#anyway. curly doing curls. how fitting

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Two sets of digital drawings of Curly from Mouthwashing. The first image is three waist-up drawings of him smiling while wearing a dark blue Pony Express hockey jersey with yellow and red accents. The first drawing has him pointing at the back of the jersey where it says "Captain Curly" with a big 01, the second has him crossing his arms, and the third has him giving a thumbs up, showing the front Pony Express logo better.

The second image is three full body drawings of him in different outfits. The first is him in the jersey, brown cargo pants, and his usual boots and belt. The second is him in a light blue western-style button up, jeans, cowboy boots, and his belt. And the third is him in a white David Bowie t-shirt, red and yellow shorts, white crew socks, and light blue sneakers while he curls 50 pound weights. end ID]

~~~~

a customer came into my store wearing a hockey jersey and i was like "whoa that's so curly mouthwashing core" and then i kept doing outfits. i'd like to do the rest of the gang as well at some point

[bat-the-misfit]

with this heat i've been itching to shave my hair again BUT i've been growing it for so long to see how it looks like short but longer than short-short you know? THE AGONY IS KILLING ME

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Prophecy

Viktor x You When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. Contents: fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think (hair colour and freckles), both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa @thefandomsfervent Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

DISCLAIMER: while this, in my opinion, is still classified as an ‘x you’ fic, a few physical features are described, namely ‘you’ having burgundy red hair that is, at one point, described as curly and having freckles, alongside a handful of super vague descriptors (eg. fluttering eyelashes, slope of her nose AKA things that can be applied to any and all faces) - basically everyone in the Arcane show has cool hair so I thought this would be a cute detail. It’s possible to ignore if you don’t want to think about have a different hair colour, but if you don’t want to, don’t read it! Almost every comment on this fic has been relating to this which, when I put hours of hard work and effort into something that I was proud of, is insanely demoralising. There has always been a disclaimer in the contents above, but I’m adding it here as well so it’s as clear as possible. Dead dove do not eat and all that. And I’m always open to constructive criticism, but there’s a way to go about it, and a way that will put someone in a slump for months, so please think before you comment! Anyway, not to put a downer before the work, thank you for the reposts and loves so far ❤️

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, her pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy locks flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, one arm naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close, while the other held firm to his cane, ensuring it was stable for the both of them. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-peice set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated as a shrouded question, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the Lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd, his shoulder cold where her hand had been. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more Lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked onto him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His meticulous fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

***

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - the illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[buckyblogs]

THE LIFE THAT COULD HAVE BEEN…

Summary: The life that Bucky could have had in the 40’s had he not fallen off the train..

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky x 1940sReader!

Word Count: 615 (sorry it’s so short)

Warnings: Reader depicted as having long, curly hair.

MASTERLIST

Bucky’s life was something he was wholly grateful for. After being tested on, and injected with a similar serum to Steve, he ought to be that lucky. He counted himself as the luckiest guy in Brooklyn for what he had. And what he had.. was you. A beautiful dame who caught his eye not long after he and the Howling Commanders captured Arnim Zola. With Steve getting all the attention from every woman passing by from his new-found stature, Bucky felt as though he was invisible.. until you.

You had looked at him. Only him. Paying no attention to the Captain America. Yet you made no advancements to his incessant, and quite obvious, flirting. That is what reeled him in. The mystery of a stunning, charismatic woman. Long hair, beautiful, elegant and soft. Always pinned back slightly with curls escaping. Confident with radiant beauty and smarts, with no concern for others’ opinions. Now that was a woman he had never encountered before. A woman he craved oh so desperately.

That was in 1945. Now, it’s 1949, and Bucky can now call you his doting wife, fit to have a baby soon. You shared a quaint home, just enough for your small family. Fit with a kitchen made for loving meals, a cosy living space, and two bedrooms. One of which would become a nursery once Bucky and Steve were finished renovating it. Steve, having begged to help in any way he could.

Both of the men were grumbling, finishing up the wooden baby crib, fit with gorgeous designs ingrained in the wood boards. When you slowly hobbled into the room, hovering by the doorframe as you watched, holding your belly. Clearing your throat, you get their attention.

“You two still aren’t finished? I thought you were meant to be ultra-strong with the serum. And you two are soldiers for goodness sake.” Although Bucky knows it’s just your usual form of teasing, he still gets a dopey grin when he hears your voice.

“Doll, we’re tryin’ here. This thing is more of a pain than anything in the war.” With his Brooklyn accent slipping through, he continues to do the finishing pieces to the construction.

“Excuses, excuses. Anyway, I made lunch if you boys are hungry.” You scoff playfully, making your way back out of the nursery to sit down.

Bucky scoffs back, but follows you out no less. “Doll, I told you to not do anything. You’re pregnant with my baby. Your job is to take care of the little peanut, not us. I can handle it, yeah? You relax.”

Steve is on his tail, clearly not listening to Bucky, and making a beeline for the food you prepared. Bucky, however, goes over to you, kneeling and resting his hands on your knees.

You sigh, resting your hands atop his. “You’re so dramatic, James. I’m more than capable of making a simple lunch for you two.”

“You shouldn’t have to though, honey. That’s the point. You just sit pretty and relax, I’ll handle everything today.” Bucky smiles, kissing your head.

As Bucky lay in bed that night, you snuggled by his side already asleep, he realised just how lucky he truly was. Had he not been pulled back into the train by Steve, who knows what would have happened? (wink 😉) All he knows is that he wouldn’t trade this life for the world. And he sure as hell will never, ever let anything harm a single hair on your, or his unborn child’s head. He would prove his vows, and be a devoted husband to you, loving you day in and day out. That’s how he wanted it. And that’s how it will be…

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Well, my first piece of writing on here. Apologies if it isn’t the greatest, I haven’t wrote in a very long while 😅. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. Make sure to like and reblog!

[loz-furbies]

Zelda ages based on when their games came out. Welcome to the team EoW Zelda!

Characters and design thoughts under cut:

For starters, I did a similar Zelda piece a few years ago and ran into the problem that I can't really draw anything else than anime teen girls, which is kind of a problem in a drawing where half the characters are above 20 and their age differences are the whole point. And in addition almost everyone is supposed to be royalty with very similar clothes too. But in my defense, in general it can be pretty hard to tell the ages of 25 to 40 year old anime women anyway.

I needed a reference for the body proportions in order to even get started, so I quickly thought "who is an anime woman who doesn't look like a teenager", and used Yor's character sheet for assistance. The younger characters' proportions are a little inconsistent, since I couldn't choose if I would look at realistic growth chart or go with the anime look (where teens and children are often shorter than they would be in real life) so the result is this weird hybrid.

Four Swords (December 2, 2022) & Four Swords Adventures (March 18, 2004) - Chronologically they are different Zeldas even though they use the same promo art/character design, so I used the promo art design for the original FS Zelda and drew the FSA Zelda based on her sprite. There's not much to these designs, they have very little going on in terms of story or personality to use as inspiration and their character design doesn't offer much anything original when compared to the other more well known Zeldas either. Their only distinct element is the big red hair bow, but I thought it would look too childish when they're supposed to be in their twenties here.

Minish Cap (November 4, 2004) - There's not a lot MC Zelda that I could use for inspiration. But then I remembered that a while ago I wrote about how the pointy hat Queen Ambi wears should be used more often, so I thought I should put my money where my mouth is and draw it here, since Zelda does wear a red cap for a couple seconds in MC. In general the MC Zelda and both FS Zeldas are at a little awkward age for this picture, since they're too old for youthful child designs but not really old enough for more mature queenly designs either.

Skyward Sword (November 18, 2011) - Her design is based on her concept design, which I assume is meant to be her casual look and not the ceremonial costume she wears in the game.

Ocarina of Time (November 21, 1998) - I decided that age-wise she makes the cut of when I start using updos. Why do the Zeldas have such similar canon hairstyles anyway, it was surprisingly boring to work with them. Still not sure about the curls though, my fancy dress design artbook that I used for inspiration had so many cute curly hairstyles but I couldn't really use any here because I worried the characters would become unrecognisable. But since OoT Zelda had some curls in her "sideburns" she fell victim here.

Hyrule Warriors (August 14, 2014) - HW Zelda has a distinct enough design from the other Zeldas that it gives a lot of elements to work with, though her age here limits it a little since she's too young for bikini armour. Also because HW is a spin off, I also considered including the Cadence of Hyrule Zelda, but that led to the realisation that it would have opened the doors to CDI Zelda as well. Which I guess would have been fine, but this is already a pretty wide drawing full of adults, so while a Cadence of Hyrule Zelda would have been easy to fit on the front row, I couldn't justify adding even more adults just for the CDI games. So only HW is included because I've played it and actually like it.

Zelda 1 (February 21, 1986) - The original Zelda is at an age where it's a little awkward how there's little difference between her (38 years old) and OoT Zelda (25). But I couldn't think of any anime that would help me as reference here, and I don't think she's old enough to have that "this character is getting old" wrinkle under her eye (you know the one).

Echoes of Wisdom (September 26, 2024) - I think she looks a bit too old here to be a zero-days-old newborn but work with me here.

Breath of the Wild (March 3, 2017) - She's actually at the age where her mum died, poor girl. She's very refreshing to work with since her look is so different from the other Zeldas.

A Link to the Past (November 21, 1991) & A Link between Worlds (November 22, 2013) - Originally I also had the Oracles Zelda in this since she does have a unique design, but then again I consider the Oracles Link to be the same as in aLttP which ought to apply to Zelda as well, plus the design isn't unique in any interesting way and is just a combination of the OoT & aLttP designs, so in the end I just gave the Oracles Zelda sprite's hair buns to aLbW Zelda. Overall having to use the essentially same design for both aLttP and aLbW Zelda wasn't much fun, especially when neither really offers anything notable in terms of story or personality, but at least they're pretty far apart when it comes to age.

Twilight Princess (November 19, 2006) - I haven't played her game so I don't know a lot about her (other than reading the manga which didn't give me anything to work with either) and she's also close to her canon age (?) here so she ended up looking pretty similar to her canon design.

Spirit Tracks (December 7, 2009) - This was a tough one because technically ST Zelda does have a lot of elements to her story and character that could work for a redesign, but not really for the purposes of this picture. Anything train related is more of Link's thing, and anything ghost related doesn't really fit either since she's not supposed to be a ghost at this age. And as for the Phantom, I got the impression that while she learned to appreciate it, she didn't exactly like using it, and that personality-wise she would prefer not to go on another similar adventure. So In the end I just replaced the regular armour parts many Zeldas have in their designs with the Phantom armour and used the ghost palette for the rest of her look, and I kind of like the result. Her personality looks a little out of character though but I couldn't resist the opportunity to draw this with Grandma Tetra.

Wind Waker (December 13, 2002) - I haven't played WW so I'm not sure how accurate this is, but drawing her with the pirate design definitely added some much needed variety to this picture. I really like her twirly hairstyle in canon, but I also really wanted to draw her with short hair, so it had to go. Maybe ST Zelda can style her hair in a twirl when she gets older to compensate?

The Adventure of Link (January 14, 1987) - Really don't know what happened here, not particularly happy with the end result. I prefer to draw the Zelda 2 Zelda with her sprite design because just reusing the OG Zelda design is boring, but I really should have kept it closer to that since now she's practically unrecognisable.

[just-randie]

great gatsby main cast but i attempt to draw them in lackadaisy artstyle

had load of fun working on these and i’m quite happy with how it turned out <3

design notes under cut!! (i wrote these at 1 am)

Myrtle

- i wanted her to have this bright, palette that would grab one’s attention.

- based her on the 1974 movie Myrtle and while i haven’t seen it (yet) i did like her fit there better in terms of adapting it for character design. it seemed to have more personality.

- some dress layers to show how she tries to be high class. layers = this illusion. but yk inequality and all, so it’s still just a dress and not much has changed

- curling fur/hair for that energetic and a bit femme-fatal feel to her

- even made her whiskers curly to convey that better

- chose a calico cat since it adds to the palette i was aiming for while providing a new colour + calico cats are stereotyped to be quite sassy so yeah

- rounded by narrowed eyes + blue eye shadow => link to Daisy with her round blue eyes. Myrtle wanted Tom to choose her.

- shortest character btw

George

- Tabby which links him to Tom’s design (Myrtle has a type lol)

- expanding on point above, i really wanted the viewer to think that if you had placed him in a fancy suit he’d probably be better than Tom, but alas capitalism and inequality

- anyway, his fit is based on the 2013 film one. really wanted that contrast between the light shirt and the brown fur, so that the blue (fuck idk how this piece of cloth is in english fucckkkk) wouldn’t blend with the brown tone-wise.

- + blue kinda compliments the brown, so we have some hue contrast going on

- oh yeah, he gets more colour than Tom because fuck Tom

- ruffled, messy fur cuz he actually has work to do (unlike others) + scar on nose from work as well as the plaster on arm(/paw?)

- tallest character!

Tom

- fuck this man. i took all of his colours and made him pretty desaturated! why? hes a pretentious guy who thinks that high class will absolve him of his wrongdoings. a very bland belief hence he gets no colours >:(

- liked the mustache from the 1974 film, so here it is! whisker follow direction of mustache to emphasize it

- very orange eyes to emphasize the potential for his outbursts + they’re sharp cuz that mf is finding out stuff on Jay

- also groomed spiky fur for same reasons as above

- ring on right paw!

- made him an american short hair cuz ik he’d kill himself if he was anything else /j

Daisy

- i wonder where the green colour palette came from 👀 (green light. shocker!)

- was contemplating whether to give her that fur on her shoulders but since i saw that insane picture of a ragdoll cat that screamed Daisy I NEEDED TO KEEP THE FLUFF OKAY????

- based on 2013 movie (i really liked the head piece)

- throw in some tint of yellow at the bottom of the dress for that link with death symbolism <3

- round(ed) forms of fur + eyes cuz she appears innocent and wants to be seen that way!! the “i hope she’ll be a fool” thing” iykyk

- dress not layered at all like say Myrtle, even tho it has a pattern. she appears as she is: a high class, rich girl. she’s not hiding it. (painfully obvious even tho Jay falls for it)

- red necklace = bright colour = link to Tom’s bright orange eyes. they’re married and have had spent time together that can’t be undone.

- ring on right paw!

Jay

- the classic pink suit seen in so many mediums and media

- rounded diamond like eyes cuz yk while he’s this gentleman, the narrowed eyes do imply that he’s being sneaky about something (oh got his past)

- linking to trying to hide things: high collar!

- torn ear + scar on paw + twisted whiskers from war. (i will forever be annoying about how S. Fitzgerald missed this topic COMPLETELY if not outright wrongly represented it through like one line)

- kinda the 2013 based (i didn’t like the hair being like gelled backwards/neatly styled so here it’s more wavy like that)

- joined fur => tried to imply that softness it would have to show that this guy’s pretty naïve with his obsession over his dream

- taller than Tom (important)

- didn’t give him any specific cat breed but i was looking at a bunch of fawn colored cats for this one. the pictures ranged from elegant to silly, so that, i thought, is fitting

Nick

- what if i told you he’s the second shortest here? (SHORT KING!!!!!)

- but to elaborate this guy has been witnessing everything in the book, so idk short height implies the sneakiness

- the idea for clothing: i kinda borrowed from that wiki page pic on him with the still from 1923 movie. I reallyyyyy liked the hat and the implied light palette of the suit

- speaking of palettes, a tint of green because i’m funny like that

- but also cuz it went well with the palette for the fur i established prior

- the fur thing was crazy to think of. first i thought that he might have some burmese cat energy but then i started on that colour and didn’t like it, so it kinda morphed into my cat’s fur colour but lighter (my cat is my pfp). and yk what? this process makes sense since i believe we don’t get anything at all on his appearance from the book.

- anyway rounded face cuz he tries to appear like unbiased hence tries to look pleasant

- but messy tail tip and pointy ears cuz he does have that bias

- scar + torn ear on brow from war (again, i’m annoyed with Fitzgerald)

- only one to have GREEN eyes cuz i’m funny like that (Jay, this is the only green thing you should be losing yourself in)

- bow tie instead of a tie, to give him that distinction as a narrator

Jordan

- siamese cat. i always associated her with a siamese cat

- big/long ears for the fact that she’s very aware of what’s happening in her surroundings! + narrowed eyes since she’s suspicious of ppl (like Jay) + perked up whiskers as she’s paying attention

- gets gold/yellow elements for that entire metaphor she made about being a bad driver (i would explain my interpretation of this metaphor but these are design notes)

- kind of layered dress. she is quite honest yet she doesn’t fully disclose things. she knows her way around this society

- zig zag tail. again, knows how to maneuver herself in this society, which gives her the independence she has

- blue palette of dress stands out against warmer tones of fur; suggestion of this being something that she barely wears on day-to-day basis

[unsuperingyournatural]

meet the family i

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

series masterlist

The sun is low, casting everything in soft, liquid gold. The grill crackles. Music drifts lazily from a Bluetooth speaker set near the garden wall, and kids tear barefoot through the grass, chasing a soccer ball that keeps veering into folding chairs.

Pedro stands off to the side, talking to an uncle—or pretending to. His attention is entirely on you.

You’re seated in a plastic lawn chair beside a few of his relatives, your plate balanced carefully on your knees. You’re smiling, nodding along to the conversation, answering when you can, laughing when you miss a word but catch the spirit of the joke anyway. Your Spanish is broken, halting, but you’re trying. And no one here seems to mind.

You’d been nervous about this.

He’d felt it during the flight, in the quiet fidget of your fingers, in how long you stared out the window after landing. You’d made a few jokes, but he saw right through them. What if I say something wrong? What if they think I’m rude? You’d been scared of not fitting in, of being too quiet, too foreign. He told you the truth—that they’d love you. That you didn’t have to prove a thing.

Still, when you arrived, he kept close. Steered conversations. Translated where he could. His hand found the small of your back more than once.

That was hours ago.

Now you’re halfway through your meal, mid-conversation, when one of the younger children—a curly-haired girl no older than three—wanders up to you with juice on her chin and a toy dragging behind her.

Pedro watches from a distance as she pauses in front of you, studies you for a second... then promptly climbs right into your lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You freeze. So does he.

Then you carefully set your plate on the table beside you, brushing crumbs from your lap, instinctively adjusting the child as she settles in against you. She starts talking right away, rambling toddler-Spanish like she’s known you forever. You tilt your head, listening closely, repeating a word here and there, nodding with focus. She shifts again and tucks her head under your chin, content. And without even realizing it, you start gently rocking back and forth, your arms curled securely around her.

Pedro just stands there, watching.

And he feels it again. That flicker.

He’s seen the signs. The softness in your eyes during films or the occasional commercial, whenever a scene touched on mothers and children in particular. The way you’d go quiet after. Thoughtful. Once, he saw your lips part like you wanted to say something, then close again.

He’d noticed. And ignored it.

Because by then, he was already in too deep.

When you finally asked him—Do you ever think about having kids?—he told you the truth.

No. Not ever.

And after that, you’d gone still. Not angry, not distant. Just quiet. He felt the shift. It scared him. Because he knew how much you deserved whatever you wanted. How fully. And if part of that ever meant a child of your own, a family, he would never keep you from it. Even if it meant losing you.

Then, a few days later, you were curled on his couch with your knees tucked beneath you, arms looped around his middle as a movie flickered on. And you said it simply, not as a compromise or a sacrifice, but as something you’d already made peace with.

“I always wanted a little girl,” you said gently. “She lived in my head for a long time. I thought maybe one day I’d be lucky enough to have her. And for a while, not having her felt like a void. Like something unfinished. I won’t pretend I don’t still think about it sometimes. I do.”

You paused, your voice softening.

“But somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling like something was missing. It just... faded. I made peace with it. It’s not sadness anymore, it’s just a truth I’ve learned to live with.”

You looked at him then, not with grief, but with quiet strength.

“Would I have loved to see a little girl with your eyes, your smile? Absolutely. I think you’d make a beautiful dad. I’d love to see you with her, dancing in the kitchen, telling her stories, making her laugh. But the life we have? It’s not missing anything.”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. There were no words for the kind of emotion that gripped him in that moment. All he could do was hold you closer.

Now, here you are. A child pressed against your chest, small arms around your neck, your hand resting lightly on her back. You’re quiet, still swaying. And the way you hold her, the calm in your body, the way the little girl fits against you like it’s always been that way... it makes his chest ache.

Not for himself.

For you.

Because there’s something about the image that gets to him. A quiet tug, small and sharp. And in that moment, he lets himself feel it. Just for a breath. Because he sees it clearly—you would have been a wonderful mom. The kind who listens closely, who loves without conditions, who makes space for joy even when no one's watching.

And then the little girl pulls back and says something, giggly and low, too quick for Pedro to catch. But you smile, soft and warm, and answer her in gentle Spanish. You help her down to her feet, take her hand, and let her lead you away from the chairs as the relatives you’d been chatting with watch you go.

He watches you go, something tender tugging deep beneath the surface. And in that quiet moment, he releases the ache. Not because it disappears, but because he no longer questions what either of you have chosen. When he sees you like this—steady and smiling—he understands exactly what you meant. That you’ve already found your peace. And somehow, that gives him his own.

Later, he catches sight of you being good-naturedly heckled by a group of his teenage nephews, one of them dramatically challenging you to a video game rematch. You end up surrounded by laughter and smack talk and glowing screens, their teasing turning to shocked groans as you wipe the floor with them. Pedro can’t help the grin that pulls at his mouth, pride blooming warm in his chest as he watches you hold your own like it’s nothing. You grin, triumphant, basking in the noise and chaos like you were born for it.

How did I get this lucky?

Because it’s not just that you fit into his life. You elevate it. You bring ease to the chaos, laughter to the in-between, and a kind of light that makes everything else feel less heavy. And standing there watching you, Pedro feels it settle in his chest. Not loud, not sudden, but steady. This isn’t luck, he thinks. It’s something deeper. Like the universe gave him more than he ever dared to ask for.

And somehow, it’s you.

[jokerbunn]

Silly Headcanons abt Arthur

𓈈⠀⠀ 𝅄 ⠀᧔◍᧓ ⠀⠀ 𝅄 𓈈

I've been brainrotting abt this man in the past 9 months. (I'm so normal abt him.)

So I'll share some of my useless headcanon of him (if you don't agree, pls do not spread hate. This is just my personal view. If you don't agree, it's definitely fine)

1- He is allergic to tomatoes.

My bro is totally allergic to tomatoes. He can't eat them or come into contact with them.

Which is a shame, cuz Penny likes it.

2- Arthur is a little afraid of birds

Don't ask me why. But I can just FEEL that Arthur is a little bit scared of birds. This man is not afraid of spiders or lizards (His mother is terrified of these things. Every time one of these shows up in their apartment, he takes it out for her.), but put a canary near him and watch the real meaning of discomfort.

3- He is obsessed with curly hair.

He definitely thinks curly hair is beautiful. He would even ask to touch someone's hair. But he is very shy and is afraid of hurting the person.

The only hair he touches is his own and his mother's. They have the same curl. So it's not really a big difference. But I can feel that he thinks afro hair is beautiful.

4- He's bisexual, period.

He doesn't call himself bisexual, obviously. It's the 80s. And Arthur is afraid of sexuality in general. But something tells me, that Arthur likes both men and women. But he doesn't think it's right for him to like men, because that's not the example he has. Arthur is desperate for romance, and all he knows about it is from movies. And in movies at the time, only heterosexual couples were shown. So I think Arthur would feel dirty because of this.

HaHa's has male strippers, and I'd say he's caught himself looking at them from time to time. But he doesn't know if he envies them, wanting to be like them, attractive to women, or if he wants to touch them.

(he wants both.

5- Arthur has dyslexia.

Throughout the movie, we see that Arthur's handwriting is rubbish. And in Joker 2, it is simply proven by himself that he didn't go to high school. However. In the last year of elementary school, you should already be literate and able to write. Which is not the case with Arthur. He doesn't know how to write properly and his handwriting is poor.

People with dyslexia have a peculiar brain functioning for linguistic processing related to reading. Dyslexics have difficulty associating the graphic symbol, the letters, with the sound they represent, and organize them, mentally, in a temporal sequence.

And I think Arthur fits that perfectly.

6- Arthur has level 2 support ASD.

Arthur is (undiagnosed) autistic, and you can't prove me otherwise. (Im autistic myself, so dont come at me☠️✋🏼)

My bro doesn't recognize irony, he's naive, has hyperfocus, do stimming, and doesn't know how to fit in with society, he feels love in a different way, etc.

He is an autistic man with a hyper focus on comedy and Murray Franklin, period.

Anyways, hope u all enjoy!

[kirain]

How I imagine the conversation between Anya and Swansea went.

The dull, scarlet light of the cockpit flickered, the sound of retching echoing off the metal panels. Swansea paused in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. The acrid stench of bile mingled with the sterile tang of burnt wires and coolant stung his nostrils, but he didn't seem to care. He simply watched, waiting for her to finish.

After a moment, Anya wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her body hunched over the waste bin. The fit didn't last long, but it was rough, her heart racing, her mind reeling. When it was over, the large, unsteady man finally approached, and Anya tensed, casting him a fearful glance.

"Swansea?" she wheezed, as if expecting someone else.

"You good?" he asked, his tone flat.

"Y-yeah," she choked, dismissively. "I'm fine. Just a bit too much stress."

"You don't gotta pretend," he muttered, lowering himself into the seat across from her. "Not the brightest guy in space, but I've had enough kids to know prenatal puke when I see it."

Anya's head snapped up, her expression shocked and pale. Her lips parted to deny it, but no sound came out. The silence between them thickened, pressing down like the crushing gravity of the moon they were stranded on.

Then, Swansea leaned back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a half-empty bottle of mouthwash. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig, the minty burn doing little to ease the sourness in his gut. He swirled the liquid in his mouth before swallowing and murmured, "It's Curly's, right?"

Anya's shoulders bucked. She began to cry, a sound so quiet it could've been mistaken for the wind outside—and Swansea flinched. He lowered the bottle, his weathered face softening unexpectedly.

"Aw, hell," he sighed, his voice gravelly but not unkind. "Don't cry. Even a burnt up wreck like him can manage to be a decent dad. You know we got all kinds of medical shit back home, enough to make him... somewhat functional. He can definitely afford the surgeries. It's not the end of the—"

"It's not Curly's," she whispered, cutting him off.

Her voice cracked as she wrapped her arms around herself, desperate for comfort, and Swansea froze, the weight of her words sinking into his chest like a stone. As the bottle of mouthwash dangled in his hand, his gaze sharpened. He studied her, taking in the way her body curled inward, how it shuddered, how her cheeks flushed an almost greenish hue, disgusted and sickly.

A dreadful understanding crept over him.

"Jimmy," he growled, the name heavy with venom. He shot to his feet, his fists clenched. "You mean he—?"

Anya's sobs deepened; louder, exacerbated, despite her best effort to contain them.

"That bastard!" he shrieked. "I'll kill him!"

"No!" Anya panicked, blocking his path. "Don't. Please."

"Why the fuck not?!"

She cringed, her fingers curling. "If you fight him, he might... he might get the upper hand. I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I... I can't handle it."

"But he—!"

"We don't have enough supplies for any more injuries. Swansea, please."

He stared at her, his body trembling with rage, but he suppressed it. Slowly, he forced himself to breathe, then rubbed a hand over his face.

All if his anger gave way to despair.

"We're dead anyway," he said bitterly. "No one's comin' for us. No rescue crew's gonna find us out here before we run out of supplies. Might as well face facts."

Anya didn't respond. She stared at the floor, her tears leaving dark spots on the dusty metal. He was right, and she knew it. They all knew it. For a long while, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the distant hum of failing systems, until Swansea broke it with a heavy groan.

"I've been keeping somethin' from you," he said. "Well, not just you. From everyone."

Anya looked up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his. "What?"

"One of the cryopods survived the crash," he admitted. He gave her a chance to react, but she didn't. "One. The rest are either fried or buried under foam. I've been saving it for Daisuke."

Anya blinked, her confusion palpable. "Why for Daisuke and not yourself?"

"He's the youngest. The strongest. Got the best chance of makin' it." His voice lowered, a mix of envy and compersion. "And he's got a good life to go back to. A mom that loves him, money out the wazoo. We ain't got none of that. Seemed... seemed right. Whatever the fuck 'right' means, anyway."

Anya frowned, her brow furrowing. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Dunno," Swansea shrugged, the motion almost helpless. "Just felt like I should, given the circumstances."

"I see." Anya swayed, processing his words.

Then he chuckled dryly, though there was no humour in it. "If you wanna fight me for it, you can. You'd probably win. Like you said, upper hand and all that. My back's shit. My knees are shot. I'm too old and too broken to—"

"I have nothing to fight for," Anya interrupted, her hand subconsciously moving to her stomach. "Nothing."

Swansea's eyes followed her movements, wincing as her nails pierced her skin through her suit. He said nothing, only nodding as he reached out, offering his bottle of mouthwash.

She shook her head. "There's not enough alcohol," she said hollowly. "I'd throw it up before it could do any damage."

He pulled the bottle away, and again they stood in silence, the unspoken hanging heavy between them. After a while, he took another swig, his throat tightening against the burn.

"What about Jimmy?" he asked, his teeth bared.

Anya hesitated, cupping her chin. "He'll destroy himself eventually. People like him always do."

Swansea scoffed in agreement, though his jaw remained tight. "If he tries anything with you again—or Daisuke—he's done. I don't care what he does to me."

Anya nodded, her expression grim but grateful. "No. I understand completely. If that's how it has to be—"

Suddenly, the doors slid open with a shiver, and Jimmy entered, taken aback by the sight of them.

"Hm? Oh, it's you," Swansea huffed, crossing his arms.

"Jimmy!" Anya squeaked, wiping her eyes. She was startled, but quickly composed herself. "Not able to sleep either?"

"It's 'nighttime'," he groused. "Why are you talking this late?" His tone was acerbic, his eyes drifting to the woman. "...Anya. Are you crying?"

"No, don't worry. I'm okay," she sniffed, her only solace Swansea's watchful presence.

"We all need to keep it together," he hissed, oblivious to their schemes.

"Oh, I'm keepin' it together," Swansea said, his voice as sober as it had ever been. "Don't you worry, Captain."

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

How do you see the marauders characters? Like a short description of looks? Eg; race, height, hair type, unique facial features, anything rly

oo omg. i wanted to do one of these for so long bc i saw it umm long post ahead !! this is only marauders + lily bc it was long 😓

james - either pakistani or half pakistani, half english, dark skinned, 6'0-6'1-ish, dark brown/black curly hair (falls straighter as he grows older). thin face, noticeable jaw, stubble, straight nose, arched eyebrows. acne scars !!!!!! thick lashes i think would be one of his defining points, like full lips and his deep voice gg. he's so hot, god.

sirius - very pale, very tall. 6'4, english, black curly hair. it grows out through his hogwarts years and by the time he's sixteen it reaches his mid-back when straight (wet), but that's when he runs away and buzzes it. he's bottle blonde for a while my king 😌🩷. i think there's so much that's eye catching about him - very eerily light grey eyes, glass skin, cupids bow, defined collarbones, his height, piercings, posture, accent, aristocratic superiority. he has a lithe figure, i don't imagine him to be as muscle-y as james, but he's fit and has good core strength. long finger nails, he got into habit of painting them as a teenager but always chipped them doing garage work. soft skin except of his hands because, again, garage work. i love him smm ack. oh also he has one dimple on his left cheek, it's the only thing that isn't symmetrical and it pisses him awf.

remus - yellowish skin, brunette, 5'9-ish, big eyes and thin lips. acne acne acne, big hands and feet, big, crooked nose, crooked teeth, thin brows, loose skin, stretch marks. his most recognizable feature is, of course, his scars - on his face, neck, chest. i like to occasionally imagine him as half blind because umm yes, but not always (it's hard to write). he also has a limp but it's okay bc he has hips for daysss !!

peter - so hot. strong features, button nose, heart shaped lips, acne, blonde. 5'4-ish, blonde curls, thin blue eyes, physically strong, light tan, frown lines. stocky, he's built well w a layer of fat over it. usually clean shaven but he tried (and failed) to rock a mustache. his most recognizable is the fact that he has prehistoric face i fear, and after living as a rat for so long it's how his face is disfigured bc... well, he lived as a rat for so long.

lily - 5'6, dark red hair, freckles, green eyes. face card is lethal, body is so tea. she had a well maintained hourglass, which turned less soft and more muscle-y, and then after having harry she never really lost the weight (it wasn't a priority, anyway) because she #died. pimples, long nails, her most recognizable feature is her eyes, of course. she also loves lip glosses so she's always wearing that !! her hair is slightly wavy and she loves having it blowdried, it was long in her childhood and she cut it to her ears in third year, and only started growing it out after hogwarts.

[rebouks]

Robin’s first day at school after the winter holidays was just like any other; painful, overwhelming, and slightly boring.

There was a myriad of reasons he didn’t want to be here, but Oscar and Courtney were adamant it was somehow important-.. and mandatory, so Robin didn’t have a choice. They’d become immune to his avoidant shenanigans over time too, no longer were they so easily fooled, even when he’d made himself sick on purpose.

 He’d given up eventually, the worried glances they’d exchange each morning proving to be as tiresome as school itself. Pretending to be fine was better than being shipped off to some snooty shrink again; one who wouldn’t believe him anyway, who couldn’t even imagine the nonsense he was subject to on a daily basis, despite their fancy certificates hanging behind their fancy desks.

Robin was completely mute whilst at school, save for the odd whisper to Jude or sometimes Jacob, if necessary-.. but never Juniper. She was too condescending with her concern and far too obvious. He wanted to fade into obscurity, not be thrust into the limelight by an overzealous cousin trying to do the “right” thing by speaking on his behalf.

He’d resorted to telling her off in the end, her lip quivering as he explained how she was only making things worse. Robin wasn’t sure what had surprised her more, the fact that he was so vehemently opposed to being defended, or that he’d spoken to her at all. She’d acquiesced though, so that was something.

The only person he spoke to properly was nurse Wiles, or Silvia, as she insisted at this point. The cacophony of voices and Robin’s general disdain for being trapped in this hellish building for six hours a day usually resulted in a pounding headache and a disgusting, dissolvable aspirin; he was her most frequent visitor, discounting the child that was practically allergic to everything in sight.

He kept to himself as much as he could, scrawling out enough work to avoid being pulled up and listening to music wherever he could. He had a solid collection of tiny I-pod shuffles and headphones by now, enough to rotate between classes as they inevitably wound up being seized by exasperated adults.

His favourite deception were the decoy headphones, their obnoxious size drawing immediate attention and victorious confiscation. He’d huff and hand them over in defeat, only to thread a smaller more inconspicuous pair beneath his shirt and tuck them under his thick, curly mop as soon as their backs were turned; they were none the wiser, content with their perceived punishment. Robin thought teachers were supposed to be smart…

Though Robin’s long tangle of curls were useful in some ways, they also drew their fair share of unwanted attention. As if being provoked, shoved, tripped, and called “Mutey” wasn’t enough, he was often referred to as a girl, particularly by the other boys.

He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hilarious, or why it never got old, especially since it was painfully obvious by now that he didn’t give a shit. He was used to being the proverbial punching bag. Being as different as he was obviously made him an easy target, almost as though he had a bullseye permanently woven into the fabric of his jumper.

He’d surmised that they had their reasons for picking on him though; some had parents who were just as cruel, some had none at all, some were desperate to fit in, and some were just too stupid to know any better.

Either way, Robin had decided a long time ago that he’d rather they mithered him with their so-called bullying than risk upsetting some poor schmuck who wasn’t privy to the concealed insecurities that diluted their venomous words and wicked laughter.

Most of Robin’s classes were raucous, yet dull. He could barely hear himself think over the combined clamour of diligent workers and class clowns, and since he could usually glean the answers to any questions from his classmates or the teachers themselves, he never saw much point in trying.

He knew it probably wasn’t great to miss out on the “working out” part of the work, but it was too hard to concentrate even if he’d wanted to. Oscar always helped him with his homework after dinner anyway, so a least he wasn’t going to end up completely lacking in the brain cell department-.. hopefully.

Swimming lessons and PE weren’t so bad, but art was his favourite class of all. Most people got too caught up in what they were doing to daydream noisily or obsess over potentially incorrect answers. There was no right or wrong when it came to creation, and Robin was actually good at drawing, painting, or whatever else his sticky fingers fancied throwing together.

His art teacher even let him wear his headphones during class too, so he’d get to sit at the back of the room in a blissful cocoon of loud music and pencil shavings, wishing every period were this laid back.

All in all, school was utter shite; and at the end of each terrible day when the bell finally rang, Robin was beyond glad that it was over.

Previous // Next

[luq-s1m0ns]

I’m tempted to make a Yan Animox x PJO fanfic soooo, yeah. I’ll edit this later to show y’all the first snippet.

(draft snippet:

“Birdie.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Simon groaned, flipping over on his side—if he ignored the voice long enough, it’d disappear, right?

“Birdie, wake up.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He shut his eyes tighter, hugging his pillow as he shoved his face in it, trying to muffle out the voice.

“Birdie, i know you’re awake.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He groaned, opening his eyes as he turned his head, “What, Castellan?” He said.

The nineteen-year-old leaning against the fire escape scoffed, still rapping on the window in protest, “Open the window, blondie, i’m starving.”

“No one told you to run away from home, Luke,” Simon sighed with no heat—too tired to care at the reoccurring stray he’s been feeding for almost three years. Flipping his blankets off, he reluctantly opened the window, “You, sir, are a quintessential stray.” He said and held out his hand to the black-haired older.

Luke smirked, taking the hand as he slipped into Simon’s room. The window shutting behind him, “If only i knew what that means, but thanks, Si,” after looking around at the room, he added, “New sketches?” Nodding over to the sketches stuck to Simon’s walls around his room.

Simon smiled softly, “Yep.”

Luke hummed and pulled one off, admiring the sketch as they walked to the kitchen. He stumbled and hoisted himself up on the chair while Simon grabbed some leftovers from the fridge.

“Hope you like tandoori chicken.” He muttered tiredly.

“You’re really good at art, Birdie.”

The younger shrugged, “I guess i am.” He put it in the microwave and turned back to the fridge, “Orange juice?”

“Yeah sure,” Luke smiled, tracing a finger over the sketch—careful not to smudge the lead. It was a drawing of two boys, one older and one younger, “This one looks like me,” he joked.

“That is you, Lu.” Simon snorted, pouring him a cup, “It’s a drawing of us.”

Luke grinned, feeling a sense of belonging for once after he ran away, “Can i keep it?”

Simon nodded and took out the chicken, “eat up.” He mused with no humor, “if you wanna take a shower, use Darryl’s old clothes.”

“I can take them?” The older said, his voice raising a note as he carefully folded the page and put it his pocket and looked back up.

“Why not. He can’t fit in them anymore anyways.”

Luke grinned and hugged Simon, “Just— thank you.” He choked.

Simon yawned, patting him on the back, “okay, get off me.”

“And, you ruined the moment. You’ve ruined it, Birdie. How could you.” Luke pouted, leaning back as he stared at his chicken instead.

Simon snorted, “It’s just a hug, Luke.” He paused and walked over to hug him properly, before going back to bed.

Luke watched as he walked away while he ate his chicken. When he could no longer see him, he finished his food, washed his plate and freshened up.

As he combed through his wet curly hair, he thought about how easy it was talking to Simon. He fished out the folded drawing and traced a finger dry finger on his and Simon’s smiles. His eyes caught the drawing of his scar, and he looked at the mirror, frowning as he slid finger over it—he let out a dry laugh and folded it back, walking to Simon’s room.

There, Simon was splayed on the bed, his limbs spread out under his blanket with his blonde hair sticking out in different directions. Luke’s heart swelled and he sat down beside the boy, running a calloused hand through the soft, blonde curls Simon had.

Finally, he had something he could call his.

His little brother.

BYEEE, (and yes Leo and Drew will forever be Winter and Simon in another life in my eyes, just look at it—them, I mean. Do you see my vison?)

Side note: I’m sick and therefore will be bedrotting like the sick teen I’m allowed to be

Edit: AHAH, i did it after procrastinating for so long! Any thoughts? I’ll post the final version soon when i’m done

[vhyunjinverse]

PRINCE !

choi soobin x black!f reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated!

somewhat like Bridgerton if that helps !

warnings: semi-public fucking, prince!soobin, tears, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

“Have you seen him? He looks like he’s never even felt the touch of a woman!” Came a voice from afar. A group of young ladies gathered like others in the ball room.

A chuckle in your ear

“He’s a beautiful one- the prince- no matter how…much he talks about random things. I mean really, who cares about the flowers outside? He sat there for ages telling me about the soil and whatnot!”

“There wasn’t a thought behind her eyes.”

“My mother wants him to court me, I’m doing my best. I’d make a great queen! The prince looks lost most of the time anyways..if I play my cards right, I could get him to fall in love with me.”

“That’s impossible.”

Idiots. All of them. None of them really knew the prince because they had one goal in mind: to be courted by the prince.

Another group of ladies talked differently about him. Calling him intelligent, some who actually took time to know him. Though, it still did not matter, because they wanted him all the same.

“Do you hear that..” breath fanning against your face. Your eyes blurry, barely focused on the sight in front of you. A chuckle from behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. “Can you hear that nonsense they speak of?”

“Y..es…” You gasp, eyes shutting briefly before opening again to the sight. You could hear everything. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. They all want me in some way that i can’t see myself being in. It’s difficult..being a prince-“ He shudders, “-so much to do, so many people to talk too. Yeonjun hyung said that it’s not as bad as being a knight, did you know that they have to train-

“Soobin.” You suck in a breath, hand curling into his. His movements stopping, cock twitching inside of you. “Are you really going to talk about that..now of all times?”

“No- ..no, of course not.” He blushes, lips brushing your bare shoulders. His thumb rubs over your swollen nipple, where his mouth sucked on just moments before. You felt sensitive everywhere, his touch like fire. It wasn’t everyday just anyone was with the prince like this..having sex without being married- the Prince, of all people. “Shit..” he whines.

The thought made your pussy throb, his cock twitching in response. He fucked you in a private hall used mostly by servants to enter and exit rooms. They weren’t known to anyone outside of those intended to use it, and boy..did he use them.

In public, you were another girl to court. Not just any girl, though. You were special, to Soobin that is. When he first laid eyes on you last season his breath had been taken away in an instant. Your dark curly hair, brown eyes. Your curves in the fitting light dress you sported, jewelry placed beautifully, everything about you was perfect. He wanted you. He was a nervous thing though, only watching you from afar..by the time he talked to you, the season was over. But that didn’t stop him from being first of everything for you, and vise versa.

“Feel so good..” He groans into your ear, tugging at your nipple while he fucked you from behind. And no one suspected a thing, no one hearing your small whimpers and whines while being fucked by the future king. His other hand held your dress, rolled up at your hips. Loud smacking sounds from your bodies connecting. “so good..”

His mouth fell open, head tilting back. Your hips rolling, his thrusts getting harder. Now, there were questions as to where the Prince was. It was strange for the man who looked lost all the time to actually be lost.

“S-Soobin…” You whine, feeling that familiar warmth in your stomach. Your cunt throbbed around his length, thrusts sloppier and so much harder. He was close. “Fuck!” Your fingers reach back for him, hand on his stomach- anything to steady yourself.

“What will they say when they find out about this hm? F..Fucking in the secret passages. They don’t even know i’m courting you this season cause i’m too busy being inside of you to show them-“ He groans lowly, your legs shaking. Gushing slick trailed down your thighs. A smack to your ass sent you back to reality. Courting-

“m’gonna cum!” you squeal, his hand covering your mouth as a low groan slipped from his. Together you both stilled your movements. Biting his lip to hold back his moans while his hand covered yours. That didn’t stop your teary eyes from overflowing. Pleasure shooting through your body, feeling his seed fill you.

By the time you both return to the dance floor, everyone knew the Prince chose you. The moment he grabs your hand, his flustered smile. While you danced together…by the time Soobin asked you for your hand, the seed was already planted inside of you. You said yes, of course, Princess.

[lightfeltmemories]

black!reader finds out feitan's hair is actually naturally curly

kind of a small thing when you find out that feitan actually has curly hair naturally and... it's kind of cute :3 this is based off the fact that when curly hair while its straight is exposed to steam and water it curls up ;)

also, spoilers! if you haven't caught up with the manga and especially read chapter 396 then don't read this (the curly hair thing isn't made up btw look it up!) and please do not come in my comments asking "why is the reader specifically black shouldn't this be for everyone!!!??" first of all go to literally any other feitan x reader fanfic on here then you can see content geared towards you and second it makes more sense for the reader to be black so hush.. anyway

tags; x black!fem!reader, this is kinda short less than 500 words so if you want something novel long then idk what to tell you, non yandere feitan, soft-ish feitan (you know how he is), definitely self indulgent don't judge, nothing bad happens tbh it's pretty fluffy and just normal couple stuff honestly but there are very brief mentions of torture and murder and that's all, feitan uses your conditioner xD

------------------------------------------------------------------------

you were currently in the kitchen making dinner while feitan was in the shower, before you met him he didn't shower very often, he always had either a metallic smell of blood or straight up rotting human flesh and it smelled horrible, so, you had to talk him into taking showers at least once a week, you were practically begging this man.

and to your surprise, he actually listened.

it had been only about half a year since you both decided to officially start dating, at first you were a bit nervous that he might torture and eventually kill you like everyone else, but that time hasn't come yet, he's actually a tad bit more open with you than he is anyone else, he's more open to your touch, he'll tease you, purposefully hide things you always use just to see you look for them, you learned that he is quite playful.

dinner was almost done and you heard the water shut off in the bathroom meaning feitan was done with the shower.

you decided to fix his dinner first and yours last so that he can come out with his food already out and ready for him, he had been in the shower for about 40 or so minutes while his food was out and ready for less than 10.

you go in the hallway to check on him and you see him walk out with a tower wrapped around his waist, showing off his fit body, for such a small guy it looked as if he lived at the gym.

but that wasn't what surprised you.

what surprised you was the fact that his hair wasn't straight anymore, he had tight, wet curls!

feitan looked at you, confused by your shocked face.

"what?" he asked you.

walking over to him to feel his wet hair, it was soft... and oddly smelled of your conditioner.

"first of all, i didn't know you had curly hair! and second, did you use my conditioner?"

feitan shrugs at the questions. "maybe i did use your conditioner." he says, walking to the shared room, smiling and closing the door behind you.

"well, hurry it up in there because your dinner is ready!"

[candycorncremator]

Unfortunately lower visual quality than I wanted be because Tumblr only allows 10 images so I smushed them into three canvases instead of two post. Anyway beta trolls Headcanon and some thoughts below the cut.

Aradia

Aradia is the design I probably have the most experience drawing of the beta trolls purely because of how many zines I’ve drawn her in the last year. I like thinking of her hair similar to Pinkie Pies’ in g4 of mlp, where it’s very curly bouncy in her alive and godtiered forms but straightens out more when she’s ghosting up the place and in Aradia-bot form. I didn’t realize until a recent zine I had been drawing her horns ways too low for comic accuracy but I am a creature of habit so I keep drawing them like that.

Tavros

I’ve grown to love this kid because of my recent reread but I do not like drawing them. Between the Mohawk and the long, straight horns, I don’t care to draw their most important traits so he unfortunately only gets drawn in these group drawings. As for the one ear being pierced, it’s kinda a reference to cow tags but also I think it just fits them.

Sollux

Sollux a pretty easy character to design. I just have to imagine a greasy nerd kid growing up too fast for him to put on weight, add his troll bits and voila. The snake bites are definitely a hold over from the humanstuck I made for him last year but I think it just kinda add to his whole vibe. The undershirt comes from someone who also sits in a hot-ass room most of my days and will wears a second layer so leaving the room won’t feel like stepping out into a frozen wasteland.

Karkat

Karkat for me has always been short and stout guy. Other than that most of his facial features are taken from me, being someone who also over exaggerates their faces and nearly always is squinting a little.

Nepeta

Between all my designs of Nepeta the only thing that ever changes with any consistency is her hair. Like giving her cleft lip scar because I gave it to my fan-descendent of her and it’s cute.

Kanaya

Like two months ago I saw a post on here saying give that girl a nose (in reference to Kanaya) and it was the single most true HC I have ever seen. I also like completely throw out any references I have of her when I draw her hair because I think she should have 1930’s waves and curls. I typically only have to draw the super simple eyes so the only thing I had to change was giving her actual eyes.

Terezi

Got pretty comic accurate but probably would erase some of the chin to imply she’s fat a little better if I wasn’t doing this more rigid style.

Vriska

Also pretty comic accurate with the exception of the snake bites which is probably because I don’t draw her a lot and I don’t think about her much enough looks wise to have any specific head canons.

Equius

Goodness his hair gave me a struggle, kept on looking like a balding metal head until I added the pushed back stuff. Also returned back to drawing pseudo animal ears by giving him horse ears only angle to better fit a humanoid head.

Gamzee

I hate their make-up but every thing else about drawing them is a dream; goat ears, not straight hair, simple horns, silly little guy. What more could I ask for.

Eridan

And I’m almost done but unfortunately this doofus is next and requires the most detailed bust even in canon. Due to drawing them in this year’s 413 countdown I know how I like styling their hair and fins so I basically just chop the hair up since this is suppose to be during comic hcs and then follow their canon and Pesterquest designs with a few added features and boom. I was drawing everyone with the dark grey lips but I forgot for Eridan so I’ll just say they use concealer on their lips.

Feferi

Yippee! Back to ignoring canon and just giving her the biggest eyes on account of her glasses and cute piercings. I originally based her fins off of lion fish fins but they’re definitely more based off of betta ventral fin now.

[rain0tes]

(Happy you like the Goose!Hacker!Reader idea. And here's how I picture the interaction with Sir Pent goes.)

Reader: And yeah, all you need to do is close this line with a curly brace, and the computer should do the rest of the work for you. See? Congratulations, Pent. You just printed your first 'Hello, World!' Going from steampunk into the digital age. You're a natural at this!

Sir Pent: *Eyes widening* A-am I?

Reader: Sure? Anyway... I'll bring some 'Python for dummies' books up for you to read. I think that programming language would be very... fitting for you.

*A week later, the airship is being filmed flying over Hell. Shooting its death ray everywhere.*

Sir Pent: AH HAHAHA! COWER IN FEAR DENIZENS OF HELL! COWER, AT MY LATEST INVENTION! FOR I, THE GREAT SIR PENTIOUS, HAVE ENTERED A NEW AGE OF TECHNOLOGY!

Cherri: Okay Edgelord. But that won't make any difference, it'll still just be me versus you and your little egg minions.

Sir Pent: AH, that's where you're wrong, Missy! For I, have a new allie!

Cherri: *Chuckling* Oh really? WHO would want to team up with YOU?

Sir Pent: I'm glad you asked. BEHOLD! For I, Sir Pentious, future overlord and ruler of Hell, have teamed up with none other than the mysterious anonymous Hacker Demon, READER! *Holding up a photo of him and Reader holding up twin peace signs and a piece of paper with 'Hello, World!' printed on it.*

Cherri: Wait... You... and the Hacker Demon?

Sir Pent: Jealous? I know them personally, we're close, in fact. They even entrusted me with their secret identity! With their genius and generosity to help me, I'll be unstoppable! Thanks to them, my defenses are impenetrable! My death ray is far more powerful than before! Soon, we'll be able to take over all seven rings of Hell! TOGETHER!

*Hacker!Reader slowly curls into a ball of shame as Sir Pent continues to describe what will happen when 'they' take over Hell together, more embarrassed by what's going on than all of Hell now knowing their face.*

*Vox is pissed as he watches it all happen on TV. He watches as his ship with Hacker!Reader, TelePrograms, is no longer trending, and the new Sir Pentious and Hacker!Reader ship, PythonCoding, now is.*

OH MY GOD, THE SHIP NAMES HAD ME CACKLING THEY'RE SO CREATIVE.

I don't actually have anything to add to this, but oml😭 thank you, nonnie. I'll giggle about this as I fall asleep tonight.