, groans and squeals of pleasure rasping into the tranquil morning atmosphere. you finally decided that you could no longer hold back, releasing your sweet cum all over sanji's face, "god! fuck, yes sanji! i'm c-coming!"

he acted fast, instinctively catching the juices squirting from your core into his mouth, drinking in your decadent taste. once he was satisfied, sanji trailed gentle kisses along your stomach, showering you in praise, "you did so good, my love. thank you."

the comedown from your orgasm brought you back to your senses, cheeks flushing as you crash your lips onto his. you could taste the sweetness of your own cunt in his saliva, tongue swiping over his lips to savor it. this time, your kiss bled into something softer, tongues wrestling playfully against one another. a sudden scent of pungent smoke hits your nose, withdrawing you from the moment.

"what's...burning?" you ask slowly, piecing the puzzle together in your head.

sanji's eyes suddenly snap open, horror filling them as he realized his crucial error, "SHIT!"

literally wrote this after hearing the rumors surrounding toei and sanji😭😭😭 free my husband till its backwards wtf!!

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ fame's shadow .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Vil Schoenheit x insecure gn! reader

𓏵 695 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 2nd Person POV, no pronouns used, established relationship with reader, angst, hurt/comfort

kind of a self-indulgent post bc this sickness is making me feel things （；￣＾￣）feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

It started with a single article.

“Vil Schoenheit’s New Muse? Mystery Student Spotted by His Side!”

You’d laughed when you first saw it, showing Vil the grainy photo of the two of you walking through Main Street after classes. He’d only sighed, brushing it off with the ease of someone far too used to the tabloids. "They’ll get bored soon enough. Just ignore them, darling."

But they didn’t.

Soon, there were more headlines. “Ordinary Nobody Caught in Vil’s Spotlight!” “Rising Star Vil Schoenheit and Their Unworthy Partner—How Long Will It Last?” Comment sections filled with snide remarks, nitpicking everything from your appearance to the way you stood next to him.

At first, you convinced yourself it didn’t matter. Vil loved you. He chose you. That should’ve been enough.

But the comments stuck.

"They don’t even dress properly. How embarrassing for Vil."

"Must be nice riding his coattails."

"Do they seriously think they can keep up with someone like him?"

You stopped mentioning the articles to Vil. He was always so busy—filming commercials, practicing for his next show, overseeing the Pomefiore dorm. Every moment you had together felt precious, and the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress.

So, you smiled. You nodded. You told him you were fine.

But you started checking your reflection more often, tugging at your clothes and wondering if they looked too plain. You spoke less around his friends, afraid of saying something the media would twist into another cruel headline. You scrolled through hateful comments at night, your heart sinking further with each word.

And Vil, ever composed, ever radiant, never seemed to notice.

“You look tired,” he’d comment sometimes, brushing a hand against your cheek. “Have you been taking care of yourself? You know how important self-care is.”

You’d nod, force a smile, and tell him everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

It hit you during one of Vil’s photoshoots. You’d tagged along, thinking it would be nice to spend time together, even if you were just watching from the sidelines. But the photographer’s assistant, unaware of who you were, had muttered under their breath while passing by.

"Can’t believe they’re the one Vil chose. He could do so much better."

You froze. The room buzzed with activity, Vil effortlessly shifting poses under the bright lights. He looked perfect, untouchable. And you? You felt like a stain in his otherwise flawless image.

That night, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Vil, do you ever wonder if… if you’d be better off without me?" you asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Vil blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What kind of nonsense is that? Where is this coming from?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Forget it. I’m just overthinking things.”

But Vil didn’t forget. He studied you with sharp, discerning eyes—the same eyes that could catch the slightest flaw in a stage performance or a fashion ensemble. And for the first time, he truly saw the exhaustion behind your smile, the way your shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.

“Darling,” he murmured, stepping closer, “who’s been filling your head with such ridiculous thoughts?”

You tried to brush it off, but Vil wouldn’t let you. Not this time. And when you finally broke down, confessing everything—the articles, the comments, the way you’d slowly started believing them—his expression hardened, not with anger toward you but at the world that had dared to hurt someone he cherished.

“You should have told me sooner,” he said, voice softer now, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I can’t protect you from shadows I can’t see.”

That night, Vil didn’t just hold you; he made calls, sent emails, and ensured that certain tabloids would think twice before publishing another cruel word. But more importantly, he promised—no matter how bright his spotlight shone, it would never cast you aside.

Because in his eyes, you were never a shadow. You were the light that made his world worth standing in.

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip’. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, ���Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag List?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

Chapter 2 : Aftershock

rockstar! sevika x influencer! reader

summary : (y/n) gets her phone blown up by fans while she’s at a promotional event.

warnings : swearing and a cringy ass band name.

notes: thank you all so much for over 100 likes on chapter 1! im forever grateful 🫶

taglist: @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @moodient @fayecreates (comment a 🎸 if you wanna be in the taglist!)

chapters : one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

The morning sunlight streamed through your apartment windows, casting a golden glow on the sleek black furniture and stacks of PR boxes you’d yet to unbox. A sharp knock on your bedroom door made you groan as you finished brushing the final stroke of your jet-black eyeliner.

“Y/N, are you ready? We’re going to be late!” your manager, Lauren, called out.

“I’m coming!” you shouted back, setting down your eyeliner and grabbing your leather jacket.

Today was a big deal: you were modeling for Eclipse Noir, a major fashion brand known for its bold, goth-inspired designs. It was one of the biggest collaborations of your career, and you couldn’t afford to mess it up—not that Lauren would ever let you forget that.

As you descended the stairs, Lauren was waiting by the door, scrolling on her phone. Her sharp suit and stern expression reminded you of why she was one of the best in the business. But when her eyes snapped up to meet yours, there was an unmistakable glint of irritation.

“So, are we going to talk about this?” she asked, holding her phone out to show you the glaring headline:

TMZ Exclusive: Influencer Y/N Spotted at Shattered Souls Concert in LA!

The article was plastered with a photo of you in the VIP section, looking effortlessly cool as you leaned against the barrier. Fans were already dissecting every detail of your appearance, and speculation about your connection to the band was running wild.

“Send me that. My makeup looks really good,” you said in a joking tone.

Lauren looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes. “What’s there to talk about? I went to support Caitlyn.”

Lauren sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know how this looks, right? It’s one thing to go to a concert; it’s another for everyone to think you’re dating a rockstar—or worse, being used for clout.”

You snorted. “Caitlyn and the rest of the members are good friends of mine. Since when do I care about what TMZ thinks?”

“Since your brand is involved,” Lauren shot back. “You’re about to model for one of the most exclusive fashion labels in the industry. We need to make sure your image stays polished.”

“Polished?” You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to your edgy black outfit. “I don’t think anyone’s expecting me to play it safe.”

Lauren shook her head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine, but keep your head in the game today. No distractions.”

The Eclipse Noir photoshoot was held at an upscale studio in downtown LA, its interior a moody mix of industrial and gothic aesthetics. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting dramatic shadows against the exposed brick walls.

You were ushered into hair and makeup almost immediately, where a team of stylists worked their magic. Your outfit—a tailored black leather jacket with studded accents, paired with high-waisted pants and knee-high boots—fit perfectly into your aesthetic.

As the cameras started flashing, you felt the familiar rush of being in your element. Each pose was deliberate, every expression calculated. The photographer praised your ability to embody the brand’s edgy but elegant vibe, and even Lauren looked pleased for once.

“Perfect, Y/N. Just one more look,” the photographer called out as a stylist adjusted your jacket.

Between shots, you caught glimpses of your phone lighting up with notifications. Comments flooded your Instagram posts, and fans were tagging you in the TMZ article nonstop.

It wasn’t until you were in the dressing room changing into your last look of the day that a message from Caitlyn popped up:

“Hey, how are you holding up after the TMZ thing? Let’s catch up. Meet me at Sable Café after my gig tonight?”

You smiled, typing back a quick reply:

“I’m fine, just amused. See you tonight.”

Later that evening, after finishing your shoot and grabbing a quick dinner, you found yourself at Sable Café. The small, intimate space was lit by warm hanging lights and smelled of freshly brewed coffee. It was quieter than usual, which you appreciated after the whirlwind day.

Caitlyn was already there when you arrived, seated in a corner booth with a steaming cup of tea and a cup of coffee she got for you. She waved you over, her usual calm demeanor replaced by a faintly amused smirk.

“Hey,” you greeted, sliding into the seat across from her. “How was the gig?”

“Same as always,” she said, leaning back. “Though Vi was even more over the top than usual.”

You chuckled. “Sounds about right. So, what’s up?”

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying you. “You tell me. That article’s got everyone buzzing about you and the band.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee. “It’s TMZ. They’ll forget about it by tomorrow.”

“Maybe, but you’re not exactly blending into the background.” Caitlyn’s tone was teasing, but her expression softened. “Seriously, though. How are you feeling about it? You’ve been in the spotlight before, but this is different.”

“It’s fine, really,” you said, brushing it off. “If anything, it’s funny. People are acting like I’m dating someone in the band.”

Caitlyn laughed. “Well, you did have that little moment with Sevika.”

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t a moment. She’s just... Sevika. You know how she is.”

“True,” Caitlyn admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Still, you’re handling it well. I was half-expecting you to freak out.”

You smirked. “Give me some credit. I’m tougher than I look.”

As the soft hum of café chatter surrounded you, Caitlyn took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes lingering on you thoughtfully. You set your coffee down, arching an eyebrow at her.

“What?” you asked, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You know, the band’s heading out on tour soon.”

“Okay…” you said, dragging out the word. “And?”

“And,” Caitlyn continued, her tone deliberate, “I think you should come with us.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Think about it,” she said, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “We’ve been talking about expanding our audience online, and your platform is massive. You could help us create behind-the-scenes content, give fans an insider look at the tour. Plus, we’d get to hang out more.”

You hesitated, tapping your fingers against your cup. “I don’t know, Cait. I’ve got my own projects lined up. And after that TMZ article…”

“That’s exactly why it’s perfect,” Caitlyn interrupted. “Lean into it. If people are already talking, give them something to talk about. Show them the real story.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “And by ‘real story,’ you mean what? Taming Jinx? Me babysitting Sevika and Vi while they flirt with half the planet?”

Caitlyn chuckled. “You’re not wrong, but you’d also get to see what it’s like behind the scenes of a tour. Think of the content opportunities—mini vlogs, exclusive interviews, maybe even some collabs. It’s a win-win.”

You leaned back in your chair, considering her words. The idea of touring with the band was tempting—there was no denying that. The exposure could be huge for your brand, and the experience itself would be unforgettable. But you couldn’t ignore the potential chaos, especially with Sevika in the picture.

“I don’t know, Cait,” you said slowly. “It’s a lot to take on.”

Caitlyn smiled, sensing you were warming up to the idea. “Just think about it, okay? No pressure. But I’d love to have you there.”

You sighed, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Caitlyn said, raising her tea in a toast. “Here’s to adventures—potentially disastrous ones.”

You laughed, clinking your cup against hers. Despite your reservations, the idea of going on tour with Shattered Souls had planted itself firmly in your mind. And something told you that this was just the beginning of a wild ride

The faint hum of an engine greeted you as you stepped onto the tour bus, your suitcase rolling behind you. The space was surprisingly cozy, decked out with plush seating, a mini kitchenette, and bunks lining the narrow hallway. A faint scent of leather and something faintly citrusy lingered in the air, blending with the faint echo of Vi humming a melody from somewhere deeper in the bus.

“Welcome to the chaos,” Caitlyn said, grinning as she leaned against one of the built-in couches.

Vi popped her head out from a back corner, her guitar strapped across her chest. “Hey, rockstar!” she greeted, giving you a casual salute. “You’re brave for signing up for this circus.”

You laughed, pulling your suitcase into the bus. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Jinx, sprawled out on one of the couches with a drumstick twirling between her fingers, snorted. “You’re gonna regret saying that when Vi starts her late-night jam sessions.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Vi said, plucking at her guitar strings. “She loves it.”

“Lies,” Jinx quipped, smirking.

Caitlyn nudged you gently. “Come on, let me show you where you’ll sleep.”

You followed her down the narrow hallway, passing bunks stacked two high. She stopped in front of one with a neatly made bed, the bottom bunk open for you. “Here you go,” Caitlyn said, gesturing. “Home for the next few weeks.”

“Perfect,” you said, sliding your suitcase beside the bed. “Thanks, Cait.”

“Settle in. We’ll hit the road soon,” Caitlyn said before disappearing back to the front of the bus.

-

You knelt by your suitcase, unpacking essentials and carefully organizing them into the small shelves above the bunk. The space was tight but manageable, the rhythmic hum of the bus adding a strange sense of calm. You reached up to place your toiletry bag on the highest shelf when you felt it—a bold, unmistakable hand pressing against your ass.

Startled, you snapped around, ready to deliver a sharp retort. Instead, you found yourself face-to-face with Sevika. She leaned in close, one arm lazily gripping the rail of the top bunk above you, effectively caging you in. Her towering frame loomed over you, and her signature smirk was even more infuriating this close.

"Nice view," she drawled, her voice low and rich, dripping with amusement.

You arched a brow, crossing your arms as you tilted your head up to meet her gaze. “Wow, straight to harassment. Do you always skip the foreplay?”

Her grin widened, clearly delighted by your sass. “Foreplay’s overrated. I like to get to the point.”

You let out a dry laugh, leaning casually against the bunk behind you despite the way her proximity made your heart race. “Is that what you call this? Because right now, it’s giving ‘desperate.’”

Sevika chuckled, her gaze flicking to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes. “Desperate? That’s a bold assumption, sweetheart. Seems like you’re still standing here talking to me, though.”

“Only because you’re blocking the way,” you shot back, nodding pointedly toward the arm she had resting above you. “Or do you think looming over people is some kind of charm tactic?”

She shifted slightly, leaning in closer, her smirk never faltering. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Not the way you think,” you replied, your voice steady, even as your pulse betrayed you. “But hey, if this is the best you’ve got, I can see why the fan girls swoon. Low standards must really be your thing.”

Sevika laughed at that, a deep, rumbling sound that somehow sent a shiver down your spine. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Y/N. I like that.”

“And you’ve got no sense of boundaries,” you quipped, reaching up to tap the arm she still had braced above you. “Mind moving? I’ve got things to do.”

Instead of retreating, Sevika leaned in even closer, her smirk softening into something more challenging. “What if I said I don’t mind staying right here?”

You tilted your head, refusing to back down as you matched her stare. “Then I’d say you’re about to have a real boring time watching me unpack.”

She grinned, finally stepping back and dropping her arm. “Alright, you win—for now. But don’t think I’m done with you, sweetheart.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied with a sly smile, brushing past her. “But next time? Try asking nicely. It might get you somewhere.”

As you turned back to your suitcase, you caught Sevika’s low chuckle behind you, her voice floating down the hallway as she sauntered off. “You’re going to be fun, Y/N.”

You smirked to yourself as you resumed unpacking. Let her think she had the upper hand. If Sevika wanted to play games, she’d quickly learn you weren’t one to lose.

This is gonna be a long tour.

[st0r-fruit]

Overlord Reader Hcs

A/N: Hi, this is my first time writing headcanons for reader, so please let me know if I made any mistakes! I made this because i thought it'd be nice and cool to have a reader as an overlord. A heads up that i haven't fully watched Hazbin so there might be inaccuracies.

You're an overlord, right? And not just an overlord, you're one of the richest, next to the Vee's.

You own a fine plaza of drugery and alcoholic, and a top quality successful companies of those. It's not a surprise, you're the overlord of substances and alcohol. Demons will pay MILLIONS of bucks to have a stash of your finest drugs.

You have a district on the border city zone in between the district's of the Vee's, Carmilla Carmine's and the inner city of Pentagram City. Your district is a melting pot of cultures due to being in the middle of other districts.

In a meeting with other Overlords, you'd take important notes and remind others if things drift away. That fight between Velvet and Camille? Yeah you had to break ice to ease tension before forgetting the main goal of the meeting.

Your seating position in meetings is on the right side of Rosie, your best friend.

Honestly? You're everybody's comfort buddy, even to Alastor. You bring in some comforting presence to other demons.

Relationships with other Overlords

Valentino is your top customer, ordering around 20 of your fine drugs, wine and fancy cigars. He is usually the one to make your stock reduced to little to nothing if he buys on a day. He doesn't trust any of the other companies who sells the exact items, even if you say it's excellent quality.

Technology in your small place is quite modern and techy, thanks to Vox. You flatter Vox on how advanced and cool his technology is, he usually is flustered and grumpy hearing that from you, but you know he likes it seeing that he gives you multiple rather big discounts on his products.

Your fashion culture is jumbled too. Making Velvette, the queen of fashion, questions each of your outfits. She's actually impressed, being able to mix and match right article of clothings. She gives you unsolicited advice on fashion, but you tried one of those once and BAM! Slayed 10x more with that advice. You'd took mental notes of her advices and thanked her whenever you can.

Speaking of clothing, you liked shopping and browsing in Rosie's Emporium. YOU are one of the favorite customers of Rosie. She loves your interest on 1910's fashion, frequently treating you on some products. You two would gossip on the emporium, spilling teas and laughing your asses out from all the stories.

Zestial likes to visit your plaza for wine tasting, loving all of your finest selections of wine and a surprisingly rare collection of teas (with cheese! You were prepared with the teas incase he didn't like any of the wine). You and him likes to talk about improvement of each districts with a side of said wine and cheese. Oh how he'd rant to you about Velvette's attitude and you'd pat his back.

Carmilla is another one of your customers, frequently ordering drugs and medicine from you. The drugs you produced somehow made her swifter at combat and confidence. On the other hand, medicines you produced was strong and high quality, it kept her from being irritated of Velvette.

Alastor was...quite the intresting demon in your opinion. Although, you try to not get any troubles with him, so acquaintance is the perfect word for the two of you. He once visited your alcohol parlor to find a nice wine to side with his mom's jambalaya. Of course you helped him, with your naturally charming personality and helpfulness, the radio demon got his wine. The next day, you received a homeade jambalaya soup from him, as a thanks for finding the nice wine. Maybe he's not that bad?

I hope you all like it!! Let me know if you like a part 2! Or do let me know if there's any mistake!

(holyshit i reached the tag limit guy oh wow)

[mochinek0]

Daminette December: 24-Scandal

PREVIOUS: Headline

Marinette spotted Damian on campus and glared at him every chance she got. On the way to her last class, she felt herself being pulled behind a stair well.

"Who do you think you are?" She demanded.

"Your boyfriend, according to the headlines." The Wayne heir smirked.

"You were the one who opened your mouth and said you were!" Mari shouted, "I thought you were just….gonna make her go away-"

"I believe I accomplished that." He replied.

Marinette growled out of frustration, "I know I went to you for help, but I didn't expect….this! I was sure you would just keep me away from her with your glare alone."

Damian smirked.

'She had faith in my abilities to keep her safe when she could have done so herself. Though, I suspect, her standing up for herself would have caused an ever greater scene.'

"You chose me, did you not?" he pressed.

Marinette tenses up and looked away, but Damian caught the blush that spread to the tip of her ears.

"Why did you help anyways?" she questioned, "Honestly, I half expected you to push me away and tell me our business was over."

"You prefer honesty, do you not?" Damian asked.

"Yes!" Marinette replied, turning around.

"You do not lower your standards. You are fixated with your own goals in mind." He continued, "You are also very intelligent. It was wise of you to use my connections for help."

'I didn't know he was paying that much attention to me.'

"Say the word and Gabriel will lose all standing in the fashion community." Damian ranted on, "We can have the Daily Planet print out articles about his abomination of a model. I am positive Lois Lane and her husband can find anything negative about her."

Getting overwhelmed by his continued praises, Marinette grabbed Damian by the collar, and pulled him into a kiss. Mari flinched at the sudden contact of his hands on her waist, but when she realized she wasn't being pushed away, she relaxed into the kiss.

"I wasn't expecting a confession." Mari whispered.

"Tch." Damian blushed, not removing his hands.

She giggled, "I'm glad you see me for my personality and not my looks. I wouldn't mind giving dating a try, if it's with someone like you."

"I guess I'm not a liar then." Damian replied.

"No. You're not." Mari answered, as Damian initiated the next kiss.

Marinette looked at a news article. Paparazzi had managed to take a picture of her and Damian, together, on campus. The headlines read: Damian Wayne protective of his future Wife.

Her face flushed as she looked at the picture. Damian had pulled her behind him and tried to keep them from getting more pictures of her.

"What's the occasion?" Damian questioned, handing her a hot cup of coffee.

Marinette showed him the article. Damian grabbed her hand and kissed the ring on her left hand.

"Yes. I am." He agreed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her still eyeing the old article, and trying to hide her blush behind her mug.

"What, Habibiti?" Damian pressed.

"You know," she admitted, "when this article came out, I was sure you would leave me. I was sure I was causing problems in your life."

"Angel." He sighed.

"I never expected you to make that headline true." She smiled.

Damian smirked, before leaning over and kissing her.

"I am not a liar." He spoke.

Marinette thought back to the headlines from the last gala. They were just staring at each other, dancing, lost in their own world. The headlines was titled: New Wayne Soon?

She thought of the pregnancy test upstairs, in a black box with a red bow she was going to show him at dinner that night.

Mari smiled back, "No, you're not."

@maribat-calendar-events

TAG LIST- DAMINETTE: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

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[mlbigbang2024]

ML Big Bang 2024 Fic Recs

Romance Category

This collection of fics were recommended by the contributors of the @mlbigbang2024 for their favourite fics of 2024 (posted in between Nov 2023 to Dec 2024).

General and Teen and Up Fics

The Cap and Bells (Rated: G)

By @cardiac-agreste (KPG)

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Loveybug AU, loveywalker, implied Ladynoir

Summary: Catwalker meets up with Loveybug after a difficult day in his civilian life.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: How can you express joy and love in 600 words or less, in all its poetic glory? 

Off Pointe (Rated: T)

By @mysticraven20

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - No Miraculous, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, AU - Ballet

Summary: To Adrien, dance was just a selection of movements. A well rehearsed transition from one gesture to the next; the brush of a hand, the closeness of bodies, a well-timed duet between two people to entertain. His mother had encouraged him to dance from his heart and love his music — a metaphor he never understood, until that one day when they stopped. The pregnant pause in the combination of fluidity, finally making everything clear.

It wasn’t the quality of the choreography or the characters they were playing, it was the girl twirling effortlessly around in his arms. For, when Adrien finally found the right partner, that’s when the music truly began.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is a beautiful holiday fic. I loved the newspaper articles as a narrative device and the author conveys a love of dance in between all the fluff and angst.

The Devil Wears Gabriel (Rated: T)

By @jigglypuff1994

Main relationship: Luka/Marinette

Tags: Inspired by The Devil Wears Prada, Fashion Designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace

Summary: Being Ladybug is no easy task; she is the leader of Team Miraculous and keeps peace throughout Paris. Other than the weekly akuma attacks, her main problem is keeping Chat Noir and Viperion under control and out of each other’s jealous hairs. Sometimes, she misses the old days when it was just her and her kitty.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has recently graduated university and lives in Paris with her steady boyfriend of a few years, Luka Couffaine. After interviewing for a position she doesn't want in the first place, she ends up working as Gabriel Agreste’s assistant.

Between akumas, a narcassistic boss, and the men fighting for her attention, how will she survive the next year of her life?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It is a retelling of the movie the devil wears Prada, (also, Natalie is a bit younger in this) I really like it because I love that movie. The characters fit pretty seamlessly in these roles. In this fic Adrian/ Chloe never met Marinette and the others. Oh and at the start of the fic is Lukanette still a thing, but if you know the movie, then you also know there is some angst ahead. :’D (Oh and I personally love the relationship between Chloe and marinette, it’s to die for!! <3)

Cookie Cutter (Rated: T)

By @rosekasa (alizeh, maketea)

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Friends to lovers, baking, identity reveal

Summary: after the start of their government-issued break, ladybug and chat noir realise that their christmas vacations are not going the way they expected.

but when ladybug, lonely and partner-less for her favourite baking competition, accidentally stumbles across chat noir's secret apartment, they realise there are more ways than one to work as a team.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Ladybug and Chat Noir bake together!!!! Gosh I am a sucker for fics where they have to cooperate on non-akuma things! AHHHHHHHH!!!

The Only Love We Keep (Rated: G)

By @nemaliwrites

Main Relationship: Audrey & Zoe, Chloe & Zoe, Marinette & Zoe, Alya/Zoe

Tags: 5+1 Things, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Zoé is used to wanting things she can’t have — loving people who do not love her back. She’s made peace with that.

But as soon as she meets Scarabella, she’s a goner.

Or, five times Zoé’s love wasn’t reciprocated, and one time it was.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's a 5+1 prompt about an oft-derided character, looks at Zoe’s American life, and explores her budding romantic feelings. Even if you don’t care about Zoe, this is a must-read.

A Contact Named Kevin (Rated: T)

By @mysticraven20

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Scapegoat, anonymous caller, idiots in love

Summary: Marinette doesn’t know his real name, but her contact known as ‘Kevin’ has helped her out of many sticky situations.

Or the one where Chat Noir is Marinette's scapegoat.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A sweet fic about Marinette using Chat Noir as the person she calls to get her out of sticky social situations. It’s cute and fun and original. Author is one of the most dedicated Adrienette writers in the fandom.

Phantom Pains (and other hints of you) (Rated: T)

By @buggachat

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - Ghosts, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Content

Summary: She couldn't remember anything. Not where she was going, where she'd been, why she was in this stairwell, or even her own name. But as she watched the blood pool at the base of the steps, she at least knew one thing for certain: the corpse was hers.

Getting used to being dead was going to have its growing pains.

—

“Well, unlucky lady,” Chat Noir greeted with a bow, “Can I get your name?”

“Didn’t we just talk about this? I told you, I don’t remember it.”

“And I told you,” he reminded, “that you can just pick whatever fits you best.”

—

Ladybug and Chat Noir may not remember who they once were, but at least the two lost souls can find comfort in each other's company. But as Ladybug starts uncovering more and more memories of her life, letting the past go doesn't seem as easy as Chat Noir claims it to be.

Read on Ao3

Why we liked it: Marinette DIES. Now she's a ghost. But not everyone is sad! A wonderful story with inventive lore.

Mature and Explicit Fics

Hold My Hand (I want to show you off) (Rated: E)

By @burntwaffle12

Main relationship: Adrien x Marinette

Tags: workplace sex, semi-public sex

Summary: Working at Gabriel was as easy as breathing, until she was required to sit on top of Adrien and kiss him all over.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A story about hot mess Marinette helping Adrien during an awkward photoshoot.

Requiem for a Dream (Rated: E)

By @akumatisedhamster

Main relationship: Adrien/Luka/Marinette

Tags: Lukadrienette Endgame, Primary School teacher Adrien, Jubilation powers used for evil

Summary: Six years ago, the Supreme was defeated with the help of Shadybug and Claw Noir. But not without its consequences. Trapped in a magical coma using the power of jubilation, they were slowly tortured, reliving nightmares of their own design.

In an act of desperation, Hesperia wiped the memories of Shadybug and Claw Noir so that they could live the rest of their lives as normal teenagers.

What he didn’t know was that Shadybug was pregnant at the time. ——————————————— Newly single and broke, Marinette moves back to Paris with her six year old daughter.

She was doing just fine, mending her broken relationship with her parents and finding her feet again in her hometown. Working as a porn star had its advantages. Good money, flexible hours. Things got more complicated when she started dating her co-star, Luka. On top of that, she didn’t expect to get feelings for her daughter’s primary school teacher, Mr Agreste.

Her new boyfriend couldn’t stop noticing how her daughter bore a striking resemblance to Adrien. But he wasn’t the girl’s father… or was he?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: I love the post-Supreme reverse world and the whole memory wipe element!

A Bump in the Road (Rated: E)

By @talkstoself

Main Relationship: Adrien/Luka/Marinette

Tags: No Powers AU, Established Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy

Summary: Four years. Four years they’d been together when their relationship hit a fork in the road - Luka wanted a baby, Adrien did not. After going their separate ways Adrien spends a fantastic night with a down-on-her-luck stranger named Marinette and realises he does want forever. He’s ready to commit to Luka.

Slight problem, the one night stand left Marinette pregnant…

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: The relationship that slowly grew between Luka Adrien and Marinette was wonderful!

It's Hard to Overstate my Satisfaction (Rated: E)

By katrinette_afterdark

Main Relationship: Ladynoir

Tags: Porn, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously

Summary: "Have you ever thought about what would happen if you put my baton in your yo-yo?"

She squints at him. "Is that supposed to be a euphemism?"

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is crack smut at its finest! Hilarious concept, excellent execution.

Two Virgin Losers (Rated: E)

By @literaphobe

Main relationship: Ladynoir

Tags: Virginity Loss, Aged-up Character(s), Sexual Humor

Summary:

kittykittymeowmeow: My superhero partner (23F) recently asked me (23M) to take her virginity. I’m guessing she thought I was some type of sex god whore, but I’m actually also a huge virgin. For some reason, my lack of sexual prowess made her double down on her decision? She got kind of excited for us to platonically lose our virginities to each other and that made me panic. I mayyyy have told her I don’t want to be deflowered by another virgin, just in case she sucks at sex and I wind up hating it. The truth is, I think she’d be great at sex (she also thinks this). I think she’s amazing at everything she tries. I’ve also fallen in love with her multiple times and I will almost definitely get obsessed with her again if I sleep with her. Unfortunately, even though she’s really mad at me right now, I want her so bad I think I might die. Um… AITA?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about tit ( <- serendipitous typo): Ladybug asks Chat Noir to take her virginity. Then they tap-dance around each other, and inside each other, with alacrity, angst, passion, and idiocy.

Queen Marinette: A Royal Engagement (Rated: M)

By @hamsteriffic

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Arranged Marriage, AU - Royalty, Georgian Period

Summary: Princess Marinette had always known she would marry for duty, but she had never even heard of King Adrien until her betrothal (she would know, because she had looked up all the crown Princes within a hundred mile radius).

Nevertheless, her parents were delighted at the offer of marriage and her uncle was given the privilege of escorting her to England for her wedding and the whole thing felt wrong.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Period pieces can be so fun, can’t they? I spent a long time with my wife playing Queen Charlotte in the background of my life. She may have Netflix, but I have Ao3 and this! I win! The sex, when it comes, is perfectly written, plot-centered intimacy.

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #35)

Chapter #35. SURPRISE!!!🎄 🎁 Merry Christmas! 🎁🎄 I couldn't leave us on that big of a cliffhanger! Not on Christmas! Anyway, here is a little holiday gift from me to you. I want to sincerely thank everyone in this community who takes the time to read this story. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! Where is Natalie taking Alexander? Is he going to love it or hate it? It's usually 50/50 with him.

Previous: Chapter #34

Next: Chapter #36

Word Count: 8,756 Read Time: Approx. 90 mins

CW: Physical intimacy. SO much physical intimacy.

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #35: La Petite Aiguille

[Alexander’s POV]

Rows upon rows of bolts of fabric in every color, shade and pattern I could fathom, lined the walls. Custom racks accommodated spools of thread all arranged in the gradient of the rainbow, while tungsten sconces bathed the room in an orange, electric glow. The solid wood beams of the ceiling gave the room an old-fashioned gravitas, while the smell of polished wood and starched linen ignited my olfactory senses. 

Everything was immaculately organized, each thread having its place. 

There was a break in the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the left, where a maroon curtain separated us from whatever lay on the opposite side. 

On display on the tables in front of us and on the counters of the classical oak desk that served as the register, were mannequins sporting all kinds of clothing, from impressive gowns fit for a runway stage, to elaborate, themed costumes, to, yes, even beautifully crafted suits in every cut. 

But the best part? 

Every single article of clothing on display, from the dresses, to the outfits, the hats and shoes, were perfectly proportioned to my dimensions. This entire, wonderful place accommodated people like me. 

I stared, slack jawed, unable to believe this wasn’t some sort of very realistic dream, when I felt Natalie’s gaze on me, “What do you think? This is supposed to be the best place in all of Massachusetts…” She hummed softly, the fingers of her left hand stroking the outside of the pocket, about level with my chest. 

Unable to tear my eyes away, I swallowed, gripping the fabric to keep from showing her any pathetic emotions, “I—“ 

Before I had a chance to complete, or even begin, that thought, the sharp clink of metal rings sliding across a curtain rod hit my ears, as someone crossed the threshold. 

My heart jumped. Another human. What was this one going to be like? 

My hands itched for something to defend myself with. Whether she could feel my body stiffen, or just guessed by instinct, Natalie gently pressed her fingers over my heart, caressing my forearm with her thumb. I looked up to catch her gaze. Her eyes seemed calm, reassuring. I did my level best to relax. 

As the figure crossed behind the main desk, I endeavored to take in all of her details, reading her for any signs, positive or negative. 

Her hair was cut short, tight pin curls looping and twisting in a gravity defying mop of pure white. Her keen, bright eyes shone beyond the rim of her, golden reading glasses, perched low on her nose. Her vintage jewelry, including an elegant gold watch, sparkled in the light of the lamp beside her. Her outfit was clearly custom made, a beautiful matching vest and skirt in warm earth tones, with white dress sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were lithe, yet possessed a certain air of intentionality with every move she made. She held a leather bound tome under her arm.

“Apologies for the wait, we’re at the peak of our holiday orders at the moment. How can I help you?” She locked eyes with Natalie, seemingly not noticing me quite yet. Her voice was soft and clear as a bell. She set down her book, cracking it open and scribbled something along its many columns and rows. Natalie stepped up to the counter as she spoke. I leaned forward, enjoying the swooping, artistic motions of her calligraphic script as she wrote in incredibly ornate cursive. 

“Oh, hello, there.” She’d stopped writing. I looked up to find her gaze, dulled with age but not without a keen spark, was fixed on me. 

I clenched my jaw as I hardly dared to breathe… I waited for the condescending comment to come next. She leaned down to address me again, “Sir? What can I do for you today?” A smile played about her lips, but it was far from anything like a sneer. It was warm, friendly. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was waiting for my reply. She was addressing me directly. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I believe I’m here to purchase a suit.” I raised my voice to cover the distance, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing all the time. 

“More than just one. He’d like to be fitted today, please.” I whipped over my shoulder to look up at Natalie. Was she serious? When I met her eyes, she nodded and winked at me. 

“So you want the full custom package?” The woman looked at me, I looked to Natalie, Natalie nodded in the affirmative. The human across from us checked her wrist, nodding with an exact precision I couldn’t help but admire, “Perfect timing. I believe I can squeeze you in between our other standing consultations. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her into the curtained room. 

We entered the back area and were greeted by two tables with ornate lion’s paw legs. The one on the left was piled with fabric, neatly folded, with tools of the trade including rulers, pushpins, scissors and measuring tape. On the right, the surface of the table was bare, save a series of pristine white boxes, each sitting side by side, along its center. I wondered what those were. 

Instead, we curved toward the left. I supposed I’d just have to wait to find out more. 

We came to a stop in front of the table with its neatly organized tools. I was beginning to deeply appreciate the pristine organization of this place. It was far more comforting than Natalie’s rat’s nest approach to every inch of her living space, though I'd managed to train her out of her most egregious lifestyle habits. 

I was torn from my musing when fingers descended all around me, the pad of Natalie’s thumb resting over my chest while two fingers hooked under my arms as she applied light pressure.

I met her eyes to see her arched brow, as she sought permission to pick me up and set me down. With a curt nod from me, she lifted me up and out, placing me on my own two feet in the center of the table. As she fished for my crutch, the other woman approached the table, setting a clipboard and red ink pen down on the surface beside me. 

She adjusted her glasses as she pulled the chain to a lamp behind me, bathing my surroundings in a soft glow. I couldn’t help but notice the way my jaw involuntarily clenched and I held my breath as her arm loomed overhead. 

I realized with a sharp pang the indignity that was about to commence. 

Natalie was finally granting me the opportunity to dress like the gentleman I was, a wonderful thing indeed, but… no tailored suit, big or small, was possible without acquiring that gentleman’s measurements. 

I felt a twist in my stomach, as I pictured being pinched, grabbed, and puppeted about like a doll, as string was cinched too tightly around my arm or leg to quantify the size of limbs. This strange woman’s hands who I’d admired from a distance for their precision and poise, now intimidated me in the lamplight, seeming too aged, bony and frighteningly precise in their movements to be anything but painful when they seized me. 

The liver spots that dotted her arm, the thin and almost papery nature of her skin that displayed the blue veins snaking beneath and the pronounced knuckles on her arthritic, littlest fingers all reminded me of a particular set of hands I’d fought very hard to forget. 

“… Alexander?” The present circumstance came back into crystal clear focus at the sound of my name from Natalie’s lips. I blinked hard and looked up at where the sound had come from. Her finger and thumb held my crutch between them, as she bent at the waist to address me, her brow slightly furrowed with worry, she gently brushed my arm with the side of her curled fingers, nudging me back into reality, “… Here you go.” She offered me my walking aide, and I cleared my throat, taking it from her while staring at the floor. 

“Ah, is that your name? I don’t think we got properly introduced.” This time it was that voice that tinkled like a bell in my ears. I’d admit, it had a pleasant ring, despite my trepidations, “Hello, Alexander, I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered a finger to shake. I admit, I was taken aback. Why was she so courteous? She was smiling at me. 

It put me on edge. 

When was she going to burst into laughter? Was it when I gave in to her invitation to shake, like equals, only for her to pull her hand away? Or would it be the moment I turned over my shoulder where she’d take the opportunity to snatch me up by the collar? I refused to believe this wasn’t an act. 

She was still offering her finger. 

I was taking too long, if I waited much more I’d be questioned. 

I took a few steps forward and stiffly shook the pad of her finger with my hand. Immediately retreating the few steps back when it was over. Good. No funny business. Not yet. I decided as long as she continued this charade of being polite, I’d do the same. An eye for an eye and all that. 

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here. And what’s your name, young lady?” Natalie introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman with a warmth I found reassuring. “Welcome to La Petite Aiguille.” I suppose she thought that name was terribly clever. How gouche. Of course, she probably assumed I couldn’t understand French, which would be a false assumption.

 I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as she addressed us again, “May I interest either of you in any refreshments?” She had my attention, now, as she acquainted us with our options. I ordered herbal tea, Natalie chose coffee. The woman, Marianne, excused herself to prepare them both. 

After the clack of the woman’s shoes on the hardwood faded, Natalie leaned down, resting her chin on her forearm, setting down her free hand close to where I stood, “So? Whaddya think?” Her eyes gleamed. Always so excitable, wasn’t she? 

“It…” I felt heat rise in my face. I mustn’t come across like some giddy child let loose in a toy store, “It seems like a professional and respectable establishment.” 

Her face fell, she was clearly hoping for more enthusiasm from me, but I was far too embarrassed to show her just how excited I was. Before she could form a response, Marianne returned with a tray, including a steaming mug of coffee I could’ve taken a dip in if I so chose, as well as a teapot, mug and saucer balanced on an embossed tray, all sized to me. But that was not all. In hand, she also clutched a proportional end table and chair which she gingerly placed beside me. I served myself the tea as she continued.

“As you can see we specialize in custom clothing for those of nimbler proportions than our own.” Nimbler, eh? I quite liked that. “So what’re we getting outfitted for today? A holiday party? Gala? Wedding?” Me? At a human wedding? I nearly spit a mouthful of tea back into the cup. 

“No, nothing like that.” Natalie swooped in to save the conversation, “He just likes to be sharply dressed. Personally, I love lounging at home in sweats and a t-shirt but this one wants cufflinks and starched collars.” Her index finger brushed the toe of my shoe, “He’s suffered for way too long in casual clothes. Now that he’s more healed up, he deserves to dress to the nines every day if he wants to.” She winked at me. My heart knocked at my ribs. Stupid, impressionable, laughable idiot! Just drink your tea and stop with the flushed face already! I swallowed everything in the cup in one go. 

“A true mondain, I see. Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Let’s see what we can do.” What was this woman’s deal with sprinkling French into every other sentence? Was she trying to show off? She grabbed her pen and started to jot things down on the form before her. 

I poured myself another cup of tea, and directed my words to the ceramic vessel, “Vous pensez que vous êtes si intelligent, n'est-ce pas? Je peux aussi parler français, tu sais.” The woman, I supposed I could start thinking of her by her name, Marianne, never paused in her writing. The line came and went without her understanding. I pursed my lips and couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed my face. It seemed she didn’t know the language nearly as well as she’d put on. I continued to revel in my superiority, until I heard the human to my right clearing her throat theatrically. 

I looked up to see Natalie’s eyebrows raised as she scowled at me disapprovingly. “Be nice!” She mouthed. I opened my hands and shrugged as if to say “What?”. She didn’t get a chance to retaliate, however, as Marianne raised her eyes from the page and addressed us. 

“Now, first thing’s first, we’ll need your measurements.” Damn. I came down from my temporary high and felt my heart in my throat again. 

Evidently I wasn’t as skilled at masking my feelings on the matter as I’d thought, because she reassured me while preparing her tools, “Not to worry, Alexander, there will be no rough treatment here. I’ll be as gentle with you as Natalie would.” I snuck a glance up at the woman she’d mentioned, only to find, much to my embarrassment, that she was already looking me over. 

We both instantly turned our attention back to our drinks.

Marianne carried on unperturbed. I was beginning to wonder if this woman was one of the least observant people on the planet, or if she was just exceedingly polite. She scribbled things on her paper, before organizing her rulers and measuring tapes before her. She addressed me as she prepped, “So, you’re fond of gentleman’s wear, hm? Not many young men care about keeping up appearances anymore. I’m glad you’re an exception to the rule. My Henri was fond of his pinstripes and pocket squares. A perfect pairing for a seamstress, you can imagine!” Her eyes sparkled with memories long past. 

“I… I’m sorry for your loss…”  Natalie’s voice was kind and genuine. 

“Oh, that’s alright, honey. We had many wonderful years together.” She turned to me, “I think he would’ve quite liked you, Alexander.” 

Me? I couldn’t imagine how much I and an older human man could possibly have in common, besides our manner of dress. And in any case, this woman had only just met me, how could she possibly make such a rapid assessment?

I nodded politely in agreement anyway, hoping to move past this rather somber moment and return to the exciting part of getting me into a beautiful suit. 

Of course, Natalie couldn’t help but ask follow up questions. Annoying, the way humans always politely placated each other with niceties and small talk, “Did he help you run this place?” 

Marianne cracked a smile, “Oh, yes! The whole thing was his idea. Down to the name. I was perfectly happy to stitch away on my little creations at home, but he encouraged me to share my skills with others. He was always the gregarious one…” you don’t seem to have any problem talking at length, as far as I can see. “… and much better at putting our clients at ease, though, I try my very best. I know the constant invasion of personal space can be unwelcome.” 

Finally someone acknowledges this well-known truth! 

“Now, Mr. Alexander, if you’ll take a few steps forward, I’ll get your height to start.”

The flattery of being addressed so formally was quickly counteracted by an unwelcome reality that the aforementioned invasion of personal space was about to begin. 

I looked about myself to set down the cup in my hand. The side table was just out of reach from where I stood. I shifted my weight, about to turn over my shoulder to cross closer to the surface when a finger brushed the length of my forearm, warm and soft. I stopped in my tracks and looked up. 

Natalie was offering to take the cup from me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as my gaze locked with hers, “Don’t worry, I won’t accidentally drop this one. I promise.” She winked. 

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, and shake my head before balancing the cup on the pad of her index finger. She pinched it between finger and thumb and carried it to its proper place for me. 

***** 

As Alexander stepped forward, away from the tiny furniture, the experienced hands of the craftswoman carefully slid a polished wooden ruler behind his back. I found myself balancing my chin over my crossed arms to get a closer look at what the measurement tool showed. 

He stood very still, his posture perfect, and his chest puffed. I could tell he was stretching his spine to stand as tall as he possibly could. As I squinted to discern the tiny lines that Alexander could easily trace with his fingers, I saw his exact height for the first time. 

Five and half inches, exactly. 

My heart melted. 

As the ruler was removed, I searched his face for signs of unease. I wouldn’t blame him for being nervous. He was already grumpy enough being handled by me, I knew having a stranger’s hands all over him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park. 

“You okay?” I mouthed, unable to resist brushing the toe of his shoe with a fingertip. He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. I could see he was steeling himself. 

I trusted Marianne, she seemed extremely kind and respectful. Still, her fingers, though aged and thin, were each over half the length of his entire little body. 

She prepared a length of bright crimson thread, tying it off in a knot in one graceful pull. 

“First, I’ll ask you to let your arms rest at your sides…” he shuffled his weight, unsure what to do with the crutch in his hand. 

“You okay to stand without it for a few? I can hold it for you.” I offered. He nodded, clearly disinterested in needing any help, but having no choice. 

“…And then I’m going to measure the width of your shoulders, will you turn to face Natalie?” I liked that she walked him through every single step she was taking. I could see he was starting to relax a bit as he shuffled his feet to face me. Marianne used the bit of string to measure along his shoulder blades, from point to point. The scribble of her pen on paper and the hum of the heater somewhere behind us, were the only sounds in the room. 

Until…

Thunk, thunk, thunk. 

I think I jumped more than he did. Someone was knocking on what I assumed must’ve been the back door of the shop. 

Marianne had a different reaction, “Oh!” She dropped the thread and checked her watch, “They’re early! I apologize, someone is here to drop off a bulk order. You’ll have to excuse me. This is the trouble of running things all by myself!” She looked flustered and embarrassed for having to pause, “I should only be a minute!” 

She stepped through the curtain and after a few moments I could hear the sounds of a door opening and the low rumble of male voices mixing with hers. The activity faded into the background as I took in the little life before me. 

“You wanna sit down? Rest your leg?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” I wasn’t convinced but it didn’t seem worth it to argue over. I found myself reaching for the bit of string that had served as his measuring tape. Threading it in and out from between my fingers. 

That’s when we heard Marianne’s voice cut through, far more flustered than we’d heard before, “No! No, this is all wrong. You have half of my satin and georgette mixed in with someone else’s bolts of polyester! How difficult is it to keep your orders straight?” I could hear the clack of her shoes on hardwood growing louder as she suddenly thrust aside the curtain, “I’m so sorry for this little hiccup. I’ll just be a bit longer… Oh—“  

Her eyes cast down to the crimson thread pinched between my finger and thumb. “Were you measuring him yourself?” 

Alexander and I both exchanged flustered glances before I tried my best to respond, “Well, I—“ 

I heard the low voices of men and the shuffling of heavy feet beyond the curtain. As Marianne checked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, “Be careful with that! You almost knocked it over!” Her head of curly white hair, popped back in to address us, “No, no. Please. Go ahead! It’ll save us time! You’ll have to excuse me!” She gestured at the thread between my fingers before dashing off, footsteps fading even as I could hear her shout in exasperation about some other mishap those workers were creating in her shop. 

And suddenly it was just he and I. 

He cleared his throat, pulling at his collar. 

“So…” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes met mine when I spoke. My face felt warm. 

“So.” He shifted his weight, his face splashed with pink, while he craned his neck to stare up at me. 

“I guess, I’m gonna— I mean, if you’re okay with… me??”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, nodding his head, while his blonde bangs hung in his eyes, “Right, no. I mean. We must… Musn’t we? For the sake of-of the time. Like she said.” 

“Yeah. Totally. Uh. Okay. So…” I twirled the piece of thread around my finger, while I glanced at the sheet of paper, “It looks like I’m supposed to measure your chest next…” My hands inched toward him. I could feel my pulse in the tip of every finger, I had to concentrate to keep them steady. Alexander watched my encroaching hands like a hawk, his spine stiff, his lips taught.

“Wait!” He threw up his own little palm. I stopped, confused. His brow furrowed as he addressed me, “You’re practically towering over me, standing like that. Do you know how exhausting it is to practically break my neck just to be able to address you? Go find a chair.” I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes, “Please.” 

I pulled it up before the table and sat down, “There, better?” I was so much closer to eye level with him now, and yet, he still seemed so far away, standing in the shadow I cast. 

He won’t seem so far once I’m physically touching him. I felt a thrill rush through me at the thought. 

I took the knotted end and gently held it against his sternum. He rocked back on his heel from the pressure, nevertheless. His little heart was pounding against his ribs. I melted again. 

After a moment, “Ahem, Natalie?” I was frozen in place, just mesmerized by the thrumming of life beneath my fingers.

“Right, right! Sorry!” I shook my head. “Okay hold that for me, please…” his lithe little fingers took over for my gigantic one, as I wrapped the string around his chest and arms. I pinched the string where it met the knotted end and pulled it away from his body. Finally, I laid it flat to the tape measure before jotting down the number. We proceeded to do this with the length of his arms, the circumference of his tiny little wrists, even his neck, which I tried to be painstakingly delicate with. 

With his chin thrust in the air, I could feel him gazing up at me as he held the knot against the hollow of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and I bit the inside of my lip, worried he might snap at me out of discomfort, but instead he spoke so softly it was almost too quiet to hear, “You’re not too bad at this, Ms. Marquez…” 

As he spoke, I could feel the tiny vibrations in his neck as I very delicately brought the string around. What a mesmerizing feeling. I swelled with pride, “Oh really? Approval from the Little Nightmare? Not a single criticism yet? It’s my lucky day. What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head… it’s big enough as it is!” 

“Hey! Rude!” I released the string, pretending to be offended. To my delight, his little face broke out into that lovely crooked smile I adored so much. 

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t ya?” 

“As I ought to be! It was a shining example of my cracking wit, and you ought to be more impressed.” 

“You ready for the next part, Mr. Chuckles?” 

“Oh! Come on!” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “That was terrible. Was that the best you could come up with? I’ll take Xandy over that, any day!” 

“What’s that? I can call you Xandy now??” 

“No!!! No that’s not what I said! Don’t you dare– Hey! What’re you doing?!”

**********

As I spoke, her fingers and thumbs rushed up from behind and landed on either side of my waist. The warmth was intoxicating, her grip all encompassing, and intimate. My face flushed with color and heat. 

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s the next thing on the list!” She was defensive. I twisted and squirmed feeling the tension in the thread as it rested at the small of my back. 

She had to be playing coy with me! Couldn’t she see how flustered she was making me? It’d been hard enough to keep my composure when she rested her fingertip over my heart, or gently guided my arms where she wanted them, or leaned down so close while she regarded me with such care and gentleness that her fingertips left electrical pulses where they brushed against my skin. But now this? 

I was finding it hard to breathe. 

“You could at least warn a man before you trap him in your colossal grip! Have you learned nothing?” 

“I’m not– Look, we don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re gonna get all pissy about it.” She looked crestfallen. That soft warmth dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared when she pulled her hands away, the thread dragging limply along the table’s surface, pinched between her finger and thumb. 

No, no, no! This isn’t what I wanted at all. Couldn’t she see I was addicted to it now? That warmth, that soft touch? This was all her fault.  

“Wait!” I stepped forward, snatching up the opposite end of the thread before it snaked away from my reach. She looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see what I’d do next, “If you’re going to hold me by the waist, have the courtesy to let me participate.”  Her golden green irises dilated as her mouth parted slightly. I had her complete attention. 

A tremor ran down the nape of my neck to the curve of my lumbar as I pulled the string toward me. She let this tension in the thread move her hand forward with no resistance. My heart skipped a beat. She was letting me control her.

I guided her fingertips to the soft flesh just above my hipbone, where my obliques flared and rippled as I fought to keep my composure. I transferred the thread to my right hand and fed it behind my back, allowing the tension to hold my weight as I leaned back, feeding it around to my right side. I could count each and every quaking beat of my heart as I held the crimson thread in my fist, offering it to her. She slid the tip of her index along the inside of my forearm, making me suck in a sharp breath, before uncurling my fist and taking the string from me. 

“Now what?” she whispered, two pairs of a finger and thumb resting on either side of my body, waiting for my instruction. 

I’d never felt so big in all my life. 

I guided one set of fingers to rest on my navel.  Could she feel how my breath shook when she touched me? 

I grounded myself and brought the other side to meet, letting the string cross itself at the proper place. She pinched the spot with her thumbnail and slowly, gently, retreated to measure and write down her findings. 

“Okay, now hips,” She held the length of string in front of me, waiting to be guided once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming. 

I performed the same little ritual with her, and this time her fingertips landed over a much more intimate part of myself. I flushed bright, hissing between clenched teeth, “Careful!”

I expected her to scoff at me, but the eyes that met my upward gaze were soft, “I’m only going where you put me. You’re in control.” 

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly my legs buckled and gave way beneath me. She was quick to act, wrapping a finger around my hips and pinning me between finger and thumb. 

Dear god, what was she doing to me?!

Before I could take another breath, the clattering of human footsteps and the scrape of metal met my ears and made me jump. 

Marianne’s voice cut through our built up tension like a razorblade, as she seemed completely unaware of our situation, “Okay! So sorry about that, you two!” Natalie quickly let go, as I rushed to tidy myself and readjust my crooked clothing. The seamstress rounded the corner of the table and entered my periphery, glancing over the measurement sheet “Looks like you got the vast majority completed. That’s perfect, we’ve got a great place to start.” She clapped her hands with a sharp crack, a smile warming her aged features as she leaned down to address me, “Now, Mister Alexander. What’re we in the market for?” 

My head spun as I tried to engage my brain, lips and tongue again, “W-what am I—? Uh, um…” It was a truly foreign sensation for words to elude me. I shook my head trying to clear my mind, “A, uh, A classical cut is always best, single breasted, three piece, wool, tweed or cotton, with a notch lapel and double vent.” The words flowed with an easy familiarity, and I found it easier to breathe for the first time since she had left Natalie and I to our own devices. 

“You were right,” She addressed the woman before me, “He really knows his stuff!” Natalie nodded vigorously and smiled, as if to say “You have no idea”. 

“Ah— And no pinstripes. I hate pinstripes.” I added in haste. 

“Duly noted! I think I have quite a few pieces you’ll be interested in.” She gathered the paper with my measurements, Natalaie’s chicken scratch contrasting sharply with the older woman’s elegant script. As she crossed the room, opening a cabinet and searching for something, she spoke over her shoulder, “Please, feel free to come to this other table here…” She gestured to the table with those mysterious boxes on them. 

Natalie and I exchanged a glance, before she slid her palm beside me, hooking her thumb beneath my left arm. She gathered me in her hand, her other fingers supporting my weight before she lifted me off the table. 

She crossed with me to the opposite side, her free thumb gently stroking my cheek. It wasn’t all that long ago I would’ve recoiled at such a caress. Now I melted beneath it. 

What has gotten into me?? 

Soon, I was being lowered to my feet, before one of those mystery boxes. I could see now that the front was obscured by a curtain. 

“Go ahead,” Marianne had just placed a polished wooden case of some kind on the table just to my right, as she seemed to register my curiosity. I took a step forward, only to feel a warmth and pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see Natalie offering me my crutch, balanced on a fingertip. I acquiesced and took it, before thrusting the curtain aside. 

I’m not sure what I’d expected but it wasn’t this. 

Beyond the veil of the fabric, and just a small step up, was what I imagined a dressing room to look like. I’d never been in one myself, human-sized or otherwise, but it fit my expectations and then exceeded them. On the wall opposite me was a full length mirror, held in a gilded, golden frame. A beautiful Persian rug softened the faux wooden floor. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, as well as a vanity complete with a mirror and chair. Along the walls were framed prints of famous art pieces. I admit, the Lady with an Ermine was the only one I recognized. Everything felt… authentic. Real. Human. Is this what rooms looked like to them all the time? There was a wide variety of plants that looked… were they real? Not just plastic bastardizations of the typical human houseplant? 

I stepped into the ‘room’ and as I marveled, heard a breathy “Wow, fancy…”  from up high. I craned my neck to find that this room, for all its proportional realism, lacked a ceiling, and, therefore, Nat was easily able to peer down, her arms crossed, and smile at me from above. 

But there was one area in the corner, also sectioned off by a curtain, which, when I peered into it, I realized was actually fully enclosed, complete with an electric wall sconce to brighten the space. 

Oh. What a relief. I wouldn’t have to change in front of these two women. I never expected humans to think of these things. This was a nice surprise. 

“Is it suitable to your tastes?” Marianne appeared beyond the edge of the far wall, “My Henri designed every detail. We had such fun putting them together. Oh speaking of… try these on for size…” 

A wrinkled finger and thumb descended into the space, shattering the illusion that I was in anything other than a highly detailed doll house. Pinched between her digits, was a suit jacket, vest, and matching slacks, each hanging on their own seemingly custom wooden hangers. She carefully placed each of these on one of the wall hooks. Her hand disappeared and then returned with another set and another and another. 

I admit, I felt my heart race at just the sight of them. I’d missed the familiar fit of a suit so very much. My grip on the walking aide was becoming clammy as I absentmindedly bounced on the ball of my good foot in anticipation. 

She also laid down a folded under shirt on the vanity (the folds were crisp and tidy. Impressive for fingers that big) and several different collared shirts on the remaining hangers. 

“I’ll work on ties, belts and shoes while you start with these. How’s that sound?” I nodded in agreement, already making a beeline for the undershirt, a white collared dress shirt and the first vest and pair of slacks on the rack before she’d finished speaking. 

I was just about to disappear into the changing room when a finger on my shoulder stopped me. 

My mouth twisted into an instinctive grimace as Natalie halted me. What?? What did she want?? I was moments away from shedding this baggy loungewear for something sophisticated and elegant. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt me at this very moment? 

I turned to face her, only to realize precisely what. Offered up between her fingers was that pair of tweezers. The same ones I’d used to help myself change since I’d blessedly escaped that god awful tie dye shirt. She’d brought them from home for me. 

“Just in case,” she winked at me. Oh. Now, I felt like an ass. 

I breathed out from my nostrils, releasing the tension in my shoulders, “Thank you.” I even briefly patted the side of her finger as a show of appreciation as I took the object from her. I figured she’d like that, what with her love of touching me all the time.

The sudden thought of her touch and heat and softness completely overwhelming me just moments ago on that other table top made my face flush with shame. 

I hurried inside the changing room, where, luckily, no one could see my changed complexion. 

********** 

I drummed my fingers on the table, just dying for him to throw that tiny curtain aside and reveal himself. Marianne flitted about the room, opening drawers, cabinets and boxes, finding just what she was looking for, all while peering over the rim of her glasses with the keen eye of a master at work. 

Soon she had a lineup of tiny accessories displayed on the vanity table for him to peruse. 

I caught her gaze and mouthed “Thank you”, she nodded warmly and winked, before catching something out of the corner of her eye and gesturing for me to look too. 

That little curtain fluttered with movement, and before I knew it, there emerged one tiny socked foot, then another, with a metal and rubber crutch complimenting their rise and fall. 

Then, my heart skipped.

Hello there, Alexander. 

He looked absolutely incredible, and he wasn’t even fully dressed yet. The slacks sported a flattering pleat down the length of his leg, settling perfectly about his waist. The vest fit beautifully, cinched slightly in the back, the white dress shirt contrasted nicely and the sleeves fit him just right. 

I immediately dropped my chin to the surface of the table to get a closer look. 

He emerged with his head ducked as he gracefully threaded the final button on the vest, the royal blue wool lacing through his lithe little fingers. 

Suddenly, two icy blue irises like crystals of frozen flame were trained on me and I had to bite my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. The blue of the suit made his eyes shine even more brightly than before. 

“It looks like a perfect fit. How does it feel?” He craned his neck to listen to the voice looming above him. He adjusted his shoulders, made sure the vest was perfectly centered, and he toyed with his shirt sleeves until they were just right, before he turned to the full length mirror. 

With my head balanced on my hand, I could just make out a sliver of my face reflected in the tiny mirror over his shoulder. 

Seeing his entire body against the backdrop of one small part of mine reminded me of that first day, when I’d forced him into that ugly little doll shirt and held him up to my bathroom vanity admiring our size difference. That truly felt like a lifetime ago.

Marianne passed him a silky rust colored tie, and I watched with flustered amazement how his fingers expertly worked the flimsy material into a pinprick of a complicated knot, even and perfect. I felt like I was glimpsing into a whole other world of his, a past I only faintly understood. 

With each infinitesimal adjustment of his collar, sweep of his hair, and threading of his tie beneath his vest, I felt myself staring slack jawed at this new version of the little man I thought I’d known so well. 

Now for the jacket. She handed it to him, and he spread the lapels to admire the inner lining (a gorgeous, patterned silk with flowers of purple and blue) when his eyes stopped at something sewn into the collar just as the nape of the neck. 

***** 

I stared at the inside of the jacket, almost in disbelief. 

Sewn with expert precision, were a handful of stitches that unmistakably spelled out “For My Henri”. 

I was flabbergasted. 

Marianne had said he was the love of her life, that they’d built this business together, that he’d encouraged her to use her talents to help others, and this man had been… like me? 

“I-I can’t possibly accept this…” I shook my head, thrusting the beautifully crafted garment away from my body and offering it back up to this kind hearted woman who peered down at me. 

She simply smiled, “Just try it on, at least.” 

She couldn’t be serious. But it would be nice just to try it on for size. She could use it as a reference. I was determined to refuse her offer if she brought it up again, but I saw no harm in at least donning the final piece of the suit, just to see it all together. 

I took a deep breath and easily twirled the garmet over my shoulder, sliding my arms along the silken lining and letting it fall around my body, gazing into the mirror once more. 

Oh, hello there, Alexander. It’s good to see you again, old friend. How I’ve missed you. 

It was beyond perfect. It was the most beautifully crafted suit I’d ever had the pleasure to wear. I looked wonderfully smart. My chest swelled as a small smirk creeped onto my features, threatening to boil over into a boyish grin if I wasn’t careful. 

I refocused the lenses of my eyes to take in Natalie’s gaze, dominating the landscape behind me. Her pupils were dilated, her expression dreamy. I turned to face her, leaving my crutch behind for now. 

I thrust a hand in a pocket, unbuttoning the jacket to show the vest underneath and spun on my heel, feeling altogether like a million bucks. 

“You look… incredible” She practically breathed. The way her eyes shone when she gazed at me… Why did my knees suddenly feel weak at hearing her sigh at me like that? Perhaps I needed my crutch after all. 

“She’s right, you know. It suits you. I suppose I can’t convince you to try on the rest of them can I?” The older woman issued me this challenge with a twinkle in her eye.

Natalie furrowed her brow and cocked her head. As if to say “What could possibly be the problem with that?” 

Of course. She didn’t understand what Marianne and I already did. 

I slid off the jacket and held up its stitching to her. She leaned in so close I could feel the heat of her exhale as she finally managed to squint enough to read the name sewn there.

“Oh, oh my god. So…your… he was…?” Natalie stuttered. 

Marianne nodded, a smile sparkling with decades of memory igniting in her eyes. Eventually, she busied herself with handing me the next suit, this one a beautiful gray, continuing to address Natalie, “He was the best thing to ever come into my life. We found each other when I spent a summer in Paris, a whole lifetime ago. I couldn’t bear to return home without him. Luckily, he agreed to travel halfway across the world to be by my side. It took us a while to come to terms with our feelings, believe me, most people couldn’t possibly understand… especially not in those days. I hope you two don’t let your fear get in the way.” 

My face burned and my mouth felt so dry, my voice cracked as I spoke, “Oh, no, we’re not… we-we—“

Suddenly Natalie’s louder voice tumbled atop mine, cutting me off, as she spoke through a strained smile, “Thank you.” 

I sensed that I’d committed some sort of social faux pas, though I couldn’t understand what. Natalie and I weren’t… that is to say we didn’t have that sort of dynamic. Despite this, I decided to bite my tongue out of a desire to spare Natalie any unnecessary embarrassment. Judging by her bright pink complexion, she was already suffering enough from my attempt to set the record straight. 

I put that interaction out of my mind, though, as I returned to the garments in my hands. I admit, I allowed myself the small pleasure of trying all four of Henri’s suits, each one as beautifully crafted as the last and still in such incredible condition for their age. 

I tried on various loafers, belts, ties and even, to my utter delight, tie clips and cufflinks! 

As a boy coming of age, I’d been repeatedly reprimanded after asking for cufflinks to match my larger counterpart, being told they’d be “much too small to be worth any effort to make them in the first place”. 

Once I’d enjoyed everything those suits had to offer, she asked me to describe what I’d like to have custom made, letting me touch various fabric swatches and color options to help me make my decisions. 

This was all a dream, right? Some sort of beautiful, wonderful dream that I never wanted to wake from? It had to be. Well, if it was all make believe, I supposed asking for what I really wanted wouldn’t hurt any. 

She took notes as Natalie watched on. Why was it every time I turned over my shoulder, she seemed to be looking at me? 

I sat in the chair, pulled beside the vanity, palming the perfectly proportionate cufflinks, and rolling them between finger and thumb. They were so detailed and well crafted I wondered if Henri had made them himself. 

What is wrong with me? These things aren’t mine to take. No matter how wonderful they were. 

I deposited the little metal pieces on the counter beside me, folding my hands in my lap, determined not to fidget anymore. 

As if reading my mind, Marianne travelled around to the side of the table to face me. 

“Well, you’ve been quite the model today.” I nodded in agreement, “I think we’ve put you through more than enough. Now, your custom orders will be shipped to you in approximately ten to twelve weeks. If you need any alterations at all, feel free to come back to the store.” 

What a lovely dream this was. 

She continued, gesturing to those beautiful suits hung along the dressing room the wall, “Which one was your favorite?”

“Oh, well… I couldn’t possibly— they’re all equally wonderful. You possess incredible skill…” 

“I want you to have them.” 

Both Natalie and I let out an incredulous exclamation, in sync with one another: 

“No, no you’re being far too kind—” 

“We couldn’t take them, they belong with you!” 

She shook her head smiling warmly first at Natalie, then to me, “He would’ve wanted them to go to a fine young gentleman who can appreciate every stitch, rather than gathering dust in some box. I’d be honored if you’d take them. Think of it as Christmas coming early!” 

I was completely taken aback, a rush of emotion making my chest swell and my throat tighten as my vision suddenly blurred, “I— I’m at a complete loss for words… T-thank you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Alexander. Thank you for coming to visit today.” She leaned down to offer me her finger to shake. With a trembling hand, and biting back tears, I shook her finger tip, squeezing it much harder than was called for, and yet I didn’t imagine it was enough to hurt her, “I’m delighted you like them so much. Why don’t you wear the blue one home? It was always my favorite. Now I’ll finish packing the rest and will wait for you to check out in the other room.” 

And suddenly, it was just the girl with the wild hair and warm eyes, and me. She caught my gaze, a smile playing on her lips “Surprise!” She chuckled. 

The swell of deep gratitude, delight, overwhelm and pure joy flooded through me once again and I was perilous to keep it at bay. I rushed forward, my leg aching from the effort, as I crashed into her hand, squeezing myself into the hollow of her palm, as I clutched the base of her thumb and wept, mumbling my thanks between tears of joy. 

“Oh, Alexander…” she breathed, gently enclosing her fingers around me, embracing me back. Her index finger on her free hand gently caressed my hair, neck and shoulders as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I tried. She held my chin with her fingertip, wiping tears with her thumb, “I’m so happy you’re happy. You deserve this. I’m sorry it took so long… but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” She beamed at me. I bit back more tears. She arched her brow and jutted her chin in that mischievous way she always did, “Now pull yourself together and go be all dapper and shit.” She nudged my arm with her thumb. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. 

Before long, I found myself perched on the countertop of Marianne’s desk in the front of the shop, dressed to the nines from head to foot. I wore the blue suit, of course, with brown leather shoes, and belt, a silken ochre tie with matching pocket square, cufflinks, and a tie clip. I stood tall as the women above me exchanged money for goods. 

I felt a lightness in my body and mind that I hadn’t felt in… well, had I ever felt it? I couldn’t be sure. I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning ear to ear like some stupid little boy. I’d never been spoiled like this. I’d never been treated like this. I had no idea what to do with myself. 

As we were about to leave, Marianne turned to me, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses, giving me a clear view of her keen eyes. “Alexander? N'ayez pas peur de lui dire ce que vous ressentez. Il est clair qu'elle t'aime de tout son cœur. Vous méritez le bonheur autant que nous tous.” 

******* 

I had no clue what she’d said to him, but whatever it was, he looked like he’d been shot through with an arrow, after hearing it. His little eyes went wide and his face burned bright red. 

“Hey…” I rubbed his little shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it. I smiled apologetically at the woman on the other side of the desk, “Sorry, I think he’s just really excited and overwhelmed about everything that happened. Thank you again, for all you did for him.” As I spoke to her, I coaxed the little man into my hand, his movements suddenly sluggish and distracted. 

“It was truly such a wonderful thing to meet a pair like you. You give me hope for a better future. Thank you for coming in today. You’re always welcome back at any time.” 

“Thank you so much, Marianne!” I echoed her warmth. When Alexander stayed silent, I nudged him a little with my thumb and he seemed to come to. 

“Y-yes! Thank you. V-very much!”

What had gotten into him? Maybe the thrill of the whole thing had worn off and he was just exhausted. Because of his dogged determination to push himself to the limits all the time, it was easy to forget how much more effort it took someone of his size to just interact with people so much bigger than him. He was also standing and walking on his injured leg without his crutch for much longer than normal. I wondered if he was in pain and trying to fight through it. 

Whatever the case, I was looking forward to getting him home with me, and giving him a chance to relax. 

I took in the wonderful sight of him lounging in my palm, his head resting on the pad of my index finger, his calves and ankles hanging off the far edge of my palm, his little hands spread against my skin, keeping himself steady. He stared at his tiny leather shoes, and seemed disinterested in looking in my direction. How funny he was. I wondered what on earth was on his brilliant little mind. 

Strange little nightmare, let’s get you home.

___________________________________________

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[the-far-bright-center]

Came across this rather, uh, amusing take in the tags....

The SW Prequels:

Now, I'm not entirely sure what definition of 'female gaze' this post is using (apparently 'close-up shots of hands' is what constitutes female gaze???), but all I could think was... what films were they watching exactly???? But if they are defining it loosely as 'visuals and/or cinematography that appeals to female viewers' or even 'characters and themes that appeal to female viewers'.....then well....

**Note: I fully acknowledge that, purely as an academic term, the entire concept of 'female gaze' is up for debate. There's still a question as to whether or not it is a 'real' phenomenon. That said, I'm addressing its colloquial fandom use in this case.

Let's go through each film, shall we....

The Phantom Menace

Maybe people on tumblr are too young to remember what a splash Queen Amidala made when TPM was first released. Not only was she and her homeworld of Naboo our first real glimpse of the now-iconic 'Space Baroque' vibe of the SW Prequels, but she was also a first for Star Wars in other ways. A teenage girl who was also a mysterious queen of her world, a fearless leader who was backed up and protected by her very own band of loyal handmaidens. And while she was hinted to eventually become the mother of Luke and Leia, at this point in the story, her charcter arc did not revolve around a romance or a male character, but rather was mainly about being the best leader she could be, and helping to free her world and her people. A very fitting story arc for such a young female heroine. All of this was so incredibly formative and appealing to me, as an also fourteen year old girl, when I first watched this movie.

On top of that, Queen Amidala's makeup and fashion styles were extremely trendy and I even went to school wearing her iconic face make up and lipstick at one point. Women and girls wanted to cosplay her, and still do, to this day. There were Queen Amidala dolls with gorgeous dresses that you could collect, whereas before SW merch had been dominated mainly by action figures geared towards boys and adult male collectors. The character in TPM was pretty much tailor-made made to appeal to young female viewers.

And then we get to the male eye-candy in this film....

There was Ewan as young Obi-Wan, of course, who appealed to many, but as for myself, I was head over heels for Liam Neeson as Qui-Gon Jinn.

That long flowing hair and ruggedly handsome face! He was just so calm, strong, and comforting to watch, and he had great chemistry with the actress who played Shmi. So swoony!

2) Attack of the Clones

Moving on to the second film of the Prequels, we come now to the forbidden love story, Padme Amidala's stunning wardrobe, and of course, heartthrob Hayden Christensen as padawan Anakin Skywalker.

Once again, I can only speak for myself as someone who was a young female fan when this film came out in 2002. But I had the AotC teaser poster hanging above my bed and would stare at it dreamily for hours.

And, amusingly enough, one of my first introductions to Hayden Christensen was in an article featuring an interview with Natalie Portman who described him as a 'very sexy guy', lol. So I was introduced to the very idea of him first via the 'PoV' of the actress herself...

The above image is by Annie Liebovitz from a promotional photoshoot for a magazine article about AotC. Note that Padme is wearing a sensual nightrobe but is largely covered up here. It's Anakin who is wearing the low-cut, loose fititng top that shows off his lean torso. His body is the sort that appeals to younger women, not the steroid-induced, muscle-bound hypermasculine nonsense that largely appeals to the stereotypical male gaze.

Before we even go deeper into the romance between Anakin and Padme, there's an establishing shot in the Outlander club scene where Anakin is shown to the be highly-desireable object of many of the patrons' gazes....

Later on in the film, there's some even more obvious eye candy and fanservice to audiences of the time, with the semi-shirtless Anakin writhing suggestively on the bed scene...

And, if it's you're thing, there's also wet Obi-Wan Kenobi....

Certain scenes likewise makes it clear that when it comes to Anakin and Padme in this film... Padme is, uh, 'the one on top', here...

Overall, despite AotC's detractors decrying the 'bad dialogue', in a purely VISUAL sense, this film had a huge focus on romance, romantic scenes and imagery, and romantic moments -- probably the most focus in a SW film since the Han x Leia scenes in ESB. And all with Natalie Portman dressed in a fantastic, scene-stealing wardrobe designed by Trish Biggar that would give even the most lavish period dramas or Old Hollywood productions a run for their money.

3) Revenge of the Sith

Ok, where do I even begin.... we have Obi-Wan and Anakin in all their glory

Then we have gorgeous bittersweet Anakin and Padme reunion moments (note the focus on *Anakin's* face and *Anakin's* sensuous lips here)....

Then the iconic nightmare scene and the romantic moments in Padme's apartment, once again ft. Hayden's bare torso and chest....

And the unbearable heartbreaking moment when Anakin makes his fatal decision, when he and Padme sense each other in the Force and look out towards one each other across the romantic space-fairytale Coruscant cityscape as the sun sets upon the Republic..

Many female fans also seem to fan themselves at the sigh of 'dark side' Anakin/Vader on Mustafar in all his fallen angel fury...

Ultimately, to each their own in terms of what appeals. 'Appealing to female gaze' is very subjective topic, after all. BUT, to say there wasn't 'a single minute of female gaze' in the Star Wars Prequels seems to point to an extremely limited and, well, completely inaccurate 'reading' of those films.

Padme's entire gorgeous wardrobe (which may show skin atimes, but which is NOT always heavily sexualised, but rather focuses on gorgeous embroidery and rich textures and fabrics, etc) and the highly fanservice-y Shirtless Anakin scenes alone demonstrate such a claim is pretty baseless:

[rottenpumpkin13]

What is ASG +ZC personal style?

Zack: His entire aesthetic is aimed at looking cool, but keeping his clothes easy to move around in. He's a fan of leather jackets, sleeveless shirts, baggy pants, fitted tees, and combat boots. He wears his dog tag as an accessory likes fingerless gloves. He used to always wear his favorite pair of old sneakers until Angeal had him throw them out.

Genesis: What happened to your sneakers?

Zack: Angeal happened! He made me throw them out. They weren't even that bad!

Angeal, from the other room: THEY SMELLED LIKE SEWAGE. YOU TOOK YOUR SHOES OFF IN FRONT OF CLOUD AND HE FAINTED. SEPHIROTH APPROACHED TO HELP, COULDN'T HANDLE THE STENCH, AND WRAPPED HIS HAIR AROUND HIS NOSE.

Sephiroth: Minimalist, lots of black and dark shades with the occasional splash of silver here and there. He's very comfort over style, however he does have style elements to his wardrobe that he enjoys adding that oftentimes lean towards goth fashion; long coats, button-ups, black leather, fingerless gloves, and turtlenecks (ironically). Genesis got him a mesh top as a gag, which he has worn a few times "purely because it's comfortable" (or so he claims). That being said, he will choose sweatpants and one of Angeal's hoodies over all of that any day.

*Sephiroth is wearing all black*

Zack: Woah! Hehe. Who died?

Sephiroth, confused: Professor Gast, my mother, Glenn Lodbrok, Rosen, [he keeps going]

Zack: .......

Angeal: "Casual and comfortable" is what he calls it, "a cross between a hippie, a dad, and a wannabe musician" is what Genesis lovingly dubs it as. He keeps a flannel tied at his waist in case he or someone he's with gets cold, he likes to reuse old band tees by cutting them out and fashioning them into torn muscle shirts, and if you leave a white article of clothing out for too long and don't use it, Angeal will tie-dye it. He likes black jeans and jean jackets. He would wear more hoodies, but....

*Angeal walks into the room*

Angeal: Has anyone seen my hoodies?

Zack, wearing hoodie #1: Nope!

Genesis, wearing hoodie #2: Not that I recall.

Cloud, wearing hoodie #3: I wonder what happened to them.

Sephiroth, wearing hoodies #4, #5, and #6: Perhaps you misplaced them.

Angeal: Oh my god.

Cloud: He chooses his clothes based on maneuverability and how easy they are to fight in, but there are specific style choices he makes, such as preferring all black over color, wolf emblems, and loose clothing if he can help it. He doesn't like jackets, claiming that since he came from a cold mountain region, he doesn't get cold easily.

*Cloud isn't wearing a coat*

Zack: Are you sure you're not cold?

Cloud: Of course not. I grew up in Nibelheim. This kind of weather is summer over there.

Zack: Your arms are blue.

Cloud: It's a fashion choice.

Zack: You're shaking.

Cloud: No, I'm trembling in excitement.

Zack: What are you excited for?

Cloud: FOR THEM TO TURN THE DAMN A/C OFF.

Genesis: It depends on the month, weather, his horoscope, and his mood. If you send Genesis into his overflowing closet, he'll either walk out looking like a 19th century poet, an English professor, head to toe designer labels, or as if he's about to walk the runway. True to his fanclub name, he loves red leather and tries to incorporate it into each of his looks, all of which have red as the main color. He's praised by his fans for his style, meaning he has a certain appearance to maintain, which often makes him highly fashion-conscious. He disregards traditional gender norms when selecting his clothing, and he likes to experiment with makeup.

*After spending two hours selecting a look, Genesis walks out with a button-up that has a heart cutout on his chest*

Genesis: I'm ready.

Sephiroth: Your chest is exposed. Are you aware of that?

Genesis: Yes, I—

Sephiroth: Whore.

Genesis:

[lamaery]

100 Portraits Training | Part 1 In autumn 2021 I started a series of practice portraits to get a better feel for different kinds of facial features. I wanted to get better at drawing people of colour of all kinds and variations and also at different variations of skin colours. My plan was to do a more fully rendered image from reference and then try to draw it a second time in a more simplified comic style to find the essences of what gave each face its own characteristics. The series didn't progress continuously (I hope to finally do 92 to 100 until the end of the year) and, as you will see, went very obviously through my reference folder for various Stormlight Archive characters :D This first page is still a vague starting point it features:

1) Brenda Myers-Powell from the documentary Dreamcatcher which follows her work of assisting sex-workers in Chicago

2) Iranian actress Shohreh Aghdashloo in the role of Chrisjen Avasarala in The Expanse

3) East Asian female presenting model from a fashion photography on Behance…

4) The incredibly fashionable Billy Porter

5) A young woman that was interviewed for German documentary series in an episode about Uzbekistan. Sadly I could not find out retrospectively which ethnic group she is part of, since I could not find the episode online.

6) Chinese-American actress Ming-Na Wen as Melinda Quiaolian May from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

7) Kavinthida, a young woman from Thailand that appears in the series of portraits at the airport by Mustafa Çankaya, a photographer from Istanbul  (link to the series , Kavathinda is number 8) Also on the side I tried to collect links and articles that discuss representation of PoC in media in a broader scope. I might share some of these in case other people find them interesting, too. If you have any good sources, please add them in the comments, reblog or tags :D Hmm, let's start with this wonderful and extensive article about understanding how to light and paint darker skintones ------------------ Part 2 – Kaladin Part 3 & 4 – Adolin and Renarin Part 5 – Dalinar Part 6 & 7 – Shallan and Jasnah Part 8 & 9 - various people and skin tones Part 10 – a little bit for The Lopen Part 11 & 12 - Wit and Navani Part 13 - ofmd und Dev Patel :) Part 14 - more ofmd and Patel

[hopeymchope]

Kodaka did an event promoting The Hundred Line -Last Defense Academy-.

In case you're new to the game and its concept, here's a quick summary from the article:

First revealed during a Nintendo Direct back in June, The Hundred Line -Last Defense Academy- is a tactical RPG with adventure game elements. Its story follows Takumi Sumino, a regular teenager who lives in a domed city known as the Tokyo Residential Complex. After monsters invade the city, a strange creature named SIREI appears and offers Takumi the strength needed to protect those he loves, but awakening this power causes him to lose consciousness. When he finally comes to, he finds himself in a mysterious school with 14 strangers, and together, this rag-tag bunch of teenagers must band together to fend off the Invaders and survive for the next 100 days.

So here's some stuff that was news to me from this article. (I'll add some of my own thoughts in parentheticals with italics just like this.)

The game starts with a 20-minute anime-style cut scene.

Each character has their own unique attacks and abilities inspired by their personalities and certain enemies are faster than others, so players will need to think carefully about how they spend their AP and the order in which they take down the invaders.

It's possible to carry unspent AP over into the next turn, so there may be situations where it's better to end a turn prematurely rather than fruitlessly fight on.

Takumi has the ability to rewind time. So as is the case with many modern strategy RPGs, you can undo a few steps if things go south.

As they perform more actions, players will build up a special gauge known as the "Voltage Meter," which, once full, will allow them to perform a devastating attack that ends their current turn.

Players will also be able to sacrifice characters who are low on health by using the “decisive death” mechanic, although as there’s no way to revive characters in battle, they’ll need to think carefully about how and when to use this.

Decisions made both in AND out of battle can result in permanent character deaths. (So are "decisive deaths" in battle actually permanent deaths or no?)

Kodaka claims that the title is “radically different” from other games with multiple endings, with 100 “extreme despair-filled endings” available in total. Players won’t need to see all of these to understand the story, but there’s plenty of extra lore there for those who want it. (There's literally no chance in hell that these will all be radically different. No game production has ever had the time and/or money to generate 100 full-fledged, completely distinct endings... and this game is being funded independently for god's sake! So PLEASE expect, right up front, that these "endings" will mostly be minor variations on a select few endings.)

The classmates include Darumi Amemiya, an emotionally unstable girl with “crazy eyes” and a love of death games; and Yakushiji Takemaru, an “old-fashioned yankee” who rides a motorcycle into battle. (Sounds like I'm going to adore Darumi... :P)

All of the game’s main characters are voiced in some capacity and will have numerous interactions available over the course of the 100 days, encouraging players to engage with them regularly between battles.

When confronted with comparisons to Danganronpa (teenagers trapped in a school getting picked off, etc), Kodaka says that he prefers working with teenage protagonists, as they’re generally a lot more interesting than older characters and he finds it much easier to show them grow and mature as the story unfolds. (People should be constantly changing and maturing across all walks of life, imo, so this isn't the strongest answer to me. But OK.)

I'm sure plenty of these points are semi-ol dnews to people who've been following the game religiously, but my finger hasn't quite been on the pulse of its coverage the past month or two, so I may have missed some stuff.

[skz-streamer]

Y/NNIE'S MASTERLIST (WIP)

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A masterlist for the 9th member of skz ;) ・❥・here to fill your delulu dreams・❥・

This master list is based off of a fictional female ninth member, y/n, of the 8 member boy group stray kids. Everything is either written in second person, or as an article. All fics/scenarios are at the bottom of the list. (I hope you can insert yourself in the interviews and stories well, I tried my best :)

This masterlist is a current work in progress, everything that is crossed out are things that I haven't even started working on, requests are always open no matter what :)

Kinda planning it like an oc but written in 2nd person if that makes sense? Idk

About

K-Profile・❥・Background ・❥・20 Questions・❥・What’s in y/n's bag・❥・Inside y/n's phone・❥・Pets・❥・A-Z quotes・❥・Playlist・❥・Likes and dislikes

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Relationships

Family ・❥・Skz・❥・Other idols・❥・Friends・❥・Fans・❥・Staff・❥・Amii・❥・Romantic

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Fashion

Hair・❥・Makeup・❥・Accessories ・❥・Closet・❥・Work・❥・Dance・❥・Travel

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PINTEREST BOARDS

Links to different outfits corresponding to each Skz era, only for imagination use :)

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Eras

mixtape ・❥・ i am not ・❥・ i am who ・❥・ i am you ・❥・ clé 1: miroh ・❥・ clé 2: yellow wood ・❥・ clé: levanter ・❥・ go生 ・❥・ in life ・❥・ noeasy ・❥・ oddinary ・❥・ maxident ・❥・ 5-Star ・❥・ Rock-Star ・❥・ TOP ・❥・ ALL IN ・❥・ CIRCUS ・❥・ THE SOUND ・❥・ SOCIAL PATH

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Discography

skz-record ・❥・skz-player ・❥・skz-replay・❥・Producing・❥・features

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Social Media

Insta・❥・Bubble・❥・Twitter

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Fans/News (solo)

Videos/compilations・❥・Scandals/controversy’s・❥・Solo events・❥・Magazines/articles ・❥・Other news・❥・Rumors・❥・Stan Twitter

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Broadcast

Interviews ・❥・Lives・❥・Vlogs・❥・YouTube ・❥・Kingdom ・❥・Skz survival show

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Skz

Events・❥・Texts・❥・Tweets・❥・Rachas ・❥・News・❥・Magazines/articles ・❥・Rumors

Misc.

Room tour・❥・Skz fam・❥・Concerts・❥・Representative animal

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All Scenarios/Writing pieces

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This master list was heavily inspired by @skz-bella @skz-kiana @skz-june @skz-saja @skz-suki

Credits to @ot8skz-wifey for helping me design this, the character ‘Amii’ is also inspired by her :)

All photos are either pulled off of Skz Bubble, Skz insta, or Pinterest - I tried my best to find no-face pics for y/n

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Permanent tag list: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey @ren0325 @felixvsp

Click here to be added❤️

[chromatic-lamina]

Reposting some older Law and Hearts stuff, working with the ideas of hair plaited in rings.

Like, earrings.

Like four of them. One for each member of Law's family.

Photographs are from the BBC and I originally saw them in this article about Charlotte Bronte's hair braided into a ring.

Brontë's Earrings

In their late teens, Law and Penguin escape Law's life of servitude and punishment under Doflamingo's rule. On a small island far way from anywhere, but still within the warlord's reach, they meet Bepo and Shachi, and Bepo discovers Law's hat is not all it seems to be. OR High-ranking slaves in Marie Geoise and within Doflamingo's crew have their ears pierced twice and sport four hoops of gold. After gaining his freedom, Law continues to wear the fashion of his oppressor, with good reason.

Mind the tags.