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katethewriter · 2 years

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Meet the Fam!

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have 8 children, and they love them all 25/8. 25 hours a day/8 days a week. This is an introduction to the series and this family.

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha, parents!WandaNat x daughter!reader

Words: 5.5k~

Warnings: NON CANON AU, mentions of child abuse, child neglect, and child abandonment, a very sick baby girl, emergency birth, I get a little long winded, but what’s new?

Not really a warning, just a heads up: This series obviously has A LOT of original characters, specifically child original characters. If oc’s aren’t really your thing, this one may not be for you.

Let me know if I missed some!

A/N: I had a lot of fun brainstorming and world building for this one, so I decided to share a little bit of background information before we jump into the real fic. This one is oc heavy, so I felt the need to really introduce them, so I chose to do so in headcanon/brainstorming format 🙃 Also, this is a non canon AU, so I also felt the need to give you a tidbit of WandaNat’s back ground before all the kiddos came along. Some of these are longer than others and that’s just because I felt those needed a bit explaining for context. Tell me what you think and if you want more!

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Meet the Maximoff-Romanoff’s!

Starting with moms:

Wanda Django Maximoff-Romanoff

daughter of Olek and Iryna Maximoff

twin sister of Pietro Maximoff

wife of Natasha

born in Sokovia

Her family moved to New York when she was a teenager because her father had a job opportunity.

Her mother decided to open a rather small restaurant to serve food from her country proudly.

and she does well.

Wanda starts off helping in the front of house with her brother

Eventually, she moves to the kitchen where she really learns to shine. She soaks up everything her mother has to teach her.

Once she has mastered everything on the current menu, she starts experimenting. Creating completely new dishes or taking her own Sokovian spin on traditional American foods.

Before long she is teaching her mother new recipes almost weekly. These are then added to the menu.

The restaurant really starts to thrive, pulling people from all of the city into their little hole in the wall, after a year or two of this.

Wanda is about to turn 18 and finish school. She makes a decision to continue her education at a culinary school.

She learns fast and quickly becomes a star pupil.

She gets her degree and returns to New York and helps her parents build the restaurant even further.

They do so well that they can move locations to a much larger venue, and they continue to grow in popularity and prestige. They offer authentic Sokovian food to a community that hasn’t really experienced before, along with Wanda’s masterful creations that blended well know dishes with Sokovian cuisine.

Eventually, her parents decide to take a step back. They still work in the restaurant when needed, but the management and ownership is passed to Wanda.

It’s hers. She owns it. She owns her own restaurant. It’s a dream come true.

The only thing she’s ever wanted more than this is a family of her own,

and soon enough she gets that too.

One night after most of the diners had left, Pietro drags Wanda to the front to introduce her to a friend of his.

Her brother tells her the man’s name, but Wanda doesn’t hear it. She’s too busy trying so hard not to embarrass herself in front of the gorgeous red haired woman sitting at the table with him.

After a short conversation, Wanda excuses herself and turns back to the kitchen mentally kicking herself the whole way.

“Stop it, Wanda. They were clearly on a date. She’s probably straight, so you have no chance.”

She only makes it halfway, and she is stopped by a smooth voice that makes her want to drop her panties.

She turns to find the red head smoothly introducing herself and asking for her number.

‘Natasha, a beautiful name for an even more a beautiful woman,’ Wanda thinks.

She accepts, and the rest is history.

They fall in love and get married in the city. Their families blend seamlessly. It’s almost too good to be true.

They live in the city. Wanda continues to run the restaurant, while Nat patrols.

Wanda always wanted a large family, not really as large of a family that she ended up with, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

She carries and births 5 of their 8 children: Lena, PJ, Alex, Tommy and Billy.

When she is pregnant with the first set of twins, her and Nat make the decision to move out of the city. They buy a 5 bedroom up state.

Wanda decides to step back from the restaurant to focus on the babies for a while.

She still owns and manages it from afar, but she has a great staff, talented chefs, loyal managers, and a dedicated team to keep the restaurant on its feet and living up to reputation Wanda had built.

After Y/n and Alex are born and grow to the age they need to be in a daycare for most of the day, Wanda feels the need to get out and do something.

She receives an offer to teach at a local culinary school, and she jumps at the opportunity

She absolutely loves it.

Teaching other people as passionate about cooking as she is, watching their skills grow is exhilarating.

With the restaurant and teaching, Wanda feels a sense of peace that she can support her family and continue to support her family as it grows.

and grows and grows and grows

Natasha Alianovna Maximoff-Romanoff

the adopted daughter of Melina and Alexei Romanoff

older sister of Yelena

she was born in Russia

Her birth parents were killed in a car crash when she was very young, and she was sent to an orphanage for girls, The Red Room.

She was there for a few years before she met a little girl named Yelena, a girl much younger than her who just looked scared.

Natasha comforted and cared for her and continued to do so for a year.

It was then a man and woman came in looking to begin their family.

They were taken by Yelena. They spoke to her and played with her before picking her up.

The blonde girl looked frantically for the older girl with fury red hair, but she had gone to steal a snack from the kitchen for Yelena.

Natasha hears screaming and rushes to where she left Yelena.

Two strangers are walking towards the door with her little sister Yelena.

The blonde thrashes in their arms until she’s eventually released and runs straight to Natasha gripping her tightly.

The two of them had become very close, near inseparable.

and that was lowering their chances of being adopted. No one wants to take in two kids.

The strangers leave, and Natasha thinks that she just cost Yelena a good life with those two could have been parents.

but that chance was lost forever.

Until only a week later, when they return with an interest in both girls.

Natasha is 8 when she is adopted along with her official little sister.

They lived in Russia for a few years before moving all the way to Ohio. They stayed there for the rest of Natasha’s childhood.

Her mother Melina taught psychology at a local university. Her father became a police officer.

Somehow both Natasha and her sister decide to follow in his footsteps and become police officers as well.

Eventually Natasha decides to leave the suburban life to move to New York. She works and makes connections.

One day a friend of hers and fellow officer, Steve asks her to try a restaurant that is supposed to be amazing.

“A friend of mine is the owner’s brother; he can get us in.”

The food definitely lives up to the hype.

Natasha is already thinking of when she can come back next when a man approaches the table with a woman in tow.

The most breathtaking woman Natasha has ever seen.

Steve introduces the brother, Pietro, and he introduces his sister the head chef and owner of the restaurant.

Nat compliments the food and gets only a quiet thanks but a completely genuine smile in response.

As the woman, Wanda, walks back to the kitchen, Nat feels like she’s losing her chance.

She quickly chases her down and introduces herself properly and goes for it. By the grace of whatever god there is above, the chef accepts, and Natasha will be forever grateful she did.

She adores Wanda more and more with every interaction.

They get married and decide to start a family of their own.

Unlike her wife, Natasha has always wanted a family as large as they have.

She wanted carry children, to form new lives inside her and love them with every thing she had.

However, she carried and birthed only 1 of their 8 children.

Y/n is a miracle child. One they thought they had lost before she got a chance at conception, but she was there, hiding in plain sight.

The pregnancy that followed was a typical one more or less.

excluding the fact that her wife was also pregnant at the time.

Twice the cravings, twice the mood swings, twice the hormones and the sex drive to go with it.

Pregnancy sex is much harder to accomplish when both members have swollen stomachs.

All goes well until an emergency c-section was performed and Natasha was rushed into surgery.

When she wakes, the first thing she thinks is that she misses her baby. Her flat stomach evidence that her ride along is no longer riding along.

She instantly misses holding the child inside her. She’ll just have to convince Wanda to have a fifth child, so she can carry again.

Nat looks up to find Wanda with red eyes and a terrified expression. She can’t help but think the worst.

Her baby is gone.

“no no no no no no, please no”

Wanda quickly jumps up quelling her fears, Y/n ok, she’s here and healthy, but there was more.

“Nat, I had to make a decision.”

She explains what happened, the complication, the possible outcomes

“It was your uterus or your life.”

Wanda knows how much carrying children meant to her wife, and she had taken that from her.

Nat grieved for a moment.

Her only consistent dream in life was to fall in love and carry children.

That option is now gone

but if the other possibility was Natasha missing out on life with her wife and children, she knew Wanda made the right choice.

She carried Y/n.

She fulfilled that dream. Now, to love them for the rest of her life.

“She is ok?”

“She’s fine. Healthy and so beautiful, lyubov. She has your hair.”

Nat smiles, “that’s all that matters to me.”

She kisses her wife without a drop of resentment in her heart.

She eventually goes back on the job and just watches her children grow.

They all have different personalities, likes and dislikes.

Natasha’s favorite is when she watches them find their passion and chase it.

…now for the kiddos

Lena Iryna Maximoff-Romanoff

17 years old

one of “the big twins”

Natasha and Wanda’ very first born child

the biological daughter of Wanda and a male donor

born 18 mins before her twin Pietro

Named after her Aunt Yelena

At the age of two, she saw an old home video of Natasha dancing ballet in a recital and begged to dance like her.

She began lessons at the age of three and has danced till this day. She improves more and more with every year.

She’s very talented.

As a junior in high school, she has been recruited to dance in college even a professional ballet company showed interest in her.

However, she wants to be a lawyer.

specifically a family lawyer after witnessing the adoptions of two of her little siblings first hand

She has the grades for it. She’s not in the very top of her class, but she is not far below them.

In true first kid fashion, when she’s not dancing or studying? she is probably helping with the little kids.

not because her moms force her to

They would never force her to.

She just likes looking after them.

Once she and PJ are old enough to drive, she often times acts as a school bus picking up her siblings on her way home, after her ballet rehearsals of course.

When moms say “the big twins are in charge”

…what they mean is “Lena is in charge.”

and everyone knows it but PJ.

Pietro Leonid Maximoff-Romanoff

17 years old

“PJ”

one of the “big twins”

biological son of Wanda and a male donor

He was born 18 mins after his sister, and it kills him.

He’s named after his Uncle Pietro, but everyone calls him PJ.

It started as a family joke.

As soon as the twins were born, everyone got confused calling them both Pietro.

So little Pietro became Pietro Jr around family.

No one really knows when it got shortened to PJ, but it’s stuck ever since.

He’s a pretty calm child,

but he can be a rascal when he wants to be.

April fool’s day is his favorite day of the year.

He won’t admit it, but his little brother Alex is his best friend and often coconspirator.

He is currently a junior in high school. He does well in school, not as well as his twin, but still above average, and he’s ok with that.

Like his uncle Pietro he’s fast

like really fast

which is a huge help when he plays soccer. He finally got moved up to varsity his junior year,

and he is PUMPED about it.

He’s not really sure what he wants to do after graduation. Whether to go to college or a trade school.

If he goes to college, he has no idea what he would want to study?

Sifting through the options can be a little overwhelming.

but moms reassure him that he’s only a junior.

“There’s plenty of time to think about it.”

Y/n Alianovna Maximoff-Romanoff

15 years old

the only biological child of Natasha

They were fortunately able to use the same donor as the twins.

Originally, they thought the implantation didn’t take. Months later they learned that Natasha was in fact pregnant.

because it’s the same donor, she’s technically a half-sibling with her brothers and sister,

but she’s definitely a whole sibling you know what I mean?

lovingly nicknamed by her moms as their “secret agent”

due to her inexplicable ability to fly under the radar… since conception, literally.

Only four months older than her brother, Alex

technically making them “Irish twins”

but she’s a year ahead of him in school.

Her birthday falls just before the age cut off date between the grades. So she’s the youngest of her class, and he’s among the older in his.

Now a sophomore in high school, her grades are average, mostly because she dedicates so much of her time to music.

She is arguably the quietest out of all her siblings, with the exception of maybe Max.

except when she’s practicing her violin.

When Y/n was three, her moms asked her if she wanted to dance ballet like Lena. She just shrugged, and they let it go.

When Y/n is four, her sister Lena begged to go see a real ballet.

So moms took Y/n along too, thinking if she saw the dancers that might convince her.

While her moms and sister watched the dancers, Y/n was solely focused on the orchestra pit.

After that every time she got to pick music in the car, she asked for “ballet music” (of course, her moms knew exactly what she meant).

When she learned the names of all the instruments, her answer quickly changed to “violins please.”

For her 5th birthday she gets her first violin, she began lessons.

After 10 years of playing, she is good.

like really really good

not because she’s a prodigy or anything

She’s good because she wants to be, so she works hard for it.

Y/n practices all the time.

To the point that her siblings start to complain, especially when she first started.

As much as they hate to think it, it got a little frustrating for her moms too.

So they ask her to practice in the basement to cancel a bit of the noise.

She spends so much time down there, that when she’s 10, they redecorate the basement and turn it into Y/n’s new bedroom.

She absolutely loves it.

Lena is trying to convince Y/n to play for one of her ballet recital solos. Of course Y/n is gonna say yes, she looks up to her big sister too much not to.

Between how much time she spends in her room practicing and how quiet she can be and the whole “secret agent” thing she’s got going on, she’s prone to slipping through the cracks in terms of attention from her moms.

but Wanda and Natasha make a conscious effort to keep that from happening every chance they can.

Alexei Lev Maximoff-Romanoff

15 years old

“Alex”

biological son of Wanda and the same donor as his older siblings

He’s named after Natasha’s father, but he goes by Alex for similar to reasons to PJ.

Conceived at a point when everyone believed Natasha was not pregnant, he’s only four months younger than his sister.

So together they are kinda like Wanda and Nat’s second set of twins

…except also not.

The one thing to know about Alex, is that he is a class clown.

The class clown of all class clowns

The Class Clown King, if you will

Since he was very little, he’s always trying to make people laugh.

So much so, that it tended to get him in trouble at school with an ill-timed or disruptive joke.

Though now that he is in high school, he has managed to bring his number of detentions down to one a semester.

Only a freshman and he’s trying to start a comedy club at school.

His joking spirit is why he so easily agrees to many of PJ’s practical jokes. Sharing a room with his older brother makes their scheming even easier.

When he’s not in school or trying to make someone laugh, he likes to swim in the local swim league.

He’s not the fastest, but he manages to keep up.

Max Samuel Maximoff-Romanoff

12 years old

originally born Maxwell Jonathan Samuels VI (the sixth)

adopted by Wanda and Natasha when he is two years old

When they adopted him, they decided to keep the name he knew, except changing his middle name to a shortened version of his original last name.

not to honor his parents(you’ll see why in a second), but as more of an homage to all of the Samuels family line that made it possible for Max to even be alive today.

They weren’t exactly trying to add to their family at the time, but this little guy practically fell in their laps,

and then immediately into their hearts as well.

Nat first met Max when she and her partner at the time took a call to his house for a domestic dispute.

While trying to deescalate the situation with the man and woman, Natasha noticed a very young child watching the whole thing.

By his size, he couldn’t be but maybe a year or year and a half old max (pun intended).

He was a bit dirty which was a bit of a red flag, but between PJ and Alex, she knows how little boys can be. She decides to give his parents the benefit of the doubt on it.

Natasha’s partner took care of the parents, and she took care of little man.

First thing she noticed is that he was so sweet.

He smiled when she picked him up and played with her for a couple hours while the whole ordeal was settled and a next of kin came to pick him up.

She was called out to that address twice more.

Once for a suspicion of hard substance abuse which ended up being unfounded at the time, but the condition of the house had greatly deteriorated.

Natasha found Max alone in his room with a handful of bruises in multiple stages of healing. He was a little dirty and very hungry.

With not enough evidence to do anything more, they had to leave, but Nat put in a report to child services immediately.

She was called out there again only a few weeks later when a woman called in saying she found a missing child. A stranger found Max in only a diaper completely alone wandering outside in the street.

The blessed woman scooped him up out of harms way and sat with him on the sidewalk until police showed up.

When Natasha pulls up, he somehow recognizes her from the previous two times he’s seen her and immediately runs into her arms.

She scoops him up in a hug and walks him across the street to his house, where she finds both his parents passed out on the couch clearly intoxicated.

While she is happy to see sweet Max again, it’s safe to say Nat’s angry.

She’s absolutely enraged.

She arrests both parents on the spot for child neglect with a suspicion of child abuse (three strikes, am I right?)

Natasha hates to part with the little guy, but he is taken into child services until his parents situation is figured out.

A few months later, Max’s parents where also charged with several drug charges along with the child abuse and neglect charges.

They were found guilty on all and will be in prison for a very, very long time,

and Max was being put up for adoption.

The day she heard that, Natasha went home and after the kids were asleep, she all but begged Wanda to consider.

“He’s the sweetest kid.”

“His parents were screaming at each other in the other room and he was just happy to play with me.”

“He recognized me.”

“He spent all day alone in the sun, but he smiled and ran straight to me.”

“You’d love him, detka.”

It didn’t take much convincing to have her wife agreeing to consider,

and after only one visit with Max, Wanda’s decided he is theirs.

The two mothers spent a few hours playing with the boy inside the child services center.

He ended up falling asleep in Wanda’s arms. She hated the thought of him waking up without them there.

She hated the thought of leaving this building without him even more,

but the visit was over.

Nat and Wanda both kissed his head and whispered to the sleeping boy, assuring they will see him again soon, and one day they’ll be together for good.

Many visits and several weeks later, they finally take him home.

Max’s four older siblings loved him on sight. They all wanted to play with him and fought over who got to sit next to him at the dinner table.

He fits in like he was always meant to be there, because he was.

He is a total snuggle bug which his moms savor before he gets older and reaches out for them less.

However as he grows up and gets more independent, he keeps his sweet nature.

If he sees someone is sad or not feeling well, he always does something to make them smile and feel a little better.

When his little brothers were born, he was moved into the room with his older brothers.

He’s happy because that makes him one of the big kids now!

Like Alex, he likes to swim.

He is definitely the most supportive kid on the team. At swim meets he is constantly running around trying to cheer on all of his friends during their different races.

Now I know no one can know the future, but he’s gonna be a nurse when he grows up.

Trust me on this one.

He knows about his birth parents.

Where they are, why they’re there(as much as a child needs to know and as much as his moms think is appropriate), but he has no memory of them or his adoption.

If he’s asked, he’d probably tell you he’s always been a Maximoff-Romanoff.

Really he was, even before they met him, he belonged with them.

Thomas Ivan Maximoff-Romanoff

7 years old

“Tommy”

one of the “little twins”

biological son of Wanda and a male donor

older twin brother of Billy,

but he’s born only 2 minutes before his brother, so “older twin” doesn’t really mean much here.

If these two had been Natasha and Wanda’s first set of twins, there’s a high possibility they would have been their last kids.

It’s not like they are terrible trouble makers, they are just so rambunctious.

So much energy compacted into so small bodies.

They are the typical set of brothers.

They like to play rough and can be very rowdy. They run around outside and get dirty and catch bugs. Then sometimes, they are so focused on a video game, there is no getting through to them.

The moment Tommy learned to walk, he ran all. the. time.

and he runs fast.

Almost faster than PJ, but unlike his brother, he doesn’t want to really play sports, like soccer or football where speed would be a favorable tool.

No, he doesn’t like the objectives and the rules and trying to get a ball in a net or across a line.

He just likes to run really fast in one direction.

Luckily this year he’s old enough to start running track, which is the perfect extra curricular for him.

Currently he’s in grade school, and he hates when his teachers seem to pay more attention to him than some of the other kids.

“It’s because I’m not as smart as Billy. That’s why they hate me!”

but that’s not true, his moms reassure him.

“You are twins, not clones. You have different strengths, and that is perfectly fine. They just want to help you utilize yours.”

William Olek Maximoff-Romanoff

7 years old

“Billy”

one of the “little twins”

biological son of Wanda and a male donor

younger twin brother of Tommy

It was Natasha who first brought up the idea of having another baby.

The twins were 10, Y/n and Alex were 8, Max was 5,

and suddenly baby fever set in.

“just one more, detka please”

…well “just one more” turned out to be 2 more.

At the first ultrasound, Nat almost passed out much to Wanda’s amusement.

“You knew twins run in my family.”

Just like that their family of 7 became a family of 9.

The older kids, especially Lena, love to help out. “Baby duty” was the only favorable chore.

Very early, they could tell that Billy was smart.

exceptionally smart

As he went through school, this became very apparent.

his scores? highest in the class.

He does extra credit he didn’t need.

Oh, the science fair? He won that.

every year.

He even sometimes sneaks Tommy the answers to their homework when moms aren’t looking. Of course, they notice it every time.

He is one of the strongest players on the chess team.

Nat loves to sit and play chess with him.

When she was first teaching him, she would let him win every now and again. Now, sometimes she has to actually work to keep up with him.

Out of all Wanda’s children, Billy is the one who will never decline to watching sitcoms with her.

When he’s not running around with Tommy, he’s probably hiding somewhere with his nose in a book.

Anastasia Melina Maximoff-Romanoff

3 years old

sometimes referred to as Ana

adopted by Wanda and Natasha when she is only three months old.

Like before, they weren’t looking to have another child.

They were actually against it almost.

7 kids=101 kids, at least that’s what it feels like.

“No more” they agreed.

Then Bruce, a friend of theirs who works as a doctor in the local hospital, asks Wanda to cater an event at the hospital, which her restaurant doesn’t normally do, but for a friend of course she makes an exception.

When she arrives to set up for the event, she goes to find Bruce and he is clearly upset about something.

After some prompting, he begins tell Wanda about the newborn baby girl that was dropped on the steps of the hospital.

She had a cleft lip and a severe lung infection (which she shouldn’t have survived) that will probably leave her with lasting breathing difficulties.

They’ve been treating her for almost 2 months. Her condition is improving, but her lungs are too weak for her to be released.

Worse than that, she is up for adoption, and the process is not going well.

The caseworker assured the hospital that a newborn would be adopted almost immediately, but a month goes by and no one comes.

Not even a case worker has come to visit this tiny girl fighting for her life.

Bruce is so frustrated because he just got off the phone with the caseworker who told him that essentially she’s on the “unwanted list”.

Because of her health issues, she is a less desirable child for adopting parents.

They tell him, these kids usually stay in the system until they age out.

Wanda’s heart drops at the idea of an innocent child never having parents because of a condition that she has no control over.

Bruce shows her a picture of a beautiful baby girl with an oxygen mask and tubes seemingly all over her body. She wears a beanie that is stitched with the name Jane

“How did you know her name?”

Bruce looks down sheepishly, “we don’t… one of the nurses makes them for the Jane Doe’s”

That makes Wanda angry.

She doesn’t even have a name.

After the event, Wanda goes home and breaks down as she lays in bed. Nat holds her, and Wanda sobs as she tells the story.

At the end, they share a look. No words are spoken but a conversation is definitely held.

The mothers decide to think it over for a while.

Less than a week later, they call their case manager.

The process is fast, way faster than Max’s adoption.

It’s like the agency is scared to lose prospective parents for an “unwanted child.”

Nat and Wanda hate that term.

They want their daughter off that list.

She is wanted fiercely.

Two weeks later, they sign the papers.

Anastasia Melina is officially theirs.

She spends another month in the hospital. While the kids are at school, Wanda spends all day with their baby sister. Nat always stops to see Anastasia before she goes home after work. Being friends with their daughter’s doctor helps them sneak around visiting hours.

After the adoption, Anastasia’s condition improves quickly.

Like she knows she has a home and family now, and she can’t be with them until she’s better.

Finally she is strong enough to leave the hospital.

They take her home, and begin life as a family of 10.

Once home Anastasia thrives.

After a surgery for her lip and breathing treatments multiple times a day to strengthen her lungs, she looks nothing like the frail baby in the picture Bruce showed Wanda.

She grows up as the family’s little Princess. Only 3 years old, she is not letting asthma keep her down.

Her big sisters cherish her, finally not just the two of them with all those brothers.

As for all those brothers… let’s just say she has 5 built in personal body guards, and she loves them all.

She absolutely adores her big sisters.

She wants to dance ballet like Lena.

One day, she put on her tutu and little ballet slippers she got for her birthday and ran to Lena.

“I do bawet(ballet) pwease?”

Happily her big sister complies.

She teaches her positions and light warm ups that she’s seen the coaches teach the little little dancers.

Unknown to them Nat watches silently from the doorway, heart full to the brim.

Sometimes if she can hear music coming from Y/n’s door, she will sneakily open the door and dance in the living room to the music.

One day someone closes the door while she’s dancing. So she scoots down the stairs to Y/n’s room.

“Can I dance to your bawet music?”

She squeals when her sister says yes. Anastasia twists around the room while Y/n continues practicing.

Y/n was actually about to quit for the day when Ana came down, but instead she played until the toddler was worn out.

“Can you pway Ewsa?”

Not wanting to tell her no, Y/n plays Let It Go by ear giving it her best try. It’s not perfect, but apparently more than enough for her little sister.

The toddler quickly drags her upstairs to show Mommy. As Anastasia and Wanda listen to her play, she is heard playing throughout the house.

Lena looks up from the couch and asks if she can play a Taylor Swift song. Again Y/n plays by ear and memory.

This rapidly evolved into a kind of game where the family sat and just kept suggesting songs for Y/n to play at random. For the most part she kept up.

After that, the activity would pop up in family game nights every now and again. always requested for by Anastasia.

and let’s be real, no one can say no to her.

She loves all things pink, and lives up to her nickname of Princess. She loves dress up and make believe.

She is a gem the family didn’t know they were missing.

She is a total Mama and Mommy’s girl, which is perfectly fine for them.

They soak it up knowing for sure this is the very last time they will have a child this young again.

Part One: Just a Typical Morning

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POP QUIZ! NO CHEATING!!!

(for those who’ve read this far)

Who can name all 8 kids WITHOUT checking the list again?

Bonus points if they’re in order. Extra bonus points if you get middle names too.

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stem-sister-scuffle · 3 months

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STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 1 MASHUP 10

Lisa of Lupu/Lisa Ţepeş (Netflix Castlevania) vs Dr. Saira Bellum (Carmen Sandiego)

Lisa of Lupu/Lisa Ţepeş is a 15th Century Medic!

Dr. Saira Bellum... uhh... makes gadgets! (I dunno what word to use)

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Lisa of Lupu/Lisa Ţepeş:

"Saved a lot of people during the epidemic but was burned at the stake for it. Wife of Dracula."

"Quick-witted, kindhearted MILF. Plus she loved Alucard with all her heart🥺💕"

"Went to see THE Dracula just so she could understand how the world worked and help people with that knowledge and was so cool and slay that when she died he tried to destroy the entire world as revenge <3"

"As a woman in medieval Wallachia she had very little resources to pursue her passion, so the mad woman went and knocked on Dracula's door and demanded he teach her the real science from ages past that only vampires remember. She was so good at what she did the local government mistook her for a witch and had her burned at the stake. She wasn't seeking out knowledge for knowledge sake or prestige or anything either, she just had an incredible deep desire to genuinely help people. Also Dracula was so enamored by her audacity that he married her and they had a kid. So she's a milf too, that should count for something"

"Vampire milf"

"She studied medicine so she could actually help people. She was dedicated enough to it to travel to Dracula's castle to ask him to teach her and show her the marvels of technology that he kept. And for this she was burned at the stake"

Dr. Saira Bellum:

"What that ask said"

Said ask: "- Her name is Saira Bellum - "Cerebellum" LITERALLY A SCIENCE JOKE - She is a short queen. She is the shortest actually. - She is evil. She gets paid to be evil. Her job description is to be an evil mad scientist. - She's nonbinary and ace. To me. - Her (tall af) coworker is the only one to call her by her first name... Gay... - Cool hair"

"She’s very evil and also very competent, but only with science. Additionally, she’s best friends with a fashionista and is probably more motivated by curiosity and entertainment in her villainy than anything else."

"science name, mad scientist, shes quite cool"

"she's a mad scientist what more do you need???????????????? she has a failed runway model gf <3 and they're both evill"

"She is literally the mad scientist of all time. She works for a organisation of theives and makes them gadgets to do evil stuff. The organisation is literally called VILE (EVIL backward). Also she is non-binary coded. She has awesome hair. I'm pretty sure she has a homoerotic rivalry with a posh Egyptian lady. And she's Desi so... She's everything to me. Carmen Sandiego is such a good show actually"

#stem sister scuffle #round 1 #lisa of lupu #lisa tepes #netflix castlevania #castlevania netflix #dr bellum #carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego 2019

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nardo-headcanons · 24 days

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I loved the Kumo head canons. I'd love to see your take on the Sand village or the Snow village ❤️❤️❤️

hey dear! I have done headcanons on Sunagakure already, you can find them here.

thank you to @naruto-scribblings-j for requesting.

Yukigakure Worldbuilding Headcanon

People and Culture

The people of the hidden snow village are a small, silent, yet very proud community. They are not the most hospitable and take a long time to warm up. Having to save on precious air as there is not a lot of oxygen in higher altitudes, hidden snow citizens prefer to use as little words as possible. However, this makes their friendship the more valuable. Once you're considered a friend, you are their family as well. Humor in the hidden snow village is another interesting issue, as it is a rather crude and dry one. However, don't let the cold, uninviting attitude of the hidden snow people scare you off, as they are rather inquisitive. Gossip spreads like a wildfire here. Another fun fact: Fridges and freezers are only used in spring, why waste electricity when you can let your food cool in your backyard? This has led to very creative ways of building fences to protect your dinner from any stray polar bear... or neighbor. The hidden snow people is not one to celebrate many things, except Winter's solstice, which is also celebrated as the impending return of Spring. This spring is an artificial one, as huge heat generators are turned on to melt away the snow and ice.

Clothing and Cosmetics

The hair, regardless of gender, is almost always grown out, often times worn open or at least framing the face, as an additional protection against the cold. Hidden snow people have rather thick and luscious hair, and compared to other ninja nations, the most hair follices on an individual basis, evolution's trick against te cold. Hair care is very important for them, and learning how to braid your hair is a standard practice once you're old enough to brush your own hair. Clothes are worn in thick layers and rarely dyed, richer families making the exception. The ankles and feet are often wrapped in thick fur as cold feet make your entire body feel cold.

Nature

Flora The entire country is covered in snow and glaciers, therefore only allowing for evolution's hardest soldiers. The main vegetation here are icy wastelands, some grasslands and tundra made up of various conifers. Native deciduous trees include birches and some willow species, and birch sap is often served as a drink in the Land of Snow. Another survivor from the village of snow are the lichens that cover the barren rocks, adding at least a little bit of color. There are also some moorlands that run through the country, but these are located outside the village and have hardly been explored.

One special flower that had made its way here is the dandelion, a flower with a high cultural status. Its bloom mirrors the change from short, buoyant spring to the icy, merciless winter. Its leaves are often harvested and can be eaten in salads or used in traditional medicine. (although this traditional medicine is only popular with hidden snow aunties nowadays)

Fauna

The Land of Snow was once densely populated by polar bears, but their numbers have dwindled since the Snow Village was founded, as they were often hunted for prestige. The most widespread mammals are reindeer and musk oxen, and the occasional lemming can be found in the dense ice deserts.

Birdlife includes corvids, gulls, albatrosses and the snow villagers' favorite bird: the puffin. These are strictly protected and are also very popular with children. In addition to these birds, loons, ptarmigans and owls also feel at home in the land of snow - sometimes even one or the other odd duck strays in. If you reach the hard-to-reach coastlines of the Land of Snow, you will often encounter seals and walruses. Around the coast, orcas also make the Arctic Ocean unsafe, which often does not suit the other native whale species (humpback whales, narwhals, belugas, sperm whales and blue whales). Fish in the Land of Snow include cod, shrimp, crab, halibut, redfish, char, turbot and salmon.

Domesticized animals

It's not uncommon for a hidden snow family to own their own sled dog as well as a herd of sheep, depending on where their home is located.

Food

Fish and Other Proteins You know how it goes. Once you go fishing, your dinner is secured. This is the case for the hidden snow village as well. However, unlike Kirigakure, fish is not as extremely accessible as in Kirigakure, since fishermen often have to travel a bit before stumbling upon any fish. Popular protein options are reindeer, lamb and seal meat, which often times is frozen (duh), or brined. Smoking meats is also very common, since spices are not widely accessible here (resulting in a few... questionable food preparation decisions that the locals have come up with over time.) Carbs Although the hidden snow diet is rather high in protein due to carbs not being very accessible, wheat, buckwheat and potatoes are the most common source of carbs. The hidden snow country offers a wide variety of breads. Funnily enough, rice is seen as an "exotic" luxury carb. Fruit The best berries are grown in the Land of snow (and in the iron realm, but that deserves its own post). Most beloved berries include wild strawberries, currants, sea buckthorn, raspberries, blackberries, gooseberries and mulberries. Aside from berries, the hidden snow village also offers crunchy pears, apples and cherries. The fruit in the hidden snow country are very high in vitamin c, causing a rather sour taste, but also preventing any scurvy outbreaks. Any citrus fruits are a rarity here and can only be grown in greenhouses, making them very expensive, and not very tasty, in all honesty.

Tradition vs Modernity Nowadays, most foods that used to be inaccessible are now grown in large greenhouses. Most hidden snow citizens are not opposed to GMO foods, and in fact, embrace it. Most of the GMO foods are first cultivated in the hidden snow village before making their way to the market. Many youngsters prefer the modern dishes over the traditional ones. Traditionally, the hidden snow citizen always tries to make the most out of the food that they have, resulting in dishes such as blood sausage, blood pudding, brain (double fried to protect from any nasty prions) and many gelatinous foods.

That's all, folks!

Feel free to use these for your OCs, headcanons, fics, etc but it would be nice to give me credit c:

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto headcanons #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #naruto worldbuilding #hidden snow village #yukigakure

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 6 months

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Hi! Could I get a BG3 matchup?

I'm a bi tguy so men or woman are great. I'm short about 5'2". Dark, waxy hair that's tapered on the sides. Hazel eyes. Slim and pretty weak physically.

ENFP. Leo. I think I'm smart and funny, softhearted. I'm very stubborn, I take a while to form a strong opinion but when I do I stand by those beliefs. I'm very loyal to a fault even if the person is bad for me. I try to be there emotionally for the people I care about. I'm a bit insecure especially when I comes to how much other actually like me but I try to hide it behind confidence. I'm a big reader. One of my favorite hobbies is analyzing media (music, books, anything) picking it apart for themes and ideas. I'm an aspiring writer that also paints when I have time. I also love going hiking/exploring new places. I'd be open to poly but it wouldn't be a requirement.

A/N: Alright for you my ENFP Leo Anon, I’m thinking you’d go best with… Astarion!

⭐ Astarion would be a wonderful match for you! He’s extroverted and dramatic and very stubborn himself. But at the same time, once he forms a connection, he’s very loyal.

Because you’re an extroverted Leo, you crave a bit of drama and excitement in your life. You also tend to want to dominate social situations (of course, this doesn't mean talking all the time, but you like the feeling of being in control of a situation). You’re not afraid to act to get what you want and to change the environment around you to suit those wants. Astarion is very similar. He’s social and charming, and a drama queen at times- something to amuse you. He can also be assertive when he’s not feeling insecure, and in his past, it sounds like he had a fairly decent status and prestige, something you as a Leo, would appreciate sharing in.

Astarion is pansexual, so gender isn’t a factor in who he’s attracted to. But as he says in the game, “[He] has standards.” And you absolutely meet them!

He loves your dark hair, even more so when you pick up a loose strand of his, and place it next to yours, showing him the contrast between his silver locks and your dark ones. And your eyes! He thinks they’re mesmerizing. I mean, he would know, since he is a vampire and vampires do ensnare people, so I’d take his word for it if I were you. Asatrion’s pretty lithe himself, so the two of you look evenly statured when standing next to one another. And he doesn’t mind that you’re not strong. He’s not super strong himself. Physical strength, in his mind, is overrated.

Astarion is also rather slow to open up to people, but once he decides he can trust you, he’s a loyal lover. He’s never had anyone truly care about him before the way you do. It’s almost overwhelming, sort of intoxicating, in the best sense. Then again, it does have some warning signs. He’s been through so much, he might latch on to you, and refuse to let go, even if it hurts him or you. Because you mention you share a similar problem, you would have to be on the lookout for signs of toxic codependency, but you would otherwise share a very strong, intense, unbreakable bond.

Also similar to you, Astarion hides his insecurities about being liked behind a facade of charisma. But deep down, he cares what others think of him. He doesn’t want to be seen as a monster or a victim, but he worries that’s how he often comes across. He’s extremely grateful to you for understanding this part of him. And he’s honored to be able to try and help you with yours. He thinks you’re wonderful. You’re fun, creative, and passionate- all traits he thinks more people should praise you for. But no worries if they don’t. He promises to fill that void with as many compliments as possible. Seriously, it might get annoying after a while how often he hits you up with a, ‘Hello, darling. Your artwork is looking especially exquisite today. I should start stockpiling it now, so I can sell it for 3x the price once you become a famous artist.’

Astarion loves that you like to read. He enjoys being out and about, amongst the people, but it's always nice to be able to wind down with a good book. He loves sitting down with you, sharing a good vintage, discussing the themes of a book or show the two of you have recently enjoyed.

He’d enjoy going for walks or hikes with you. Unnecessary physical exercise isn’t a favorite of his, but he’d travel to the hells and back, so long it meant you’d stay at his side.

If you’d want to add another person to your relationship, Astarion wouldn’t be against it. So long as your bond is strong. He needs reassurance you won’t leave him. He loves you too much. He couldn’t bear to lose you.

#astarion x reader #astarion imagine #astarion x tav #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #bg3 matchups #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #matchups #baldurs gate matchups #baldurs gate 3 imagine #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate x reader

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bcbdrums · 2 months

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Event Horizon

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: Monthly OTP prompt fills from this list for Spirit and Stein, because I cannot stop writing about them. I’m happy to hear recommendations each month for which prompt to write next. February’s chosen prompt is: 2. Fear Gas I had ideas for most of February's prompts in my head, but, this one grabbed my attention the most after chatting with some people and mulling over ideas. I took some extreme liberties on how it's interpreted, but gotta follow the muse. And, this fic is late because the muse has been drained. Too much has happened in the last month for me. But! Writing this story is seeming to revive me, so, we shall see what the future holds. Sometimes...the OTP goes through some...tough times... Spirit is 18 years old. Stein is 15. Maka is not yet one. Manga or anime canon, leaning heavily into my headcanons regardless. Also, this lovely art is referenced. And lastly, this is a gift for @cannibal-nightmares, whose art, kindness, and cleverness inspire me...constantly. Do check out their art! Uh...sorry for this one? I guess. Enjoy.

Event Horizon

Spirit stopped short as the book atop the stack in his arms began to slide away. He lifted his shoulder to adjust the balance of the stack, using gravity to shift the heavy volume back into position.

"Hurry up, Death Scythe."

"Y-Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Spirit said as he hefted the stack higher and hurried after Lord Death. He realized he probably could have checked out fewer books—especially with his propensity to speed through them—but every topic had him practically salivating with curiosity. From the history of demon weapon kind to the very first death scythe, Spirit's mind was alight with thoughts of battle and honing his skills.

They left the library and turned the first corner, Spirit still trailing a few paces behind as he bore the burden of too many books. But as academy students passed in the other direction Spirit held his head higher. He still felt a swelling of pride each time people paused to stare or whisper about him, the newest personal weapon of the Grim Reaper.

To that end, a couple of younger girls caught his attention by their giggling, and he wished he had a hand free to wave or make some other gesture of acknowledgement besides his million-dollar smile. But it wasn't needed as the two took a few hesitant steps in his direction, hands shyly lifted to wave.

"Hi Mr. Death Scythe!" one said too-loudly, and Spirit felt a flush of pride rise under his collar.

It would be too much to toss his hair, not to mention the risk in dropping the books, which would negate any air of prestige he was trying to effect. He merely met their eyes in response, held their gaze as he maintained his smile while he passed, and another thrill rose from somewhere in the pit of his belly as he listened to their giggles all the way around the corner.

"Spirit Albarn."

Spirit startled at Lord Death's address; he'd only called him by his title ever since becoming his weapon.

The reaper had stopped and turned slightly, and Spirit hurried to catch up. Lord Death didn't move again until Spirit had reached his side and then matched his pace as they continued down the hall. He felt rather than saw Lord Death's slight turn, the white mask looking down at him in a way that dampened Spirit's former rush of pride.

"You're a married man."

The last of the pride shriveled up until his throat felt tight, and his cheeks were flushing in embarrassment now. The reaper's discreet reprimand had been unexpected and brought every thought in Spirit's mind to a halt as he mechanically followed his newest meister through the twists and turns of the academy's halls.

He hadn't been thinking of his wife...which, was apparently the problem. He hadn't really been flirting with those girls...students...had he?

Spirit frowned as a gloom started to sink over him while he trailed after the reaper, through another set of heavy doors and down some stairs. Those girls were students. He was their superior. And he'd been thinking of them like classmates.

He was Death Scythe. He needed to get the real meaning of that into his oblivious skull, and not be worried about the attention he might get from girls.

That had been the start of his problems in the first place.

"Death Scythe, are you listening?"

"Wha? Oh... Sorry, Sir."

Spirit blinked into sudden awareness as he realized they had left the brightly painted academy halls and descended into a place more broad, dark, and foreboding. Lord Death had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Spirit continued his descent more slowly as he took better stock of his surroundings.

A chill in the air told him they had gone underground, and the architecture was similar to that above but looked as if it had been constructed in a past age. There was also stonework among the wood, and an eerie painting of an inverted trio of eyes on the floor at Lord Death's feet. The gloom he had been feeling turned to a sickness as he arrived at the landing and looked up to the black holes in the white mask that were studying him.

"Oh well. I suppose you can read about it in all of those books and then ask me questions later," the Grim Reaper stated, and shifted his gaze toward a door ahead of them.

Spirit looked at the door where the inverted eyes were painted again, just visible on the dark wood framed by a square of red stone. Two gray statues stood on each side the door, oddly shapen and with their arms raised as if holding up the ceiling. They each had one large eye, oriented properly this time, taking up the whole of their misshapen heads.

As Spirit stared at the strange artwork, he felt a sudden pressing of darkness against his soul. The sick feeling rose from his stomach up to his mind and swirled into fear that froze him in place as solidly as if he had fallen helpless in his weapon form. Blackness filled his vision, and with it came a sudden onslaught of thoughts, all crashing over his mind at once and twisting and overlapping and confusing him such that he was barely aware of his feet on the ground.

Who was this old deity telling him what to do anyway? He had never seen the masked figure so much as leave Death City let alone fight, so why should he feel guilt for whatever he might do that displeases him?

And why shouldn't he flirt with those girls, or anyone he wanted to? He was Death Scythe after all and could do anything he wanted. It wasn't like his wife ever stayed home at nights when he finally clocked out anyway.

They were supposed to be a happy family but she never acted like it. He should teach her a lesson for her taking off at every opportunity when they had a daughter to raise. Leaving him all alone to deal with bottle feeding and diapers and the crying and what had he wanted that baby for anyway?

Spirit gasped.

Shuddering breaths racked his frame as his eyes pierced the darkness swirling through his mind, fixing on the door in front of him as he tried to will away the sickness that had his legs shaking.

Was he standing still? Or was he moving? He couldn't tell for the way the room seemed to rise and fall on waves and his body with it. He was certain he would fall at any moment and that if he did he would never be able to get up again.

"Spirit."

A great hand, heavy on his shoulder, was turning him around carefully to face the stairs again. Spirit blinked repeatedly as the spinning of the room slowly began to subside. The darkness started to move away, touching only the corners of his eyes.

He sucked in air and fell to his hands and knees, and the impact of an elbow on stone stairs jarred him further into the present and out of the evil place his mind had been fast going.

"Spirit," Lord Death repeated gently, and the young weapon let the familiarity of the voice be an anchor, hearing it again and again in his mind until the darkness had faded from his vision and before his eyes was only dust-covered stone.

"M-Maka..."

He shivered as tears fell from his eyes and mingled with the dust.

He didn't mean it. He would never mean anything like that. Maka was the most important person in his life. He didn't want to breathe if her perfect face wasn't the first thing he saw each morning and the last thing he saw each night. He would do anything and everything for his daughter.

So where had that horrid thought come from?

He shivered again, more from the anxiety than the chill around him, and slowly started to right himself. Never-mind the books scattered on the floor behind him. He needed to get home to his daughter.

"Spirit?"

"Maka..." he repeated, his breaths quick.

He felt the hand squeeze his shoulder and he looked up. Worry exuded from the Grim Reaper, and it was a further anchor to reality bringing Spirit back from... From...?

"What...what was that?" he asked, his voice sounding small to his ears. As if Lord Death could somehow know what had happened that caused his mind to flood with more disturbing thoughts and feelings than he had ever experienced in his life.

"That...was the kishin's madness," Lord Death said gravely.

Spirit's eyes widened and he whirled around to face the door again. The trio of inverted eyes, a mere painting, seemed to stare through him, and he felt a fresh wave of fear penetrate him like daggers.

"Asura?"

Lord Death bent down to gather the dropped books.

"Yes. Through those doors is the path to where the kishin is imprisoned."

Spirit shuddered again as the sensations lingered in his mind and left his wavelength feeling ill and out of balance. Lord Death offered him the stack of books, and Spirit swallowed nervously as he took them, and then turned to follow the reaper back up the stairs.

"After you read about it in detail, we'll talk," Lord Death said.

Spirit looked down, and it took several attempts before his eyes would focus on the title of the book at the top of the stack. Kishin it read simply, with no author listed like a great many of the books on the fourth level of the library, and Spirit wondered if Lord Death himself had penned it.

"Ah... Lord Death, Sir?" Spirit ventured cautiously as they reached the landing.

"Yes?"

"Can...can I go home?"

Lord Death paused, but Spirit slowly released the breath he'd been holding as he felt the understanding and almost-warmth coming off of his new meister.

"Yes."

Spirit felt unsteady on his feet again despite the relief in his soul as he strode forward with single-minded purpose, hefting the books higher in his arms. He knew any fear was irrational, but he couldn't rest until he saw for himself that Maka was okay.

"See you tomorrow, Death Scythe," Lord Death called after him, and Spirit paused to turn and nod acknowledgement even as he sighed silently. He would make sure Maka was fine, but...he still had his new job to do.

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

Spirit opened his eyes to a blinding light that obscured his surroundings. When he tried to lift his hand to block it out, it wouldn't move, and testing each limb one at a time revealed the same immobility for each. His head felt as heavy as lead when he peered down to try to find the source of whatever was restricting him, but he was only able to move just enough to see a gray strap tight on his wrist, restraining him where he lie.

"Awake, I see," a familiar voice intoned flatly, and a shock of fear ran across Spirit's nervous system like electricity.

"S...Stein?" he said weakly, his mouth sluggish in response to his brain's command to speak. "What's...happening?"

"It's time for your punishment," the voice said from a distance. Spirit tried to look around for its source, but he was still being blinded by the overhead light.

"Punishment? Stein, what... What are you talking about? Where are we?"

Spirit pulled against the strap at one wrist, but it had no give whatsoever. He lifted his head to look around again and discovered he was without his shirt, wherever he was, and a large gray strap was around his waist as well as his ankles and wrists.

"For entertaining madness. It's the ultimate crime."

"What? But I... I didn't—"

"Evil desires entered your mind. And you...a death weapon. There's no coming back from that."

Stein's voice was growing nearer, but Spirit still couldn't see the teen. Cold fear swept him at the harsh edge of judgment in his former meister's voice, and he pulled at his wrists and ankles again but found the effort as futile as before.

"It wasn't my fault! I would never...I wouldn't act on those things!"

"But you've already flirted with other women," Stein reminded him.

Spirit choked, his next protest dying on his lips. It was true... And that had been before the encounter with the madness below the academy.

"But I... I didn't mean..."

"What you intended doesn't matter. Idle thoughts and mindless errors are as criminal as deliberate intent."

Spirit shook his head violently as finally, the familiar form of Stein appeared above him, blocking out some of the light.

"But that's not true! You don't believe that anymore than...than Lord Death does!"

Spirit ceased his useless thrashing when Stein didn't respond, and he blinked the dark silhouette above him into focus. The young eyes, so familiar to him, were now distant—sad and cold as he gazed down at the weapon with his mouth fixed into a frown.

"What matters is that you believe it," Stein said.

Something prickled at the back of Spirit's mind as he turned over the strange words. He had never believed any such thing. Stein had to know that. And why was he looking at him that way?

"So, it's time to cut out your soul."

A hoarse cry left Spirit's throat as Stein slowly lifted a massive cleaver, its sharp edge gleaming in the bright light.

"What!? No, what are you thinking!? Stein, stop!"

"Goodbye, Senpai."

The blade came down.

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

"Stein!"

Spirit sat up so fast his vision swam, the nightmare still vivid in his mind as the brightness of the laboratory contrasted the dark of his bedroom. He blinked repeatedly until the texture of the blanket came into focus in front of him, the way it sagged between his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

Finally, he groaned and fell back against sweat-stained sheets, letting the blanket fall away. He could hear the rapid pounding of his heart in the silence of his bedroom as he let the cool night air tend to the moisture on his chest, slowly wicking it away and soothing the tension that had coiled in his body.

After a moment he let his arm stretch out and feel in the empty space at his side, the sheets dry and crisp for their lack of any recent occupancy.

Spirit sighed through his nose and shifted to squint at his alarm clock. Nearly two-thirty in the morning and his wife wasn't home.

She'd not been home that afternoon either when he'd arrived back early from work. Finding his home empty had only increased his residual horror from the experience underground, and he was grateful that his first call to the academy had located his daughter, safe in their daycare. What had surprised Spirit was to learn that she had been there all day, and was there most days.

This had been the catalyst for the argument when his wife had arrived home that evening, already spitting fire due to Spirit's discovery of her ongoing deception. It wasn't fair, she had seethed, that she stayed at home all day every day with dirty diapers as her only company, unable to live her life, while he lived out his dream.

Spirit only grew more bewildered at these claims, as his dream was two honey-haired girls in the cheap apartment they shared together.

Perhaps due to the terrifying experience he'd had that afternoon he wasn't as discerning or eloquent in his choice of words as he could have been. Fear was speaking for him when he ordered his wife to stay at home where she belonged, caring for their daughter and not leaving her in the hands of academy students while she went gallivanting off to Death knows where.

Her response had been another departure. But at least this time...Spirit had Maka.

He slowly turned his silver wedding ring around his finger as he rolled over in the bed to face the crib. He could see Maka's sleeping form within, still snuggled beneath her blanket and with her stuffed puppy tucked in next to her.

He wanted to get up, gather her in his arms and hold her until every memory of madness left him. But it wouldn't be right to disturb her precious sleep. So instead he simply watched her. How her tiny, delicate eyelashes rested upon her face. How her impossibly soft hair fell over her forehead and atop her ears. How even at less than a year of age, she was starting to look like his wife.

He turned the ring one last time before moving his hand up under his pillow to be more comfortable. The day had taken a greater toll on him than he realized, for the way his eyes kept dropping closed. His breathing had calmed, and the fear of the nightmare had faded. But the images returned as he let himself attempt to return to sleep, and his brow pinched together as he tried to analyze them.

The bright light, the restraints, and even the cleaver were no doubt due to the horrors his wife had verbally painted for him so many months ago with the discovery of an unremembered scar as they lie in bed. But the look in Stein's eyes... That sadness wasn't anything Spirit ever remembered seeing from the meister in their five years as partners.

And, why had he dreamed of Stein at all?

Spirit's eyes opened as he tried to recall the last time he'd spoken with Stein, and he could feel an ache with the further creasing of his brow when he couldn't place a date.

He slowly sat back up as realization struck... When had he last seen Stein?

Between the busy hours of learning the ropes as Lord Death's personal weapon, the sleepless nights when Maka wouldn't keep a schedule, and the growing number of unresolved arguments with his wife... He simply hadn't had time.

In fact, the last time he could remember seeing Stein, the meister had come there to his apartment, and he'd fallen asleep with Maka on his chest after a round of complaints about his life. He couldn't remember what, if anything, the two of them had talked about. And Stein had been gone when he'd woken up.

Spirit rose from the bed and glanced in the crib once more before moving to his closet. Despite his wife's protests, next to his blazer hung a long white coat that had been cut apart and reassembled with stitches to match an aesthetic that Stein had started adopting heavily in their last year as partners.

That day when Spirit had woken with the sunset in his eyes and Stein gone, the coat remained, draped over he and Maka to keep them warm while they slept.

Spirit pulled the coat from the hanger that had been its home for months, remembering the repeated insistence to his wife that he was just keeping it for Stein and would give it back the next time he saw him.

That had been months ago.

Whether it was residual madness or something else, a sudden urgency had Spirit pulling his clothes from the day back over his limbs, moving quickly but quietly lest Maka wake.

He had been Stein's weapon partner for five years. Even after his sins caught up to him and his life started to shift drastically off the course the two of them had planned, they had still been inseparable.

How could he go months without speaking to him and not realize it?

Once his shoes were tied, he folded the white coat carefully and then stepped up to the large standing mirror on his wife's side of the bed, and with his finger, drew the familiar number into the glass.

"Death Scythe," was Lord Death's unsurprised greeting, but absent his usual flurry of cheerful pleasantries. "Any residual effects of the kishin's madness?"

Spirit blinked in surprise at the reaper's cutting right to the chase, but he supposed he shouldn't have. He knew that he had only been touched by the mere edge of that wavelength, but the impact it had had was profound. He was certain it was the ultimate cause of his nightmare too, even if the subject had been a surprise.

"Ah...about that. I was wondering if...you could send someone to watch Maka for me? For just...just an hour, maybe less. I need to do something."

"Shouldn't your wife watch her?"

Spirit looked down at the coat in his hands, tightened his fists into the fabric.

"I...don't know where she is right now."

Spirit was still looking down when he felt a sudden wave of power and then his bedroom was filled with the imposing presence of the Grim Reaper.

"L-Lord Death! Sir!" he stammered as he moved back until his legs hit the bed, and he fell back to sit on the pile of tangled blankets.

"I'll watch her for you," Lord Death said, and Spirit's eyes widened as the imposing form of the reaper glided over to the crib and reached a huge hand down inside. Spirit's breath caught as one massive fingertip that dwarfed Maka's tiny body tickled lightly at her shoulder. "Oochie-coochie coo!"

"Uhh..."

Lord Death turned back to peer at him through the dark of the room. "It's the least I can do, after exposing you to that. Although, you would have been more prepared had you been listening."

Spirit blushed, and then quickly rose to his feet and tried to throw the bed into a semblance of order. He was glad there was no dirty laundry lying around and that he had taken out the trash bag of dirty diapers earlier that evening.

"Madness is nothing to take lightly," Lord Death continued. Spirit finished arranging the blankets and looked up to see Lord Death nod at the folded white coat. "Just consider your former partner."

Spirit swallowed slowly as he picked up the coat again. He thought of the fear he'd felt, the invasion of thoughts not his own and yet that had seemed to come from someplace within his soul.

Was that what Stein struggled with every day?

He considered the times he had touched the madness in Stein's wavelength when they resonated, the fear and violent desires that while objectively worse than what he had experienced, hadn't remotely carried the terror or dark lust that the wavelength underground had momentarily instilled in him.

Stein had been shielding him all along, he realized, even when he couldn't hold it back entirely. He hadn't wanted Spirit to know the depths of what he battled against. Who would, after all?

And...this was what Stein went through all the time?

Spirit's heart had begun racing again. He clutched the white coat tight to his chest as he began backing toward the door.

"Thank you, Sir, for watching Maka. I, ah... I shouldn't be gone long. The apartment is close. And..."

"Spirit."

Spirit stopped mid-step and looked up at the impassive mask of the Grim Reaper.

"He isn't at your old apartment anymore."

"...What?"

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

Spirit's pace had been hurried the entire journey to the city's outskirts, but he slowed when he approached the old, abandoned warehouse that he had passed so many times before without taking any notice. It was the same as always from the outside, but knowing his former meister was within made it feel different somehow; no longer part of the scenery, but something living. And yet for some reason, Spirit felt a heavy foreboding as he approached.

Stein had asked for and been given the building as a home months ago, according to Lord Death, and had hardly been heard from since except to request and take missions. He only showed his face in classes to take tests, which he passed, and would then vanish again.

When Spirit asked why Lord Death had accommodated these eccentricities, the Grim Reaper had been silent. He also hadn't answered any of Spirit's questions about the missions Stein took, except to say that he had recently taken their friend Marie Mjolnir as his new weapon.

Spirit had bristled at the designation, even though he knew he shouldn't. He had left Stein, after all. How could the meister be expected to continue his studies without a weapon partner? And yet for some reason, Spirit had never conceived of Stein working with anyone but him.

This and other thoughts had his head swimming as he propelled his feet down the sidewalk toward the warehouse, his heart rate seeming to increase with each step. He clutched the folded coat tightly to his chest and tried to will away the strange dread that had arrested his mind ever since the realization he'd not seen Stein in months.

He tried to tell himself it was just a product of the residual madness, or something brought on by the bizarre nightmare. It would all go away once he saw Stein again. He would knock on the door, and Stein would answer because the younger teen kept atypical hours. Spirit would apologize for not having seen him in so long and plan a day, maybe two, for them to catch up very soon. Then everything could go back to the strange, evolving normal his life had become ever since the day he'd learned of the pregnancy.

He held his breath when he knocked on the large double doors and then fidgeted with the fabric of the folded coat as he waited. Stein would be glad to see him, surely? But, Spirit suddenly wondered... Why hadn't he come around in months?

Spirit knocked a second time, louder. Perhaps Stein really was asleep, if he was even there.

Spirit counted the seconds until another two minutes had passed, and then with a shaky breath fit his hand to the doorknob. It turned without resistance, and he paused. Perhaps he could just quietly leave the coat and a note for Stein to stop by or perhaps call him when he could.

He pushed the door open slowly, wincing at the way it creaked on its hinges, and stepped into a broad, dark hallway. The walls on either side of him were gray and nondescript, just like the building's exterior, and all was silent as he cautiously started forward.

His brow rose when he heard what sounded like a voice muttering somewhere ahead of him, beyond another set of doors. He strained to listen and soon felt the tension drain from his body when he recognized the voice. Stein was awake after all, probably busy with some experiment, and simply hadn't heard his knock.

A smile was on Spirit's face when he pulled open the next door and passed into a large room lit dimly from a single standing lamp and the light of a computer monitor. Then, he saw Stein. And his expression dropped into horror.

Stein was seated on a rolling chair pushed back from the computer desk, and the whole of his shirt that Spirit could see was stained with layered drippings of what could only be blood. On the desk on either side of the computer were two large mirrors, propped against stacks of books and angled to the forty-five, and atop the monitor was a cracked mirror that appeared to have been bolted to the monitor's plastic frame.

All around Stein on the desk and floor were scattered papers and open books, and the computer screen was displaying some lines of text too small for Spirit to read. But his attention was fixed on the blood, his gaze rising up past where it clung to Stein's neck and soaked his silver hair. Both of Stein's hands were raised and fidgeting with something just as bloody at the sides of his head, fingers slick with the bright red substance, and the cuffs of his sleeves were stained as well.

Spirit's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare, unable to process the sight before him. And that's when he saw the screw.

"S...Stein!?" Spirit gasped in disbelief, his voice shrill. He looked past what Stein was fidgeting with to his countenance reflected darkly in the mirrors. His pupils were mere pinpricks in his wide eyes, and his skin was paler than usual under the streams of blood that ran down his face, even over his lips and staining his teeth where he was smiling broadly between incoherent mutters and soft, manic laughter.

"Stein!" Spirit repeated, taking an instinctive step forward. The folded coat fell from shaking hands as he looked around, searching for some enemy or any explanation for the horror that sat before him other than his ex-partner's own nimble hands.

The second cry seemed to get the teen's attention, and his laughter halted abruptly as he looked in one angled mirror first, seeming to stare in confusion at something in the corner of the room before shifting his eyes to the mirror atop the monitor until his gaze rested upon Spirit.

"Spirit."

Spirit glanced at the corner that Stein had focused on and found it bare, and then took another hesitant step forward. The blood dripping from Stein's stilled hands had his heart racing in a panic, but not more than the long object with which Stein appeared to have just impaled his skull.

"Stein, what... What... What's going on? What are you doing!?"

Stein slowly spun around in the chair and stared blankly at Spirit until his brow knitted very slightly.

"Hm. There's not usually two of you. Are you going to play the angel on my other shoulder?"

"I... I don't... Stein," Spirit stammered breathlessly. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, harder than it even had when he and his wife had battled the witch.

The faint look of scorn slowly left Stein's face to be replaced by the glassy-eyed expression and toothy smile he'd worn when Spirit first entered. His bloody hands had fallen to his lap when he turned, but he slowly raised one again to left side of his head where the larger end of the object protruded from Stein's head just above his ear.

Spirit's initial, instinctive assessment of the object as a screw seemed to be confirmed as Stein set his fingers around the flat, round end of it, gripped firmly, and twisted it backwards. A ratcheting sound came from the object and Spirit flinched away at the same time he took another step forward, the desire to stop Stein, to help him, and to just understand what was happening at war with the horror that had him nearly paralyzed.

"Stop!" he cried. "What...what is that? What did you do!?"

Stein adjusted his grip and turned the object again rapidly. His face contorted in pain as the ratcheting sound echoed through the large room, and the young meister began to laugh. The sound started low in his chest and then rose higher than the usual timbre of his voice as he doubled over and turned the screw a third time.

Spirit didn't know when he'd started crying, but tears streamed down his face as he forced himself forward on legs that felt as stable as jelly. He fell to his knees in front of Stein and reached up, set trembling hands on his shoulders and gripped the blood-soaked shirt.

"Stein."

The action arrested Stein's attention, his laughter ending as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped. He looked down at Spirit as if seeing him for the first time, hand frozen on the screw. Then he looked over to the corner that had stolen his focus before. Spirit glanced over his shoulder; the corner was still bare.

"I don't know if it's working."

It was the closest to sane Stein had sounded since Spirit had entered, but the meister's eyes were still glazed and didn't seem to see him. Spirit watched his face as he continued staring at the corner, could almost see the calculations working behind his eyes.

"This... Stein... Can you fix this?" Spirit said desperately, finally daring to look at the screw that Stein still held onto almost protectively. He leaned left to peer at where the smaller end of the object was protruding above Stein's other ear. He couldn't tell if it was truly impaled through his friend's head, or if some other mechanism was at work; it was impossible to tell through the matted, bloody hair that fell over the dark metal.

Stein blinked, and Spirit's breath caught as the meister's gaze suddenly narrowed on him.

"Don't you see? I am. Fixing this," he hissed cruelly.

Spirit shook his head. "Stein."

"If this doesn't work..."

Spirit listened to the frightened words, low and hoarse as Stein adjusted his grip, turned his hand, and the ratcheting sound echoed through the room again.

"Why would you do this?" Spirit pleaded, still not believing what he was seeing. If it wasn't for his fingers digging tight into Stein's shoulders he would think it was another delusion of madness.

Suddenly, Stein's eyes truly focused on his for the first time, and his face fell into a terrifying frown. It was just enough warning, and Spirit was able to lean back fractionally as Stein's free arm swept up harshly into both of his, knocking him away and barely missing hitting his face.

Spirit fell back onto his rear, caught himself harshly on his already-sore elbow, and gazed up at Stein in disbelief. The action seemed to startle the meister as well, his anger fading as rapidly as it had come. He stared at Spirit with something of confusion, and then looked up at the corner again. A sound of surprise fell from his lips, and Spirit watched as his eyes darted around the room rapidly as if searching for something, until finally settling on Spirit with another frown.

Spirit was frozen by the bitter look of betrayal that suddenly filled his friends eyes, and all he could do was watch as Stein started to shift his hand upward again. But then, apparently catching sight of the blood on his hand, the meister refocused his attention and a placid smile replaced everything else that had been twisting his features into something beyond recognition.

Spirit's tears fell freely as he stared at his friend and the massive object protruding from his head, blood still dripping down the sides of his neck. His thoughts were finally catching up to his horror, and he knew he should probably call someone for help, get Stein medical attention before he lost too much blood, and see if anything could be done about the metal rod that was apparently set straight through his brain. It shouldn't even be possible, Spirit thought, as he felt he would choke for how his heart pounded in his throat. That he had found Stein alive after his self-mutilation was nothing short of miraculous.

"Stein," he began carefully, his voice broken apart for his fear. "You... We need to..."

Stein stared at him with an unsettling calm, and Spirit's mind recalled every time he had had seen that expression before—all the times he'd had to hold Stein back, either physically or mentally, from some terrible desire borne of madness.

Spirit bit down on his words as he felt bile begin to rise in his throat. He shifted to sit upright, but his muscles felt useless under the weight of guilt that was suddenly bearing down on him as heavily as had the darkness underground.

Who had Stein had, to help him fight his madness...in all those months Spirit had forgotten him?

"Stein..." he tried again. He reached up to his eyes, closed them as he wiped away tears that kept flowing. Stein lifted an eyebrow, and Spirit realized his face was likely now streaked with Stein's blood from his fingertips. "Please, I... I should have... I don't... Stein, why?"

He blinked in attempt to clear his vision, gazed pleadingly up at the meister who sat so calmly, as if half his body wasn't stained in red and the air around them didn't taste of iron.

"Senpai," Stein said, his voice finally something familiar. Spirit watched his friend's hand slowly fall, rest limply upon his knee. But the calm ended once more as a wild, toothy smile bisected the meister's face, and something like the distant sadness from the nightmare filled his eyes. "You know better than anyone that I have a screw loose."

Spirit choked on a sob, shook his head as Stein began to laugh. It started low as it had before, but rapidly rose into uncontrolled shrieks that tore from his throat and racked Stein's body in the chair, rolling it back and forth through the drippings of blood on the cement beneath.

Spirit wept.

It was his fault. If only he hadn't forgotten Stein... No, if he hadn't left him to begin with. Then he wouldn't be seated at his friend's feet, watching him possibly bleed to death and collapse fully into the madness he'd fought so hard for years to protect him from.

He let his tears fall freely as memories raced across his mind, questions and possibilities and denials he had replayed countless times before, and conclusions drawn from the voice he had chosen to believe. It was too much happening too fast, all over again. And as over a year's worth of confusion and fear joined with the present and tangled into an unsalvageable mess in his mind, two words slowly formed and found their way to Spirit's tongue.

"I'm sorry."

It was time to rise out of his denial. He needed to ask Stein... To hear everything from his lips, find out what was true and what wasn't... Learn his side of the story. And no matter what, Spirit realized he didn't care; that in his soul the decision had already been made, and all that was left was to come back. To offer to fix what he had broken. It was all his fault, and couldn't they just erase the past, and please...wouldn't Stein forgive him?

"Stein, I... I..."

The shifting of plastic wheels on the floor stopped, and the laughter faded to hiccuped chuckling. Spirit wiped his tears again with the sides of his thumbs, brushed his hair from his face, and looked up.

Stein appeared frozen above him, grin still manic and eyes not quite seeing him even as he stared straight at him.

Stein's shoes pushed on the floor and the chair slowly rolled back and hit the edge of the desk. His gaze remained on Spirit, unblinking. A bloody hand reached back, felt blindly on the desk and knocked a few previously unseen surgical instruments to the floor. And then Stein's hand returned, rose up between them, his fingers delicately holding a scalpel.

"It's about time I gave you some new parts as well."

Spirit's breath hitched. Stein's shoes pushed down, and the chair started rolling forward.

Spirit let out an involuntary cry as instinct had him roll backward and away, far out of Stein's reach, and then he was on his feet and backing toward the door.

"No! Stein, no, listen to me!"

"Hm, but Senpai... Don't you think you could do with a new liver? I have one in my freezer," Stein said, jerking his head toward another door that Spirit hadn't noticed.

The simple movement of his head seemed to cause him pain, and Spirit watched as Stein winced, his fingers tightening on the scalpel even as both his hands quickly raised to grip the ends of the screw.

"Stein, I... Don't... Stay here. I'm going to get help. I'll get..." he stammered as he continued backing toward the door.

Stein's face settled back into the mad grin, the hand holding the scalpel lowering as the other turned the screw.

Spirit flinched at the sound it made, at the tiny laughs that seemed to slip involuntarily from his friend's lips. He shook his head in terrified disbelief as he felt behind him blindly until he found the doorknob.

"I'll get help. Stay here! I... I'm so sorry, Stein."

Spirit turned, away from the horror and the sight and scent of blood, and the echoing crank of metal mixed with laughter as he fled the warehouse and ran as fast as he could ever remember moving. Maybe...maybe if only he could reach some help...there was still time.

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

In the warehouse, Stein blinked at the metal door until it drifted shut, closing into position with a soft click. Then, all was quiet.

He blinked, slowly turning and glancing all around the room, into every corner and next to every haphazard stack of books, seeking any movement or sign of life.

"Spirit?"

Stein waited. But silence was the only reply he received.

He slowly turned back toward the computer, the feeling of moving his feet foreign as if he hadn't walked in an age. He was going to attempt to analyze that sensation, and why his body suddenly felt as though it wasn't his, when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirrors.

He took a few steps forward, not quite believing he was looking at himself. He noted the blood, both the dried and the wet still seeping from his flesh. And then he studied the screw, tilting his head slowly to each side and evaluating its appearance and placement.

Then he glanced around the room again.

"Huh. I guess it works."

Stein reached up to the screw, turned it once. Hissed at the excruciating pain it caused. And then he laughed.

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

Spirit was breathless and his limbs ached as he sprinted down the sidewalk to his first-floor apartment. He was so panicked and intent on his goal that he didn't notice his wife approaching the door at the same time until he nearly crashed into her.

"Spirit?" she said in surprise. He stopped, doubled over to his knees for a moment, and then stood again as his entire frame shook from exertion. His wife had looked confused and deeply annoyed at first, but she must have noted the blood on his face, he realized, as her expression dropped to fear. "What's going on? Where's Maka? Where have you been?"

Spirit ignored her questions as he wrenched the doorknob open and darted through the familiar halls to his bedroom.

"Lord Death!" he gasped upon entering, and the Grim Reaper turned from his faithful vigil next to Maka's sleeping form and tilted his great, curious masked expression down to the weapon and took in his appearance.

"Oh, my. What's happened?"

Spirit sucked in air and looked over his shoulder as his wife followed him into the room. She looked properly shocked by the presence of the Grim Reaper in her home and quickly schooled her appearance into something of respect as she dropped her purse on the dresser, glanced at Maka in the crib, and then turned her wide eyes to Spirit and waited.

Spirit took a few more breaths, looked back to Lord Death, and wiped his eyes again. He forced his tears into compliance before launching into a hurried explanation of what he'd found at the warehouse—of the screw, of Stein's mad behavior, and of the supposed threat at the last when he'd made to leave. He stole glances at his wife throughout, noted her astonishment, suspicion, and ultimately, anger.

"Oh, my," Lord Death repeated when Spirit had finished, his words slow and grave. "You stay here and look after yourself. I'll see to Stein."

"Yes... Yes, Sir," Spirit breathed, his lungs still aching in pain for the sprint back through town.

With that, the reaper vanished, using his mirror as a portal in the same way he had entered, and left Spirit alone with Maka and his wife.

With the promise of the best help for his meister possible, Spirit collapsed. He sank heavily to the floor between the bed and crib and let his head fall back against the edge of the mattress, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to slow his breathing and bring his body back to some semblance of normalcy. But unbeckoned, the horrors from the warehouse flooded his vision behind his eyelids, and he blinked repeatedly to banish the experience worse than any nightmare he had ever had.

He lifted a shaking hand and tried to wipe the salt from his cheeks, feeling the flaky, dried residue of the blood that he knew he would need to wash before Maka woke up. And then he suddenly realized how overheated and sticky with sweat he was from the run, and achingly peeled himself out of his jacket.

"You...went to see Stein?" his wife's voice broke through his thoughts.

He rolled his head sideways on the edge of the mattress until her scowling face filled his vision.

"After everything he did to you!? I thought you were smarter than this!"

Spirit's brow furrowed. "I don't think—"

"You told Lord Death yourself, he threatened to cut you up again tonight! And he's gone totally mad! How could you do this to me? To Maka?"

Spirit shifted, started to push himself to his knees. "Angel, I—"

"Don't 'angel' me anything! What if he'd killed you? Your stupidity would have left me a widow and Maka fatherless!"

Spirit stared dumbly up into his wife's furious face. He wanted to argue that she'd hardly been a mother or wife, with her lying almost every day about where she was and leaving Maka in daycare, and then heading off again at nights when Spirit got home. But he was too exhausted, too overwhelmed by the horrors he'd experienced, and too worried about Stein to even begin to put any of those thoughts into useful words.

"He's my meister," was what finally escaped Spirit's lips, though he knew the argument was already lost. Even when he held the higher position, somehow with his wife, he always wrong.

Her eyes widened. "What?" she seethed.

Spirit realized his error as her face reddened further in anger, even though technically she couldn't claim to be his meister anymore either. Lord Death was the only one who would wield him now.

He was expecting an explosion, like usual. Words of censure and revulsion, to remind him that he was a dreadful husband and only Death's weapon because of her, and what thanks did she ever get for it?

But none of that came, as her feet padded softly between he and the crib, and then Spirit stumbled to his feet as he heard Maka's soft whimpers of distress as she was lifted out of her bed and into her mother's arms.

"What are you doing?" he said anxiously, a panic that was becoming too familiar racing across his nervous system.

"I'm going to Azusa's. Have your head on straight by tomorrow night, Death Scythe," she fairly spat, tucking Maka against her chest as she turned on her heel to leave.

"But... Kami!" he cried, stepping after her. But the door had already slammed shut.

He stumbled back against the bed, fell seated to the mattress as he heard Maka begin to cry from the sudden and startling sound. He listened to the second slam of the front door and Maka's cries growing distant as she was carried away from him, away from the home that suddenly didn't feel like it deserved the name.

Spirit's bloodied fingers found his wedding ring and twisted it slowly around his finger.

How, in just one day, had everything fallen apart so completely?

Spirit took a few breaths and then pushed himself to his feet. He walked on shaking legs into the bathroom, turned on the light and blinked against its harshness. His stomach turned as he stared at the red streaks on his face and that had matted some of his hair. He felt the prickling of tears in his eyes again, but with effort he swallowed them down.

His wife was right about at least one thing. He was Death Scythe. And he needed to be prepared for whatever he may need to face.

Maka would be fine, if they were going to be at Azusa's. Marie was still her roommate, unless something had changed, and often all the young weapon would talk about was the day she too had the privilege of being a wife and a mother. Maka was in good hands. And tomorrow, after some rest, he would deal with the issue of his wife's deception and leaving their daughter at daycare all the time.

That left the more urgent issue of Stein.

Spirit wanted to go back. He wanted to find out just what Lord Death would do to help his friend, to see for himself that Stein was going to survive the horrible self-mutilation, and could it even be undone? And, what of his madness?

Spirit thought again of what he'd experienced underground, the terror of those invasive thoughts, and how real and demanding they had been. Was that truly what it was like in Stein's mind? All those years that Spirit had felt the bristling, violent edge of his thoughts whenever he and Stein resonated... How Stein must have been holding it back, protecting him from the worst of it...preventing him from seeing the true depths of the madness.

Spirit took a slow, deep breath to hold the tears at bay again.

How could he have believed his wife? When she insisted Stein had been conducting illicit experiments on him, convinced him that the younger teen couldn't be trusted. Stein's refusal to offer either affirmation or denial was all the proof she had needed, and it had seemed the easiest way to ease hostilities to simply accept her word.

To abandon his partner.

And now, Stein may die because of him.

What kind of death weapon was he?

Spirit splashed water on his face and ran it through his hair, scrubbed at the blood until his skin felt raw and his scalp ached. Fresh tears mingled hot on his cheeks with the cool of the water, and when the only red left on his cheeks was the flush he felt from humiliation, he turned off the light and stumbled back into the bedroom.

He was no one anybody should be looking up to, or offering flirty waves in the academy's halls. He was an idiot and a failure, and everything his wife always accused him of being. He was probably a bad father, too.

He sniffled as his gaze locked onto the empty crib while he stumbled across the carpet, hoping that his wife would bring Maka back to him soon the next day. So focused was he, that his foot caught on something just under the bed and he tripped, falling so that his knee grazed the hard item when he hit the floor, and he hissed against the pain.

He felt in the dark for the offending object and soon pulled out a small, forgotten lock-box. His eyes widened on the sight, and familiar warnings rose in the back of his mind with too many words to form into coherent thought as he looked at the small, combination lock, the number sequence easily called into memory.

His thumb began turning the dials.

He had promised to stop drinking the day he found out about the pregnancy, and he had been true to his word. The box of expensive liquors was just for very special occasions, like the night after he and his wife had defeated the witch, and the day that Maka was born. And just a single shot those times, he had insisted, because it wasn't worth the risk to have more. Not when he was Death Scythe. Not when he was a father.

Stein's expression had been bittersweet when he told Spirit he was proud of him. Spirit had never understood that look.

He flipped the lid of the box open and lifted out one of the bottles, and his brow furrowed in confusion. It was nearly empty.

He considered for a moment, and then his eyes widened in understanding.

So, his wife had other secrets she had been keeping from him besides her daily excursions.

Spirit slowly turned the bottle over in his hand. He felt the warnings prickling all the way up his spine. He heard the echoes of his promises. He heard Stein's kind but melancholy praise.

And then he thought of his wife's lies. And the blood dripping down the sides of his friend's head. And the mad, defeated laughter as Stein had looked at him like he was a stranger.

Spirit replaced the nearly empty bottle, and then lifted a full one out of the box. He took a long, slow breath as he leaned back against the side of the bed. Felt every one of his nerve endings tingle in fierce opposition. And then he twisted open the cap.

He could keep some secrets, too.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #franken stein #spirit albarn #lord death #maka albarn #maka's mother #kami albarn #CrossStitch #death scythe #stein #spirit #year of the otp #writing prompt #yotp

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nightmarist · 1 year

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I was given Necrophantasmagoria: Vanitas, the revised edition, one book of Takato Yamamoto’s work.

Took pictures of some interesting things I wanted to note, since I love to study his work to mastercopy.

SIZE ADDENDUM: The pieces average around 20 inches/40 cm at the longest side. He varies between labeling sketches as inches, cm, and mm but the final pieces are always mm. Some as large as 35 and 40 inches. Commonly the sizes are (in cm): 30x40, 33x33, 40x28, and 40x20. It looks like he prefers A4 and letter size paper overall. All his paper looks like they have deckled edges so I’m not sure if it’s custom cut, or if he buys a specific brand in standard sizes.

He marks the center top and sides of the first two symmetrical pieces. Note the horned piece, its exact center is not between the eyes but on the brow, which I think is a smart move as it prevents making the gaze threatening.

Note the second row piece, he only penciled in the vague outline of the “nonsense” and only vaguely sketched in the beginnings of what he wanted to draw there (the “scales” or “petals”). An interesting if not relieving contrast to the all too perfect linework. The exact center is also trained on the pearl in the middle of the body. Also to note, it’s underneath the “odd eye” at the characters chest which the piece is titled, also refraining from direct eye contact with the viewer.

The solo piece in the center, I love how messy the hair is, almost frustratingly sketched in with eraser marks compared to the rest of it being so clean. There are eraser marks and you can see the old, dark lines from redrawing it several times. I’ve been there…

“The Magus” under sketch, the editor noted the piece was lost for 10 years and shown in this revised edition for the first time. I love how messy it is. Some of the messy outlines with vague sketching kind of feels like “yeah, yeah I know what’s supposed to be here”

Last but not least, I love how clean the outline of Saint Sebastian is while there’s really vague zigzags for a background. The outline of the “nonsense” is distinguished while it has no inner sketch details.

Studying incredible masterworks like this is so humanizing. It shows the way the artist thinks about the piece and what is important or unimportant to note immediately or later. Also funny to see frustrated eraser marks.

I like his professional Japanese artist seal. I remember watching a short documentary about seal creators who get commissioned by artists, companies, banks, etc to design seals for their business, and how both rewarding and pressuring it is since it’s a literal signature attached to their prestige or importance.

Artworks presented:

“Something that Controls with Roses and Horns” (2010)

“Odd Eye” (2012)

“Quivering” (2010)

“Until the Moon Sets” (not visibly dated)

“The Magus” (2003)

“Saint Sebastian” (2005)

#art #takato yamamoto #japanese art #asian art #sketch #sketches #saint sebastian #eroguro #ero guro

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yutasbimil · 9 months

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Polar

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (2/~) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: angst, pre-smut, fluff, comfort cw: mental anguish, interrupted; cut-short sex, panic attacks, love at first sight, slight prejudice, psychology major student x professor? hmmm . . . eventual smut (i promise!), eventual romance + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 2.7k

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part x

do not repost © yutasbimil (2022)

cont.

Opposite they are to each other.

But being brought too close to each other’s proximity, it’s harder to pull further apart to get away from each of their magnetic fields.

In the same way that alcohol can bring out one’s vulnerabilities… But we can never be sure if spilling these thoughts can drive us closer to the warmth or coldness of those who would hear it.

At first glance there’s always something so entrancing about Vyn the more that Yule watches him. Standing across the room with him it’s clear how he exudes such prestige aura, it’s alluring how upright he stands yet so much feebleness despite his charismatic façade. It all seems like a mask.

Yule spins and twirls her wrist along the glass of wine. Just remembering how Vyn taught her the etiquette of drinking made Yule blush under her skin. Mostly, yes, it’s because of the effects of alcohol kicking in. It at least helped lessen the coldness she feels. Though she felt cold in other aspects, the bitterness outweighs the supposed sweetness of the laughter around her. Expecting the booze to boost off her self-consciousness, it didn’t help a tad bit as she felt her head spin more and the almost empty glass in her hand.

The clear dissonance between her and the white noise crowd signals an ending of the event, or at least to her and her social battery.

She might’ve gone too far to even climb up to attend such a fancy event.

As if on cue, the escort accompanying her takes the glass from her the same as it didn’t even register in her brain that he’s already footsteps close to her.

His breath near her paints a blush on her ears.

Now the redness is because of something else.

“I would suggest you sober up before we head home, m’lady.” The light hoarse in Vyn’s tone signals the lateness of the night. “I do not see clear skies for tonight, I ought to take you home soon so we won’t get caught by the winds.”

“The night seems young though.” And at that slight refuseness in her thoughts, it surprised Yule how it’s been a long while since she doesn’t want to go home yet. Also connecting it to the skin on hers as Vyn is touching her arm for support.

“Sorry to cut the night short, Yule… But I do insist more on your safety.”

The softness of his voice delayed her receptivity more on how she had said her thoughts out loud. The alcohol did the magic for her, and she was on the ride with it.

She knows this is all much of an act, especially for today, but it lingered till days past and it felt like a dream…

Though she had also noticed the distance he draws whenever she steps closer to him, as if she was brought further away the more interactions they are presented with.

This is a peculiar feeling to every meeting.

“What's it like in your hometown?”

The crescent of the moon illuminates along the cold snow that fell on the lady’s nose, she almost shivered at the gaze the taller male gave her. Similar to the white of his hair, his answer seemed frigid.

“I haven’t been there for a long while,” Vyn says.

Silence enveloped them, she almost gasped for warmth as the cold winter air brushed stiffly against them. By instinct she stepped close to him for body heat, he almost filched at the almost contact.

“Oh sorry, do I make you uncomfy?” Yule asks, between the lines, her concern of ‘haven’t we had a close relations contact recently for you to act too surprised this way?’ specifically, to pertain to her choice of words at this moment.

Vyn also took this into account and was as direct as her.

“No, no… It’s just that you are cold,” he states, relating to –at most– the weather. But she quickly caught on to the subtleties.

“Likewise.”

“Hmmm?” Vyn turned to her, eyes caught in the rose hues straight across her face. Her demeanor appeared to be in her favor as it aligned easily with her behavior and sound reasoning.

What acts coy in tone, she says. “This is just because of the cold...” As if covering both her ears isn’t enough, she repeats as she recollected herself.

”It is cold tonight, Dr. Richter.”

She's the type to get cold easily, given that he also has cold hands instead of warmth is… not quite what she expected as to why she filched. She thought at that one time but felt the same thing at this instance… she’s met with rather quivering arms.

She looked at him frozen.

“I am also the type to have cold hands, my body temperature is lower than normal,” Vyn states as if reading a glimpse of her mind.

Despite his cold demeanor, warmth is felt between them. Or at least at her end.

The barrier between them seemed to bubble away as Vyn slightly leaned on her proximity. But which made her intrigued all the more by the sudden shift.

Partially, Vyn noticed he is to blame but even he cannot understand his complexities, what more on observing others behavior… And it is supposedly his profession; Yule cannot reckon this field he planted in.

The shifts didn’t change at the sudden gust of wind as they went just by the front porch of Vyn’s home. Her way home is by his route and talks about such luck she has.

They get caught in the snowstorm.

She’s meaning to just pass by his house for some reference books as she needs them for the following weeks. But by the looks of the hail outside, it cannot be.

As polar they astutely discern each other's personalities, their bodies seem to have found a way to gravitate toward each other.

The warmth of his breath by Yule’s ear had the same effect of a blizzard wind sending down one’s spine.

She didn’t fully know how or why they got into this exact situation, bare skin-to-skin; less than hair strands apart, but it felt right to the bone.

But her head says otherwise, despite Yule’s body yearning for any means to get warmth by body heat. Her body seems automatic as it elicits tones of pleasure. Specifically, asking for Vyn’s skin near her, his lips exploring the surface of her naked skin by her collarbone, more so with how he pulls her close to his chest.

Both their breathing grows more ragged and labored as if exchanging replies along their bodies. Yule moans as he ascends from her territories, Vyn’s vision looks darker towards her darkened crimson cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” Vyn breathed by her ear, momentarily fanning her intense desire. His fingers lingered above her scorching core, with full consent, she quickly led his fingers by her damp panties.

“Ahhh… there, please.” She hissed at his cold fingers digging through the fabric.

With his impatient touch, it’s as if she can’t believe her body can get more blazed, more so as he sets aside her panties as Vyn fingers her.

“Let me treat you well here as well, my lady.” he musters, and she could only gulp a breath of surprise as he went in to make her squirm good at his techniques. Vyn heavily grunts as she clenches more in his fingers, a smile of triumph appears on his face as she slips profanities.

“Fu-fuck… shit- sorry—” Yule covered her foul mouth, quickly turning weak as he curled his digits in her. She almost yelps. “Don’t be… so, g-good.”

Yule could only give in to the pleasure. Her muscles fight over clenching or relaxing over the sensation. Her wetness squelches the deeper Vyn’s fingers buried in and out of her vagina, gaining more grunts and moans from both their lips.

As if a request for more silence, Vyn’s lips crash into hers, turning more aggressive and passionate, opposite to his light touches. Yule’s nails say otherwise, it remains gripped and clenched by his hair. He took it as a validation he was doing so damn well, moving along his lips on her drenched lips down between her legs.

Yule contained all her control not to wrap her legs into his head. But every time he looks up at her, eye-to-eye directly into hers, his lips are devilishly distracting.

She pulled his hair out of frustration.

In between the twists in her stomach overwhelmed with pleasure, there are also evident signs of the looming feeling in her guilt. Particularly feeling good about having sex.

Oh no, shit.

There go her thoughts consumed with her bad view of sex.

She felt disgusted with herself.

The shame takes over her, suddenly feeling insecure and inadequate. Her exposed body felt embarrassing, this is wrong. Yule thinks she’s doing something horribly wrong. Even so, she can’t pinpoint what is at fault really… But still! Maybe I am just using him, taking advantage of him with my body.

Before anything else, she is a virgin, and this is so wrong taking this ounce of opportunity to taint that. But I also want it?

She zones out, feeling out of it as much as his touch is nowhere out of her personal space.

Still, the feeling floods over her like liquid lead. Her consciousness and lucidity are leaking out of her bit by bit.

Crap.

“Yule? Are you okay?” Vyn sounded muffled to her.

The heavy breathing turned more appalling on her end as she felt a familiar enclosed tightness around her chest. It’s anything but pleasurable.

They are cut short of the pre-intercourse the same as her breath.

“Doc… Richter, stop, let’s…” her breathing is a clear sign for Vyn to halt any of their acts progressing. He’s quick to break free and observe.

A blatant sign of a panic attack.

“ Breathe in… catch your breath, properly now.” Vyn’s voice is slow and coherent.

One would be quick not to question the source, even ask about the trigger. But even Yule is ashamed of her helpless, vulnerable state at the moment.

She can’t even look Vyn in the eye.

With his intensity and slight hesitancy to hold and comfort her, Yule predicts she would melt at his touch.

It was worry, and somehow it had more effect on her than the darkened orbs of lust he showed earlier.

She felt a pang in her chest.

Also, her intrusive thoughts and aching core left unsatiated. Her selfishness also crept in, though this is the most inappropriate time to have such indecent thoughts despite being in the obscene act itself.

But it’s more shameful and such a waste they didn’t even reach that point.

Instead, something like this happened, with him tending to her and being a burden–

Why did she let such a chance slip away?

It kept overplaying in her head, although it wasn’t a full-blown panic attack– it was still leading up to that point. But that made her scrunch up into a ball more, closing her walls completely after closing the gap between them.

Yule tries to tap back into her system, even after all that… his touch still lingers in her skin as if she’s still in that present moment. His weight on hers still feels tangible. But the actual weight of the situation and consequence of delving into intimacy further, there and now—

It scared the crap out of her.

Everything makes it more guilty, turning her soft and yet, wet in her core. She wouldn’t admit that, not openly. Fuck…

This is supposed to be like a crush in high school… But his effect on her ought to make a lady out of her.

Why did it have to be the perfect timing they were supposed to do it?

It was awkward after he was about to insert his erection into her drenched core. Although, looking back it’s drenching her more with sweat and distress.

How is it he’s still accommodating to ease her throughout the night, when she's the one who needs to make up for what she did? Or more on, there lack of?

A bit after the incident, Yule apologizes to Vyn for acting in such an embarrassing way during their last meeting.

The flush on her face still aches on how cringe or revolting it was replaying in her head. She can’t assess the situation objectively as she can’t even look at him directly.

He’s just quiet across her, opposite to her difficulty to contain her frantic body language.

Vyn sips into his cup, his face is solemn. “It is fine, I am fit to assess such situations.”

But she's still ashamed as fuck of what happened!

She could only muster up an “okay” even if she was far from being fine, lowering her head.

Yule wanted to go, especially on the way she acted, messy and disoriented. The pensive look of the white-haired male in front of her made her more disarray with her thoughts.

Being back in his household feels sacrilegious after such events.

Do I even have a right to be in his presence?

The calm demeanor he portrays across her seat answers her unease, more so the softness of his urgency. “No use beating yourself up, come on, the tea is getting cold. The sweetness of the cake may help ease you up.”

Why is he still doing such nice things, still?

“I would like to apologize as well, I may have gone too fast at your pace,” Vyn says, now there is an evident flush across his pale skin, much opaque but enough to see a difference in his expression. He sighs a deep intake of breath but stops it for sounding heavy. Along with his ever-growing… emotions.

He was driven by irrationality as if he's lost some sense of control that night.

It was evident, even until now, they are both feeling the tension, but on her end, the shame and anxiety, and embarrassment eat her up more.

With Vyn, it’s unclear, but it’s faintly implied that there’s tension. He’s still out to tackle and satiate both of them, and pick up where they both left off.

Only then when she’s fine and ready.

“I-I want to as well but I don't know what's up with my body.” Yule is pertaining more to the sudden ‘attack’. And this rotten brain of hers. She also got it checked on her previous therapy sessions, but it immensely bothers her still… She worries over her lips. “I also got a bit ahead with my alcohol that night, but even without the alcohol, I can affirm that I do like you still.”

Her bravery took him back.

Vyn’s lips curled upwards, finding her eyes to magnetize it back into his, then says. “Can we admit that we are attracted to each other to that certain extent?”

Too soon.

But…

Yule worries her lower lips more. I have been feeling the tension lingering for some quite time now.

At least she's getting better at noticing the signals.

But she's still embarrassed.

“I can say it's reciprocal,” she affirms. The sudden gust of the wind blows the smell of the flowers spread out in his garden, the smell of the pastry and tea reigns back their flavor, blending into their space.

“So what now?” She’s surprised herself for the lack of stutter saying that. Confusion mulled over her, panicked at his warmth remaining at arm's length.

“That is also up to you where you would want this to go, Miss Yule. I am interested in you.” His honesty made her retract.

Yule is overwhelmed as a myriad of thoughts domino over her. She’s growing more and more panicked as the man in front of her is still willing to face her after such inconveniences. Most throw me out.

He even made time to meet up and spare his time to invite her over for tea after.

So how is it that he’s willing to even bother to look at her?

“I don't want to lean in too much on you.” she croaked, the anxiety obvious on taking the weight on her sullen face.

Vyn’s face in contrast deflects her agitation.

“Of course, I wouldn't want you to be overly dependent, but I would be by your side to accompany you, alright?”

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

#vyn richter #mo yi #tears of themis #tot #vyn x reader #vyn: paradox series #enjeiwrites

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a-mag-a-day · 1 year

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MAG 67 - folding laundry (I actually need to fold laundry right now, but I can take notes and quote the transcript while doing that T.T)

"But she was so beautiful. She, she was tall, with long, straight, auburn hair and these eyes that, when they looked at you, it didn’t feel like she was seeing you so much as was trapping you." - Why does this kinda sound like Eric speaking of Mary? Except, that Agnes wasn't malevolent…

"I was drawn to her in a way I can’t even explain." - Sooo, do we know if Jack was influenced by the Web? I never got that whole Agnes arc, I know a lot of people like her a lot, but to me it was always "meh" and my brain therefore doesn't memorize episodes about her and/or her connection to Gertrude or the Web. (note after I'm done with the episode - That's exactly what I mean, I just can't recall details of this arc. The answer actually is in this very episode and my brain just skips over it. But, as I also have already said in one of my asks, I'm kinda blind on the Spider eye.)

"a large cup of black coffee with enough room for milk. She never actually put any milk in it. She never even drank it. She’d just take it over and sit there, staring out the window into the street for an hour or so." - Agnes being normal! :D

"The way she always used to order the coffee, it always sounded like she was enjoying it. The order, I mean. Like the phrase “one black coffee with room for milk” was a delightfully novel thing for her to say." - Agnes being so normal! :D

"Deliah had been ranting at me about how impossible it was to get a decent woman’s Halloween costume that didn’t, as she put it, show a mile of skin. I was making some weak joke about going as a bedsheet ghost, and telling everyone it was sexy because the ghost was technically naked" - lol, I never gave this any attention xD

"She was a short Asian woman, with close-cropped hair and a thick, muscular frame." - Jude! I actually have no memory either about what their conversation could have been about…

"And then I asked her out on a date. I don’t know how it happened, it just tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it."- Again, is he controlled by the Web? (note after I'm done with the episode - in the next bullet point I'll finally get it! ^^''')

"I looked up and noticed within the corner of the room, where there had been a spider’s web this morning" - Okay, he was controlled by the Web… Funny thing is, I actually remember that there was a spider web in this statement. But just not the connection to it.

"I asked her what she wanted to do, and she looked at me like I was stupid. We were going to walk in the park, she said. Like it was the only possible thing to do." - Agnes being normal again! :D

"She asked me if I had a destiny." / "She looked at me, with the same sadness I’d seen on her face before. “That must be nice,” she said and went back to staring into the sunset." - Generally I think the tragedy of her entire existence is really interesting. I mean Jon later also talks about her when he rambles about his own becoming. Two people destined to be a messiah of some sort and neither of them ever wanted it.

"We even went to see a film. I remember it was The Prestige" - I love btw how Jonny drops all kinds of other fiction into TMA. The Prestige is great btw, if anyone's thinking about watching it, do it!

"She said something about a tree falling, and that they had to finish something." - So what was the tree's significance actually? Why did she have to hang herself on that day?

"One of them, a big guy with a shaved head, was holding an unlit lantern" / "Another held a bag that seemed to be full of candles, while a third had a clear plastic container filled with hundreds of tiny spiders." - I'm completely at a loss here about those items. As I said, I can't remember a thing about the Web and Gertrude and what they did to Agnes.

"I lost almost everything after that." - Ahhh, there we have typical Desolation shenanigans.

"Even after everything the police told me about her death, and the hand, I, I don’t know if I would have had it in me to resist. I just couldn’t avoid being drawn in, like a moth to the flame." - Yep, it was never up to you… That's rough, buddy…

Oh wow, the music is cut a bit abruptly when the statement ends.

ELIAS "You told me you wandered around in the dark for hours at a time, shortly after suffering an incredibly traumatic experience." JON "So you’re saying I imagined it." - Yeah, how does it feel to sit on the other side of the table, Jon?

JON "So either give me the key, or find a new Archivist." ELIAS "Oh, good lord, don’t be so dramatic, John. You know how hard it would be to replace you." JON "I, I don’t actually? But… thank you, I suppose." - Not so easy finding someone marked by the Web and alive, eh?

That tunnel adventure next time's gonna be so much fun!

Hmmm jack being influenced by the Web is something I've never considered before... Interesting... To what end? Agnes' end? Hmmm

Also cheers to Agnes being normal :D

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #mag 67 #lycanlovingvampyre

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seekslight · 9 months

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how do you perceive lux and ezreal's relationship ? in any verse you'd like to talk about !

headcanons ✨ all verses

i based it all on the universes they officially share together. so, let's dig in.

original lore: her voice lines state she doesn't know ezreal and they haven't even talked, like she sees him for the first time, but also somehow sylas knows and slightly despises jarro lightfeather, which is ezreal's demacian fake identity. sylas was imprisoned before ezreal could visit demacia with a fake name, right? means luxanna knows jarro and talked about him to sylas. considering sharing something like this with her love interest, luxanna and ezreal have to have some sort of connection — something more than meeting once or twice. sylas' voice line about ez sounds also like he's about to murder the blonde... so we can all assume there was something more, perhaps even romance, between miss crownguard and sir lightfeather. further evidence to that can be found in base ezreal quotes, in which he suggests hanging out, knows lux's name and calls her honey (then wonders if it's too soon). he seems nervous, but the last line makes me think their relationship had a bit of a romantic undertone.

battle academia: this one's pretty obvious — ez and luxanna are close. it's obvious ezreal has some feelings for luxanna, it's unclear if they're reciprocated (i like to believe they are), but they went on at least one date (or were about to go!). he's a golden retriever boyfriend, totally. texts with her a lot and his mood is really depending on hers; supports her and admires her (as he should!) and even accidentally confesses. in the splash arts, he always waits for her, too (base and prestige). which is. so sweet.

star guardian: both in the short stories, illustrations and voice lines it's clear ezreal has feelings for lux, yet again it's unclear if she has any felings for him. i like to believe she does. no evidence to this. it's just me fangirling over ez complimenting her hair and uniform and saying “your eyes really do twinkle like starlight”. i am eating this shit up!!!

porcelain: you didn't expect this did you!!! again it seems ezreal has feelings for lux and it's unclear if they're reciprocated — we know for sure luxanna seems annoyed with ezreal's lack of skills when it comes to using the porcelain gauntlet. it's unclear if she saves him because of her duties, but it ez seems attached to her (because according to these voice lines, she saved his life, but also the one about promising to fix her? they're totally close!! either it's forced proximity — very likely — or something else). skins description doesn't get much into detail, all we know is that she's taken care of “the archeologist” and let him join the protectors. she probably had to train him. but also look at her expression when ez puts the gauntlet on??? i can't ksdjhafdsfardsf.

in conclusion: i like to think of them as if they're close and i'm open to explore their dynamic, be it platonic or romantic!! i think they make a great duo, their personalities compliment each other and just. i don't know. ezreal is in love with her by default in almost every universe too (except for pulsefire, that's for sure), which is... idk. just. riot pushes it a lot.

that's it. that's the drabble. i love them, your honor.

#other : keep believing { headcanons }#other : pushing my limits { character study }

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laevigataprime · 7 months

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Tomboy 2 - 2 "Narrator" (Portrait Study)

This was a lighting practice piece I did, using Narrator as my subject! Honestly it was pretty fun to work through all the muscles and think about how I wanted the lighting to fall on the subject; however, this was also the first time I got to show her body unmasked and unarmoured! I was super excited to see it come to life in front of me!

I loved the idea that not only was her helmet pink, but so is her hair. Shaven into an undercut and pulled back away from her face, I thought maybe she had dyed her hair early on into her career, both as an inside joke and also a challenge to friendlies and enemies alike. In lore, she possesses a good understanding of moving while unobserved and I was inspired by stories like Simo Hayha and the Carlos Hathcock who were renowned for their ability to be undetected. Carlos Hathcock specifically, was my inspiration for both the pink hair and helmet, having worn a white feather in his hat during his deployment in Vietnam.

I also included negative space tattoos on Narrator's body, covering just her left arm, breast, and leg. It kind of reminded me of the way someone might favour wearing heavier armour or holding a shield on their non-dominant side during the eras of swords and spears. She acts in her sniper role not as an excuse to gain a prestige through a high number of kills, but to be able to supplement her friendlies' effectiveness and to protect them from afar without getting in their way- she is after all, pretty short compared to the rest of her comrades.

The arm features negative space which depicts an irezumi-inspired design, and her leg is a map of an unknown landmass with what appears to be geopolitical regions marked out. She doesn't even remember what this map is about, and any text that is visible (that isn't the compass or cardinal markings) seems to be in an unknown language.

All in all, I had a lot of fun working on this idea. I originally wanted to do a silhouette piece mimicking Kusanagi waking up in front of the window, at the beginning of Ghost in the Shell, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to flesh out this character's personality through design.

#pink hair #digital art #original character #Tomboy 2 - 2 “Narrator”#Tomboy 3 - 1 “Narrator”#military #female body #tattoos #irezumi #bandage #injured #portrait #digital painting #oc

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space-mermaid-writing · 2 years

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Faded Black Ink [IronStrange] - Chapter 13

Relationship: Doctor!Stephen Strange x Mafia!Tony Stark

Tags: Mafia AU, Angst, Romance, Idiots in love

Ko-fi | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's note: It's time for the boys to get into fancy clothes. I did a lot of research of luxury brands for this one. Only the best for them.

Chapter 13: The Gala

Stephen gave the key of his sports car to the valet and put the card he got in return in the inside pocket of his jacket. As he walked up the steps to the gala’s location, he adjusted his cuffs. He showed his invitation to a man with a suit and tablet, then entered the hall through the large doors.

The gala was already in full swing. He had been careful not to arrive too early, preferring to jump into the action.

Immediately he was handed a flute of champagne. "Good evening, Doctor Strange." He was greeted by a handsome young man, whose sole purpose seemed to be to greet guests with their names. Stephen answered with a short nod of his head.

The theme of the gala location was simple elegance. Black and silver. A string quartet played in one corner. There were two open bars. Stephen counted about a hundred people mingling. He saw the dean from Metro’s, as well as some influential businessmen and politicians he had only seen in tabloids before.

A few days earlier, the Doctor had found the invitation to this gala in his mail. It was in a hand-addressed envelope without a stamp. The event had no occasion, just a gathering of the rich and successful of the city. And it was without press. Stephen was flattered to be counted among them. He had gotten himself a new suit especially for the occasion – which had cost him quite a bit on such short notice. But it was worth it. As he mingled, he got curious looks from some ladies – and gentlemen, too.

He joined a group that included an investor, the owner of an art gallery and a best-selling author. It was easy for him to fit in. Turning on his charm, he contributed to the conversation, cracking jokes or expressing his approval at appropriate moments. Stephen enjoyed the company, the atmosphere, and the prestige. This was what he always wanted. What he had worked hard for the last few years.

The author took his leave for the bar after a while and Stephen also decided to move on when the dean joined him. "Strange, why am I not surprised to see you here?" Grinning, the man extended his hand to him and Stephen shook it.

The dean was a man in his 50s, his hair already more gray than blond. Stephen found him to be a pleasant, if gossipy, man who was committed to his hospital, but also never lost sight of the numbers. For that, he was exactly what a dean should be. At least his success was reflected in Metro's reputation.

"Good to know, there are some actual people with a brain in here. Not just people who like to hear themselves talk." On the one hand, it never hurt to compliment his boss, but on the other, Stephen was actually glad to know someone with whom he had common topics of conversation. While he had no problem making small talk with complete strangers and to rub elbows, he knew listening to the boring, self-centered drivel of others for hours on end could get tiring.

The dean – obviously pleased with the compliment – put his hand on his shoulder. "You know, it was one of my best decisions to hire you. Never regretted it once. You're worth your money, Strange."

Flattered at these words, Stephen was about to retort something when he was distracted by a group entering the room. Tony Stark had arrived at the gala. Stephen had hoped he would be here as well, but seeing him left him speechless. He was the epitome of expensive.

The Alexander Price suit was such a dark shade of blue that it would only hint of the color if caught in the right lighting, sateen pinstripes subtly. Hand tailored for him, it fit as comfortable as a second skin and accented all of the best features he had to offer. It alone cost six months of salary for the average middle-class citizen. Beneath that, a white Prada dress shirt made of cotton so fine it rivaled silk. Adorning his neck was a silk Kiton black tie.

Upon his wrist, a Glashutte Original watch in a brushed stainless steel - the accessory itself costing more than everything else combined. And finally at his feet, a pair of black leather dress shoes that he'd paid a cobbler in Italy handsomely for.

At his side were Pepper – who stepped away to whatever important people she had spotted – and a man Stephen had never seen before. He was tall and dark, with a serious face and a military haircut. He and Tony were close and Stephen couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy in his chest, seeing them together. They talked quietly. Tony had tilted his head toward the other man, punctuating his words with expansive gestures. If Stephen had to take a guess, he'd say he spoke with this mix of English and Italian Stephen loved about him. Something Tony only did when he was relaxed and comfortable around someone. Or extremely angry. But that was definitely not the case.

The dean’s gaze had followed Stephens's eyes and had spotted Tony Stark in the crowd as well. "Try to stay on Stark's good side," he said. "The hospital could use a new MRI machine."

For a second Stephen's face fell and the grip on his glass hardened. "If you have a request for Mr. Stark, ask him yourself. I'm not your messenger," he growled between his teeth, quietly enough that bystanders couldn't hear it.

"Of course," the dean hastened to say. He seemed to realize he had hit a sore spot and tried to smooth the waters. "I'd never assume that."

But Stephen's mood was sour enough that he turned away and left. He didn't care that he left his boss standing there. He didn't head straight for Tony, not after the dean's words, but he kept his tabs on him.

Tony was walking through the crowd like Moses through the sea. People were making way for him, knowingly or subconsciously. Tony stopped every now and then, shook hands or exchanged words with business partners and acquaintances. He was doing business with the whole city.

He wasn’t the host of this gala, but with as much money he invested in buying invitations, it might as well be.

Recent events, however, had made him take precautions. In addition to Rhodey, who remained by his side as his personal bodyguard tonight, a handful of his men mingled with the guests to ensure his safety, as well as Pepper's and Stane's.

His involuntary encounter with Hydra the other day at the bar had made him wary. More so what Nick Fury had shown him on his tablet. It was still a secret that the man was actually alive. He operated best from the shadows, but promised Stark to keep him updated on anything that regarded him.

Tony let his gaze wander around the room. He had already spoken to many people, but not the one he was waiting for.

"You're unfocused tonight," Rhodey observed from beside him. "That's not like you." He knew his friend well enough to know that it wasn't anxiety. From what he'd heard – and Tony had always been bad at hiding things from him – it wasn't hard to guess who he was hoping to meet. And Rhodey was curious to meet the doctor he heard so much about.

"Just impatient," Tony replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well, that's nothing new."

The corners of Tony's mouth twitched upward. Rhodey's presence calmed him, but also reminded him that he wasn't just here for fun; he had work to do. Still, it didn't stop him from scanning the room.

"Looking for me?" he heard Strange speak closely into his ear.

Tony turned around and looked Strange up and down as best he could considering how close they stood. Dark grey suit, crisp white button up and a tie in an accentuated color. He instantly wanted to peel everything off the man and devour him.

"You'll do," Tony replied. Strange snorted in response, but Tony ignored it, just grinned broadly. He pointed to his bodyguard. "Stephen, this is Rhodey. The guy who befriended me in college because my father told him so."

Suddenly the closeness between them Stephen had noticed earlier made sense.

The two men looked at each other and shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Rhodey replied. "Heard you ratted me out." There was something like amusement in his voice and Stephen was glad the man didn't hold a grudge against him for revealing what had apparently been a secret for many years. It gave him the confidence to continue with banter.

"Everyone with a brain could have added one and one together.

"Hey," Tony protested at Stephen's words. "I'm right here. Can't you at least pretend to be nice to me?"

"Nice doesn't seem to hold your attention span for very long," Strange observed.

"He's got you there, Tony," Rhodey smiled.

Tony grumbled, but secretly was glad the two men got along. Rhodey was family, has been for many years, and his opinion mattered to him. "You're lucky you have a pretty face, doc."

At that moment, Pepper joined the trio and her face was business. "Tony, Senator Vice is waiting for you. And I don't want to hear any excuses from you again." Her eyes drifted to Stephen and she gave him an apologetic smile, knowing she was interrupting them. "Hello Doctor Strange."

"Miss Potts," he greeted her with a nod.

Tony gave a theatrical sigh. "Fine, I will speak to him. Rhodey, you're coming with me. I don't want you and the doc to team up against me." He winked at Stephen. "I'll see you later." It was a promise.

Stephen didn't stay alone for long. As if waiting for an opportunity to meet him alone, a middle-aged man joined him. He was bald and wore glasses, but his gaze behind them was sharp.

"Doctor Strange?" Contrary to the event they were at, he was all business and extended his hand to him, which Stephen politely took. "My name is Jasper Sitwell. I’m an associate of the UCSF Medical Center in San Francisco."

Now that was interesting. Stephen eyed him curiously. "Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking, why are you all the way in New York? I'm sure San Francisco has similar great parties."

Sitwell smiled but even though it reached his eyes, it seemed forced. Not a man of humor then. "Business," he simply explained. "I like to combine work with pleasure." He took a sip of his champagne. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, how do you like your position at MHC?"

"Why? Are you trying to lure me away?" Stephen asked jokingly, but Sitwell answered with a simple, "Maybe." and that got the doctor shut up and took a sharp breath. The UCSF was one of the best Hospitals for Neurology and Neurosurgery in the whole northern hemisphere. Top notch.

"I heard about your success with a pediatric cervical spine surgery and the unusual method you used," Sitwell added.

That was a surgery Stephen was proud to have successfully performed. He tried to keep his tone neutral, however. After all, he was an expert in humble bragging. "Well, halfway through the surgery the patient's spine became unstable. We had to improvise and insert two plates and five screws to help stabilize it. I used a technique similar to the Schubert method. It was similar enough that I could adjust the parameters."

"You improvised on the fly," Sitwell correctly summarized.

"A calculated risk, but a successful one." His patient – a boy of nine years – didn't even suffer from so much as the occasional neck pain.

Sitwell clarified his words. "I meant it as a compliment. Your quick thinking saved the patient from a life in a wheelchair. This is the kind of doctor I want in my facility."

"Thank you," Stephen said honestly. Both for the compliment and for the indirect job offer. "Although I have to say, I'm very happy being the head of the surgery department here in New York." He was ambitious, and even though UCSF was an excellent institution, he wanted to move up, not down, in his career. He wasn't about to trade his position for a lesser.

"I'm sure we can work out the details." Sitwell handed him a business card. "Call me if you consider moving."

Stephen nodded. "I'll think about it." He pocketed the card and – after Sitwell bid him farewell with a nod – headed for the bar. This was news he needed to digest. It could be a huge step in his career. But he decided to think about it later and enjoy the party for now. And boy it had turned out to be a good party. He felt like he was walking on air. It might have been due to Sitwell's words and his offer, but Stephen had rarely felt so well entertained. The catering was excellent and a general exuberance was in the air. Quite a few couples danced to the music.

At the bar, he let a group of three ladies go ahead before he ordered himself. They were young; probably spoiled daughters of rich parents. They thanked him with giggles and sneaked some glances in his direction. Even when their glasses were already in front of them, they lingered at the bar. But college girls really weren't Stephen's cup of tea. After he got his whiskey, he turned to the other direction.

On his other side was a man who was also getting a new drink. He looked up briefly and nodded politely at Stephen, raising his glass in greeting. Stephen returned the gesture.

"Nice gala," he said in a general non-committal manner.

"Indeed. I'm Samuel Hill by the way." The man was shorter than Stephen and an aura of restlessness surrounded him, as if he had never learned to stop and savor the moment. He had short, blond hair and blinked more than average.

"Doctor Stephen Strange."

"Fancy. What kind of doctor are you?" Hill asked.

"Neurosurgeon," Stephen replied curtly. It was a conversation he probably had a dozen times today, and admittedly it was getting boring.

"So, brains and stuff."

"Yeah. Brains and stuff." Sarcasm resonated in Stephen's voice, but Hill didn't notice.

"I work at Wall Street," the other man told him, unprompted. "Just the other day I managed to..."

Stephen listened to him with only half an ear. His eyes had found Tony in the crowd, as they had so many times tonight. It was inevitable. Stephen circled around him like a planet around its sun.

A group of people had gathered around Tony, hanging on every word that came from his lips. Stephen could relate. There was something about him that was fascinating. And he looked ravishing, the epitome of casual elegance others could only dream of.

Tony looked at him, and they locked eyes across the room. Tony waved and Stephen scoffed affectionately, turning his attention back to the man beside him.

"...I'm just happy I was able to snag two invitations. It wasn't exactly cheap. Unfortunately, my fiancee broke her ankle last week and couldn't accompany me."

Stephen frowned. He had obviously missed part of the conversation and didn't catch what they were talking about. He made a sound of agreement and a universal gesture of 'well, what can you do?'. It seemed to be the right response, because satisfied, Hill ordered them both new drinks.

Tony's eyebrows raised as he watched Stephen interact with the other man, who was clearly being too friendly with his doc. The muscles in his jaw tightened, the shine of his eyes dulling ever so slightly at this intrusion. To him, it was an intrusion.

He took a slow sip of his martini before he started moving. The glass still in his hand, he navigated through the crowd and carelessly interjected himself into the conversation.

"Hi. I'm Tony Stark," he introduced himself, interrupting whatever the other man was talking about.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Stark. I'm very- …"

Tony didn't let him finish. "Much holding up my date when I want to dance with him." He put his empty glass on the bar and grabbed Stephen by the wrist, pulling him along with him, away from Hill, who was looking after them, puzzled.

"Date? I don't remember arriving with you." Stephen sounded rather amused than annoyed.

"Maybe, but I don't plan to leave the event without you." The look Tony gave him over his shoulder was dark and promising. Stephen swallowed hard and a warmth settled inside him. Even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to stay away from this man. He was drawn to him almost magically.

"We seem to have the same plan." They had reached the dance floor and Tony took Stephen's right hand into his left, wrapped his other hand around his waist and pulled him close to his body. Presumably closer than it was decent for this event, but Tony didn't care. There was no press here and no cameras or even phones. It was a private party and only the other guests were witnesses.

The curious eyes watching them both suited Tony just fine. He wanted to show them that it was he who snatched this handsome doctor. No one would try again to touch Strange tonight.

"For your interest: Hill is straight," Stephen informed him, remembering Hill's fiancée, whom he mentioned. Tony's jealousy had not escaped him. It was endearing and flattering.

"Spaghetti is only straight until it's boiled."

Stephen forgot to set his next step and Tony stepped on his foot. It took him a moment to get back in step. "You're unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh, believe me when I say, I won't share you." Tony's grip around Stephen's waist tightened and he pulled the doctor a little closer. "I should take you out more often. You look ridiculously handsome in this suit. It's unfair."

Stephen was amused about his words because he thought the same thing about Tony. "That's easy for you to say. I bet your Glashutte watch alone costs more than some people here can afford. And there are some very rich people at this gala."

"You're a fan of watches? I should show you my collection at home." Playfully Tony winked at him and it was more than clear what he was alluding to.

Stephen went for the game and even went one better. He tilted his head until his lips were close to Tony's ear and his voice dropped another octave. "You should show me what's under that suit of yours instead."

Tony's eyes went dark, became hungry. The chase was on and he was the predator. Stephen shuddered, but he didn't break eye contact, challenging Tony. The two had stopped dancing and stood still.

Surprisingly, it was Tony who took a step back first. "Let me finish the crowd work and then get out of here. Ten minutes. Twelve tops."

A smile graced Stephen's lips. He didn't know where he got the confidence – all the flattery tonight must have gone to his head – as he lifted Tony's hand, still in his, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "See you in nine at the front door." With that, he winked and turned to leave. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but it was fun. Thrilling.

Tony watched him for a moment, congratulating himself for the catch he made with the doctor. Then he turned in the other direction. Pepper would kill him if he left the gala without talking to the mayor at least once.

If Tony had known what could go wrong in nine minutes, he would have immediately grabbed the doctor and dragged him to the car.

Stephen had lost his interest for the party. He was full of anticipation and no longer wanted to settle for boring small talk. He made a quick visit to the restroom and then decided to wait for Tony in the hallway. The music from the ballroom reached his ears softly and the air was less stuffy. Waiters with full and empty trays walked past him on their way to or from the kitchen. Stephen ignored them and strolled slowly back to the front door. In his jacket pocket he still had the note from the valet. He would probably have to pick up his car tomorrow, since Tony was surely going to drive. Stephen was totally fine with it.

Suddenly a door opened right next to him and almost hit him in the face. He just managed to step aside. As a tall and bald man stepped out.

"Huh?"

Behind him, Stephen noticed Jasper Sitwell leaving the same room, who quickly turned away and walked in the other direction. Before Stephen could think about it, his attention was claimed by the first man.

"Doctor Strange?"

"Yes?" Stephen was wary, had no interest in a conversation. He wanted to get to Tony.

The man smiled broadly. For some reason it looked grim, even if his words were friendly. "Ah, we haven't been introduced yet. My name is Stane. I'm the godfather of Tony and his business partner."

Stephen remembered hearing Tony's name and shook Stane's hand. The two seemed close. For Stephen's taste, Stane talked a bit much, but with that he matched Tony’s energy. Even if it seemed distracting coming from that taller man.

"It's nice to finally meet you. Have a fun night?" continued Stane, and Stephen could only nod in response before Stane continued. "Yeah, always the best for Tony's lovers." He chuckled and Stephen didn't like the sound. "He has the tendency to fall for people who work for him. Though the fallout with Mrs. Potts was a mess. I'm glad this time he at least got one with his own field of work." He looked pointedly at Stephen who didn't know what to say. "Don't get me wrong, you seem like a decent man. Are you in for the prestige? Well, it's really none of my business. I'm happy Tony bought an invitation for you. So I finally got the chance to meet you." Stane glanced down the hall. "Well, I gotta go. Despite all the party, this is still work for me."

With that, he left, leaving a perplexed Stephen standing there.

The doctor was taken aback from what just happened. From what he just heard. The way Stane put it, it sounded like Stephen was just the latest conquest in a long line. He had been wondering for some time exactly what he and Tony were. But he hadn't questioned it, because the glances from Tony seemed honest. Like he really adored Stephen.

On the other hand, Tony Stark was the head of the mafia. Stephen had seen at least a part of his line of work. At the hospital when Peter was shot. At the docs when they found the container. In Tony's office the other day when Hammer barged in. It was a brutal world. Full of illegal stuff. Why shouldn't Tony be a master of deception? He took what he wanted, when he wanted it. Apparently he had wanted Pepper Potts in the past. Stephen felt sick at the thought. Pepper was beautiful, sharp. She tolerated no bullshit and was very professional from what he had seen so far. Some of those traits were terribly familiar to Stephen.

He didn't like the thought at all. His stomach turned as if someone had punched it.

Without paying attention, he started moving again and walked to the front door. Outside, fresh air and Tony greeted him. Of course, he promised to be there and he was a man of his word.

"Ready to go?" Tony asked.

Stephen felt anger bubbling up because Tony acted as if nothing had happened. Well, technically everything was just fine for Tony. But it wasn’t for Stephen.

"Did you buy my invitation?" Stephen's voice was sharp and Tony frowned. He noticed the hostile vibes coming from the doc, but couldn't explain them.

"Si."

"I fucking told you I'm not buyable. I can't believe it. You've got your hands in everything!" Stephen clenched his fingers into fists and relaxed them again.

"What are you talking about?" Tony asked, still trying to understand Stephen's sudden change in behavior. Everything was just fine ten minutes ago. "Why are you so angry? I thought you had a good time."

"I did," Stephen admitted, but bitterly remembered Stane's words. "But I'm not just a notch on your bedpost. You'll have to find someone else for that." He turned to leave, but Tony held him.

"Stephen, wait! Don’t you dare just walk out of me." Tony muttered some Italian curses between his pleading. "Stay. Talk to me."

The doctor turned his head toward him and looked at him coolly. "I'm not your property you can boss around, Mr. Stark. So, I'd prefer if you let me go and kindly fuck off."

Tony's face was so hurt and confused that Stephen almost changed his mind and thought Stane had lied to him. But then Tony put on a neutral mask and pulled his hand back, his lips tightly pressed together. Testily, Stephen took a step back. When Tony didn't try to follow him, Stephen turned and left.

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

HA, you thought there would be smut after the gala? Well, tough luck! They hate each other now. So you have to wait for the make up sex

Tag List: @hidden-treasures21

tell me if you wanna be added

#IronStrange #StrangeIron #stephen strange x tony stark #doctor strange x iron man #Stephen Strange #Doctor Strange #Tony Stark #Mafia AU #Mob Au #Italian mafia #Angst #Drama #Romance #Idiots in love #Faded black ink #ironstrange family

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zenki-soukokq · 1 year

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Hi! I'd like to request a romantic match-up for genshin if that's ok with you

I’m non-binary and I use all pronouns, but most times i like to lean towards they/them. I'd like to be referred to as Mika.

I’m pansexual but I’d like to be matched up with a male since most of my favs are male

I'm afab and I'm 171 cm tall. I have pale skin and green eyes, and long eyelashes that I'm very proud of. I have really light brown and curly hair, and i had it cut short in a pixie cut, but its started to grow a bit at the back. I have an athletic body shape, and I prefer to wear a binder to appear more androgynous even though I have a small chest size. I'm considering getting top surgery though. My style is dark Akademiya and alt depending on how i feel.

My personality type is INTJ 5w6, I’m similar to Diluc and Scaramouche the most. I come off as cold and unwelcoming to most people at first and I'm very closed off, but I’m very warm and chaotic once you get to know me. I have a hard time talking to others because I’m very shy, but I’m loud, chaotic and teasing to people I’m comfortable with, more like Heizou and Childe. I value loyalty and comfort above all else, and I try my best to make sure the people I care about know this even though I have a hard time at expressing how I feel. I speak through actions rather than words. I also have some autistic traits.

I don’t really have a main aesthetic, but recently my style has been more dark Akademiya. I like to appear well-dressed in button-ups, turtlenecks, slacks and trench coats. I also really like flannel, my favourite colour is red although i own several in many colours.

I tend to have a saviour complex, I want to be a detective when I’m older and use my brain to help others.

As for hobbies, I’m an artist and musician. I’m very picky with my tools and prefer to work digitally with the best programs and brushes I can get my hands on. My work has no meaning, I just draw what I like and what appeals to me. I draw for my friends on their birthdays. I use art to show that I care, putting lots of work to draw a character my friends care about is how I show that I care, I want to take time and effort to show them that I care. I can play the guitar and sing and dance too. Sometimes i compose and write songs. I also love reading in my spare time, I’m a maladaptive daydreamer, and spend a lot of time immersing myself in fictional worlds.

For a romantic partner, I see the personality above all else. I have no preference for gender, as long as they’re someone gentle and loyal. I also love a good sense of humour

My love languages are quality time and physical touch (giving and receiving), since I’m very touch-starved, I like to be physically close to my loved ones. But i overthink a lot, so I also like to be reassured that my partner cares. I don’t have much experience in relationships, but I’m a hopeless romantic.

You have been matched up with...Gorou!

"The great general of Watatsumi Island's forces. He has gained respect and prestige, but always shows himself to be a humble leader. He is deeply trusted by his subordinates and is someone with whom you can share your feelings without shame."

How you two met:

At one point in time, on Watatsumi, they noticed that they had a staggering lack of detectives. By that, I mean that they had none. So, they opened up applications for newly created positions, and you applied.

Gorou had been assigned to review the applications, and to interview the selected applicants

Your application had piqued his interest quite a bit, as he had heard of your artistic hobbies from some of the islanders, and he wouldn't have expected you to put in an application

At the interview, he was captured by your capabilities, and your personality

Despite the initially cold impression he got of you, he saw slivers of a more outgoing and chaotic personality underneath

This, paired with the seemingly quite intelligent nature that he picked up from you, only further heightened his interest in you

Once he learned that you were hoping to become a detective, he almost gave you the position right then and there

A couple of applicants had been hired for the jobs of Watatsumi's detectives, you amongst them. Some training for the position was in line, and Gorou, still captivated, took the opportunity to learn more about you.

At first, he went through some basic procedures of fake investigations, basic analyzation, etc.

Each time you cleared through each one with ease, he was stunned

To him, it seemed like you had already been a detective for ages, and it almost reminded him of Heizou's level of intellectual prestige

As the training sessions went on, he made them more personalized, and more difficult

He noticed that with each session he designed, he felt closer and closer to you

Every time you two met up, you would become more relaxed and comfortable with him, yet still not losing your apt nature

As the days went by, and as the end of your training approached, he was still in a bit of an oblivious state, only thinking his feelings to be that of a close friend's

That is, until he was thinking one day, about what the last training session should be like

Eventually, his mind wandered, away from your training, and just to you in general

Realizing that after a long time, he hadn't been able to plan anything, he decided to ask Kokomi for a little bit of assistance

Through this assistance, Kokomi pried a little at how he felt about you, and helped him come to his overall realization that he had fallen in love with you

"So, today marks the last day of your training until you can officially become a detective amongst Watatsumi's forces. Because of this, I have prepared a special gift to commemorate the occaision. Mika, I have- or, no, I've fallen- not literally, but- well- ah! I want to say that I've fallen in love with you!"

Why you two are compatible:

A loyal and brave general of Watatsumi island. Born with a beast-like fighting intuition and tenacious will, he can find a way to victory even in the most critical moments. He leads the Watatsumi troops, who have far fewer military resources compared to the Shogunate. Gorou strives to ensure that the inhabitants of this island will live in safety and peace.

Gorou is a virtuous person, seeking to ensure the safety and peace of Watatsumi, which fits well with your want to save/help people

In the case that Watatsumi receives you as a detective, he would likely already be naturally curious about who's in the position

Gorou is also a naturally loyal person, so if he were to fall in love, it would be incredibly likely that he would become highly dedicated to that person

We can also see with Gorou, that despite his job and position, he remains kind and gentle with everyone

Both of the aforementioned points pair well with your personal preferences for someone in a relationship

I feel like Gorou would also be very reassuring in a relationship, due to the previously-mentioned loyalty

He would likely attempt to reassure you in any manner he deems necessary, whether it be physical, emotional, or mental

For me, I can also imagine Gorou to usually have physical touch as his love language

I don't envision him as someone who's very dependent on verbally giving and receiving love, nor do I envision him as someone who has gift-giving as his primary love language

I think quality time and physical touch with him would be his primary love language, possibly because of how your time might be incredibly meaningful to him

Generally, I think he just enjoys physical touch, so he'd be very positively receptive to that

Relationship Headcanons:

Out of curiosity, I checked Gorou's height, and you happen to be a bit taller than him

Because of this, I think he probably gets just slightly embarrassed, because someone like Yae would likely tease him over it

I think that sometimes, when he sees some of the things you wear, he gets a little confused on whether or not your a visitor from Fontaine

He probably tries on your clothes sometimes, out of curiosity

Personally, I see him as the type of person to really like the arts, but he previously didn't have much time to learn about it, or interact with it

Because of that, I think he has a lot of interest in the things you make, and he would often spend a while just appreciating what you've made

He'd love listening to whatever songs you make, without a doubt

I think Gorou would be a bit interested in your daydreams

He would wonder what worlds you think of, what places you go to, what people you see (if any at all), and all of that

Generally, in a relationship, I think Gorou would be very affectionate

He'd probably want to spend a lot of time talking to you, doing things with you, and just being around you in general

A part of him likely enjoys the fact that you work with/near him, so he could always pop in and spend time with you

New Years Headcanons:

He probably prepared a little bit about a week before New Years

He scouted out the different areas of Watatsumi, and tried to find the ideal viewing spot for the fireworks he ordered

That said, he custom ordered fireworks for you

Eventually, he decided on the beach near the backside of Watatsumi, since it was rather secluded, and there was plenty of space for fireworks to be shot without any safety concerns

He prepared a ton of things in advance, everything from drinks, to snacks, to small activities, and more

When New Years Eve rolled by, he spent the day exactly how he planned it, so that by the end, he would have the perfect amount of time left to lead you through all of his surprises

As the hours flew by, and as you opened gifts, played games, and snacked away, it got closer and closer to twelve

Gorou, of course, was fully aware, and was ready to let off his final surprises

Right as the clock struck twelve, the fireworks had been let loose into the sky, and illuminated the starry blankets behind it with vibrant colors

As you had stared up into the skies splashed with new colors, he hugged you, and pulled you closer

"Happy New Years, Mika! I hope you liked this- because I want to do it again with you next year, the year after, and...well, until I can't anymore!"

Afterword:

Thank you for requesting! I had fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading this!

#gorou #genshin matchups #gorou x reader #genshin x you #zenki's matchups #matchups #gorou x you #genshin #genshin impact

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