#as much as I love it dearly I struggle to design clothes

[randomarttalent]

Pie's family redesigns + Family tree

Original posts, info and links down below

Maud "Slate" Pie + Mudbriar "Walnut"

Maud "Slate" Pie I've kept Maud mostly the same all over, her pallet and color scheme are already good in my taste. She now has spots to match Pinkie but also as a hint to her special talent, as I wanted it to look like an opened geode. I didn't like that her cutie mark was only just a rock, it didn't say a single thing about her special talent. Now it says a bit more, showing off that she can find true beauty under what others might just see as a rock.

She wears her normal dress, as I didn't see a reason to change it. I've however added a small bracelet, which has different beads, to represent her sisters. As she might not show or say it much but she loves them all dearly.

Mudbriar "Walnut" I've darkened his pallet a little, more so his overall design didn't end up too light or dark. I've given him cloven hooves and a long tail, as I see him from a family of mixed unicorn and earth ponies. His markings are like branches/roots of trees, showing his connection to the trees. Same story for his cutie mark as Maud's, it was too simple for what his special talent is. So I've added a book but it's standing by its opening, as a small hint to tents, as he travels to examine trees, learning about as many as he can and writing it down for others to read.

Mudbriar now wears a travel backpack, which is for his travels. He doesn't wear much else, as he doesn't see the need to.

Gilda "Glory" + "Shady" Limestone Pie

Gilda"Glory" I've darkened her whole pallet and added some markings. As she's a mountain lion + tiger in this AU. Her design hasn't been changed much, I've added some jewelry but not much else.

"Shady"Limestone Pie Limestone's pallet is mostly the same, its his patterns that darken his look. Lime is trans in my AU, as his anger issues were caused by him not feeling whole/as he should be. His cutie mark has been changed to a broken opened geode, with lime-green stone, which resembles a lime.

He has a few pricings and wears a his band's t-shirt, which says ROAD KILL, Gilda also has one but she mostly wears it to his concerts, showing her support.

 Trouble Shoes + Marble "Droplet" Pie

Trouble Shoes I've made Trouble Shoes slightly darker and added a few lighter strips to his mane and tail. He also now has a beard, which to those who don't know him, makes him look even more scary than before. For his cutie mark I wanted something more than just "bad luck". He of course still struggled to find out what he was meant to do, as he thought the clown nose and wig was some cruel joke the world did to him.

As for his clothing, I went with a nice jacket, kept his hat and his weeding ring.

Marble"Droplet"Pie Marble's pallet has mostly stayed the same, only receiving slight changes and the usual markings that come along with my redesigns. Her cutie mark now shows off how well she makes jewelry with the beautiful gems they find in Appleloosa. To me, her cutie mark never told a single thing about what she was to do, it said marble but what else? So now, she's a crystal collector and seller.

The clothing she wears is a simple shawl, her weeding ring, a few earrings, a few flowers from her middle oldest son, a sun anklet to represent her oldest son and a small bat wing hair tie to represent her youngest son. 

[try02line]

The Owl House: Charis!AU

Context: the Wittebane brothers get tragically separated in their youth. One is thrown abruptly in the future, while the other remains stuck in the past, how will this change their story?

Two posts in two days in a row? I really am in Hyperfixation-

ANYWAY

here we are with Caleb Wittebane, or at least, his design at the beginning in of my (and @magpieddd ) AU, the Charis!AU.

Let’s now talk about the design.

- Contrary to Hunter and Philip, I do not have too much to say about the clothing department, as this is heavily inspired by the absolutely amazing and inimitable art of @bananadramaaa . I think the art style and design this artist uses for the wittebro is absolutely unmatched, and the small comics they have blessed us with are one of the main reasons that pushed me not only into my wittebane hyperfixation, but also gave me the inspiration needed to start this whole AU (something I really needed as I was struggling a bit from a creative point of view before this). So thank you sosososo much and love your art dearly!

- In a similar fashion as Philip, I tried to make the clothing look old and worn out

- I also decided to add some red touches, because I find it very interesting how all the most important people to Caleb tend to be associated with the color red (Philip when he was a child, Evelyn and Flapjack)

- I placed Hunter and Caleb side by side, specifically to remark their similarities as well as their differences. This because, for how similar they may appear at a first glance, the more you look, the more they truly appear for whom they truly are, different and unique individuals!

- for the similarities: due being of similar age and one the grimwalker of the other, they share many traits! Their height and body structure are lowkey identical, they share extremely similar facial features, and also their hair is of similar color and tends to grow in a similar manner. They look, at least, closely related.

- For the differences (my favorite part): we can easily pinpoint of course the scar, the different eye color and the ears’ shape, but there is more to it! Caleb, although partially hidden by the baggy clothes, is noticeably slimmer than Hunter due to living in more precarious situation, where scarcity of food was not uncommon. I also used a warmer color palette for Caleb than for Hunter. This because I wanted to make Caleb look less threatening and more- well, human! Warm colors tend to be associated with comfort and familiarity, making Caleb appear more welcoming regardless of his expression. Hunter, on the other side, has a cooler color palette. This is meant to represent his role as a merciless soldier, and give him a more outwardly and witchy appearance. He is not welcoming and is not someone to mess up with, he is threatening and being in his presence should make you feel uneasy at least on some level.

This should be all for now, I hope I can come up with a new design or illustration soon!

Have a lovely day 🦊

[eoieopda]

I’m back again actually with one more request 😔😔

Jungkook:

^^^ this is actually the artist whose name I snatched for most of my online personas lolol

The entire album is banger, but this song is what introduced me to him. ^^

🤍🤍🤍

um, i made myself sad? anyways, here’s this! it doesn’t exaaaaactly follow the lyrics, but it’s what my brain conjured when i listened to this. i hope it’s okay 😵‍💫

listen here.

hey, old friend / hope to see you again / someday when the seasons change / i don’t mind a little wait / as long as i can pretend that i’m okay

It’s been exactly a year since you left home.

With 365 days between you and Busan, you’re still waiting for that bittersweet taste to leave your tongue. There’s a small, sad part of you that wants to dive headfirst into that pit of nostalgia in your chest; to swim down, all the way home to that city by the sea. The rest of you accepts reality: when your life calls you elsewhere, you have to pick up the phone.

Unlike a year ago, when you walk into your apartment this time, you’re not struggling to balance more boxes than you should’ve reasonably expected to carry at once. It’s not dark, it’s not empty, and there’s no longer a bare floor creaking under your unanticipated weight. Now, it’s home, filled with all your best-loved belongings.

Well, most of them. Somehow, there’s still an odd box or two tucked away, yet-unpacked.

On the walls hang framed prints of your very first designs: the awkward silhouettes you dreamed up as a kid, and the disproportionate people you’d drawn wearing them. The sketches flow across the wall in chronological order, reminding you how much your skills have improved over the years. At the end of the line, there’s proof in the form of a poster.

Your past self would never believe it, but your persistent inability to draw hands did not preclude you from showcasing your work at Seoul Fashion Week.

With your heels now off your feet and in your hands, you pad down the hall to your bedroom. The second you cross through the doorway, you make a beeline for your closet, flicking on the light switch next to the door before addressing that, too. Shoes returned to their meticulously organized, color-coded rack, you move on to a more daunting task: unzipping yourself from the dress you struggled immensely to zip in the first place.

It takes multiple minutes of twisting, turning, and contorting, but you finally manage to reach the zipper hiding between your shoulder blades. When you finally wiggle free of it, the dress falls into a puddle at your feet. Quickly, you bend to grab it. You promptly hang it in the “to be dry-cleaned” section of your closet, to be swiftly replaced with pajamas.

As you turn to walk back into your bedroom, a cardboard box catches your eye. It sits on the top shelf next to out-of-season outfits in vacuum-sealed bags. Visibly out of place among your artfully curated clothes, it’s a bit worse-for-wear — especially after the four-hour drive from its first home.

It takes less time to stack two hard-top suitcases on top of one another, climb on top of your haphazard pile, and pull the box down than it did to win the fight against your zipper. You waste no time in shooting a glare over your shoulder at the antagonist hanging remorselessly behind you.

Impatient as always, you drop to the floor and sit cross-legged with the box in front of you. Unlike every other box you’d moved with to Seoul, this one isn’t labeled in your chicken-scratch hangul. A little mystery, you open it cautiously as if its contents might bite.

Inside are the little trinkets you’d forgotten you’d kept: theatre ticket stubs, loose bits of confetti you’d saved from various concerts, photo booth picture strips with people you hadn’t seen or spoken much to since you left. Your heart twinges as you take in their faces. All of you had grown up and apart since you sat there, squished together and smiling.

There’s one artifact in particular that makes your heart flip. Sitting at the very bottom of the pile is the cell phone you thought you’d lost — one you apparently packed, but assumed was gone forever. As soon as you got to Seoul, you’d replaced it, but none of your data survived the switch over.

In a flash, you scramble to your feet and scurry out of your closet into your bedroom. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you vault yourself onto your bed and you don’t stop crawling until you get to the nightstand on the other side. Within seconds, you slot your new charger into your old phone. You wait with bated breath for signs of life.

It takes an eternity to finally turn back on, but once it does, your old phone screams at you for the multiple software updates you’d missed over the last year. You ignore those notifications, but there’s one you can’t.

A missed call and a voicemail received at some point during your drive north.

There’s no way to describe the feeling in your chest. Halfway between a thunderclap and an electric shock, it forces out a gasp, nonetheless.

Jeon Jungkook.

You’d gotten into a fight the month before you left, and just like that, years of friendship went up in smoke. He was angry at you for leaving him when he needed you; you’d cried because he didn’t seem to care what you wanted. It was messy and it broke your heart in two.

You never told him precisely why his lack of support stung so fucking bad.

By the time you piled your life into the trunk of your car, neither one of you had apologized for the cruel shit you’d said. His contact information was gone in a few hours’ time, and you never heard from him again.

Or so you thought.

Hey, it’s me. I — uhhh — I know you’re on your way out of town, and that I’m way too fucking late with this, but I can’t let you go like this. I can’t let you go, period. Not — not the way that sounds. I’m not trying to prohibit you from going anywhere. I mean that I — Fuck, I should’ve written out a script or something…. This isn’t going well, is it? Anyways, I miss you. I’ve been missing you this whole fucking month. And I really am happy for you — proud of you. Most of all, I’m sorry for being so fucking selfish. I just — call me when you get there, okay? Call me, and then I’ll know we’re okay. That we can be okay. I, uh… I love you. Drive safe.

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

• Selfshiptember, Day 1; First Meeting

ship; tomjesse/checkers and stripes.

prompt; first meeting.

↬ jesse moved in the new neighborhood and decides to explore around, but wandered off a bit farther than she expected... wonder what's there to see... oh, a yard sale?

~~

"Matt, your useless Novelty Toy Collection has to go, whether you like it or not."

Edd pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath — obviously irritated.

"Even after how we tried to expand the house to have an attic, your items still continue to clog our house." Edd sternly reminded, it eventually cues to Tom nodding his head in agreement to his statement.

"So, Edd and I concluded that we're going to sell your stuff today." The blue hoodied man added. He picked up a closed box which had Matt's dearly loved, and useless stuff inside. It seems that they did a little packing before telling their friend.

Matt was in disbelief, he fell on his knees and begged with an overdramatic nature. Crawling to the shoes that was covered in checkered patterns, he grabbed both ankles and began to plead miserably — faint sniffles was heard.

"You can't do this! These are full of memories.... sentimental value!" He argued, as his eyes pupils grew bigger as an attempt to gain sympathy from the two.

"The only value we're collecting off of these is dust. We're going now." Tom scoffed back at Matt, and tried to kick his foot backwards to get rid of the hands that tried to entrap it. Matt's hands recoiled at the sharp friction of being swiped away from the shoes, it burned a bit.

The miserable hoarder looked back at his hands and see a tint of red covered over it... yea, that hurt a lot more than it should've.

There wasn't much time for him to look at his friends leave him behind, but the sound of a door slam was enough to offend him.

~~

To do list ...

Fix your stuff; check. Tell your relative that you're fine; check. Go around the new streets; unchecked.

Swiping through the neatly listed, and maybe a little aesthetically pleasing — digital notepad, Jesse continues to read what's left to do for the day. She transferred houses to find a way to travel to her university without struggling too much.

Stretching her arms, she takes a deep breath and arcs her back. It's been a whole day, but it's not complete without a bit of social interaction. The new house is still very empty and stale, heavy cardboard boxes scatter the floors and it still reeks of accumulated dust, but give it a few days and it'll be designed to her liking soon enough.

She figured she'll go walk out, she doesn't want to do the other listed items on her notes, so that leaves her with 'taking a stroll out'.

Taking a mental note of her new house address, she takes her leave and walks along the pavement.

She dusts her clothes a bit, and looks for her house key. Stepping out of the house, she takes a moment to simply accept mother nature's wealth. It feels so nice and refreshing, but turning back, she took her key and drove it on the door's lock, and twisted it shut.

A few minutes has passed, she feels a bit sleepy... maybe she should've gotten a drink before this. This somewhat slowed her walking speed as her thirst started to kick in. She started to think maybe she should go back, but it was starting to get a little difficult to remember where she came from, turning back didn't help in remembering at all.

Her heart was beginning to sink — there's no way the poor lady is lost before she could call her new building a home? Feeling a bit panicked, she tries to pull out her phone, but a loud, whiny voice followed after.

"GUUUUUYS. YOU CAN'T DO THIS."

Huh? Now she's curious. Where did that come from?

Scanning the place, each house had a cookie cutter design — exact replicas of each other, but her eyes landed on a big banner that was hanging on the house. It reads out "Yard Sale!" ... but the writing looked really crooked and awkward. This must be the one.

Jesse finally reaches the house, and looks at all of the items offered. They're... quite the variety, this felt like a museum.

She follows the direction of the house, and witnesses some purple hoodied guy arguing with two people sitting in front of their yard — they're probably the hosts of the sale. There were a few people wandering around too, maybe it wouldn't hurt to check as well?

"Oh, hey! Welcome to me and my friend's yard sale! Hope you could find anything... interesting here!"

A brown haired man with a green hoodie approached her, he stood from his chair to greet her personally. She looks back to see the other guy who wears blue, with half lidded voided eyes — he looks bored and uninterested, even though he's reading a book.

"Sure! Feel free to look around. Go ask me or my friend over there if you need anything!" His hands pointed at the bored man sitting down who's just next to him. He doesn't seem to notice her, or even the green guy.

"Ah, hello! I'll give it a stroll, thank you. I haven't been to one in awhile." She finally speaks, after hours of silence to herself. She softly waves at him as to respond to his greeting.

"Thank you, I'll take my time here." She appreciates his friendly nature, he seems to be nice.

The whole friendly assumption was quickly taken down when the green man suddenly yelled angrily as he noticed that same man in a purple hoodie... switch items that are being sold? Is this a new technique in stealing?

"MATT, SERIOUSLY CUT IT OUT." There goes the green guy. The purple guy... assuming his name is Matt — was alerted, he dropped whatever stuff he was carrying and tried to dash away, he ran off to the back of the house, the green guy followed him too.

That, uh. Escalated much quicker than she thought. The blue guy finally looks away from the book and notices his friend is gone. He looks at her for a moment.

"Do you need anything?" he sounded so stale and uninterested.

That question startled her. Did he not care about what just happened earlier?? But if that's how it's gonna be, she'll probably just have to ignore it.

"Uhh, nothing, yet. I'll come back to you later."

"Cool."

After his acknowledgement, he proceeds to read again, tipping his finger on his tongue and swipes to the page where he left off in his book.

Jesse couldn't tell if her social abilities are failing her or if these people are just incredibly weird.

Trying to move past whatever happened just now, she starts off in the first corner of items. There's a lot of things here, they're not categorized either. It's like they were just dumped here and called it a day. At least there's price tags. So far, nothing interesting.

Moving on to the next set, it's strange to see antique looking objects and straight up garbage mixed together. Sometimes one's collections says a lot about a person, but this one's a bit extreme. All felt odd, except for when her eyes land on a bass guitar. It had a few wrappings of tape but it admittedly had some charm when it's done like that. The bass's skin was covered in black and a small corner of a checkered pattern that topped off the beauty of it.

She wondered why would they sell this, it looked very custom made and it would be a waste. Buuut, she can't judge. It was simply nice to look at. Jesse continued to observe it, but realized there was no tag to be found. Anyone could steal this, best to inform that guy about it.

Walking back at the "customer service" table, she inquires.

"Excuse me sir, but how much is this?"

"It's in the tag." he didn't bother to look at her

Sheesh, straightforward much? There's no tag at all.

"But there isn't any. This looks a bit too expensive to be on yard sale too...."

He finally looks at her, his eyes squint and analyzes the item. Suddenly, his empty eyes widened in shock.

"Hold on a second, that's mine!"

Tom immediately jumps at her and snatches the instrument away from her, her hands felt a bit of strain from how harsh he pulled away. Her hands immediately tuck back to her chest, the pain still swirling a little.

"A-ah, wait, crap. Sorry.... that was actually mine." he scratched the back of his head as he tried to justify himself.

"That orange idiot is trying to switch all the items we're trying to sell, which is actually his junk — he didn't wanna "lose his collection". Big emphasis and mockery on the last phrase. He still seemed salty even if he was quiet the whole time.

"You play the bass?" She asked. It began to make sense when she noticed his checker patterned shoes match that of the bass aesthetic. "Why would he want to sell that?"

He had a bewildered look. His hollow eyes were getting more mesmerizing to look at everytime. "You know what's a bass guitar?"

"I like music too, y'know? I'm not bland." she teased. Wasn't that common knowledge to know though?

"I'm surprised you knew. It gets annoying everytime some guy says it's an electric guitar, which is NOT."

"Everything's a guitar as long as there's strings, apparently." She chuckled, giving him a sense of sympathy through it.

"Exactly!!" he snaps his finger and points at her. "You get me, haha." They seem to be going along now, lovely.

After their wholesome exchange, Jesse excuses herself to continue browsing though his goods. Tom had the bass at hand and it still works, so he went back to the chair and table that stood in front of their house. Sitting down, he played a few harmonic, chords as he now watches her do her thing. She's pretty cool, he thinks.

Tom admits to himself that it's only now he found her interesting, because of his general assumption that everyone's just really irritating, which explains his ignorant demeanor towards her earlier and he rather not be a part of anything ridiculous unless he was interested.

Meanwhile, Jesse finds an item she likes; a thermal tumbler. She likes tea, it helps her a lot during her work hours and it's most definitely relaxing. The tumbler also has a familiar color that sticks out to her, a nice sage green. She's definitely buying this one.

Not much of items really piqued her interest, it was probably because of how unnecessary they are in general, it's not that practical.

Heading back to her newly acquainted friend, she sees him with his bass, strumming a few tones. He looks relaxed now, compared to how he was like 10 minutes ago... which was strange, but maybe it's because they broke the ice.

"Found what you like?"

"Yeah! Here it is." She places the metal bottle on his table. He takes a look at it, and nods.

"Oh, just a bottle?" he wonders. "That's alright anyways. That'll be $3."

She nods at his request, and touches her pocket jeans, expecting to feel a bump which would naturally be her wallet.

...

It's not there.

The lady panics, maybe it's just somewhere else?

She quickly scans other parts of her pants, but all she could find are her keys back at home.

"Oh, dear..."

"What's up?"

"I... I, forgot my wallet..."

"M-maybe I, I think I misplaced it, just wait-"

Great, just great. She finally talks to a person, and then tries to buy something when she explicitly said she'll just go for a walk!

No, you idiot. You left it at home, you're just trying to buy yourself some time but it's too late, and it's just getting worse!

Her awkward misery is burning further, he had to do something. He started fumbling with his words, trying to make up an idea

"Wait... I, I can save it for you .....?" he totally made that up just now. He had to calm her down.

She pauses mid way as she literally pulled the insides of her pockets out. "You can do that?"

"I-I mean... yeah! My friend and I are running this, why can't I make a few rules?" He did make sense though, but it was mostly because he would now feel bad for demanding money when they had a nice talk earlier.

This places so much relief on Jesse, she felt her heart sank to calm down, and thanked him profusely.

"I'm so glad, thank you for that. I'll definitely bring my wallet tomorrow, I didn't think I'd buy anything today, that's why."

"Nah, it's all good. I've had it worse with Matt when he bought anything BUT nails when we were constructing something." he points at a direction, to which she looks back and follows.

Matt was bound to a chair with a rope to hold him down, there's even duct tape on his mouth to stop him from yelling. He's muffled and squirming a lot. Nobody cared though.

"Is he always like this?"

"Don't bother." Tom didn't want to acknowledge him too much today.

"Anyways," he picks up a piece of paper and pen, and hands it to her.

"Since I'll be saving this item for you, can I get your name and number?"

"Oh, right of course!" she takes both the paper and pen, and started jotting down her contacts. It's only natural she'd inform him that she's ready to come back by then, and he'd have it prepared for pickup.

After scribbling for a few seconds, she returns the paper to him.

"‘Jesse Payton’ — nice to meet you." he read her name aloud.

"Tom Ridley, by the way." he outstretched his hand to hers, asking for a handshake. She responds happily, both of her hands shaking his.

"Tom! Thank you again for doing this, I'll be here tomorrow again with money, for realsies!" she slowly backs up, and waved as she plans to walk back home.

He waves back at her, feeling happy with himself.

"Nice bass by the way, best you take good care of it before it gets sold!" she teased.

"Pfft, like it'd happen again!" he joked back.

And there she left, she became hard to see as she walked farther away. Tom looked at the paper again, and read her name.

"You're pretty cool, Jesse."

"Did you sell anything, Tom?"

Finally, out of the blue, comes Edd holding scissors and rope. He's the one who held Matt down.

"No, I got a name and number though."

"That's not money."

"Give me a break, Edd."

↬ ABABAHSHSHEHAJJJW AND THAT COVERS DAY 1 LNAOOSJKSSS I didn't think I'd write a super long one ;0; this won't happen again but it's definitely because I had this idea planned out very well :') if you read through the whole thing I'm so sorry but I love you <3 see you on the next day c: I should lay down now for school hehe

[freegancreations]

FC-Pride2023

“Equality means more than passing laws. The struggle is really won in the hearts and minds of the community, where it really counts.”

– Barbara Gittings

(Skip to the bottom if you just want to know about the CC)

Dear Freegan Babies!

       First off, Happy Pride Month! I'm sorry I'm a little late on uploading but I wanted to try and make this set a little special. I originally planned that each item would have it's description and then I wanted to include special LGBTQIA people in my life and what they taught me while I grew up. I wanted to give them a day of knowing how much they impacted my life, but I have quickly realized that it may be too painful for me to bring those memories back up right now. So instead I decided to add some songs that I've fallen in love with that remind me of all the beautiful and sometimes painful aspects of life. Some are LGBT themed and some are just simply talking about lost love...

       I just hope you find them as lovely as I do, and hope that you understand that even though I don't know you in person, doesn't mean I don't care.    Every download I get, I think of how many people chose something I created to express themselves or the person that they wish they could be. And I'm truly honored by that. Its one reason why I always try to make the clothes Unisex. I want everyone to have the opportunity to experience the things that make them happy. I just want everyone to be happy, healthy, and thriving. We're community animals at the core, and we all need to feel loved and respected, right?

       Listen, I'm not here to give you some speech, and I'm sorry if it seems as such. I just feel like I'm struggling to express how deeply this community has affected me and allowed me a safe space to just be while I learned to heal. I hope to do the same. If there is ever a design that you cant find in Unisex, reach out to me and I'll see what I can recolor to make that happen for you. If you need to just vent to a stranger for a while, I'm here for that too. Just reach out to me. I got you, and I'll hold your hand through the tough parts. If I can't help, then I'll try to guide you to someone who can.

       My dearest freegans... I love you dearly, no matter who you love, and as long as you are happy in your body, then that's all that matters. In the end, its your life to live, so please live it well!

Lots of love,

Ashley J Williams

P.S. Straight Folks, Please know that you are also included in this. Please don't feel left out, and for the love of everything good in the world, be kind. Luke 6:31, “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” Simply put, this phrase means to treat others the way we want them to treat us. <3

[abusedandromeda]

Although I see a lot of people call their parents narcissistic (They have a right to because I didn’t go through their experience and it is probably true), my birth grandfather taught me to look at both sides of the story. Please bare with me here before you say I’m making excuses because while there are sides to a story, that doesn’t mean it makes them a good person because they have a reason to treat people like shit. All it is is a reason, not an excuse, but a reason. It gives nuance, but not a ticket to the next life as the Queen (but also keep scrolling when it gets too deep but it’ll make some people think too much into some stuff)

My birth mother wasn’t a narcissist. Yes, she did name call, there was the golden child and scapegoat. She gaslit, guilt tripped and gave silent treatments, but I think, sadly, that she either was doing something she thought was right because her own parents taught her it was how you raised kids or she was mainly acting on emotions. She was the type of woman to want to be heard all the time. And in order to be heard, she’d use personal information to hurt you so that you’d listen to her ranting more. And she’d only get angrier if she wasn’t heard. She wanted to win, I think. Not only was this shown in her romantic relationship with my birth father but also shown against me and my birth brother who were only children.

She was a heavily insecure woman who lived paycheck to paycheck as a dispatcher as a single mother during my high school years. She made it pretty well known she sacrificed a lot for us. She even told me that she had holes in her underwear because she was spending her money on new underwear for me. The thing was that she didn’t need to. I had more than enough clothes. I could skip laundry for a month and still be good. But she wanted to be acknowledged that she was a better parent than my birth grandparents, I think. That’s what she wanted to prove to herself

Lastly, I think she wanted the best for me. I know she loved me. She loved me dearly. I have no doubt she would’ve died for me. That’s why she pushed for me to go out and be social and only have friends SHE accepted. That’s why she pushed for all As instead of being proud of me when I got an F up to a B. She wanted me to be a rich black woman who became a doctor or engineer, not a single black mom living paycheck to paycheck, and most definitely not a black fat nonbinary person who wore short skirts and progressive shirts and who wanted to become a graphic designer. She wanted my safety and my future secured.

BUT, this generation taught me to never use reasons as an excuse. I understand that she was scared for me. I understand that she wanted the best for me. But she sacrificed my mental healthy and bodily autonomy for it. I have to live to these scars for the rest of my life because of it. Instead of becoming a better person, I became worse. Instead of yelling at me to get better grades, why didn’t she ask me what’s going on? Why did she make fun of me for telling her what was going on when she did?

I didn’t want the newest iphone or the hottest fashion trends. I never asked her to stress herself out with overtime so she could buy off my love. All I needed was someone to talk to. I would’ve happily lived in a crappy apartment of it meant she’d acknowledge my depression. So yeah, I understand she wanted the best for me, and I know she loved me. But I had to live with constantly keeping my ears open and my head down. If she had just listened to me for one second, she would’ve known that the material possession were enough. I just wanted her to acknowledge that I was struggling too.

[nanowatzophina]

Pspspspsing you to tell us abt your wardens!!!!! Would luv to hear abt any other da ocs as well

GASP!! SURE!! You wanna hear about my wardens??? Yay!!!

This will give me a good excuse to redraw/make ref for em too!

Dragon Age Shit under the cut!!

((Holy crap. It deleted all my progress but here we go again. I hope I can remember all the details))

— Also for reference I’m only gonna talk about the pt’s I’ve actually finished. Which is only four of em.

First up we’ve got Rosal Surana!!

((Still proud of how this one turned out so she doesn’t get an update))

Circle Mage lady who just wants to learn as much as she can!! She’s my first COMPLETED pt. So I made the fact that I was always asking all the questions in each interaction part of her character.

She’s curious, a bit overly so.

She made her own outfit. This was like— designed before I got better at copying clothes fashion but I do like the idea of Rosal just… making this for herself. Not looking like she’s from any particular nation. Just herself.

She romances Zevran, whom I love dearly. She is best friends with Alistair and Morrigan. She never got as close with Leliana but they still friends.

Rosal was a Chantrified name for her. Instead of the traditional Dalish name that her mom named her. (I honestly can’t recall what it was originally. I was dumb and didnt right it down) She was born in the Denerim alienage and taken away at 8 when she accidentally used her powers against a human boy in the street who was picking on her.

I had like. This whole idea for a fanfic with her that takes place after Awakening where she goes on a search for her mother who was sold to Tevinter. Full of intrigue and drama.

Secondly! Alana Cousland!!

Grew up refusing to act like a lady, much to her mothers disappointment. Not doing her hair, running out to learn how to fight with daggers rather than manners, scaring off suitors with her blunt way of speaking and teasing. Just a real Princess Merida situation.

She grew up wanting to be like the great heroes she learned about growing up. Slaying dragons and fighting armies!

But then… her family was taken so suddenly from her. Everyone she knew and loved and grew up with, dead. She got her dream of being a heroic Grey Warden but… the cost always makes her feel guilty… like she brought this upon their family due to simply… wishing for adventure. She had a LOT of survivor’s guilt and became kind of a rude, blunt person. Cold and hardened.

But… then she met an idiot named Alistair. Who somehow managed to make her laugh despite terrible circumstances. And would listen to her and talk with her. He helped her to open up.

Despite being… herself. She managed to befriend all the companions pretty closely. Especially Sten and Leliana. Sten approves of her while Leliana is much like Alana’s mom, nagging her into brushing her hair and maybe… taking care of herself a bit more…

In the end Alana marries Alistair and became Queen. She finds it incredibly ironic that she was running from this type of life all of her youth and yet… walked right into being Queen. Because she saw it as… finally accepting her duty is important. And wanting to take that step with Alistair. She still struggles with public appearance sometimes. And would often rather be off fighting dark spawn. But she is also happy to be able to… rest. After everything…

((Tho the convincing Alistair to sleep w/ Morrigan to save their lives for the sake of the kingdom was… a little awkward. Especially since Alana is friends with Morrigan just… uncomfortable all around))

Next up we’ve got Solan Aeducan!

Solan Aeducan was on her way to being a great dwarven warrior. Which sucks. Leaving Ostagar was one of the hardest things to happen. Seeing the sky was a horrible reminder of what she had lost.

She was always a quick to anger, hot-headed woman. But after leaving Ostagar she became untrusting and just... more angry...

But then... she met Leliana. Who helped her to see the beauty of the stars... and then they fell in love. I love them so much.

Solan got Leli a nug in Ostagar. And listens to her stories, loving just how... smart Leliana is.

However... she is... the ONLY playthrough that I’ve done that she refused the ritual... and so she dies... and Leliana is left alone... So I’m a terrible person.

And Lastly! Fen’nas!

Fen’nas is a glorious himbo. He is bold and flirty though has a BIT of a short-temper. He likes doing nice things for people. Which... makes him and Morrigan a bit of a... unique situation.

He totally fell for her the second he saw her. Which is a surprise for all of us considering how Morrigan swooped in the way she did.

But he loves Morrigan and wants her to be happy. Even though she runs away after they make a baby. But he runs after her like the rom-com man he is.

And he goes through the mirror with her. And raises their kid together. And he is a great stay-at-home husband. Though... they never got actually married. But they are in love. I love them.

[capaimagines]

choi youngjae - humble

Pairing: Rich Kid!Choi Youngjae x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: mentions of a heart attack, hospitals, financial hardships | WC: 1.5k

Request: I hope you are well! Can you please write something where Youngjae is the rich kid in school and loves to pick on you, yet when he really sees you struggling he feels guilty

You absolutely hated going to school. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at it or anything; you actually excelled at all your classes considering you were top of all of them and studying came easy to you. However, due to many reasons, you were the large target of bullies. 

Your school was a little more on the prestigious side. Most of your classmates had families that came from money or had a lot of it. You, however, had gotten into the school on a scholarship because of your grades. Your family wasn’t close to being rich. There were times when your parents were living pay check to pay check or unsure how they were going to make rent one month. You weren't as lucky as most.

One of the reasons you tried so hard at school was because you wanted to get a good paying job one day and be able to support your parents. You loved them dearly and they supported everything you did, and you just wanted to be able to take away the burden off their shoulders, to take away the monetary stress from them one day.

You took a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your bag and began your short journey through the campus. You kept your head down as you made your way through the halls and towards your locker. As much as you hated to admit it, you did stand out like a sore thumb in this school, the main reason being, you didn’t have the designer bags or expensive clothes like the other girls and boys. You didn’t have the fancy shoes and shiny jewelry adoring your body for everyone to rave about.

You groaned as you heard the laugh of one of your long-time tormentors coming down the hallway. Choi Youngjae. He didn’t necessarily bully you like others would, but he did like to continuously pick on you. Almost like a little boy having a crush on a girl in class. Though, you knew there were no feelings like that between you and Youngjae.

You had known him for a while but you wouldn’t consider you two friends. His family had money and he had his own group of friends. You two just knew of each other because of passing and most of your classes were together. Youngjae and you were usually the two classmates pitted against each other for things. He was rich, but he was also extremely smart.

“There’s my little buttercup,” He chirped and you rolled your eyes in frustration.  

“Youngjae,” You replied curtly, adjusting your bag as you tried to walk away before you said something you’d regret.

“Where are you going?” He said with a smile as he stepped in front of you.  

You groaned, letting out an annoyed sigh, “To class, where you should be going too,” You told him.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, which caused you to glare at him as you shrugged off his arm from you, “I love when you think I don’t what I’m supposed to be doing.”

You ignored him, walking to class. Like you said before, Youngjae wasn’t necessarily a bully like the rest of the kids, but he did seem to like to annoy the living hell out of you. He didn’t outwardly flaunt his money, but at the same time he did. He was always the first to have whatever the new trend was and truth be told, you’d never seen him wear anything that wasn’t a designer brand.

He had all the newest products the second they came out, and it irked you to no end. Grateful the day was over, you headed home. However, when you got home you were surprised to find your parents missing which was quite unusual since one of them was always home when you arrived home from school. That’s what caused you to  finally turn your phone back on and then rushed out the door. Your father had a heart attack and was currently in the emergency department at the hospital.

Your legs didn’t stop until you were panting heavily at the receptionists desk. You told her your fathers name, but she wouldn’t let you back to see him, “That’s my dad! What do you mean I can’t see him?!” You felt frustrated as the tears built up in your eyes and the woman sighed at you.  

“I can’t let anyone back there right now. One at a time. It’s policy, miss.”

Just before you were about to tell her where she could take her damn policy and shove it, you were shocked to hear a familiar voice, that usually, you’d hate hearing, “I think we can let the policy pass sometimes, don’t you?” He had a sweet smile on his face but his eyes were anything but. The woman gulped and nodded, finally allowing you to go back to see your father.

“Thanks,” You muttered out quickly to him as you rushed to find your mom.  

You mentally cursed at yourself as you had forgotten that Youngjae’s father owned the hospital and was in fact one of the top, leading surgeons.  Brushing that unnecessary thought from your mind, you finally found your mother, she explained everything to you with tears in her eyes before she could even speak. You hugged her tightly, doing your best to stay strong, especially for her right now. If you broke down right now, you knew how much your mother would blame herself for everything.  

“I don’t know how we’re going to pay for this, Y/N,” She cried as she gripped onto you tightly.

You gulped down the lump in your throat as you pulled her back so that you were at arm's length. “Please, just use my college fund money. It’s fine, mom,” You told her to which she automatically protested at first until you finally told her that you would find a way to build it back up again. Once the doctor called her over, you sunk down into the hospital chair and buried your face in your hands. It seemed one thing after another was happening and it was always pushing you further away from being happy and content with your life.

You noticed a shadow of a presence sit down next to you and you sat up, instantly rolling your eyes at the bot in front of you,“I’m really not in the mood right now, Youngjae,” You snapped and he looked mildly hurt.  

“I actually just wanted to ask if you were okay, but fine then,” He stood up, going to walk away.  

You bit the inside of your cheek before groaning again, “Wait,” He stopped and turned around to stare at you, “I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind right now and the past hour has just been too much. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He smiled and sat back down, I never knew you were capable of an apology,” Though, while you knew he was teasing you, it still boiled your blood, “Sorry, sorry,” He said, holding his hands up, “Is that your dad?” He nodded his head towards the hospital room and you nodded.  

“He just suddenly had a heart attack and now my mother said he needs immediate surgery to implant stents due to the blockage of blood flowing through the arteries But we can’t afford it because we don’t have the money. So, I just told her to use my college fund,” You weren’t sure why you were telling him this, but you just needed to talk to someone, to let it out and reduce the heavy load on your chest.

“College fund?” He asked to which you nodded.  

“Guess rich kids don’t need that,” It came out harsher than you meant it to, but honestly, a part of you seemed to be quite jealous. They had nothing to worry about. If Youngjae’s mom needed surgery, it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account.

“I can talk to my dad,” He mumbled and you scoffed.  

“I don’t need your handouts Youngjae. I’ll figure it out,” You said in annoyance.

He glared at you through slightly gritted teeth, “It’s not a handout. I want to help. He needs the surgery, right? Let him get it without having to worry about paying for it,” You didn’t say anything and before you knew it, Youngjae had left. You didn’t see him again that day, but your father had his surgery and you weren’t talked to about any type of payment.

A few weeks later at school, you finally saw Youngjae again. That being the first time since the conversation in the hospital's waiting room. You don’t know why you expected him to be any different, because he  was the exact same; dressed to the nines in designer clothes and laughing with his friends in the hallway. Though, he did meet your gaze in the halls, and for once, you gave him a smile instead of a sneer. He smiled back, brightly before nodding subtly before going back to whatever his friend was saying.

Maybe, just maybe, you could give him another chance at redeeming himself.

[nostraightheadcanons]

Can we have some NPC headcannons please?

 You sure can! I love making headcanons for NPCS, they deserve so much more love in my opinion! I may only do two for now because they ended pretty long, but if you’d more don’t be afraid to shoot another ask!

Kayane

☆ Presumably around 19 to 21 years old. ☆ She comes from a rich family, her parents are both wealthy entrepreneurs and dote on her older brother while she is left more in the shadows. Her parents are the money equals affection type with her, I headcanon her as someone who is generally pretty lonely. Probably struggles with making friends her age that are genuine. ☆ She fell in love with 1010 not because of their ideal perfect boyfriend gimmick but rather the message they spread. 1010 is all about sharing love . She treasures them dearly because no matter who you are or what you look like or your background they’ll always have love to spare. Her adoration for them is not one of a creepy obsessive fangirl because I’m not partially fond of headcanons that depict her that way. ☆ Pretty peppy and bubbly! She’s actually really kind and helpful but most of the time her personality is overshadowed by the fact she’s a fan of 1010. Lost in Metro Divsion, don’t worry Kayane is here to help! She’s the kind of introvert who just adores making friends and will talk to just about anybody! ☆ She adores the community and friends she has found through 1010 and is seen trying to recruit others in the fanclubs because more people means more friends. All the fans gathered together under the same want of love and comfort, and through the boyband they have found friendships and bonds that are unbreakable. ☆ She was reasonably upset after the whole BBJ revolution because Mayday and Zuke destroyed them seemingly without a care. Mayday called herself a fan but she fought them anyway under the guise of revolution and freedom. However the only good thing to come out of the revolution in her eyes is the fact the fans got to see more of the mysterious producer of 1010! Neon J! Something about the fact he was so willing to protect his troops and the city was heartwarming and inspirational; she couldn’t help but make a fanclub for him! He’s super duper cool! ☆ 1010 and Neon J know her personally. She is afterall the head of the fanclub, and I believe she is a major drive in the fanbase as well. She loves to do fan zines and 1010 based fan events along with charity streams, so much so the troops and Captain know her and met her in person multiple times! She even earned the nickname Kayane Pepper from Yellow | Green.

Celine

☆ Around 29 - 31 years olds. She is the older sister of Gigi and Joey. Gigi [27] being  the middle kid while Joey [25]  the youngest. All of them share a similar colour palette so honestly I really do see them all as siblings. Celine is the mature older sibling who deals with both of her brother’s shenanigans. ☆ Gigi’s a very fun loving dude, chill and friendly- very giving and such- he tries to see the good and everything and is the one that often cheers and brings out Celines bubbly loving side- her protective and funny side that not a lot of people get to see- he’s the middle who had to watch his big sister give up everything and his little brother struggle in the world- he’s faced hardships and how the world is unfair-  ☆ Joeys uppity to fuck and had “refined” tastes as a music elitist he wants more his fine taste and how artists don’t seem to try in his eyes comes from his Celine worked her absolute ass off for what? Scraps! His bitterness comes from the situation and everything around him. If his sister can work harder than these diluted trashy pop stars can, why do they deserve his praise? ☆ All of them provide comfort for one another, and all can equally be the anchor that can ground the others too. Since they’ve all dealt with loss and pain before, trust and honesty is a really big thing for all of them. 

☆ Both of her parents sadly passed away while she was a teenager so she had to step up to look after her brothers. Taking on two jobs to support them and put money on the table she had to self her own dreams and wants for the time being. She suffers from having to mature so quickly in life she struggles opening up and letting her walls down. She’s so used to having to be the strong figure head she ignores and pushes down her own feelings in return. ☆ Her mother was an aspiring fashion designer albeit their family wasn’t the most wealthy. Her mother used to create clothes from whatever scraps she could find using hand me downs as well. The two always bonded by doing make up and dressing up. So fashion, art and makeup is a big comfort for her, she feels complete and close to her mother in a sense when dolled up in the clothes. It is an art form an extension of who you are. Beauty is pain. Each stitch, each yard of fabric comes with a price. She has a dream and she’ll work herself to the bone to achieve it. She wants to thrive in a world that was pitted against her. Her mother’s creations really inspired her to be the fashionista and designer she is today. ☆  Actually decent friends with Zed, the two met when they were in their late teens! She was a waitress in a small local diner and he was the nerdy guy who was always at the same table, same time of the same day each week with no fail. Celine may seem like a popular preppy girl but it was quite the opposite, she was more of the loner type due to home situation and Zed being the socially awkward nerd. The two despite the odds became good friends, seeing him was always the highlight of her week. ☆ Possibly has the biggest crush on Amal you’ve ever seen and hates it too. Somehow that dorky unicorn man galloped his way into her heart. With his god awful taste in fashion and his embarrassing love for unicorns, somehow she finds it cute and endearing although she’d never admit it out loud.

[atsukashii]

❝soft hours❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS:  ➛ The world knows Katsuki Bakugou as the explosive number two pro hero. You know him as your husband who is soft for only three people on the planet; you and your children.  

» CHARACTER PAIRING: prohero!katsuki bakugou x reader

» WORD COUNT: 3.3k

» GENRE: pro-hero!katsuki, aged up characters, dad bakugou

» WARNINGS: swearing, fluff to the max & dad katsuki

« masterlist || ao3 »

Being a mother is hard work. 

You aren’t sure how your own made it look so damn easy, because it is anything but. When it was just you, your husband, and your son it was easy enough. But adding another baby to the mix? 

You have never been more tired in your entire life.

For the past month of her life, Koharu had been a good sleeper, with a chill and calm temperament that you, your mother, and mother-in-law; Mitsuki Bakugou all agreed did not come from your husband. But the past two days were a lot different. She had regressed... A lot. With Katsuki back at work, barely able to take time off due to being a high ranking pro hero, you were left to your own devices with the newborn. He had offered to help of course, but you had this. How hard could it be? You’d said confidently.

You’re not so confident now.

Just yesterday, you had struggled to put her to sleep when Katsuki came and managed to do it in less than ten minutes. And honestly, for a second were jealous of your husband. But then he had stumbled over nothing, swearing like a sailor and the wailing began again.

“Suki, don’t swear at the baby!” You had laughed

“I didn’t swear at the baby sweetheart, I swore at the fucking toy Kazuto left on the floor”

“Suki!”

“Kazuto, how many times do I have to tell you to pick up your toys once you're done playing with them?”

“Sorry, dad!” That moment had made you feel a lot better about your parenting abilities. 

Today, however, with Katsuki out on patrol, and your son at preschool, it left you and Koharu alone for some girl time. Time, that was spent with you completely frazzled and desperate to help your baby to stop crying and go back to sleep.

But. Nothing. Was. Working. 

After four hours, she finally fell asleep purely out of exhaustion, but not before you had called your own mother, crying on the phone. You weren’t a bad mother, you were just adjusting… Right? All parents had off days with their children, no one was perfect. Though when you had picked up your phone in a moment of peace and mistakenly opened up Instagram, you took one look at a young influencer and her designer baby, looking like she stepped out of a damn magazine… You couldn’t help but compare it to the sweats you wore to bed the night before that you still hadn’t changed out of, the spit up on your shirt, and the bags under your eyes. This is normal, you’d had to remind yourself over and over again as you had put your daughter back into her crib.

Stirring the curry you quickly threw together for dinner, you are ripped from your gloomy thoughts as the noise of the front door opening meets your ears. The door was quickly followed by the voice of a very energetic three-year-old carrying what you know to be the Red Riot merch backpack he takes everywhere. It was a gift from his Uncle Kirishima that Katsuki hates, but puts up with for the sake of his son's happiness. You also know that he has a Chargebolt T-shirt in his closet that he wears to preschool sometimes and cherishes it dearly. His favorite though, is his mini grenade toys based on Katsuki’s own hero costume. For Kazuto’s first birthday, you’d had a hero theme and you couldn’t help but dress him up like your husband, but when you did - with his white-blonde hair and red eyes - he looked like a tiny Katsuki. It was too cute. 

“And-and then he kicked the villain SO HARD that he flew across the sky! He’s so cool!” Explains Kazuto, jumping up and down in excitement. 

“Mmhmm,” Katsuki adds, making it sound like he was paying attention, and encouraging his son to keep rambling about his enormous love for heroes. You won’t be surprised if he follows in his father's footsteps and becomes a pro hero in the future, with his quirk already arrived and causing havoc through your home. 

Your own quirk - Bloom; allowing you to create whatever kind of flora you want, wherever you want, had gotten you into the general studies course at U.A. Which is where you had met your platonic soulmate, Mina Ashido. You had instantly clicked with her when you had met at the end of your first year, and then through her, you met Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Katsuki. At first, you hadn’t known what to think of the explosive blonde, and he didn’t seem to want much to do with you. That was until one day when you and Mina had convinced them all to hang out at an arcade, a villain attacked the street outside. Being not in the Hero course and not having a provisional license, you had left your friends to do their thing. It wasn’t however until the end that you had noticed a young boy, crying and calling for his mother. The villain had a super strength quirk and ended up throwing cars out of his way in an attempt to escape. Seeing what was about to happen before it did, you had lunged into action, throwing yourself over the boy and activating your quirk around you to create a wall of wooden spears the size of Redwoods. You had saved the child, gotten the lecture of a lifetime from Katsuki that ended in him confessing more than he wanted about how he felt about your safety. You were dating a month later and had been together ever since. You had also discovered what you wanted to do after school that day. Deciding you wanted to help people, you became a social worker that helps children who have lost their families.

Your son Kazuto’s quirk was closer to yours than your husband’s quirk, with the three-year-old having the ability to manipulate earth. His favorite thing was watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and trying to recreate what the Earth Benders did - in your living room, much to your chagrin. And you had a feeling that Koharu’s quirk was going to be something like Katsuki’s due to the fact that the baby smelt similar to your husband. 

“Hi, mum!” Kazuto shouts loudly, poking his head in the kitchen. He flashes you a smile broken by a new missing tooth, before racing down the hallway like he is set on a permanent setting of a sprint. 

“Hi you two,” You say, smiling as your husband comes into the kitchen in his casual street clothes, opting to change at the agency. 

“Hang up your bag Kazuto!” Bakugou yells after him and you pray that you have remembered to shut the nursery door. You hear a muffled response form your three-year-old before the sound of his feet dashing up the staircase and the momentary silence that follows has you sighing in relief. She's still out.

Walking over to you, Katsuki wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. His strong arms pull you back to his chest as he looks over your shoulder to see what you’re cooking. Really, the quick curry was a bit pathetic, but after your long day, you didn’t have the willpower to cook anything fancy. As is sensing the tension in your muscles, Katsuki didn’t say a word about the food, which was a first. You were actually a good cook, but your husband was better and loved to tease you about it any second he could. So the fact that he currently stands behind you not saying a word was odd. 

“Your mother called me today.” Katsuki murmurs, his voice soft and full of concern. You sigh glumly knowing where this conversation is going. You had hoped your mother wouldn’t say anything to Katsuki after you’d called her today, in tears from frustration and insecurities falling from your lips like a boiling pot. It had been a bad day, everyone was allowed to have some bad days.

“Sweetheart, if you need help with the baby-” 

“It’s really fine Suki, it was just an off day.” You say, leaning your head back on his chest and tilting it back just enough so that you could meet his ruby gaze. “Besides, you can’t take any more time off work.” Leaning back up again, you grab the wooden spoon and stir the red sauce. Katsuki lets out a breath before moving with you, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. 

“I can take a fucking day off Y/n.” He mutters against your skin. A shiver runs up your spine and spreads down your arms, making your hair rise. Even after all these years, he still has the ability to render you to a pile of mush. 

“Your team will have my head if you take another day off, Suki.” You point out.

“Then I’ll blast them to hell after I fire them.” His response makes you smile, as he turns you around in his arms. His signature scowl covers his face, but it's the concern in his eyes that has your heart squeezing tight. He’s really worried, you realize. “Let me help you, sweetheart.” 

“Suki-” The sound of Koharu’s ear-piercing wails breaks the silence and has you resting your forehead on your husband's chest. “I’ve got her.” He says, placing a kiss to the crown of your head and giving your hips a reassuring squeeze before slinking out of the kitchen. You are so lucky to have him. 

To this day, Katsuki is still blunt and rash with the media, but people don’t really get to see the side of him that comes out with his family. He tries not to let his friends even witness it because they all give him endless shit about how much of a softie he is for his family. He denies it to hell whenever one of them brings it up, but after both the kids were born, Katsuki cried. Not a lot, just a few stray tears that engraved itself into your mind so heavily. With a sappy smile, you move the curry off the stove and begin dishing it up. As you finish, Kazuto comes wandering in on his own accord which surprises you. Normally, either you or Katsuki would have to go and get him or yell that dinner was done for the three-year-old to make an appearance. 

His vermillion gaze meets yours, and smiles. “Dad sent me down, he’s trying to put Koko to sleep,” Kazuto explains. You nod in understanding, walking the food over to the dining table. You only serve portions for you and your son, knowing that there's a chance Katsuki might not make it back down in time to eat with you. Once you are seated, you look at Kazuto and smile which is enough of an open look to make him start rambling about his day. Pro Hero’s are the first thing to come up, re-explaining the battle that one of his teachers had shown him through lunchtime, followed by his friends and then what he ate for lunch - as if you hadn’t been the one to make his lunch.

“It’s ‘Bring your parents to class day’, soon. Will you come?” His words shock you, and for a moment you just sit there blinking at your son. Kazuto looks up at you with such hope in his eyes, it makes you want to cry.

“You don’t want your dad to go?” You ask. You love Kazuto endlessly and would do anything for the sake of your children's happiness and safety, but you know that Kazuto and Katsuki have a special connection. One built on trust, love, and how much Kazuto looks up to his father as a pro hero. He truly is his father's biggest fan and honestly, it's beautiful. 

“It’s during the day, so he will probably have work. And I want you to come, you're a hero too mummy! You help save kids and help them find families.” Tears spring to your eyes, both at his admiration and the fact it's been a long day, and you so needed to hear that. Because you were a hero in your own way, you were a savior to the children you worked with. Guilt then followed behind the thought. Would I be a bad person if I didn’t go back to work then? If I wasn’t there to help them? You shake the thought from your head and look back to your son. 

“Thanks, honey,” you subtly wipe under your eyes and shove another spoonful of curry back into your mouth. “I’d be more happy than happy to come, but you might also want to ask your dad too so he doesn’t feel left out.” Kazuto nods his head ecstatically at your words before shoveling more food into his mouth. You muffle a quiet laugh at his antics. Yeah, he’s your son when it comes to his love for food.

“I also decided about my party this year for my birthday,” Kazuto says again. 

“Your birthday?” You ask, pretending to think. “No, it can’t be coming up. I clearly remember your birthday being last year!” The teasing tone goes over his head as he scrunches his face up in a pout. 

“It is! I’m four!” He argues, and you don’t hold in the smile 

“Are you sure?” You feign ignorance like you didn’t remember your own son's birthday. Finally catching on, he groans at you. 

“Muuuuummmmm...”

“Your birthday…” you begin and Kazuto beams in response before continuing on.

“Can it just be us at my party? With Aunt Mina and my uncles and cousins? I know they all might be really busy being heroes…” He asks and you're once again surprised by your son. Not one for flashy things, and not wanting to spend his outside of school time with his friends, but his family. It's adorable. His temperament at times like these takes after you so much, even though he’s the carbon copy of his father. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say winking, knowing that your friends would do anything for your little family. Including taking an afternoon off to spend it with their godson. Noticing he's done, you move to get his plate and gesture towards the stairs. “Why don’t you go clean up and check on your dad.” Kazuto nods and quickly scampers out of the room.

You clean up the kitchen quickly, putting leftovers in a dish and placing them in the fridge for Katsuki to raid later on. Leaving on the kitchen light, you walk out of the kitchen and past the living room to go up the stairs when the TV catches your eye. In the lounge, your eyes fall to the couch which holds your now sleeping husband and your one-month-old daughter, completely comatose on his chest. Old reruns of Friends plays quietly in the background, a show you watched compulsively whilst you were pregnant with Koharu. Squatting down next to Katsuki, you can’t help but smile at the peaceful expression on their faces. 

As if sensing your presence, Katsuki cracks open an eye, instinctively finding you. “Finally got her down I see,” you whisper, thumbing the blonde hair on the baby's head.

“Our kids fucking love me. I’ve got the magic touch.” He says and you grin.

“Oh, I’m fully aware. Mr. Tough-Explosion-man to the world, but here at home - with a sleeping baby on his chest. You’re really soft, Suki.” He now smiles at you but doesn’t make a move to reject the statement.

“Where’s Kazuto?” Katsuki asks, looking over the back of the couch to the clock on the back wall of the lounge. 

“He’s gone to wash up.” You reply, leaning forwards and picking up Koharu with very practiced and perfected stealth to take her to her crib. “He should be done by now. I’m going to put this one in her crib.” You finish, walking up the stairs and into the nursery. With baby blue painted walls and clouds that you had painstakingly illustrated whilst you had left all the assembly of things to Katsuki because the man practically growled at you when you moved to lift something. Turning on the baby monitor in Koharu’s room before quietly slipping through the door, you trudge down the hall towards the master bedroom. On your way past it, you innocently pole your head into Kazuto’s room, seeing Katsuki leaning against the wall next to Kazuto’s bed as they speak quietly amongst themselves. Every time you come into your son's room it makes you smile. The walls are covered in pro hero posters of people like his uncles and his dad. There’s even one of Deku that Katsuki doesn’t like, but once again, puts up with for his son. Kazuto’s eyes lock onto you whilst still talking to his father and you blow him a kiss before leaving the boys to their chatter. 

Closing the door behind you, you make quick work of jumping in the shower and washing your hair for - when was the last time you had washed your hair? To be honest you weren’t sure. 

With that thought, you finish your bathroom routine and get into your comfiest pajamas which consists of one of your husband's t-shirts, a favorite of yours since high-school. Beelining to the bed, you crawl under the covers and let the exhaustion of today leak out of your bones. Tomorrow was a new day, you remind yourself. It was something you found yourself frequently saying when you were overwhelmed and today, you had reached your limit. You only just close your eyes when your door opens, and Katsuki’s walks in. He’s quick and quiet like usual, but as soon as he gets in the bed, he pulls you towards him. He holds you tightly, your back against his chest - which you know won’t last for long because it's summer and the man is like a walking furnace. Placing a kiss against the back of your head, you finally decide to voice the thought that had been plaguing you all day.

“I’m thinking of taking more time off work.” Katsuki’s arms solidify around you. “Like, longer than my maternity leave.” You finish. To be honest, you weren't sure how best to broach the topic with him, even though you’ve been married for over four years now and together twice that long. You’re a very independent person and always liked having your own source of income. And relying on someone for that - there’s nothing wrong with it, you just weren’t sure that was for you. But lately, something changed. Maybe it was adding another baby to the mix, but you’ve been wanting to spend more time focusing on your kids and your husband, rather than work. 

The agency would be fine without me. Katsuki’s arms tighten around you as he helps you roll over towards him. His eyes are filled with pride and love as you look up at him. Placing his hand on your cheek, Katsuki gives you a soft smile.

“You know I’ll support everything you do. The other people at your agency will struggle for a while without you because you basically carry everyone in that fucking place.” Katsuki says. “But they will be okay. You’re the love of my life y/n, a great wife and the best mother to our little gremlins.” The buildup of stress from today bubbles over and you can’t hold in the tears. As fast as they fall, Katsuki brushes them away before placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I love you so much sweetheart,” A broken sob breaks out of your mouth before you can stop it which has Katsuki kissing your forehead and grasping you tighter, tucking your head under his chin. 

“Shitty woman, let me fucking help you.” He whispers and you nod against his chest. 

“I love you, Suki.” Your voice is smothered against his skin, so you place a tender kiss to the bare skin of his chest in response. Running his hands down your spine and his warm body pressed to yours, you slowly drift to sleep. Your husband really is a softy at heart. 

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[bambolae]

    HEADCANONS   —   CHAPTER  I.    the dolls of house beneviento.

so, everybody’s view on donna in relation to angie is very, very different. there’s a lot of interesting takes that i’ve read and discussed with friends and since the game does keep it fairly vague, i think that it’s important to establish how i view the dolls of house beneviento.

let me begin with the doll we all know and love, angie. here’s the history behind her.

angie was given to donna in her youth by her father who was a doll maker. donna has struggled with her mental health ever since she was young and she was likely selectively mute as a result. she took a very intimate liking to the doll she named angie and created a sort of persona as the doll to speak to people through her. later, after donna was adopted by mother miranda and implanted with a cadou parasite, she had part of the parasite planted within angie’s head and she is able to control angie through it to this day. 

there’s a lot of questions surrounding angie’s level of sentience and how connected she really is to donna. the way that i’m portraying it is that i believe angie, alongside all of the other dolls, are extensions of donna herself. they do not have their own sentience. she has a set of dolls (angie being her main one) that represent her as a person. i’m making this clear because this is not to say that she has multiple personalities despite the dolls acting very different from one another. the dolls represent the parts of herself that she could never show from a young age and that never developed in a way that she could healthily display her emotions and thoughts without using them as a buffer. to know her dolls is to know donna. 

side note: while angie is completely controlled by donna and does not have sentience, there’s still moments where angie will blurt something out that donna reacts to in an embarrassed manner. this is the equivalent of you blurting something out without realizing it LOL especially if youre somebody who doesn’t have a filter. donna doesnt have much of a filter, shes got a funnel that goes straight through whatever doll shes controlling. in VEEERY rare cases where she’s comfortable enough to talk, donna does blurt out things you’d generally hear angie say and the disconnect is kinda hilarious.

donna grew up in a very strict religious setting as one of miranda’s few “successful” experiments and subsequently one of the future ladies of the village. she was on a tight leash and it’s clear in the way she’s spoken about by miranda and the others that her mental illness was not treated well. any signs of it made her appear immature and childish, nobody took her seriously due to how she never felt comfortable speaking, and the expectations of essentially being a new prophet figure in the cult made it so that she had no childhood at all and no time to explore herself or her emotions. every semblance of emotion was treated like a problem and donna quickly learned that she could only express herself through angie without getting in trouble. 

what was originally a soft blanket that comforted her and helped her with her anxiety was now a crutch. it was the only way she could speak without the fear of being shunned. angie became the truest version of herself - she is the life that donna is too scared to embrace. she is forever in mourning for her parents, her failures, herself. angie celebrates life, finds humor in things that nobody else does, says and does the things that donna would never say. everything she has repressed inside generally comes out through her. 

now, some smaller details for the dolls. each and every doll in the beneviento household that has a part of donna’s cadou implanted into it was created by donna. the dolls will have the beneviento crest on them usually in the form of small buttons, embroidery, accessories, etc. she likely commissions any metal pieces from karl, but generally does it in bulk unless its a special project since they’re usually buttons, pins, brooches, and the like that are used consistently throughout her own clothing and the doll’s. many of her dolls rotate through an ever increasing wardrobe of clothes she creates for them.

her favorite dolls are regularly maintained and cleaned. angie herself is… nowhere near as grimey and nasty as she is in the game. as much as i love the creepy vibe, it makes no sense for a woman who loves a doll this dearly and clearly creates a PLETHORA of dolls herself. she is still cracked and stained from her youth before she learned the arts herself, but donna regularly cleans her and changes her into various white dresses. her hair has been rerooted as well because it… is not that hard to fix that either c’mon. it’s a curly blonde updo. she’s still a creepy little beast but she’s at least maintained. 

donna can control any of her dolls and can control multiple at the same time, but the more she controls at once the simpler their actions will be. for example; if she’s fully focused on controlling angie, then the other dolls are likely idly walking around or turning their heads but they won’t do much else. she can focus on controlling one doll fully & switch between two others simultaneously before it becomes too much for her to handle. any doll with a cadou fragment implanted into them is a part of donna and will idly do things without her even thinking about it. 

if you touch one of the said dolls, she’ll be able to feel it. hearing & sight are limited to the doll she has her focused on and  she can’t really taste or smell through any of them which makes touch the only sense she can always feel through any doll. she has a similar connection to the mold - infested plant life in her territory where she can feel what’s going on - this makes sneaking up on her hard unless you can get through without touching one of the many dolls or one of the plants she’s connected to through the mold.

donna has made many, many dolls for the children in the village (without the cadou…. duh….) and it’s known that it was created by lady beneviento. that’s the most the village people interact with her, usually. 

so, let’s go over the main four dolls that donna has fully developed “personas” for. i went over angie just a few paragraphs ago but as the “leader” of this quartet she needs to be in this roundup too

ANGELA  “ ANGIE “  BENEVIENTO.

donna’s very first doll. represents her in her truest, unfiltered self. the child donna was never allowed to be, says the things she never got to say & does the things she never got to do. the doll she’s usually in control of. quote from earlier paragraph:  angie became the truest version of herself - she is the life that donna is too scared to embrace. she is forever in mourning for her parents, her failures, herself. angie celebrates life, finds humor in things that nobody else does, says and does the things that donna would never say. everything she has repressed inside generally comes out through her.

GIANNA “  MRS. CHUCKLES “  BENEVIENTO.

the first doll donna created herself made in the vision of a clown from a book. the most playful of the lot, most likely to approach you to play a game with her or to crack jokes. similar to angie but with much less of a bite to her words. represents her repressed joy & humor.

LADY ELISA BENEVIENTO.

one of donna’s earlier creations made when she was a pre-teen going through one of the worst mental health lows she’s ever been through. she fixated heavily on this one to keep her occupied in her loneliness, very intricately sculpted & painted. made to look like a sad princess. she still considers elisa one of her best quality dolls, big comfort doll for her. represents her sadness, doesn’t get a lot of use unless she’s struggling with her depression more than usual. 

GABRIELLA BENEVIENTO.

created in her early twenties and has debatably the best craftsmanship out of the four, only rivaled by elisa. made during a very angry time in her life after mother miranda said something to her that made something inside her snap for the first time. she stewed in her anger, isolated in her home & created a doll to cope with her emotions. she forgave & forgot but gabriella did not. doesn’t have any obvious, distinctive design but is regularly dressed in dark colors and has so many knifes under her skirt. much heavier gothic inspiration than the rest of her dolls. she’s usually the first one to attack an intruder. represents donna’s repressed anger & rage, the fight to her flight. doesn’t get a lot of use unless donna feels like she needs to be protected or you somehow managed to rile her up. extreme fear might bring gabriella out as well if she feels like she needs to attack.

[circuscarnage]

Love is in the air! Especially with a certain fae’s birthday. Crowley is allowing this student to celebrate her birthday within a closed space, but hey, it’s still a party! Bring out the presents, cut the cake, and let’s see what this social student has to say on her festive day.

Chapter 1:

Yuu: Happy birthday, Delphine!

Delphine: My, My! How very nice it is to see a little human has come to visit me. And to wish me good fortune on my birthday, no less. How pleasant it is to see you again, Yuu. I trust you have come to interview me, as you have so many others.

Yuu: You’re very sharp witted.

Delphine: I put my faith in my wit. It always helps a girl to be smart. That’s what my aunt taught me. Now, enough of me stalling you, ask your questions~

Yuu: Are you enjoying yourself?

Delphine: Very much so. The dorm being decorated in an extremely festive manner is really something to behold. Really livens up the place. I am surprised though. Between the headmaster only allowing a small gathering, and half the dorm having very little opinion of me, I’m grateful anyone turned up at all!

Yuu: Do you not get along with some of your dorm?

Delphine: Well, I wouldn’t say that. Let’s just say I had a very particular reputation that I’m still trying to shake off. Mistakes were made in the first year, but I’m trying my best to reverse the damage I’ve done.

Yuu: Have you succeeded in that task?

Delphine: Mostly. There are some students who have accepted my apology and continued on with their lives. However, there are some that refuse to see the changes I have made and don’t even want to be around me, which I completely understand. I just hope that in the future, I can make it up to them somehow.

Chapter 2:

Yuu: Why does your birthday uniform look so different to everyone else?

Delphine: Oh, this old thing? Do you like it? I designed it myself. I just thought the original birthday uniform was just too bland. I wanted to wear something that would ruffle some feathers. And ruffle some feathers it did. You should have seen how dear old Crowley was up in arms about it. In all my years of existence, I’ve never seen him to abrasive to clothing.

Yuu: Just how old are you?

Delphine: Don’t you know it’s rude to ask her lady her age? I’ll let it slide, since I’m in such a good mood. But please reframe from asking again. I won’t say the exact number, but in fae years I’m considered quite young. Though comparing the lifespan of humans and fae is like comparing the decomposer of a freshly cut flower to a marble statue. It’s just not in the same league.

Yuu: So you’ve had many birthdays before this? Is there one that you can say is your favourite?

Delphine: I’ve had so many birthdays, it’s hard to keep track of them all. Honestly, they all start to merge together at some point, and I don’t remember the difference between them. There was a part of my life where I stopped celebrating them altogether. But with the right company I can see myself getting back into it~ As for a favourite... I suppose it has to be when I celebrated with my parents. I was very young back then. I can hardly remember what they look like now. But I remember that they loved each other very much, and that they loved me dearly. It’s been a long time since I last saw them.

Chapter 3:

Yuu: Have you received any good presents?

Delphine: I have! One of the more eccentric students of the dorm gifted me another bonsai tree. Now I have two! It’s only a seedling right now, but soon it will grow and look as lovely as my dear Vivante. That’s the name of my other tree. I know people usually buy the tree pre-grown, because of how long it can take to sprout, but with a little love, care, and patience, they can grow into something really beautiful.

Yuu: You like... Gardening?

Delphine: I do indeed. I’m not sure why that little fact always catches people off guard, but I digress. Plants have always been a sort of comfort for me. They are one of the few things my unique magic doesn’t effect. So I can talk to them without fear of them wilting.

Yuu: That’s... Very interesting...

Delphine: Yuu, dear. Are you alright? You’ve been struggling to keep your eyes open for the past few minuets. Do you need to lie down?

Yuu: *yawn* I’m feeling... Very... Lightheaded...

Delphine: Oh no, looks like I was enjoying myself so much, I completely forgot the effect my unique magic has on mortals. Such a shame that we have to cut this interview short, Yuu. When you recover, please come and see me again. I will be eagerly awaiting your return~

[crispyjenkins]

Can you do more of that mandalorian obiwan jangobi fic? It was so good!

(i’m very feckin attached to this obi and i’m so happy y’all want more. blood and injury warning for this one! jangobi is very soft but obi is very bad at keeping himself alive, and ruusaan is the only one with a braincell. part 1 here!

umm. this got really long. it just... kept getting longer. fills will not be this long consistently i just. i really love this obi.

**ruusaan’s name and design from this! thank you to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone for letting me write her, i love her dearly)

 Ruusaan remembers a time before the Supercommando Codex, even if her sisters do not, and as soon as she’s old enough to follow Mereel, she crashes the Duke’s council meeting discussing the cutting of the budget for the poorer levels of Sundari. In front of every one of her father’s supporters, she recites the shuk’la buirok and leaves every Kalevalan piece of herself behind.

  The Haat Mando’ade welcome her with open arms in spite of her origins, Mereel trains her to fight and helps her build her beskar’gam, and she hopes someday her sisters will grow to make their own decisions as she had. 

  Ruusaan walks her path alone unless Mereel calls on her, traveling the stars as Haat'ad, nameless still, but infinitely free. She has no right to Mandalore as her dar'buir believes, but she can live the Truth, and if that's good enough for her Mand'alor, then it’s good enough for her. 

  When she accepts the call to Melida/Daan seven years after joining Mereel, she does so with caution —she will not pull the Haat'ade into their war— but when she lands just outside the capital of Zehava, she’s greeted by a small party of children. A girl that can’t be much older than Satine approaches Ruusaan immediately, red hair greasy and in disarray, but exuding determination.

  “You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists. 

  Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”

  The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

  Immediately wary, Ruusaan looks around the girl to the other children, who stand around someone that positively hums in the Force. “Your contract said transport of goods.”

  “He belongs to the Jedi,” she says, spitting the word like it’s poison. “But they aren’t answering his communications, and we— Force, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Her confidence falters, darting a quick look behind herself before gripping her arm. “Listen, I don’t have much, we only just won and Nield isn’t— He helped us, he’s the reason we won, no matter what the rest of the Young say. He doesn’t deserve to die here.”

  “Kid, I’m not taking your money,” Ruusaan cuts in, Cerasi’s face falling before she continues, “Mandos have creeds about children, I’ll take him for free. Where is he?”

  It takes Cerasi a moment to realise what all that means, but then blinks and dashes back to the little group of children. With a growing sense of foreboding, Ruusaan follows, watching the kids part to show a tiny padawan in dirty tunics laying in a makeshift litter, and Ruusaan has to close her eyes for a moment to calm herself. The Force around him wavers like a heat haze, and Ruusaan isn’t trained enough to know what that means; nothing good, if the flickering of the boy’s Force signature is anything to go by.

  There’s dried blood on his lips and chin, and she can hear his breathing from here, ragged like it hurts, and it probably does. Cerasi bites her lip and moves to pick the kid up, but Ruusaan quickly steps in and kneels to check the kid’s ribs first. Nothing seems broken, he barely even seems bruised, which certainly doesn’t fill her with confidence, but at least it’s safe enough to lift him.

  She puts her helmet back on before carefully scooping the kid into her arms, and he actually feels an alright weight for how thin the other children look. Ruusaan turns back towards her ship and jerks her head for Carasi to follow her.

  “What’s his name?”

  Cerasi quickly moves to catch up, chewing at her lip again. “Obi-Wan, but that isn’t what the Jedi he was with called him.”

  Hm. “How long has he been sick?”

  “He came to us like that. He would just— cough, all the time, and the Jedi didn’t know what was wrong with him.” She follows Ruusaan up the ramp into her little ship, heading for the medbay. “He— After he promised to help us, the Jedi left him here.”

  Rage nearly smothers her, and Ruusaan locks it into her chest for later, after she leaves atmo; Obi-Wan twitches in her arms in response to her sudden spike of emotion, and she can’t have that. “They left him?”

  “Look, I don’t— I don’t know how it all works. But Obi-Wan gave up being a padawan to help us, I think, and I think that’s why the Jedi aren’t responding.” Cerasi watches her set Obi-Wan on the far-too large bed, her lip starting to bleed under her teeth.

  Ruusaan hands her a tissue, but sets aside her helmet to quickly cut the boy out of his tabards and tunics. Just as she had thought, Obi-Wan is wearing a compression shirt under it all; Cerasi looks terrified when she cuts him out of this too, and Ruusaan sends her a reassuring smile.

  “Peace, kid, Mandalorians accept all. Has he been wearing this often?”

  “All the time,” she says uncertainly, ducking forward when beckoned to help Ruusaan get Obi-Wan’s dirty clothes out from under him. “Is that what caused this?”

  “It certainly didn’t help.” They fall into silence as Ruusaan gets a ventilator hooked up, Cerasi jumping in to help as instructed, but there isn’t much Ruusaan can do with her sparse medical equipment. She doesn’t even have bacta. 

  “Are you... Are you going to take him to the Jedi?”

  Ruusaan snorts, making sure Obi-Wan’s vitals are being logged before turning to Cerasi. “Absolutely not. I would never return a child to those that abandoned them.”

 Obi-Wan makes a small sound, eyelids flickering for a moment, but he doesn’t wake, and Ruusaan realises her heart is in her throat. Well, that settles that, then. “I’ll take him back to my people, decide where he best belongs,” she adds, as if the gai bal manda isn’t already burning her lips. 

  It seems to satisfy Cerasi enough to return to the Young, and she leaves Obi-Wan with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered apology. She races out of the ship before Ruusaan can ask her anything else, and she does not follow. Ruusaan’s contract is on the bed behind her, and you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

-

  Jango doesn’t know if it’s Ruusaan or Jaster’s machinations that has him covering contracts with Obi-Wan more than any other commando, but he’d appreciate it if they stopped before Jango has an actual heart attack.

  Because Obi-Wan, for all his new calm and easy demeanor, is even more reckless than when he was a child, and Jango hadn’t thought that was possible. He jumps into fights without checking escape routes, and uses his rifle in close combat as well as his fists, he doesn’t travel with a jetpack, and he removes his helmet any time they’re not in an active right.

  “It’s easier to breathe without it,” Obi-Wan tells him on another mercy mission to Concordia. “Buir tried to hook an oxygen tank up to it, but they were all too heavy.” And he shrugs like it's fine, and Jango decides he has a death wish.

  Ruusaan either joins them on missions, or takes contracts nearby, never too far if... anything went wrong. Luckily, things rarely do, and Jango only has to see Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs once after that first mission back, and even then Obi-Wan had been fine within the day.

  They make it a year and a half of missions together before things go wrong, stranded in a rusty hut on Yutha during a dust storm, with Ruusaan somewhere on the other side of the canyon to the North taking a different job. 

  Theirs had been a simple contract to retrieve some Neimoidian’s data disk that he’d left with a lover, and Jango is only there because Obi-Wan had asked him to be, and if it weren’t for the dust storm, it might have been as easy as it sounded.

  Obi-Wan is at the one window, the barrel of his rifle propped on the sill as he watches the red dirt road outside for anyone trying to take advantage of the storm, though they’re pretty sure their hiding spot has been abandoned for a while. Jango had taken up leaning on the wall on the other side of the window frame, watching Obi-Wan more than he’s watching the outside, and even after almost two years back working with other Haat’ade, he has trouble contending this Obi-Wan with the fourteen year-old that had once tried to set his cape on fire.

  Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to Jango with a tiny, barely-there smirk and readjusts his rifle on his shoulder before returning to his vigil. Shaking his head, Jango is almost thankful Obi-Wan had removed his helmet as soon as they’d secured the hut; how else would he have seen the Yutha sunset painted on his face? 

  Hm. He should probably look into that affection that’s becoming harder to ignore. 

  “Jango,” Obi-Wan rasps, yanking his attention away from the rising dust storm as Obi-Wan’s hand darts up to his bleeding nose. 

  His entire body jerks, his blaster rifle clattering to the floor, and Jango has to dive forward to catch him before he hits his head on the windowsill. He starts coughing before Jango can even get him laid out, struggling against Jango’s arms and splattering blood across his chestplate.

  And these coughs are worse than the last time, shorter, harsher, and Jango has been in enough battles to recognise someone going into shock.

  This is all wrong, though, it never goes this fast, where Obi-Wan is already choking on his own lungs, eyes wild as his body attempts to shake apart, and Jango’s never had to deal with this alone, and oh Force, Ruusaan “the Jedi Killer” Tra’Galar is going to lose her foundling on Jango’s watch.

  The dilapidated furniture starts to rattle as if shook from below, anything left on shelves or counters levitating for a moment before crashing to the ground. Jango yanks off his helmet and has to grab Obi-Wan’s wrists to stop him from clawing at his own armour, Jango feeling him pulling the Force in around them until it’s an almost unbearable weight. 

  And Jango can’t get him into shock position, not with him thrashing around with far more strength than he should possess with at least one lung collapsing, if his wheezing is anything to go by. His skin is cold and clammy when Jango manages to get a free hand onto his forehead, and despite years of having to patch up vode on the battlefield, Jango can’t tear his eyes from the blood that bubbles from his nose and drips down his face, staining his hair and making something dislodge in Jango’s chest. 

  “Hey, hey— Kid, hey, you with me?”

  Obi-Wan blinks and his face scrunches, but he can’t seem to focus on Jango as he tries to jerk himself free from Jango’s hand. Holding him down is going against everything Jaster had taught him about shock, but every commando he’s had to treat for it has been unconscious by now, and even when Obi-Wan’s strength gives out, going limp against the floor, he doesn’t pass out, instead staying aware of his own rattling wheezes. 

  His fingers twitch in Jango’s hand, blinking again and jerking under the palm on his forehead; somewhere behind them, a piece of furniture crashes. Jango can’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan use the Force, for anything: they keep it on the downlow even around the Haat’ade, even with Ruusaan broadcasting her own sensitivity as a point of pride. And Jango has never asked, why Obi-Wan will paint his beskar’gam silver but then refuse to acknowledge his past with the Jedi.

  Something else crashes and Jango winces, moving to try and loosen Obi-Wan’s chestplate one-handed. It’s halfway through the process, with Obi-Wan’s jerking chest even more obvious, that Jango realises he isn’t going to survive it, if Obi-Wan dies like this. Force, he can’t take it if he dies like this.

  The faint hum of a jetpack is the only warning Jango gets before the door to the hut explodes under blasterfire, Ruusaan shouldering through the remains and looking like a vengeful goddess with charred armour and a slice on her cheek. 

  She drops on Obi-Wan’s other side, tossing her rifle away to put one palm over Obi-Wan’s heart, and the other on his right side over his ribs. Jango makes to pull away and let her take over, but as soon as he does, Obi-Wan starts to thrash again, and Ruusaan’s hand flies out to stop Jango.

  “Keep him calm,” she orders, brooking no argument, and Jango listens, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrists again to settle in for seven of the worst minutes of his life — where Obi-Wan stops breathing entirely on them twice, and Ruusaan growls like a rancor before she manages to inflate both of his lungs properly. 

  Obi-Wan gasps on the sudden ability to inhale, eyes regaining some of their clarity, but he still can’t focus on either of them.

  Ruusaan is unsurprised, grabbing up her rifle to swing the strap back over his shoulder. “How far is the ship?” she demands, and Jango’s been a soldier since he was fourteen, he can fall in and defer to Ruusaan’s command, even accept her lead with relief. 

  “Just over the ridge,” he says, slamming his helmet back on and shouldering Obi-Wan’s blaster as Ruusaan picks him up like he weighs nothing, even in full beskar’gam. Bewildered and a little intimidated, Jango helps put both her and Obi-Wan’s helmets on as well — the dust storm clearly isn’t stopping, and they can’t stay here.

  He grabs Obi-Wan’s chestplate and follows Ruusaan back to their ship, and even though Obi-Wan is unconscious by the time they reach it, Jango is all too thankful to be able to close the hatch behind them. 

  In the medbay, he helps strip Obi-Wan of his armour, and then works on getting the blood off his face enough for a ventilator while Ruusaan rolls Obi-Wan’s flight suit down to his waist so she can get at his ribs.

  Jango can hardly look at him, at the patchwork of darkening lavender bruises and the way his chest scars stand out against his heated skin. Carefully lifting Obi-Wan’s head to slip on the ventilator mask, he wishes he could wash Obi-Wan’s face properly, there’s still so much dried and drying blood under his nose and down his cheeks, and he just wishes he understood what the kark is wrong with him.

  Instead of asking, Jango moves to get the bacta vaporiser set up while Ruusaan goes about checking Obi-Wan’s ribs for breaks. 

  Obi-Wan stirs when Jango is hooking up the second set of tubing to his mask, blinking blearily up at Jango as he freezes above him. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment, until Obi-Wan seems to get his bearings and relaxes under Ruusaan slowly dancing Force healing across his torso.

  Panic lodges in Jango’s throat as Obi-Wan makes several attempts to lift his hand, grunting in frustration. Ruusaan glares, but allows it when he can finally raise a loose fist to Jango’s chest, tapping over his beskar’ta in proxy of his own, thanking Jango like he had actually done anything, and Jango has to lean on the head of the bunk with both hands. 

  “K’atini,” Obi-Wan whispers, voice sounding like it’d gone through a woodchipper, and Jango thinks kriff that, this is worse than pain, and they shouldn’t have to watch this kriffing kid die because of it.

-

Mando’a:  shuk’la buirok — lit. “broken parent bond”, made up term for the real ability for a child to “divorce” their parent, legally labeling them as dar’buir or “no longer a parent”, which i’ve based on the term for spousal divorce shuk’la riduurok. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e)  beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy gai bal manda — Mando’a adoption ceremony, lit. “name and soul” buir — “parent”, gender neutral  vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers” beskar’ta — “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called kar’ta beskar or “heart of the iron”. K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”

would gffa’s advanced medicine be able to perform mastectomies without scarring? yes. obi chose to keep his.

[lextheydom]

ADHD Things That I Struggle with and How I Cope with Them

1.  Taking off my jewelry and leaving it somewhere in the house, in public. So many places. Like, I used to lose so much of my jewelry bc I could legit not figure out where on earth it could’ve gone. I take off rings especially bc my brain will go, oh you’re washing your hands take it off and set it down, now forget about it forever. Or: the time to have things on your hands is DONE. You can physically not do it anymore. TAKE IT OFF NOW. It would make me endlessly frustrated and sad that I lost things until I realized a simple thing that helps me: TRAYS

I shit you not, I have one for every single room as you can see above. And they can be ANYTHING, anything that works. What it tells my brain is hey, this is going in this very specific place, or this place or this place or this place, so when I can’t find it I just go to my little trays and there they are!! It’s truly changed my life fam, and it’s also being kind to myself. Because I can’t help that that’s a habit I have, this way I can work within my own needs.

2. Never wanting to check my phone, watch, or turn around to look at what time it is but always wanting to know what time it is anyway.

I cannot for some unfathomable reason just, turn around and look at a clock, so I just bought more clocks. And I feel no shame. There can never be too many clocks, and they don’t have to be ostentatious clocks, they can be small and multi-functional but the point is that it works for YOU. These are my clocks:

Yes. There is a sheep in my bathroom. Her name is Clarissa. The kitty’s name is Silly Billy.

3. Never finishing my cup of water/drink, or never wanting to go get another cup bc it feels wasteful and like I am wasting resources.

Bruh, this is a thing for me and I just DON’T KNOW WHY. I have a thing. It’s always been a thing. So, now that I am an adult I have decided to designate a cup for my bedroom, and a cup for my breakfast and then a cup that I carry with me when I go out. As long as you clean them (this applies to water only) at least every week or 2 weeks you are solid. Like, it makes my brain settle. I can literally feel myself be like, and now I am going to get water with my bedroom water glass, I am done getting ready I must finish this glass in order to get breakfast water, or I dump the bedroom water into my breakfast water cup when I’m feeling frisky. And for me this works bc it’s a designated item for a designated space that I can fit into my space and never have to worry about where it is, or goes, which leads me to my next thing, but first: my water cups!

4. Not taking glasses to the kitchen.

This used to be an issue for me, but not so much thankfully as I’ve gotten older. But I still find myself just like, forgetting to take care of something. For me, COASTERS are a revelation. I got cute ones, cats as a matter of fact:

So that I want to clear them off and see the kitty again and take my cup to the kitchen.

5. Deciding what to wear

I am a fashionable person, just am. Not everyone else, and that is totally fine cause we are all awesome and have different interests and I love you whatever your interests are! For me, I have a lot of clothes and accessories and that can be totally overwhelming when it is not organized. So, for myself, I organize my closet as such: Rompers, Shirts, shorts, skirts, dresses, and then I have underwear, bras, socks, and undershirts in the same storage unit. Then for jewelry I have it sorted in category: Earrings by color, Rings by color, Stud Earrings by color, Bracelets by type, hair bows all together, and belts, suspenders, and bandannas all together. Pics below to demonstrate. Organization is extremely important for me, because it is a routine that I can control and make sure that my space is perfect and I can locate everything I need to. Everything in my life is organized accordingly. And while that does seem daunting the first time you do it, once you learn the tools and keep it organized it really helps to keep it organized and it’s not as difficult as it seems when you start.

And yes, I do sort my purses by color as well. 

6. Wanting to stretch out my legs when sitting

Sometimes you have surfaces that cannot accommodate leggage. My solution: Footrest! I have 2 in my room, and I love them dearly. It allows you to do all the shifting one needs to do when they have a restless spirit.

7. Symmetry

Sometimes, ADHD people have an issue with symmetrical. I am one of them. Now, the setup of my room meant that it couldn’t, for practical reasons, be symmetrical. So I faked it by clever placement of decorations and items as shown below. As long as your brain thinks it’s symmetrical, it should make a space far more relaxing.

8. Clutter

I have a shit ton of stuff, it’s just who I am. I am a stuff person. That used to mean clutter everywhere. Now, I have solved that by having storage bins everywhere. And every 3 months, or longer or shorter, I go through my things and get rid of things. I even have a little bin just for random shit I don’t want to put away right now, or stuff I need to find a place for or fix that way I can find it later. It’s all about the organization my dudes.

9. Singing all the time/Listening to the same music

I sing constantly, and will listen to the same song(s) over and over again for weeks, months, years. I feel no shame, it is who I am. First thing to realize is that this is hyperfixation, and that we as people with ADHD attach strong emotions to music and it is comforting to listen to that music over and over again, it soothes us. It can drive people around us crazy, and the thing about those people is that they will have to legit GET THE FUCK OVER IT. I could be nice and be like oh I wear headphones but NO. I don’t. Because headphones are a no no for me a lot of times bc I can’t stand to have them on for too long, they bother me. So the people in my life have to love me enough to cope. And they do, they turn on their own music or go in their room or sigh and are like this fucking song again, and it’s FINE. IT’s unavoidable and there is nothing wrong with it.

The singing thing tho, I do try to manage my volume when I’m in public bc obviously I don’t want to disturb strangers but no, I don’t stop singing otherwise. It helps my anxiety and oftentimes it’s completely unconsciously that I’m singing so *shrug*. They’ll get over it my loves.

Hm that’s about all I can think of for now, if ya’ll have any tricks of your own, feel free to add on, and feel free to ask about anything you wanna know about. Love ya’ll!

[imagine-loki]

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Two AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven worked diligently on the room. Growing up, she had to adhere to the very strict upbringing which she had that did not permit her to do very much for herself, which always irked her greatly. There were some things that she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such example. Somehow, she still had not figured it out for herself, she managed to set a bowl of porridge on fire. She loved sewing and embroidering, she loved working the needle and thread until a design was created, it was something she always adored so much so that her maid used to be forced to endure Raven staring at her as she mended anything that needed fixing through the years but such was seen as beneath a princess so she did not get to do it often herself, though she had convinced the maid to teach her. She also liked to decide for herself where she would place her belongings and how the room should look but such was not allowed and she was often admonished for doing such things. She was the daughter of the king, she was often told, she was not to do such menial things, they were beneath her station. The issue for Raven was that she was the only daughter of the king, born amidst four brothers. Something of an anomaly in Ljósálfar royalty. Very few Light Elf kings had ever sired a daughter. She often felt something of a black sheep of her family, never truly feeling like she fitted in.

 Her brothers always knew what it was they were to do with their lives; the eldest, Dafydd was to be king, trained for the role since childhood, he would be a good king, if not slightly fond of a hunt more than a trade meeting, the second oldest, Johann was a soldier at heart, earning his way legitimately through the ranks of the Ljósálfar army and would by everyone’s predictions, be general someday. With a good relationship with his brother, it would be nothing but a blessing in everyone’s eyes as kings and generals often clashed heads. The third, Richard was to be made Lord of the Lowlands, a title usually bestowed to the second son of the King but Johann renounced his claim to it as high ranking soldiers were not allowed such titles and he rather earn his own, so that left Richard with a good living as well. The last and youngest, Kieran had learnt early that fighting was the exact opposite to what he wanted in life. Instead, he loved tending to its injured and much to his family’s startled pride, he decided as a youth to become a healer and was studying diligently to do so. Amongst them all, Raven’s life seemed somewhat less defined yet incredibly more restricted. She was given no role for so long and now was forced to one she knew she would most likely have but to one she never thought possible. She could not fathom how it came to be that she was to wed someone so notably high born as the second prince of Asgard, the son and brother of the current and future Allfathers. When her father first stated it, she thought him to be having some form of a peculiar joke, but when his face remained stoic and none seemed to see anything funny in what was being said, she realised he was entirely serious. 

She loved the sound of the cloth squeaking against the mirror as she worked. If anything, the experience was fun for her. Most days were dull and boring for her, long hours of reading and writing in areas that were entirely uninteresting. She liked a good book on occasion but she liked them to be on matters that interested her, most commonly, a genre known as thriller, not something befitting a princess. She often hid those books so none would know she read them but then it made finding time to read them difficult. This far surpassed reading about the history of trade between Alfheim and Vanaheim. Most would think her mad had she stated such, but it was true nonetheless. 

She heard Loki’s return before she saw him. A low irate growl rang out around the rooms. “Maid...Norns, what is your name again, Raven...no, Brianna...Norn’s what is it?”

“Breanna, Your Grace.” Raven rushed from the bathroom where she had been shining the glass to see Loki, noting the manner in which he was presently standing in front of her, hair tousled, twigs in it and a mud smear on his face. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Well, at least one person cared to ask me and it had to be a foreign maid, of course, not my supposed friends or indeed my family,” Loki growled to no one. “I am fine. Breanna, of course. Run me a bath.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed and rushed into the bathroom once more. 

Loki watched her for a moment before walking in after her. “Where did you learn to bow like that?”

Raven, thinking the question to be entirely obscure, turned to look at him. “Sorry, Your Grace?”

“Who taught you to bow? You’re female, females do not bow, you are supposed to curtsey.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke. 

“I…” Raven had only done the bow to be swift but seeing his reaction, she was unsure what to say. “I don’t have the balance for that.”

Loki’s brow rose. “The balance?”

“I tried but it ended badly.”

Loki folded his arms and leant against the door frame, a smile forming on his face. “Well now, this sounds interesting.”

“I tried to learn, I was even given a tutor because I was not getting it. I kept crossing my ankles wrong and I ended up….” Her eyes darted to the side embarrassed. 

“Oh, please continue.”

“Falling….into a…” She toyed with her hands slightly. If Loki had not been listening so astutely, he would not have heard the final word that she all but mouthed. “Fountain.”

Loki tried, to his credit, not to laugh at her. He bit his lips together and willed himself not to do so but he failed as her face went an interesting colour of red at the memory. He did not last long before his failure became vocal and he laughed heartily at it. 

 The laugh was not a malicious one, something she could take solace in but it did not stop her feeling embarrassed. The story was a true one, she did indeed struggle to curtsey when she was young. With her brothers, in informal settings, she did bow but had long mastered the curtsey also. Her unique form of training in that her unsuccessful attempt led to a thorough soaking left a lasting impression on her. “So as you can see, bowing suits me better.”

Loki cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing but his smile was still blatant. “I would wager that was somewhat hilarious.”

“It would have been, I laughed myself for a time, only my father saw it and was none-too-pleased. He did not think it to be so amusing.”

“He sounds as stoic as my own father.” Loki all but snarled the words, his previous good humour dissipating as he thought of his father. 

“I do think them to be of similar mindsets.”

“At least you are free of your father. I am stuck seeing mine every day.”

“I know him to be strict but if I am honest, I miss him and the rest of my family dearly. Being on an entirely different realm is so difficult, a lot of the time.” Raven did not mean to be so honest but at that moment, it slipped through.

“I wish I could be on a different realm. I am sick of them all.”

“We all think that until we get that wish, then all we wish for is to have what we had before.” Raven felt herself becoming slightly annoyed at Loki, her tone became more clipped as she spoke. “I will get your bath readied, Your Highness. I would suggest that you ready yourself for such without twigs in your hair.” She gave another slight bow before turning to continue her work, not wanting to accidentally reveal her true identity to him. 

Loki, stunned into silence by her demeanour and tone and the manner in which she spoke to him, took a moment to look in a mirror to assess his appearance only to see her words, to be honest. There was indeed debris from his scuffle in his hair. Miffed at everything, he decided to say nothing more, allow his maid to do as she was supposed to and prepare for his bath. 

*

Loki had no idea what it was that was used for his bath, but his aching muscles seemed to soothe as soon as he submerged himself in the water. He groaned from the comfort of it all before enjoying his bath, his tension disappearing as he did so. 

When he came out of his bath a time later and into the front part of his rooms, dressed in only his pants, he noted that his maid was busy trying to organise some books. “Do you find such things taxing?”

Raven looked over her shoulder at him. “When one decides to have no order at all, I find it distressing, not taxing.”

Loki felt insulted by her tone. “I do have an order, excuse you. Just because you cannot see it does not make it so.”

Raven stood back slightly. “It is neither chronological nor alphabetical, it makes little to no sense.”

Loki frowned. “Chrono….how in the realms would you even know the chronological order?”

“So because I am a maid, I cannot know the chronological order, is that what you are saying? Do you think me to be so unintelligent as to not know the order of some books? Do you look down on others so?” she did not snap the words emotionally as others would at being spoken to in such a tone but kept her voice calm yet clearly displaying how insulting his words were. 

“I did not claim that you were unintelligent.” Loki found himself backpedalling very quickly. “Only, those books…”

“Are of Alfheim, as I am, so of all the maids here to have any knowledge of such things, I should know such and do not even dare suggest that you think it’s because I should not know how to read.”

“Do not put words into my mouth.” Loki became angered at what she was implying. Especially ones so demeaning.”

“The words already in there do not seem much better.”

For a moment, both royals stood face to face, glaring at one another. “Before I went for a bath, you seemed to be the only one to care about my wellbeing after the situation today but now you are worse than others.” He turned to leave.

“I should mention, your female companion called by while you were in the bath,” Raven informed him. “She let me know your opinion on us dim, airheaded Light Elves and your opinion on our Princess, the one you are to marry. What can I say, it left a bad taste in my mouth.” Raven walked off leaving Loki startled in her wake. 

[wolfpawn]

Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 2

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - Raven starts to work for Loki but it is not long before she is tested and is forced to remain calm in fear of revealing herself.

Previous Chapter

Tags - @peppermint-j  @alexakeyloveloki @myblissfulparadise - it won’t let me tag you. 

Request if you wish to be tagged

Raven worked diligently on the room. Growing up, she had to adhere to the very strict upbringing which she had that did not permit her to do very much for herself, which always irked her greatly. There were some things that she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such example. Somehow, she still had not figured it out for herself, she managed to set a bowl of porridge on fire. She loved sewing and embroidering, she loved working the needle and thread until a design was created, it was something she always adored so much so that her maid used to be forced to endure Raven staring at her as she mended anything that needed fixing through the years but such was seen as beneath a princess so she did not get to do it often herself, though she had convinced the maid to teach her. She also liked to decide for herself where she would place her belongings and how the room should look but such was not allowed and she was often admonished for doing such things. She was the daughter of the king, she was often told, she was not to do such menial things, they were beneath her station. The issue for Raven was that she was the only daughter of the king, born amidst four brothers. Something of an anomaly in Ljósálfar royalty. Very few Light Elf kings had ever sired a daughter. She often felt something of a black sheep of her family, never truly feeling like she fitted in.

 Her brothers always knew what it was they were to do with their lives; the eldest, Dafydd was to be king, trained for the role since childhood, he would be a good king, if not slightly fond of a hunt more than a trade meeting, the second oldest, Johann was a soldier at heart, earning his way legitimately through the ranks of the Ljósálfar army and would by everyone’s predictions, be general someday. With a good relationship with his brother, it would be nothing but a blessing in everyone’s eyes as kings and generals often clashed heads. The third, Richard was to be made Lord of the Lowlands, a title usually bestowed to the second son of the King but Johann renounced his claim to it as high ranking soldiers were not allowed such titles and he rather earn his own, so that left Richard with a good living as well. The last and youngest, Kieran had learnt early that fighting was the exact opposite to what he wanted in life. Instead, he loved tending to its injured and much to his family’s startled pride, he decided as a youth to become a healer and was studying diligently to do so. Amongst them all, Raven’s life seemed somewhat less defined yet incredibly more restricted. She was given no role for so long and now was forced to one she knew she would most likely have but to one she never thought possible. She could not fathom how it came to be that she was to wed someone so notably high born as the second prince of Asgard, the son and brother of the current and future Allfathers. When her father first stated it, she thought him to be having some form of a peculiar joke, but when his face remained stoic and none seemed to see anything funny in what was being said, she realised he was entirely serious. 

She loved the sound of the cloth squeaking against the mirror as she worked. If anything, the experience was fun for her. Most days were dull and boring for her, long hours of reading and writing in areas that were entirely uninteresting. She liked a good book on occasion but she liked them to be on matters that interested her, most commonly, a genre known as thriller, not something befitting a princess. She often hid those books so none would know she read them but then it made finding time to read them difficult. This far surpassed reading about the history of trade between Alfheim and Vanaheim. Most would think her mad had she stated such, but it was true nonetheless. 

She heard Loki’s return before she saw him. A low irate growl rang out around the rooms. “Maid...Norns, what is your name again, Raven...no, Brianna...Norn’s what is it?”

“Breanna, Your Grace.” Raven rushed from the bathroom where she had been shining the glass to see Loki, noting the manner in which he was presently standing in front of her, hair tousled, twigs in it and a mud smear on his face. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Well, at least one person cared to ask me and it had to be a foreign maid, of course, not my supposed friends or indeed my family,” Loki growled to no one. “I am fine. Breanna, of course. Run me a bath.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed and rushed into the bathroom once more. 

Loki watched her for a moment before walking in after her. “Where did you learn to bow like that?”

Raven, thinking the question to be entirely obscure, turned to look at him. “Sorry, Your Grace?”

“Who taught you to bow? You’re female, females do not bow, you are supposed to curtsey.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke. 

“I…” Raven had only done the bow to be swift but seeing his reaction, she was unsure what to say. “I don’t have the balance for that.”

Loki’s brow rose. “The balance?”

“I tried but it ended badly.”

Loki folded his arms and leant against the door frame, a smile forming on his face. “Well now, this sounds interesting.”

“I tried to learn, I was even given a tutor because I was not getting it. I kept crossing my ankles wrong and I ended up….” Her eyes darted to the side embarrassed. 

“Oh, please continue.”

“Falling….into a…” She toyed with her hands slightly. If Loki had not been listening so astutely, he would not have heard the final word that she all but mouthed. “Fountain.”

Loki tried, to his credit, not to laugh at her. He bit his lips together and willed himself not to do so but he failed as her face went an interesting colour of red at the memory. He did not last long before his failure became vocal and he laughed heartily at it. 

 The laugh was not a malicious one, something she could take solace in but it did not stop her feeling embarrassed. The story was a true one, she did indeed struggle to curtsey when she was young. With her brothers, in informal settings, she did bow but had long mastered the curtsey also. Her unique form of training in that her unsuccessful attempt led to a thorough soaking left a lasting impression on her. “So as you can see, bowing suits me better.”

Loki cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing but his smile was still blatant. “I would wager that was somewhat hilarious.”

“It would have been, I laughed myself for a time, only my father saw it and was none-too-pleased. He did not think it to be so amusing.”

“He sounds as stoic as my own father.” Loki all but snarled the words, his previous good humour dissipating as he thought of his father. 

“I do think them to be of similar mindsets.”

“At least you are free of your father. I am stuck seeing mine every day.”

“I know him to be strict but if I am honest, I miss him and the rest of my family dearly. Being on an entirely different realm is so difficult, a lot of the time.” Raven did not mean to be so honest but at that moment, it slipped through.

“I wish I could be on a different realm. I am sick of them all.”

“We all think that until we get that wish, then all we wish for is to have what we had before.” Raven felt herself becoming slightly annoyed at Loki, her tone became more clipped as she spoke. “I will get your bath readied, Your Highness. I would suggest that you ready yourself for such without twigs in your hair.” She gave another slight bow before turning to continue her work, not wanting to accidentally reveal her true identity to him. 

Loki, stunned into silence by her demeanour and tone and the manner in which she spoke to him, took a moment to look in a mirror to assess his appearance only to see her words, to be honest. There was indeed debris from his scuffle in his hair. Miffed at everything, he decided to say nothing more, allow his maid to do as she was supposed to and prepare for his bath. 

*

Loki had no idea what it was that was used for his bath, but his aching muscles seemed to soothe as soon as he submerged himself in the water. He groaned from the comfort of it all before enjoying his bath, his tension disappearing as he did so. 

When he came out of his bath a time later and into the front part of his rooms, dressed in only his pants, he noted that his maid was busy trying to organise some books. “Do you find such things taxing?”

Raven looked over her shoulder at him. “When one decides to have no order at all, I find it distressing, not taxing.”

Loki felt insulted by her tone. “I do have an order, excuse you. Just because you cannot see it does not make it so.”

Raven stood back slightly. “It is neither chronological nor alphabetical, it makes little to no sense.”

Loki frowned. “Chrono….how in the realms would you even know the chronological order?”

“So because I am a maid, I cannot know the chronological order, is that what you are saying? Do you think me to be so unintelligent as to not know the order of some books? Do you look down on others so?” she did not snap the words emotionally as others would at being spoken to in such a tone but kept her voice calm yet clearly displaying how insulting his words were. 

“I did not claim that you were unintelligent.” Loki found himself backpedalling very quickly. “Only, those books…”

“Are of Alfheim, as I am, so of all the maids here to have any knowledge of such things, I should know such and do not even dare suggest that you think it’s because I should not know how to read.”

“Do not put words into my mouth.” Loki became angered at what she was implying. Especially ones so demeaning.”

“The words already in there do not seem much better.”

For a moment, both royals stood face to face, glaring at one another. “Before I went for a bath, you seemed to be the only one to care about my wellbeing after the situation today but now you are worse than others.” He turned to leave.

“I should mention, your female companion called by while you were in the bath,” Raven informed him. “She let me know your opinion on us dim, airheaded Light Elves and your opinion on our Princess, the one you are to marry. What can I say, it left a bad taste in my mouth.” Raven walked off leaving Loki startled in her wake.