#except i have no clothes and wear the same 3 fits all the time i hate my life

[lxvvie]

whenever i think of lil domestic life blurbs the first thing i think is "hmm i wonder what lxvvie would write about this" LOL (can u tell i love u and ur writing!! <3)

for instance: imagine the cod characters trying desperately for you to finally claim one of their shirts as ur own sleep shirt. but like, you've worn the same thrifted oversized shirt every night since college, and tbh you really don't want to change up your routine now, and yeah, a strangers random shirt is actually more comfortable than yours, thank you very much

cue chaos. also idk who this would fit but i feel like one of them would be like don't wanna wear my shirt to sleep? fine and then proceed to replace every article of clothing in your closet, except for that sleep shirt, with one of their own. what!!! technically they listened to you!!!

I can see it going a lil' something like this (it might deviate some from your ask so forgive me! 😭):

Price would be a bit subtler than the rest. A comment or suggestion is given here or there because if it's comfort you're looking for, his shirts are where it's at.

Gaz is the one who outright tells you that he wants you in his shirt. Like... right now.

Soap leaves his shirts lying around with the express purpose of you putting them on. If you were to ask him to grab a shirt for you from the laundry room, best believe he will come back with his shirt for you to wear.

Ghost tells you that he can't sleep at night because your shirt feels "rough against his skin" 🙄. You call bullshit because his shirts have the same exact texture, and he calls bullshit to your bullshit because they absolutely do not. You can't help but wonder if there's some credibility to his words, though, because when you sleep in his shirt one night, he's out like a light.

Keller is the one who's like, "Got something for ya, Boss," and he tosses you his shirt and you're confused. "Alex, this is yours," and he shrugs and is all, "Not for long, I hope."

Alejandro wouldn't necessarily feel some kind of way about you wearing the shirt but if, for instance, it was from an ex? He'll envision burning it. In the meantime in-between time, wear his shirt.

Rudy tells you that he loves it when you wear his shirts because it feels good knowing a piece of him is still with you when he's away and that's all the more reason for you to wear them.

Horangi just wants his scent on you because he's claiming what's his.

König thinks it's absolutely adorable the way his shirts fit like freaking blankets on you. Then there was that one time you put on a shirt that he uses when he's away on assignment...

Graves doesn't really care... unless he's away. When he's home, he'd rather you sleep naked. For reasons. Reasons that involve horizontal dancing.

Keegan would just silently hand you his shirt, unwavering stare and all.

Roach's approach is similar to Rudy but he'd oh-so-politely ask, "Please...?"

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey so i was wondering if you had any Kid!Fics that weren’t Mpreg or omega verse more like there is a child and now Dean and Cas are taking care of the child together and fall in love in the process. I love your page thank you

Hey! Glad you're enjoying our blog🩵 Here are a few we could remember:

A Fine Romance by DragonSgotenks (Explicit, 54k words)

Castiel was one of those Parents the other teachers referred to as a "hot mess" but Dean just thought he was hot, even if he did come off as kind of a dick sometimes. When an accident lands him in the ER Dean comes face to face with his biggest crush when he discovers Cas is his nurse. It seems like fate that he manages to strike up a friendship with the father of some of his favorite students. But with Castiel still bitter over the way his ex used him up and then left him with nothing but 3 young kids to raise on his own he may be guarding his heart with too much caution to let someone new in. Dean will have to find a way to thaw the ice around Cas' heart or risk letting his chance at happiness slip through his fingers.

Baby Whispering by EllenOfOz (Mature, 9k words)

When Castiel's babysitter falls through, he has no choice but to take Claire to class with him. But as it turns out, Dr. Winchester isn't so upset about a disruption to his class.

life as we know it by yolock (Explicit, 92k words)

The first time Dean and Castiel ever agree on something happens when when their shared best friend Kelly asks them to be the godparents for her baby. Being a godparent is mostly babysitting occasionally and buying gifts on birthdays, but then Kelly dies on a car accident, leaving her three year old son Jack with no one but his godparents to take care of him. Despite not liking each other at all, the two men take the responsibility left for them on paper, and find themselves on a situation neither of them had prepared for, co-parenting a three year old. As they learn to take care of a toddler together, they learn a lot about themselves and about each other. It's definitely not an easy ride, but it eventually leads to something neither of them saw coming: a family.

let's take a drive by sobsicles (Explicit, 121k words)

Dean takes a really, really long drive to kick fear in the ass. It might just be the best thing he ever decides to do. ~~~ The seat squeaks, and Dean follows the sound, his gaze trailing down. There—where Jack sat moments ago—is a much tinier version of him. He looks mostly the same, just...smaller and more dimply and cuter, if that's possible. His clothes have shrunk to fit him, so he's casually sitting in a t-shirt, jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes. He swings his feet from side-to-side over the edge of Baby's seat the same way Sam used to in the back, and he stares up at Dean with clear eyes.  "Oh," Dean blurts out, eyes bulging, "Cas is going to fucking kill me." 

Light Me Up by tricia_16 (Explicit, 195k words)

Five years after participating in a life-changing threesome with his then-girlfriend and her friend Cas, Dean's single, comfortably bisexual, and has everything he's ever wanted except for that special someone to share his life with. When tragedy strikes, he and Cas are reunited in an unexpected way, and a split-second decision entangles their lives in ways neither of them could have predicted…

Surprises by TessAlyn (Explicit, 32k words)

Castiel and Dean don't have much in common. Dean plays football; Cas watches nature films. Dean wears jeans and flannel; Cas prefers button-ups and waistcoats. Yet somehow, they become friends. And when Cas' brother suddenly leaves an unexpected surprise on their doorstep, the strength of their friendship, and what they mean to each other, is tested like never before.

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel (Explicit, 174k words)

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

The guy next door by Castielific (Explicit, 61k words)

When Dean Smith quit his job at Sandover, he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He definitely didn't plan for his hippie neighbor and his four years old kid to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself. The neighbors to friends to lovers fic you never asked for, along with some cute baby!Jack

The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 (Explicit, 166k words)

In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.

We Are by lotrspnfangirl (Explicit, 50k words)

When Dean broke things off with Castiel, right after graduation, he hadn’t anticipated the long term effect it would have. He’d done this, he ruined things, and he deserved to be punished. Despite trying to move on, he found himself at the bottom of a bottle more often than not. When Lisa took their son, Ben, away - well, he had nothing to keep him going. Castiel packed his broken heart across the country, swept up with a woman who only loved him for what he could give and another who treated his friendship as gold. When Kelly left him, leaving him broken once more, he threw himself into raising his son, Jack, and letting him know how loved he was. When a broken teenager came into his life, he absorbed Claire into his family and took a chance, moving back home to the small town life, for a better chance for them all.

Also, the Dadstiel Bang starts posting on August 26th, so you might find more fics there. And we also have a "as parents" tag that might interest you.

[toychest321]

Ugh, I've been meaning to post about this doll for what feels like ages! Allergies have been pretty bad this week, but I've finally been able to pull myself together enough to post about Fulla's prayer dolls!

According to the Islamic blog Alhannah.com, "The purpose of a prayer outfit is twofold – to respect the sanctity of prayer by covering one’s ‘Awrah’ (parts of the body that should be covered in public) and to uphold the principles of modesty".

"A prayer outfit typically encompasses a long, loose-fitting skirt paired with a top that has a head covering (Hijab), collectively ensuring that the body remains concealed during prayer". The website also states that there are one-piece and two-piece versions of the outfit, the choice between the two often coming down to preference of the wearer (in this case, it seems Fulla prefers the latter)

Muslims pray five times per day: once in the morning before dawn (Fajr), once at midday (Dhuhr), once in the afternoon (Asr), once after sunset (Maghrib), and once in the evening (Isha).

As far as I can find, there have been three prayer dolls of Fulla released. Two are for the Fajr and Isha prayers respectively, and one is for a process connected to all five!

Fulla's first prayer doll was released in 2004 with a doll-sized prayer mat and prayer beads for yourself!

Prayer mats are used to ensure the ground is clean while praying. Prayer beads, meanwhile, are used for dhikr, a process of prayer recitation after each of the five daily prayers. The beads are typically counted for each of the 99 names of Allah recited, however with certain prayer beads consisting of 33 beads instead (such as the one included here) they are counted 3 times over. The first 33 recitations are "Subhan Allah" (Glory be to Allah), the second 33 are "Al-Ahamdulilah" (Praise be to God), and the final 33 are "Allahu Akbar" (God is greatest). After these you must pray "Laa ilaha illallah wahdahu la sharika lah lahul mulku wa lahul hamdu wa huwa ala kulli shay in qadir" (There is no god worthy of worship except Allah alone, with no partner or associate) once.

Her next prayer doll was released in 2006 for the Morning Prayer (Fajr)! While I can't definitively say the same for the prior Prayer Dress Fulla, this doll wears indoor clothes underneath her prayer outfit to start the day! She comes with a prayer mat and bag, and (it says on the box but its hard to read) a prayer booklet of the Morning Prayers! And I hadn't even known this until now for this doll or the next, but apparently there's a button on her back that makes her recite them (batteries included)!

I like how much the pink pops against the white! Although the outfit is decent, it looks a bit plain compared to her other indoor looks (although that could have been intentional). I don't have any particularly strong feelings on her fashion, but it's decent!

The same year a doll for the Night Prayers (Isha) was released as well! Underneath her prayer clothes she wears a pair of pink pajamas with gingham detailing, with matching pink slippers! It seems she also came with a prayer mat, bag, and booklet (this time for the Night Prayers) as the Morning Prayers Fulla did! And yes, she also has a button to make her pray them with you!

I love these pajamas so much, they're so cute!!! And the way they match her prayer outfit too??? Indoor-fashion-wise, I probably prefer this one over the Morning Prayer's indoor outfit.

Overall, I love how all of these dolls not only represent a significant Islamic religious practice, but encourage children to do it with her! Between the prayer beads and voice button, I can easily see this doll joining in prayer with her owner :)

And not too difficult to imagine either, since Fulla has also made officially branded prayer clothes in 2005, 2007, and as recent as 2024!

Anyway, I'm glad I was finally able to dive deep into this topic like I'd been meaning to look into for a while (now to get some sleep as it is currently 4am)

Ramadan Kareem!

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 13) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Chapter 13

“I can’t believe this.” Tomura’s not happy, and he’s not shy about sharing it. “We’re not hostages. Take the fucking hoods off.”

“Don’t complain. It makes you sound like a child.” The voice of the Hassaikai member walking behind you sounds familiar, but you can’t quite grasp where you’ve heard it before. “Trust is earned. And you haven’t earned it.”

“It’s hard to earn trust without an opportunity to be trustworthy,” you say, as diplomatically as you can manage. You’re not thrilled about the hood over your head, either, mainly because you’re worried that it’ll take your veil with it when they try to take it off. “As for childishness – I’m not sure if you were the one who picked up the phone when Tomura changed the meeting date, but whoever it was threw a pretty impressive fit.”

Whoever’s walking behind Tomura decides to wade into things. “That was a subordinate, not the head of our organization.”

“Were they over twenty?”

Silence falls, other than the sound of your footsteps through what you’re fairly sure is a tunnel of some kind. You’ve been walking for a while, and the silence stretches, then stretches again. “We’re getting off the subject,” the Hassaikai member says, and Tomura snorts. “Careful. The door.”

You shift to one side to avoid the doorframe and bump into Tomura. Your hands brush, and Tomura’s little finger links briefly with yours, squeezing tight before letting go. It reassures you. You don’t know what you’re doing here. You shouldn’t be here – you’re quirkless, you’re not a villain, you’ve done nothing to earn a place in the negotiation between the League of Villains and the Shie Hassaikai. But Tomura wants you here. That would be all that matters, except Overhaul wants you here, too.

The hoods come off once you’re through the door, and you barely manage to grasp the hem of your veil in time to keep it over your face. With the hoods gone, you can see that you’re in a small, windowless room, standing behind a couch. Facing you, seated on another couch, is Overhaul. You were too panicked to really take the measure of him when you met in the warehouse. Now you have a close look, and what you see is – weird.

His eyebrows are thin and arched, almost plucked. The clothes he’s wearing are distinctive. The green combat jacket with purple faux fur around the collar was an intentional choice, which means his fashion sense is bizarre. He’s wearing thin white gloves on both hands, and like you are with any quirked person, you’re wary. You might have some idea what he’s capable of, but you don’t know for sure. All you know is that you’ve got no way to protect yourself from him. If he decides he wants you dead, you’re dead. You have to be careful.

But you’re not alone here. Tomura’s with you – and because Tomura’s himself, he doesn’t have to worry about careful. “Do you give this kind of welcome to all your allies? Or are you just pissed that we didn’t come running the first time you snapped your fingers?”

“This isn’t a social call, it’s a business meeting. I’m always careful when I conduct business.” Overhaul is talking to Tomura, but he’s looking at you. “Saintess, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Have a seat, both of you.” Overhaul stays silent as the two of you situate yourself, only speaking once you’re both settled. “I’m glad to see that you’re prepared to move past the – unpleasantness of our first meeting.”

“Move past it, sure. Forget it, no.” Tomura props his feet up on the coffee table between the couches. “One of your minions died. You destroyed Compress’s arm, and we lost Magne because of you. Those aren’t equal losses. If we’re going to move past it, we need something from you.”

“The Hassaikai will pay the cost of a prosthetic for Compress,” Overhaul says. “Unfortunately, nothing more can be done for Magne. I understand that Tartarus will be his final destination.”

“Hers,” you correct without thinking.

“Unless he talks,” Overhaul continues, like you didn’t speak. “I imagine that if he shares what he knows about your so-called organization, he could get himself moved to medium security instead.”

“She,” Tomura snaps. His fists are clenched on his thighs, his knuckles white. “She won’t talk, and even if she did, it would be because of you.”

“She attacked first.” Overhaul’s mocking Tomura, mocking you – mocking Magne, who’s not here to defend herself. “If you had better control over your gang of lunatics, then –”

“We’re getting off the subject,” you say, and Tomura and Overhaul both look at you. “What’s done is done. We’re here to discuss the future of your organization and Tomura’s, aren’t we? What did you have in mind?”

Overhaul tilts his head, studying you. It’s quiet for a moment – quiet, until Tomura snaps. “What are you looking at her for? Stop looking at her. I didn’t bring her for you to stare at.”

“Why do you think I asked you to bring her?” Overhaul doesn’t wait for Tomura to answer, and he doesn’t answer his own question, either. “Saintess was correct at our first meeting to look for an alignment of our goals. Your diagnosis of the problem as heroes, however, is incomplete. The root of the problem is the existence of quirks themselves.”

“Quirks,” Tomura repeats after a second. “That’s a new one.”

“It sounds radical to you as a person with a quirk. This is why I asked you to bring Saintess with you,” Overhaul says. “As a quirkless individual, I’m sure she can explain exactly what quirks have done to warp society from its natural order.”

Your stomach lurches. “What makes you think I’m quirkless?”

“If you were any use, Shigaraki would have used you already.” Overhaul shrugs. “If you had a quirk that could have influenced the outcome of the League’s previous engagements, you would have featured prominently in them, and if you had any value, you would already have been captured. Shigaraki has a nasty habit of giving his most valuable pieces away.”

You knew you didn’t like Overhaul, and it’s not like you haven’t heard anyone say things like that about you before, but hearing them said in front of Tomura is something else. It’s a good thing you’re behind a veil. Your face is heating up in shame. “But it’s your presence at Shigaraki’s right hand that convinced me we could work together,” Overhaul says. “A leader who can see value beyond quirks is a leader with whom I can find common ground. So let’s discuss my plans, and where you might fit into them.”

“Let’s start with this.” Tomura extracts the quirk-erasing bullet – the copy of the quirk-erasing bullet that Twice made – from his pocket and holds it up. “After Compress was shot with this, he couldn’t use his quirk for a while. What is this thing, and where did you get it?”

Tomura knows both answers, courtesy of you and Kazuo, which gives him the chance to test Overhaul’s honesty. “We manufacture those in-house,” Overhaul says. “Right now we lack the facilities to mass-produce them, so we’re in short supply. I’ll take that back –”

“Nope.” Tomura grasps the bullet with all five fingers and Decays it. Twice’s creations Decay like anything else, if Tomura does it fast enough. “If you throw away your toys, you don’t get them back. How are you producing them?”

Kazuo texted you some extra information after he ran his query, sharing that there’s human DNA inside each bullet. Overhaul’s silent for a moment, and Tomura pushes the point. “Earlier you said it was a manufacturing issue, but this thing was – what? A bullet casing and a needle? I’m guessing your real problem is not having enough of what’s inside it.”

“And?”

“And that seems like a flaw,” Tomura says. “It’s nice to have a plan. Not so nice if you can’t execute it.”

“Currently our production of the deleter rounds is restricted to one facility. Our production of Trigger, however, is widespread,” Overhaul says. “My plan requires both components. Once it’s executed, control of quirks will pass from the hands of individuals into the hands of those who control the supply of both compounds.”

Tomura nods. “I get the picture.”

It sounds like he doesn’t. He sounds like he used to in school, when he was writing his letters upside down or trying to put a puzzle piece somewhere it didn’t fit. Overhaul doesn’t buy it. “Why don’t you have Saintess explain what a world where quirks can be permanently erased would look like?”

He’s getting off on this. He must be. That’s the only reason you can think of why he’d force you to rub Tomura’s face in just how useless you are. “It wouldn’t be a return to the pre-quirk status quo,” you start, “because without mass distribution of the deleter substance, quirks themselves would still exist. But the category of quirkless would cease to be a static one.”

“And why would that be a good thing?”

You wish he wouldn’t prompt you. You were getting to it. “Quirklessness is stigmatized heavily. The downfall in privilege from quirked to quirkless would be colossal, for nobody more so than for heroes. The constant threat of quirklessness would change how heroes approach their work. It would make them more cautious, more self-protective.”

“Less heroic,” Tomura says. “I get it.”

“The threat of ending up like her will handicap them, and they’ll never be able to avoid the risk,” Overhaul says. “That’s the kind of reset I’m talking about. Now, in order to accomplish my goals, I’ll need some members of your organization to join mine.”

“Why?” Tomura asks suspiciously. “What do you want with them?”

“My organization is short on infiltrators. We’re tilted towards combat or interrogative types,” Overhaul says. “Twice, Toga, and Kurogiri. That’s who I need. You can keep the rest.”

“We don’t have freedom of movement right now. I’m not handing over Kurogiri,” Tomura says shortly. “Twice and Toga you can have, on a temporary basis.”

“I’ll have them until I’m done with them.”

“If you take them temporarily, what do I get in exchange?”

“I imagine you’re short on funds,” Overhaul says. “We’ll provide a place for you to stay as well as money for food and support items – and the prosthetic for Compress, as discussed. Hmm, and –”

He looks at you. “That injury to your hand hasn’t healed yet. I’ll fix it.”

“No.” Tomura was sitting with his feet on the table until a second ago, but he rockets to standing at once. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

“You don’t trust me? We’re supposed to be allies.”

“After what happened the last time you touched one of my friends? Damn right I don’t trust you.” Tomura has one arm thrown out, blocking you even though Overhaul hasn’t made a move. “You aren’t touching her. Back off.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Overhaul spreads his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Call it a peace offering.”

You don’t want Overhaul touching you. You don’t want Overhaul coming anywhere near you. But Tomura’s outsize reaction looks bad. It looks like he doesn’t trust Overhaul, which he doesn’t, and it looks like he’s about to fly off the handle at any second, which he isn’t – and it makes you look important, which you aren’t. There’s only one solution you can see. You get to your feet. “It’s a peace offering,” you say, adopting Overhaul’s term. “I’m not against help when it’s offered.”

You step around Tomura’s outstretched arm, closing the distance between yourself and Overhaul. When you unwrap your bandaged hand, he regards it with clear distaste – but at the same time, he’s peeling off one of his gloves. “These are shallow. They should be healed already, given that you had the same bandage five days ago.”

“It’s on my hand. It’s hard to keep a scab on something I use all the time.” You hold out your hand when Overhaul beckons, wondering if you’re about to die. He could bring you back if he kills you, but he probably wouldn’t if Tomura lost control badly enough. And you can’t count on Tomura’s self-control in a situation like this, when he’s already pissed, already on edge. “Are you sure you want to do this? I won’t be mad if you changed your mind.”

“How forgiving. As expected of a Saintess.” Overhaul’s voice is sardonic. You really wish the League had picked a name for you that was a little less of a joke. “Here.”

His fingers brush the back of your hand, and your skin crawls – but that’s it. When you look down at your hand, you can see that the marks left by Tomura’s nails have smoothed over into a faint scar. A scar that vanishes completely a moment later. Overhaul yanks his glove back over his hand. “Why don’t you go show your boss that his suspicions were unfounded?”

You step back around the coffee table until you’re next to Tomura, and you hold up your hand for him to inspect. You can tell by what little of his expression is visible around the hand that he’s seething. He looks past you, to Overhaul. “Are we done here?”

“Not quite. Why don’t you stay for a game?” Overhaul gestures, and one of his masked minions sets a board and game pieces down on the coffee table. “Do you play shogi?”

“No,” Tomura says, in the same tone as he’d say “fuck you”. “You might have time for board games, but we have important things to do.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Overhaul is looking at you – again. “Have a seat, Shigaraki. Saintess and I will show you how it’s done.”

You do know how to play, but you don’t play very well – a lifetime of letting your younger siblings win so they won’t hammer you with their quirks has left you uniquely unprepared to play someone who knows what they’re doing. But in some ways, this is exactly the kind of situation you always wound up in at home. Somebody more powerful than you is using the threat of their quirk to push you around. The only difference is that Overhaul is about fifty times as powerful as your siblings. And that when you were playing with them, you never had to worry about keeping your supervillain boyfriend calm at the same time.

Overhaul is lecturing Tomura about how shogi works. You focus on your opening moves. You really don’t want to get your ass kicked in front of your best friend, particularly not after he’s just spent the last half an hour listening to Overhaul remind him how useless you are. At the same time, though, you think you should probably let Overhaul win. You need to leave him thinking he’s got the upper hand over Tomura. It’s a delicate balance, and with your self-esteem basically in tatters, you’re not sure how good you’ll be at keeping it.

Even if Tomura doesn’t know how to play, he’s still on your team, as evidenced by the fac that he interrupts Overhaul every time Overhaul’s about to move a piece. He starts by needling Overhaul about exactly what’s inside the bullets, then moves on to asking about the quirk makeup of Overhaul’s inner circle, arguing that since Overhaul’s helping himself to members of the League, Tomura should have information about Overhaul’s underlings in case he wants to borrow one. Tomura’s interruptions give Overhaul time to rethink his moves, and because you’re playing what you’ve come to think of as the please-don’t-hurt-me strategy rather than trying to win outright, he doesn’t seem to know how to respond. You manage to promote one of your pieces and capture two of his before he finally quits responding to Tomura’s hassling.

Overhaul’s using the game as a personality test. He’s said as much, which makes the fact that he chose to play against you instead of Tomura especially weird. Does he like you or something? You’re pretty sure that’s not it – he’s never seen your face, and even if he could, you’re not anything special. Trying to figure out why Tomura keeps you around would make more sense, but you feel like he’d have to be socially unaware to the max to fail to guess that you and Tomura are involved. So what is it? For the first time in conjunction with dealing with the League, you wish one of your friends was here – Mitsuko, whose quirk lets her read people’s intentions towards one another. She’d be able to tell you what’s going on in Overhaul’s head. She’d also be able to tell you what’s going on in Tomura’s.

Overhaul never quite catches onto your strategy, such as it is, which means you win your first game of shogi ever against a yakuza boss who clearly thinks pretty highly of his own skills. You’re hoping he’ll let you leave now, but before he can put the board away, Tomura nudges you aside and takes your place across the board from Overhaul. “I want to play, too.”

Tomura versus Overhaul is a mess of a game, with pieces flying every which way at high speed. Tomura pressures Overhaul by playing fast, barely considering his moves before he makes them, and while Overhaul grasps Tomura’s strategy eventually, it takes just a little too long to give him the decisive victory he was probably hoping for. Tomura doesn’t seem particularly upset at losing. “Thanks for the lesson,” he says to Overhaul, getting to his feet and stretching widely. One of Overhaul’s minions narrowly avoids getting smacked in the face by his hand and scurries out of range in a hurry. “Are we going to have to do this again?”

“Not unless our strategy changes drastically.”

“Great.” Tomura turns to you. “Let’s go.”

They don’t blindfold you this time. You try to keep track of the various twists and turns, just to have something to do, but you can’t focus. Your veil may be in place, but with every step you take away from Overhaul, your mask slips a little further.

You grew up being picked on for being quirkless. Mercilessly picked on at home, less so at school, because you didn’t do anything so stupid as wanting to be a hero. You would have been targeted if you’d made waves, so you didn’t, staying under the radar and out of the way, even once you had friends like Kazuo and Hirono and Ryuhei who were willing and able to stand up for you. And maybe you forgot a bit, because it doesn’t matter at your job and the League doesn’t care. But what Overhaul said isn’t some aberration – it’s how the world really sees you. Useless. Worthless. If you were of any value as Tomura’s game piece, you’d already have been taken off the board.

“Hey,” Tomura says, and you look up just in time to realize that you’re stepping through the door of Overhaul’s stronghold. It’s dark out, and it’s cold, and Kurogiri’s waiting for you. But instead of stepping through the warp gate, Tomura addresses Kurogiri. “Take us to the place. Wait fifteen minutes and come back to get us.”

“Yes, Shigaraki Tomura.”

A different warp gate opens. Tomura takes your hand, three fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, and pulls you through it. You don’t have a clue where you’re headed, and you’re still confused when you emerge from the other side of the warp gate and get your bearings. It’s still dark, and it’s also cold – a lot colder than it was outside of Overhaul’s stronghold. Tenko draws his coat tighter around himself. “Fuck, it’s freezing.”

You can make out shapes in the darkness, but nothing that tells you what you’re actually looking at. “Where are we?”

“I used to come here sometimes. When I was a kid.” Tenko looks up at the sky. It was clear at Overhaul’s, but here it’s cloudy, a heavy bank blotting out the stars. “Sensei didn’t like when I went places. Kurogiri convinced him somehow. Probably told him I’d scratch all the skin off my face if I couldn’t go outside sometimes. I don’t know.”

Tenko sets off over the uneven ground, his hand still around your wrist. At one point he crouches, then comes back up with a camping lantern, which he switches on and holds up, revealing that you’re in the ruins of a big building. No, not a building. “Is this a plane?”

“It crashed a few years before All Might debuted,” Tenko says. “Officially an accident, but most of the internet thinks it was sabotaged. The pilots kept this thing in the air for thirty-eight minutes after the hydraulics failed.”

“What about –” you struggle to phrase it in a way that won’t get you in trouble. “What about heroes? If it was in the air for thirty-eight minutes, then somebody –”

“You think anybody would square up to a crashing jumbo jet? They let it fall.” Tenko scoffs. “Didn’t come looking to help until it was too late. Five hundred people on this flight, and four made it. That’s it.”

You’re in a graveyard. Your skin crawls. “And they just left it here?”

“I guess. And I guess if Sensei thought he had to let me outside, it might as well be somewhere I wouldn’t forget what I was supposed to be.”

“That’s messed up,” you say before you can stop yourself. Tenko lets go of your wrist, but only so he can take the hand down off his face and tuck it into his pocket. “It is, Tenko. It’s messed up that he –”

“Back there. With Overhaul.” Tenko cuts you off, and your stomach lurches. “Is that what they’re all like?”

You were hoping he wouldn’t bring that up. Praying, maybe. “No,” you say. Your voice isn’t wavering. It’s just the wind. “He wasn’t that bad. It’s fine.”

“If that doesn’t count as bad, what does?”

Things your siblings said, things your classmates said once you got old enough for it to matter – things patients said, back when you were dumb enough to think that letting them know you were quirkless would make the other quirkless ones feel better. “Nothing. It’s not that bad. He was picking on your judgment more than he was picking on me.”

“He was going after you. I had to sit there and watch you tie yourself in a knot trying not to piss him off –” Tenko breaks off in a snarl. “He backed us so far into a corner that you had to let him touch you to get out! You want to talk about fucked up? That’s fucked up! Don’t –”

“It’s fine –”

“Don’t tell me it’s fine!” Tenko’s voice is loud enough to echo, loud enough to startle you. “I know you. Even when you’re hiding behind that thing. You think I don’t know when somebody hurts you?”

“I’m not hurt,” you say. Your voice isn’t wavering. You’re just laughing at how absurd of a thing that is to say. “You think somebody like him can hurt me?”

“Yes.” Tenko catches the hem of your veil and flips it back, baring your face.

It takes all your self-control not to cover your face with both hands. You’re crying. It’s stupid. You’re twenty years old and you’re crying like somebody’s pulled your hair on the playground. You’ve been crying on and off since you turned your back on Overhaul, trusting the veil and years of practice keeping quiet to hide you, only you’re with the one person who’s never fallen for that. Tenko stares at you in the light of the camping lantern, and you stare back, your eyes blurring as you fight to keep your mouth from turning down at the corners. You wish he’d look away. It makes it so much harder that he can see you.

“Don’t look,” you say, hating how your voice shakes, and Tenko grabs you one-handed and pulls you in against his chest.

There’s a clang as he sets the camping lantern down, and then his other arm comes up around you, hands clenched into fists on your shoulder blade and your hip. He’s holding onto you tightly, tight enough that you’d have a hard time escaping if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You’ll take what you can get, even knowing you don’t belong, even knowing that you’re always going to be –

“You aren’t useless.” Tenko’s voice is quiet, gentle. You remember it from when he was a kid. You didn’t know it was still there. “You can do all kinds of things. I need those things. The rest of the League needs those things, too. And they like you. Or else they wouldn’t have given you a name.”

Your stupid, shitty name. You want to laugh, but it doesn’t sound like laughter when it comes out. “And even if you couldn’t do any of the medic stuff,” Tenko says, “even if you couldn’t do anything at all to help, I’d still want you with me.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You only sent Kurogiri to get me the first time because I’m a nurse –”

“I told him to get you before. A lot of times.” Tenko takes a deep breath, lets it go. “I should send that fucking hero a thank-you card. Kurogiri only listened that time because I was injured.”

He wanted to see you. That can’t be right. Can it? You grasp onto the least ridiculous part of what Tenko just said. “A thank-you card?”

“That’s faster to say than “a pipe bomb with a bow on it”.”

That might be the worst thing Tenko’s ever said in front of you. It’s also pretty funny at a time when you need something to laugh at. You try to smother your laughter in Tenko’s shoulder, and he hugs you closer. “I want you with me. You’re supposed to be with me. No matter what. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know,” you say. You think you might, though. Maybe. “I –”

“Come on.” Tenko sits down in one of the empty seats, pulls you into his lap, holding on when you try to squirm away. “Don’t worry. I only sit in the ones the survivors were in.”

That strikes you as unexpectedly sweet. It’s the kind of thing Tenko would have done even as a kid. At the same time – “You know we’re not done with the messed-up-ness of your Sensei sending you to play in a crashed plane, right?”

“It’s not that weird,” Tenko says. You raise your eyebrows. “Kids play in that park they built at Kamino, right?”

You hadn’t thought of it like that. Both places are places where a lot of people died. Both places have been swept under the rug, Kamino by putting up a shiny park over the ruins within two weeks of the disaster, this place by leaving it to rot out of sight and memory. Both places are the site of massive heroic failures. It’s not as different as you want it to be. “That’s messed up, too.”

Tenko snorts, rolls his eyes, but his arms are wrapping tighter around you. He presses his face into your shoulder, his voice muffled and indistinct. “I don’t need you to understand everything. I just need you here. Do you get it?”

“I get it,” you say. “I need to be here, too.”

Tenko’s nose is cold where it presses against your throat, but his chapped lips and his breath are warm. You’re shivering, and so is he. “If I’d known it was this cold, I’d have made Kurogiri bring us somewhere else.”

“Why did you have him bring us somewhere instead of back to my place?”

“I wanted to talk to you. Without them hearing.” Even in the faint light of the camping lantern, you see his face flush. “They hear enough already.”

You knew Dabi was going to say something. It sounds like he said more than one something. “He just needs to get laid.”

Tenko looks shocked for a moment. Then he bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the ruins of the plane. You like his laughter, but it sounds wrong here. Kissing him feels wrong to do here, too, but it’s the only way you can think of to keep him quiet, and it’s easy to fall into, easy to forget. Easy to forget where you are, but what happened to put you here isn’t so easy to leave behind.

Tenko’s hands have been curled into fists the entire time. Now they loosen slightly, splaying across your shoulder, grasping your hip. His index fingers are lifted. “He fixed your hand,” he says after a while. “I know why he did it.”

“Don’t think about him,” you say. You know you don’t want to – but at the same time, you weren’t paying much attention past your own discomfort. Tenko might have seen something you didn’t. “Why?”

“Because he knows I couldn’t.” Tenko’s grip tightens. “He wants you.”

That’s not right. “I don’t think he wants me. I don’t know why anyone –”

You trail off. There are some things that are too pathetic to say out loud, even for you. Some things you shouldn’t say even in front of your best friend, your boyfriend. Not after he’s tried pretty hard to reassure you about your place in the League, your place with him. Tenko looks expectantly at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence. You shake your head. Tenko smiles halfway, crookedly, and says the last thing you’d expect him to say. “Of course he wants you,” he says. “Who wouldn’t?”

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 4)

((Part 1, Part 2, Part 3))

Helga lied when she said there’d be a dress set out on the bed for her.

 There are actually three.

The room is empty except for Cinderella’s soft footsteps. She clutches the robe around her throat as she approaches, eyes flicking from gown to gown in disbelief. Each is beyond what Cinderella has ever seen before in her life, the colors more vibrant that the most expensive fabrics in the seamstress’ shop, the lacing more delicate, the beading more opulent.

The first dress is a pale blue, the color like her mother’s eyes. Cinderella trails her fingers along the neckline. There are glittering clusters of jewels scattered along the skirt of the dress like flowers. It reminds her of the meadow she met the boy in on the clearest day.

The second dress is a rich red. Something in Cinderella shivers at the depth of the color, hungry and wanting. It’s a powerful dress with severe lines. The neckline is encrusted in rubies and the accents are so dark red that they appear black.

The third dress is the simplest of the three, though simple seems an ill-fitting word for it. It’s a comforting light green, like new growth and warm summers. There are no jewels on this one, but gold embroidery loops and curls near the hem and sleeves.  Cinderella traces her finger along one furl of embroidery, enjoying the tight knit stitch in comparison to the velvet of the fabric.

“He asked for me to pick something you’d like,” Helga says from the doorway.

Cinderella jumps. She didn’t hear her come in, so lost was she in the dresses. “They’re beautiful. You did a wonderful job.”

“He asked me to,” Helga says. She comes up beside Cinderella, running a critical eye over the three gowns. “But I didn’t know about you until two weeks ago, so how could I pick a dress? I gave him a style catalogue and told him to do it himself. In the end, he didn’t know what you wanted either. So he had three made. One for each night of the ball.”

Cinderella starts. “What?”

“Most women and men will wear the same clothes each night,” Helga says. She props her chin on her hand. “It’s very standard practice. They may change a layer or two, but gowns like this are works of art. Many take pride in wearing the same one.”

“That’s not what I’m surprised about,” Cinderella says, pressing a hand to her forehead. “The ball is three nights? Three?” Her stepmother and stepsisters never mentioned that.

“For some,” Helga says. She leads Cinderella to a small vanity and sits her in front of it. She pulls out a comb. “The purpose of this ball is for the Prince to find a bride, after all. A second invitation will be sent out after tonight for tomorrow’s ball. Then another on the second night for the third. After the third, the Prince will have made his choice.”

Cinderella doesn’t think she’ll get invited back for the second night, much less the third. “It’s a shame I’ll only be wearing one,” she says without thinking. She sighs. “That makes choosing even harder.”

Helga pauses combing out Cinderella’s hair. “Pardon?”

“Nothing,” Cinderella says. She hopes Helga can’t see the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m just being selfish. All the dresses are so beautiful, I’m a little sorry I won’t be able to wear each one.”

“Oh, dear,” Helga says. She looks like she’s biting her cheek. “How you two remained friends all this time with his communication…”

Cinderella frowns. “Yes?”

“Never you mind,” Helga says. She sets Cinderella’s hair down with a pat. “Just take one day at a time, hm? Now, we’ve got three hours to get you dressed.”

“Three hours still?” Cinderella asks. She starts to rise. “If that’s the case, I can wait to--”

Helga gently pushes her back down into her seat. She meets Cinderella’s eyes in the mirror of the vanity. “Barely three hours,” Helga says. She whips out a thin, wooden stick. “It’s time for a little magic.”

 ---------------

Magic is real. By the end of the first hour, Cinderella has no way to deny it anymore. Somehow she’d been able to block the teleportation from her head very easily, but what Helga does-- well.

Magic is real.

With a wave of her stick - “It’s a wand, dear.” - Helga produces a gentle, warm wind to dry her hair. A bottle of lotion and hair oil floats out of the bathroom into Helga’s waiting hands. The entire time, Helga talks.

“Rose-scented, very popular in the Capital, but my lord hates it--” she throws the bottle over her shoulder “--he wasn’t allowed to make a request, so it’s really up to you. Perhaps orange blossom? Here, give it a smell--”

Cinderella obediently follows Helga’s directions, smelling this and that and rejecting the orange blossom in favor of vanilla, the mint in favor of lavender, the sugar over the spice. Her head is spinning faster than the collection of bottles rapidly growing above them. She can’t stop herself from grinning with each new feat of magic Helga absently performs. This is fun. This is interesting.

This is magic.

“Of course it is,” Helga says when Cinderella voices her thoughts. But she’s not calling Cinderella stupid. She sounds fond when she says it. Affectionate. “I’m very, very good at it. One day, I can teach-- well, that’s in the future, isn’t it? And we are focusing on one day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Cinderella echoes obediently. It’s a strange mantra for Cinderella who has always looked so far ahead. One day, Father will come home. One day, they’ll love me. One day, I’ll be free. There is something liberating in only focusing on tonight. Something magical. “What’s next?”

“Next is makeup and jewelry,” Helga says. She straightens a curl in Cinderella’s hair and hums with satisfaction. “Which means it’s time for you, my dear, to choose a dress.”

“The green one,” Cinderella says immediately. She flushes when Helga raises her eyebrows. “It’s-- Have you ever seen an oak tree at the beginning of spring?”

“There are many oak trees in the Capital,” Helga says.

“New leaves are the same shade of green,” Cinderella says. She bites the inside of her cheek and looks at her hands twisting in her lap. Normally, she wouldn’t share so much but she likes Helga. She thinks it’s safe to say it here. “The first time he called me his friend, it was spring. That’s when it became my favorite season.” When she looks up, Helga has one hand pressed over her eyes. “Helga?”

“Spring is my lord’s favorite season as well,” Helga says. “I’m going to get cavities.” She fetches the dress from the bed, suspending it thoughtlessly in the air with magic, and continues before Cinderella can respond. “The gold goes well with your hair, so it must be gold jewelry. I’ll fetch some options.”

Helga bustles out of the room, sniffing loudly. Cinderella watches her go. She doesn’t understand what’s made Helga so emotional. She knows the boy’s favorite season is spring, but it’s not for any heartwarming reason. It’s because he’s no longer forced to keep the meadow from freezing over, freeing up more of his magic for the pranks he liked to pull.

But why did he need to keep the meadow from freezing over?

Cinderella reaches out and touches her dress. Almost like it has a mind of its own, it floats down to the exact height where she can examine the detail on the bodice more closely. She often thinks about questions like this and even asks them. She never receives an answer. Normally it would upset her, but her friend has always given her more than she can ever repay. The only way she can even attempt to is to not ask.

Maybe it’s time to ask. Not asking is kind. Not asking is easy. Not asking hurts--

Cinderella crushes the voice again. She’s focusing on tonight. She’s going to wear a beautiful gown in a beautiful room where nothing needs doing and nothing needs done. Hopefully her friend will be there so she can thank him properly - Is he human? Or is he in another tree? What is--? - and maybe she’ll even get the chance to dance.

As if in response to her thoughts, the dress swishes across the room, swaying and dipping in a phantom waltz. Cinderella watches it, entranced. The fabric catches on the candlelight, shimmering like the rainbows in the meadow. How would she look doing that? How would she feel?

“Oh,” Helga says as she closes the door behind her. The dress shudders to a halt and then rushes back to Cinderella’s side in approximately the same position it had been. “You really like this dress, my lady?”

My lady? “I’m excited to wear it,” Cinderella says instead, smiling with closed lips.

“Then we best get you ready,” Helga says. She’s still eyeing the dress from the corner of her eye, but she returns Cinderella’s smile. “There are some bigger necklaces to choose from but, after talking, I think you’d prefer something more delicate?”

“Something light,” Cinderella murmurs. Her heart is racing in her chest, the image of the dress dancing through the air bright in her mind. “Light enough to wear all night.”

“Very good.”

-------------------------.

Helga won’t let Cinderella look at herself until everything is done. She weaves pins with golden oak leaves into her hair and clasps a chain of gold so fine it feels like spiderwebs around her neck. The bracelet they decide on is a gold loop with strange symbols on it. Cinderella doesn’t know what they say, but the bracelet is warm in her hands, almost purring.

“My lord picked that one,” Helga says. She helps Cinderella slide it over her hand and adjusts the sleeve of her dress so that the bracelet falls atop it. “He’ll be thrilled you like it.”

When Helga finally allows Cinderella to look in the mirror, Cinderella doesn’t want to. She’s worried that her image will ruin the illusion. She feels cared for and pampered. She feels…warm and helpless with gratitude. Helga has made her feel so seen for the first time in a very long time.

Then she does see herself and the world drops away.

Cinderella is beautiful. So strange to call herself that! She is not in her body because this can’t be her. Her yellow hair is shining gold, coiled and looped around her head like a crown. The oak leaf pins catch the firelight and seem to glow. Her skin is not dry and unhealthy from waking too early and going to bed too late. There’s an inner glow she’s never seen before that makes her look radiant. The dress is beyond words. It sweeps along Cinderella’s body like art, the embroidery shining as brightly as the pins.

“Oh, my dear,” Helga says softly. She reaches out with a handkerchief and blots under Cinderella’s eyes. “Don’t cry! It’s alright.”

“I never wanted to be pretty,” Cinderella says, voice trembling. It comes out wrong, but how can she explain to Helga a lifetime of only wanting to be loved? Of never desiring fame or wealth or beauty? A lifetime of giving services and patience in hopes for affection? It feels shallow of her now to realize that she never needed to earn love. She deserved it, as any child did, and she has grown into such a beautiful adult without it entirely.

Cinderella looks at herself as if seeing a stranger and thinks, She deserved to be loved. Not because she is pretty, but because she is human.

Cinderella tests that thought like a child might test a flame. It stings when she touches it, but it’s a good pain. A healing pain. I deserved love. I deserved more. And then, It wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t her fault. She is not the villain for running away. She is not bad for not being more patient, for not being more kind. She is alive and she has always been looking for more than what she was allowed. She needed more. She would have given any child more.

There is nothing evil in allowing herself this one night or, perhaps, even the next.

“Thank you, Helga,” Cinderella says, still staring at herself in the mirror. The older woman is concerned, worried eyes on Cinderella’s face, but Cinderella is smiling through her tears. She feels…good. Magical. There is a bubbling relief in her chest as warm as the bath she’d taken. “You’ve done more for me than you could ever know.”

“No thanks, my dear,” Helga says. She takes Cinderella’s hand. “Come now. Your carriage awaits.”

Cinderella follows her out of the bedroom and to the waiting world outside.

------

Next part we finally get Cinderella to the ball! Will she meet her friend? Her family? The Prince?

If you’d like to read the next part a week early, as well as a Patreon Exclusive I posted earlier this week, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X). 

Thanks for reading!

[katsu28]

congratulations kait!! this celebration is SO cute! i am gonna request ☕️ + “You look stupid as all hell right now.” + hangman !!! thank you loveyyyy

lola my dear my love thank you!!! love you <3

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.4k, slightly suggestive towards the end, join the celebration!

“Babe, do you know where the box of kitchen plates is?” 

It was something straight out of your dreams, finally moving in with the love of your life. You’d been dating Jake Seresin for two years and finally made that leap, the last of your boxes making their way to your new home safely today. There was a lot coming from your apartment and his, but everything would find its place here. 

You could’ve had nothing and still be just as happy, because you still had Jake, and that was really all you needed. 

Except for he wasn’t answering you right now, and you really wanted to find the plates. So you went looking for him, calling his name every few seconds until you reached your bedroom. You found him alright, you definitely weren’t prepared for the sight you were met with. 

He was wearing a sweater of yours, definitely way too small for his broad frame judging from the way it cut off above his belly button. It was tight in the shoulders too, and you’d be a bit more annoyed at him stretching it out if you weren't so in love with him. He was grinning guiltily at you, hands propped up on his hips as he stood in the middle of a pile of your clothes. 

“I was gonna put all your stuff in the closet for you so you didn’t have to.” He said sheepishly, gesturing vaguely at the mess around him. “...Surprise?” 

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him, so big your cheeks ached. “You look stupid as all hell right now.” 

“I think you mean stupid handsome,” He scoffed, arching a brow at you. 

“No, I meant what I said. What made you think you could fit into that, honey?” You chided playfully, crossing the room to get a better look at him. It was an older sweater of yours, a bit frayed at the sleeves from how often you’d worn it over the years you’d had it, but still soft and even cozier now that it had been worn in. 

“You were wearin’ this sweater the first time we met, d’you remember?” 

Of course you remembered. You remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it had been almost three years ago. 

You were grabbing a little pick me up before work at your usual coffee place one morning, and you spotted it on the pickup counter, the same thing you always got. Another hand reached for the plastic cup at the same time, long fingers curling around yours for a moment before jerking back like they’d been burned. 

The problem was, your gut instinct was to retreat as well, leaving the cup of coffee to tip over on the counter. The lid popped off, and suddenly your sleeve was cold and wet and smelled like…well, coffee.

“Shit!” You hissed, shaking it out as best you could. “What the hell?” 

“Oh fuck—” You looked up, and the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on was staring right back at you, blond hair swept up and out of his face, pretty green eyes widened in something akin to horror. “I am so sorry, I thought it was mine, I didn’t—are you alright?”

You should’ve been angry—or annoyed at the very least, because now your favorite sweater was stained and you’d probably never be able to get it out—but you weren’t. All you could think about other than your sopping wet sleeve was that his guy was clearly concerned about you. 

Maybe he took your silence as a not-so-great one, because he forced out a chuckle. “On the bright side, at least it was iced coffee.” He was trying to make light of the situation as he grabbed a wad of napkins from the dispenser, thrusting it out towards you clumsily. You thought it was actually kind of cute. 

An amused laugh bubbled out of you, and you shrugged, nodding. “There’s the silver lining.” 

“I’m Hangman—Jake, I mean. My name’s Jake. Seresin. Hangman’s my callsign, s’force of habit.” 

“Callsign? You Air Force or something?” 

“Navy, actually, and I’ll try not to be too offended by that.” 

“Air Force, Navy—aren’t they pretty much the same?” 

“Okay, ouch.” Jake faux winced, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again to see you were just messing with him. Then he smiled, shaking his head. “Maybe I could buy you another coffee, make up for the one that spilled? We could talk. I could tell you the difference between the two.” 

“Why not make it up now? We’re both still here.” You were taking a bolder approach than you usually did when it came to people you found attractive, but something had come over you with Jake. Even though he was a complete and total stranger, you felt surprisingly at ease with him.

Jake perked up at that, lips curving into a smile, but then he checked his watch. He grimaced. “I’m actually late for work right now, I’m so—can we raincheck? I promise I’m not tryin’ to get out of anythin’, my captain’ll have my behind if I’m not on the tarmac ready to go in ten.” 

“Ten minutes? Well what the hell are you still doing here? Go!” 

He grinned at you one more time before moving to hurry out the door, but didn’t get more than a few feet away when he skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to face you again. “Wait, I didn’t get your name!” 

“Guess you’ll just have to meet me back here again. Saturday, noon. Don’t be late.” You winked at him and he gave you a mock salute before dashing out the door, leaving you thinking about him the rest of the day, and until you had the privilege of seeing him next. 

It took Jake almost a year to ask you out after you met up that Saturday, wallowing in what he thought was the friend zone for the longest time until the two of you managed to get your heads out of your asses and see what you were missing. And it was actually you who told him you liked him first, murmuring it in his ear at a summer bonfire with your friends, but it was him who kissed you first—right after you told him you liked him. 

“Yeah, I remember.” You said softly, fingers trailing down the sleeve to the faint brown stain in the soft wool where the coffee had spilled. Jake’s arms slid around you, though a little stiffly given his constraints. “Look at us now.” 

“Look at us indeed. Havin’ our own place, putin’ down roots. Seems pretty crazy, doesn’t it?” He murmured, giving your waist a loving squeeze. You did the same around his shoulders, tilting your chin up for a kiss that Jake gladly gave you. 

Jake always kissed you like he did everything in life—confidently and well. They still had you reeling in the moments after even now, even though he’d kissed you about a thousand times in the time you’d been together—probably more. 

This one was no different, but something about it felt sweeter. Like he was less worried about winning, because he’d already won it all. Because he had you, because you had a home together. Because now you could start the rest of your lives with each other in this home. You could almost hear him saying something about having the best prize of them all. 

“Now take off my sweater. Your big man shoulders are stretching it out.” You said, patting him firmly on the chest a few times. 

Jake gasped, slapping an appalled hand over his chest. “Is this your way of tryin’ to get me out of my clothes? In the middle of the day? You tease!”  

“We’ve still got a whole house to unpack, so no, I’m not trying to get you out of anything. Except my sweater, so if you would be so kind?” 

“You could at least pretend to want me once in a while, y’know.” He sighed dramatically, letting his head hang. That was Jake, ever the drama queen out of the two of you. 

You lifted his chin with two fingers, fixing him to the spot with a look. “I’m sorry, was this morning not enough for you? What was it—one, two, three—” 

“Okay, okay, fine! You were yellin’ somethin’ about kitchen plates earlier? Let’s get the damn thing done so we can have more time for this morning’s activities.” 

“I swear, that’s all your dude brain thinks about—take off my sweater, damnit!” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: Buck's role in Chris' life

The color gray (Eddie's first couch and the shirts Eddie, Buck and Chris have worn over the seasons) has been in play since season 2 and it appears it relates to the role of Chris' second parent or the person who's coparenting him with Eddie.

I think I found something else regarding the Buckley-Diaz Family's attire and it all has to do with the color gray.

Before I delve into this, please note these are my observations and interpretations and it's ok if someone doesn't agree. As I mentioned in my "15 Constructive Criticisms" posts, everyone interprets media differently and it's ok when two people don't agree because both ideas can coexist.

Now back to the regularly scheduled programming...

Last year, when I completed my couch META (linked here), I wondered why Eddie's first couch in season 2 was gray and it was replaced with a blue couch in season 3.

In 2x7, SD sat on Eddie's gray couch after he invited her over to discuss Chris' admittance into Durand.

But in 3x10, Chris was sitting in front of a blue couch while him, Buck and Denny made gingerbread houses and Eddie sat at the dining room table giving Buck huge heart eyes.

At the time I didn't think too much of it because I wasn't looking for a connection to anything except the couches and I didn't realize it plays a role with Chris' other parent or the person Eddie's coparenting him with until I noticed the color of Buck's shirts in season 6 when I completed several posts about him. The first one was about his "Looking for ANSWERS" uniform (linked here), another one involved his ill-fitting clothes (linked here), also I completed one about his search for happiness (linked here). Several weeks ago, I completed a post about how Chris was looking for Dad!Buck in Buck's coma dream (linked here). After I noticed the gray shirts that Buck wore in seasons 4-6, I got curious and started researching it.

IIRC, Eddie wore the first gray shirt in 3x10 while Buck and Chris were sitting on the floor making gingerbread houses with Denny.

Reminder, he was looking at Buck with their his son and he smiled and lowered his head. This HAPPENED AFTER THE KITCHEN SCENE in 3x9 (the night Eddie met Buck 1.0 linked here) but it was BEFORE he updated his will and named Buck to be Chris' legal guardian in 3x15. Another reminder, Eddie's couch in season 2 was gray and SD sat on it but after she died in 2x17 and the season ended, the gray couch was replaced with a blue one and it's the same one he has now. It's his family's couch, the family he chose and it's for him, Buck and Chris.

Here's a reminder from the kitchen scene in 3x9 just in case someone needs a reference.

In 4x8, Chris got upset and ran away to Buck's loft because Eddie started dating again. Buck was wearing a black and white jacket that looked gray due to the way the colors were blended together. While he was there, Buck promised him he wasn't going anywhere after Chris said everyone leaves.

As the season progressed, Buck wore more gray ESPECIALLY IN 4x13 AND 4x14 WHEN HE WAS AT THE SHOOTING AND WHILE HE WAS TAKING CARE OF CHRIS.

In 4x13, his shirt was white with gray stripes and his pants were gray.

In 4x14, while he was taking care of Chris, his hoodie was light gray not white and Chris will be wearing a similar one at the end of season 6 but I'll circle back to that.

In 5x10, Buck was wearing a dark gray jacket and this is the only time him and Chris were shown in CANON together during that episode. Three reminders, first Eddie talked to Buck about Chris' nightmare that he had about SD when they were at the firehouse. This is important because before 5x10, Buck spent Christmas with Eddie and Chris in 2x10 and 3x10 (there wasn't a Christmas episode in season 4). Second, this was the day Eddie announced he was leaving the 118 and third Buck was dating TK.

In 5x13, Buck was wearing a white shirt with gray stripes and it's similar to the one he wore the day of the shooting. Why is his shirt important? It's important because later in the episode his son Chris called him because something was wrong with Eddie. After Buck answered the call, Chris said, "Buck! Something's wrong with dad!" It was just like 4x13 when something was wrong with Eddie after he had been shot. Chris called his other parent. He didn't call Pepa, Isabel or 9-1-1.

In 5x14, Buck was wearing another gray shirt which is almost exactly the style shirt Chris will be wearing in season 7. Reminder, while Eddie was in therapy, Buck was caring for Chris the same way he did in 4x14 but this time Buck was in a relationship and Eddie wasn't. Also, Chris wasn't questioning Buck's role in his life because Buck was there taking care of him while Eddie was getting better.

In 5x17, Buck was wearing another gray shirt while he was sitting in Chris' room with Eddie as Eddie packed Chris' suitcase. Buck was in a relationship then too but Eddie wasn't.

In 6x1, Buck's and Chris' shirts were blue, gray and white. They were different styles but they had the same colors. This is the scene when Eddie and Chris joked with Buck about him not having a couch (relationship/family) when in actuality he did because it was with them.

At the end of 6x1, Buck was in another white shirt with gray stripes but the stripes were bigger than they were in 4x13 and 5x13. Reminder, this is when he began his search for a couch, family happiness, basically it was the time he started taking inventory of his life like Bobby suggested and well... everyone who watched 6x18 knows how it ended with him making the same mistakes.

In 6x12, Buck was wearing all gray and he went to Eddie's house because he couldn't get any rest at the loft. He fell asleep on his family's couch while Eddie was in the kitchen. Also, notice how Eddie's preparing their son's Chris' lunch when Buck enters the kitchen. They're coparents.

In 6x13, Buck was wearing a different gray sweater while he was baking cookies with Chris. This is significant for two reasons, reminder Chris was NOT shown baking muffins with AF but he was shown baking cookies with Buck. Also, Chris was wearing their family's color, navy-blue (posts linked here and here) which means he wasn't questioning Buck's role in his life as his other parent but Buck was still unsure because Eddie hasn't told him. After Buck laid out all his ingredients, he said doing that makes him feel like an actual chef ("dad") and Chris said that made him Buck's sous chef ("son").

In 6x15, while they were at SD's grave, Chris was wearing a gray and white striped hoodie underneath his blue jean jacket. This is important because it's when he started questioning the role of his other parent since SD is deceased and Eddie started dating again in 6x14. Reminder, Buck had just baked cookies with Chris in 6x13 and Eddie wasn't there.

In 6x18, Chris was wearing a green shirt underneath his gray hoodie (the same color shirt Eddie wore in 5x3 when he broke up with AF).

Why is any of this significant?

Well... if Chris' clothes are telling the story like they might be, then Eddie won't be with M long because Chris' clothes in 6x18 illustrate how he's not happy with Eddie dating again. They've already built a family with Buck and for Eddie to be dating someone Chris doesn't know (reminder he knew AF because she used to be his school teacher) then his comment about why Eddie was so bad at it was saying something different than his clothes.

At the end of the episode, I wondered why the show had him appear to be happy with Eddie dating again when he ran away to Buck the first time. The difference between the two times is Buck was single in 4x8 but by the end of season 6, Buck and Eddie were barely talking to each other again and Buck was doing whatever he was doing with ND while Eddie tried to ask M out on a date.

TM (showrunner) released the photo above a couple of weeks ago and please notice the shirt Chris is wearing is gray and it looks almost identical to the one Buck wore while he was in Chris' room with Eddie in 5x17.

Buck was wearing a gray hoodie in 4x14 and Chris was wearing one in 6x18. Eddie was dating AF in 4x14 but Buck was taking care of Eddie's heart, his son after the shooting. In 6x18, Buck was doing whatever the "F" he was doing with ND and Chris didn't have anyone to call since Eddie was trying to date M.

Please look at the pictures above. The one of Eddie is from 3x10 and the one of Buck is from 4x14. They're sitting in the same seat in the dining room and they're both wearing gray. It's the head of the table and while Eddie was in the hospital, Buck sat there. SD and AF never sat there and it's likely M won't either.

What could all of this mean?

If their clothes really are telling the story then Eddie might break up with M quickly since Chris is not happy. Should he be looking for someone for himself and following his heart like Carla said? Yes! But Eddie has a son too and whoever he dates has to want to be a coparent as well and so far the only person who fits that description is Buck.

I said it in my multi-chapter fanfic that I don't believe M wants to have kids. I think she's the opposite of AF because she doesn't look like the type who wants to bake cakes, cookies or muffins like AF did since she's a DIY'er. She was also doing the work on her own house which could mean she's not looking for someone (other than her brother) to help her do anything. She didn't want his help either.

In season 7, Buck's shirt shows he's looking for ANSWERS and Chris' shows he's looking for his other parent 👀.

It appears M will be in the way the same way AF was but the difference is based on the gray shirt Chris is wearing in the still from season 7, he might be questioning Buck's role in his life the same way Buck's been doing for the last three seasons. If he is then Eddie's the one who has to solidify Buck's role in their family.

If the color gray isn't significant, then why were all three of them wearing it?

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 2 - Le premier bonheur du jour

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: What happened while you were blackout drunk? What is your actual job on the crew? Why is there a lion on this pirate ship? These questions and more are left unanswered as you stumble your way through your first day on Captain Buggy's crew.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Word Count: 6.8k

“The first delight of the day Is a ribbon of sunlight It's the fresh breath of the sea And it’s the beach that awaits The first sorrow of the day Is the door that closes shut But soon after you come back And my life resumes its course."

x

Waking up, all you knew was that you were cold. Freezing, really, shivering so hard that you felt your bones tremble. It was because you weren’t dressed properly. You never slept in your underwear. You forced your bleary eye open and looked off the side of the bed, spotting your bag haphazardly abandoned alongside your boots and bandana. Bracing yourself for the chilly air, you pulled the blanket along like a cape to grab your bag, quickly retreating. Even that small movement left your head spinning painfully, a headache pounding twice into your skull, once at the base and again at the left temple. At least all of your clothes were clean, even if they had been mushed into a wrinkled ball. Moving as fast as possible you put on leggings and a sweater, tugging your fingers through your hair before pulling the bandana over your eye. After that, you huddled back under the blanket, staring at nothing and waiting for the shivers to stop. 

Between the headache and the cold, the only thing you wanted was to go back to sleep. That was the best way to deal with pain, or chills, or hunger, or whatever else you felt. If you were asleep, those things became automatic, you didn’t have to deal with them. 

You were halfway under when somebody knocked. 

At first, you hoped it was in your head. A dream. They knocked again, louder, calling your name. That was the thing to wake up the part of your mind that had been sleeping so soundly, that made you realize how wrong the situation was. 

Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You had slept in a bed that did not belong to you, wearing nothing except your underwear, in a room you had never seen before. The bed itself was set into the wall and hung with thick, velvety curtains. Windows lined the far wall, but they were covered enough to let in only the barest amount of light with more curtains and a familiar Jolly Roger, one with a red clown nose. After you recognized that, everything else fit into place. The desk littered with shiny clutter, the red and white theming, the odd mixture of grunge and opulence. You were on a ship. 

The person knocked again. Growing nervous, you threw off the blankets and pulled on your boots, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You had to cross through an anteroom to get to the door. It exchanged a desk and bed for couches, but was fundamentally the same. The air was cold. You opened enough so you could peer through the crack. Crina stood there, looking impatient. 

“So you are alive,” she said, giving you a once over with smokey dark eyes. “Barely.”

You opened the door a little further, blinking against the light. “What time is it?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“Nearly noon. Some ships were spotted so we had to leave earlier than expected, I’m surprised you slept through it all.”

You blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Everything was blurry, bleary, a puzzle with a picture so worn you couldn’t make sense of it. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Crina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I… I guess…” you said, confused. You remembered the drinking, and talking, and laughing, but the specifics were lost in a blurry whirl. “What time is it?” 

Crina rolled her eyes. “Okay, come on. You shouldn’t be in there.” She didn’t wait to see if you complied before turning around. You followed, stumbling a bit before getting your balance and shutting the door behind you. “Those were the captain’s quarters, and these are the officer’s rooms,” she said as you passed a few more doors. 

“That was Captain Buggy’s room?” you asked, your brain chugging to play catch up. The headache was awful. 

She shot you a frown over her shoulder. “You don’t remember?” 

“No.”

She shook her head, although you couldn’t see her expression. “We’re going down to the officer’s mess. Careful on the ladder.” 

She turned from the narrow hall to an equally narrow drop of steps, easily descending. Dizzy and a little sick, you didn’t match her grace, but you managed to avoid falling. 

With your recollection of the ships you had been on when you were young, you expected the officer’s mess to be fitted with elegant yet utilitarian finishings. Modest, but not so much that it forgot civilization. And, in another life, perhaps it had been. Now it was a pirate vessel, and they did what pirates always did. Various props lined the walls, batons and boxes and fabric and wheels and all kinds of other things. Red and white striped banners hung across support beams as if to mimic a big top tent. Signs of age and destruction were everywhere, indication of the tumultuous seizure, but it had once been a fine vessel. Crina didn’t pause to let you gawk, indifferent to the decor as she led you to another narrow hall and turned. You got an odd sense of deja vu there, pausing. 

“Are we going to the infirmary?” you asked, steadying yourself against the wall. 

“Yes,” Crina said as she unlocked the door. “You’ve sailed before?” 

“When I was young,” you said. “My dad was-” You cut yourself off there, realizing that the end of that statement wasn’t something you should reveal. Marines were the enemies of pirates. It wouldn’t look very good if you suddenly revealed that you were the daughter of a Marine Captain, retired or not. “That was a long time ago.” 

“I see,” she responded impassively, opening the door for you.  

The smell hit you hard, like a brick to the face. Scent formed a sort of endless memory, one so ingrained into your mind that you didn’t know exactly where it came from, that you couldn’t remember independently but never forgot. Your body locked up, arrested by the familiarity. Perhaps it was what every ship infirmary smelled of, even masked with the sweet aroma of incense and smoke.

“What are you doing?” Crina asked. 

You shook your head quickly, holding your breath as you hurried in. It wasn’t like it was actually the same. The room looked far more like a place of mysticism than medicine, with a rainbow of glass bottles lining the far wall, herbs hanging to dry, and scarfs draped to hide the stark wall. It wasn’t even slightly the same. Slowly, you released your held breath. It was fine. 

“Sit,” Crina told you, shutting the door and immediately busying herself at the sideboard. You sat down on the table-like bed set into the wall, your shoulders and head immediately drooping. The surface was hard, meant for surgery rather than sleeping, but you didn’t care. With the weight of your head, you would have happily drooped down onto the floor. “Have you ever been drunk before last night?” 

“No.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“Tired,” you answered. “My head really hurts.” 

“Of course it does, you’re dehydrated,” she said, pouring water into a tin cup. The sound alone perked you up, made your parched tongue that much more dry. She added a spoon of powder before turning and offering it to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup. You intended to take it slow, but the second you got a taste of water, you couldn’t stop until it was gone.

“That’s two times,” Crina said when you were done and wiping your lips. “Two times that I could have poisoned you.” 

You frowned, looking down at the cup and back up at her. “That was medicine, wasn’t it? Like before.” 

“It’s already in your body, it doesn’t matter if you know what it was.” 

You averted your gaze, flushing. “I’m sorry.” 

Crina didn’t respond to that, approaching you instead. “How’s the bump on your head?” 

“It’s fine,” you said reflexively. It hurt, of course. It would hurt for a while. 

“May I check?” Crina asked. You hesitated, but eventually nodded, turning to give her access. The second she prodded the sore spot, you yelped, tears springing into your eye. “Ice will help with the pain and swelling.” She paused, smoothing your hair back into place. “Did you and Buggy have sex last night?”

“What?” you asked, whirling around. The quick movement did not help your sore head, sending little sparks of pain down your spine, your left temple thumping in protest. 

“You slept in his bed after a night alone on the ship, it’s not an unreasonable question. Everybody will assume, but I’m asking you. Did you and Buggy have sex.” 

“No!” you said, blushing furiously. “No. Captain Buggy wouldn’t… I can’t… There’s no way.”

“Earlier, you didn’t even know it was his bed. Could something have happened and you don’t remember?” Crina asked, her tone softening. You stared at her, stricken, your heart racing with sheer panic. “I’ll ask you another question—Is there any chance that you could get pregnant?”

“No,” you said, rubbing your face to hide the blush, feeling a little sick. Surely you would remember if something happened between the two of you. You didn’t even remember how you got into his bed. What you remembered was the warmth, and the saccharine sweet desire, and… Nothing. “He wouldn’t… do that. I wouldn’t.” 

“I’m not here to judge you,” Crina said. “And I don’t want to embarass you. Do you remember when I warned you about consequences? This is one. Sex is fine, but if you get pregnant, you either get rid of it, or he gets rid of you. It’s better to avoid pregnancy in the first place—safer too. I can help you with that.” 

She let that hang in the small room, waiting for your response. You had none, unable to so much as look at her. The thought of having sex was enough to make you wish the world itself would open up and swallow you whole. More than that, it was absurd to think that any man, let alone Captain Buggy, would bother with a one-eyed midget. It was disgusting to even entertain the notion. You were disgusting. 

Eventually, Crina sighed. “When you need contraception, tell me. You have to look after yourself, god knows that no man will. But that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Do you want more water?” 

You opened your eye. She held out the jug like it was a peace offering, which you accepted after a moment. There was no added powder this time. You wouldn’t have cared anyway, you emptied nearly half the cup before your sloshing stomach uneasily warned you to stop. 

“Those bruises on your wrists are impressive,” Crina said. “May I take a look at them?”

You winced, fixing your sleeve to cover the discoloring and wrapping your hands around the cup to keep them from shaking. “They’re fine.” 

“They look painful,” Crina said, leaning against the sideboard with her arms crossed, fixing you with a stare you didn’t like. It hadn’t been a question, but her silence made you want to answer. 

“I’m fine,” you insisted. She still said nothing, just looking at you. It made you squirm uncomfortably, the table creaking. “I was sick a lot when I was little,” you explained. “I’m better now, but I still bruise easily and… It’s fine, my dad says it’s normal.” He said it was expected for a child, especially a girl, to be a little more breakable. You were weak. Frail. That was why you got hurt so often, got hurt by things that shouldn’t have hurt you. 

“He says that it’s normal for you to have bruises? Did he tell you that broken bones and fat lips are normal too?”

“No… No, that was all my fault,” you said. “Because I’m not careful, I don’t ever think about how weak I am—because I was sick.” 

“What kind of sickness was it?” Crina asked.

You shook your head quickly. “I-I don’t know.” 

“What were your symptoms?”

“I was… sick.” 

“Dizziness, headaches, fatigue, chills, anything like that?” 

“I don't… Maybe. Some of those are because of the accident too.” You touched your bandana, tugging it down to ensure it was covering as much of the scar as possible.

“So you still have symptoms?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you told her, flustered by the relentless questions. “I’m fine.”

“Why did that man, Randall, claim you were mentally unwell?” 

“I’m not,” you said, shaking your head, searching for the right answer, the one that she wanted. “He only thinks that because my dad… My dad worries about me. After everything that happened, he worries a lot.”

“Is that why you ran away?” 

You shook your head, staring down at your lap. Crying now was embarrassing, you focused your entire self on fighting the sting of tears in your eye. Trying to cover it up, you adjusted the bandana again, desperately forcing your thoughts onto something, anything else. 

“If it were up to me, I would not have medically cleared you to be here,” Crina said. “Asking you to perform any physical labor is out of the question, and you’re frail. It is more than likely that you’ll suffer severe injury by the end of the year.”

“I’m not weak anymore,” you said through clenched teeth, soft enough that she couldn’t hear that you were crying. “I’m okay, really. I’ll get stronger.”

“You can’t fix stunted development,” Crina told you. “But it’s not up to me. I’ll do what I can to help you as long as the captain insists upon keeping you around.”   

Your shoulders heaved with a dry, pathetic sob. 

“Finish that water and we’ll go to the galley to see about getting something to eat,” Crina told you. “Cry now, if you need to. After that, you’re going to have to be someone else’s problem for a while.” 

Crina’s medicine and some food had helped you feel better. The headache remained, a stinging, painful reminder of the past night, but you ignored that as you emerged onto the main deck. Sunlight blinded you and the wind whipped your hair into an unruly mess, the oppressively humid salty ocean air staggeringly familiar. Not all memories were bad. Really, some were good. Since your dad was a surgeon, he was allowed to bring you along to help. Fetching things, bringing meals, cleaning up, running messages, helping tend to the wounded. Back then, you were his sweet little girl.

You shook your head clear of those thoughts, squinting through the sunlight to look around. You were looking for Cabaji, Captain Buggy’s Chief of Staff. A man with green striped dark hair and a blue checkered scarf and, according to her, a sour expression. From the description, you would have thought he’d stand out, but it seemed like Buggy’s entire crew could be described with equally colorful traits. Most of them were busy with some task or another. Those who noticed you watched with expressions ranging from unimpressed to hostile. To your great relief, you didn’t see the blunt-featured Ivo anywhere.   

Assuming you would find the man by the quarter deck, you headed in that direction, trying very hard to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Strangely, your unassuming sweater and leggings made you the odd one out instead of helping you blend in. Eyes made your skin crawl as you passed. Did they all think you had slept with the captain? Crina’s words bothered you. They bothered you a lot. But if the two of you had done something, there would be evidence. More than just a missing dress. 

Hesitating at the steps, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate to approach the quarter deck without invitation, you stalled out. People were still looking at you, likely wondering what you were doing. You didn’t know either. There, caught in a cycle of anxious uncertainty, someone passed right by you. At first, it didn’t register, but then you blinked and turned. Dark hair, checkered scarf. 

You rushed to follow him, relieved. 

“Excuse me,” you called. Nothing, although the deck was terribly noisy. You had to rush to keep up. “Excuse me, sir?” 

Nothing. He was walking so fast too, with a grace and balance you couldn’t hope to match. 

“Excuse me!” you called, reaching out to touch his arm. Your hand missed the first time, catching air. The second attempt connected, and that finally got a reaction, albeit a slightly violent one. You pulled back, narrowly avoiding his elbow. He turned around, searching at eye level before looking down at you. “You’re Cabaji?” you asked. 

“I am,” he said. 

“Um… I’m-” 

“I know who you are,” he said, cutting you off. “We met last night when you were boarding the ship.”

“Really?” you asked, taken aback. The entire previous day was blurry. Except where it wasn’t, but you couldn’t think about that. “I’m sorry I don’t… remember.” 

His eyes narrowed. “What do you need?” 

“I was hoping to talk to you. If you’re not busy, sir.” 

“I am,” he said, clearly irritated.

“Oh. Right. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” you asked. “I’m not busy.” 

Cabaji looked at you critically. “Do you know where the kitchen is?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Go down and pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch then wait for me on the bridge. I have to take care of something first. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded, eager to have something to do. “I’ll be quick.”

“Just don’t mess it up.” 

With that, he turned and stalked away. 

Having a task reinvigorated you. You probably drew just as many eyes, but now it didn’t matter as much. How many times had you been tasked to serve meals when you sailed with your dad? Countless. It was something you could do, a way you could contribute. 

Descending back down into the dark belly of the beast, you had to be careful. Last time you were on a ship, you had both eyes. Although you had gotten used to it in so many ways, you had even been able to scale the southside buildings, the sea required a different type of balance. 

“Back for more?” The cook asked when he saw you, his round cheeks ruddy from working in such a small, hot space. “I haven’t got any scraps, you’ll have to beg somewhere else.” 

“Cabaji asked me to pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch,” you told him, unsure if you should be offended by the comment. 

He looked you up and down, his mouth twisting. It was the same look Cabaji had given you, even similar to the way Buggy had sized you up. Nobody lingered on your bandana like the people in town, far more concerned with your size. “If you drop it,” he told you, grabbing a silver tray to put into your hands, “I’ll be frying up your skinny rump instead.” 

“I won’t, I promise,” you said. 

“When the captain’s done, you bring that back to me. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better hurry then.”

With a final awkward nod, you made your way back up, extra careful with the tray. It was already getting easier to find your balance. You didn’t care if anybody was watching you as you crossed the main deck, all of your attention on not dropping the tray. If you messed up your first task as a part of Buggy’s crew, you’d be better off tossing yourself into the water. 

Unfortunately, Cabaji wasn’t on the quarter deck. The door into what you assumed would be the navigation and office was closed, but that was probably where Buggy would be dining. 

Standing there quickly became awkward, the sun piercingly bright and the tray getting heavier and heavier. You looked around for Cabaji a final time before going into the map room. It was empty, but on the other side of the sliding doors, you heard voices. Cautiously, you circled the large center table, intending to knock. The map, however, drew your attention. You knew it. You had seen it before. Your town was a burgeoning center of trade traffic, and so new routes needed to be mapped for merchant vessels to facilitate that growth. As a retired Marine, dad was always willing to help out with that sort of thing. He was well connected. Respected.  

One of the pirates had stolen the map right out of your own home. 

Before you could figure out how to feel about that, the door into the captain’s office slid open. You jumped, nearly dropping the tray as you turned around. A man with a white fur vest stopped at the threshold, his eyes immediately narrowing.

“Who are you?” he asked, his tone unnervingly accusatory.

“I… Um…” 

“Well, well, would you look at that,” Buggy called. You looked around the man to see Captain Buggy at the other side of the office, sitting behind a big desk with his feet up on its top. “She’s standing and everything, I’m impressed. After how wasted you got last night, I thought you’d be out for the whole day.”

“I brought your lunch, sir,” you said faintly, not knowing what else to say. 

“It’s about time,” Buggy said. “I’m starving. Bring that over here.” You entered his office, nervously skirting around the man who was still glaring at you. 

Just as you set the tray on Buggy’s desk, avoiding meeting his eye, the other door opened. You looked over your shoulder to see a very displeased Cabaji come in. 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” Cabaji said as he crossed the map room. “I told her to wait for me out there.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was meaning to get you two in here anyway. Mohji, Cabaji, this is my new cabin boy—er, girl. Woman?” Buggy looked at you inquisitively. “How old are you?” He shrugged it off just as quickly, taking the top off of the tray. “Whatever. I had one, but that didn’t work out. An artist of my caliber doesn’t need a spineless yes-man to run my errands, I need a protégé that I can mold into something really special. I knew you were just the girl from the minute I saw you… Wait, no… No, I knew it from the moment you said that you would happily serve me for the rest of your life.” He grinned, cutting off a chunk of meat. “Yeah, that was it.”

You shuffled awkwardly, trying very hard to avoid looking at any of the men. It was true, but when he said it like that, it took on a far different tone. They had to be drawing the worst conclusions. 

“So, you two,” Buggy continued, talking at Cabaji and Mohji through a mouthful of food, “make it clear to everyone that she’s a part of the crew. I don’t want to hear shit about special treatment or whatever. Except for, you know, if anybody messes with her I’ll feed ‘em to the lion. Maybe that’ll perk him up, eh Mohji?” 

“Yes, sir,” Mohji said.

“Great,” Buggy said. “Cabaji, you can take the afternoon to show her the ropes. Make sure she’s up to snuff.”

“What about crew inspection?” Cabaji asked. 

“I’ll be here to help Captain Buggy with that. Your presence isn’t necessary,” Mohji said, looking at Cabaji with what you thought was a hint of animosity.

“I don’t need either of you to judge talent, that’s my business,” Buggy said irritably.

Neither man responded to that, but Buggy’s annoyance dissipated quickly.

“One last thing. Be careful with her,” Buggy said with a wink, his mood shifting yet again. “Don’t get fooled by the whole one-eyed innocent thing, she’s a real freak.”

“Understood,” Cabaji said, deadpan. 

“Great. Now get out of here. She starts tonight.” 

“Yes, sir,” Cabaji said, grabbing your elbow and pushing you in front of him so he could basically herd you out of the room, past the uncomfortably familiar map, and back into the sunlight. 

He shut the door and pulled you to the side, shooting it a wary glance before looking back at you. “Next time,” he said, “do what I tell you. I don’t care about whatever relationship you think you have with Captain Buggy, you will follow the orders that are given to you.” The implied or else was obvious from his intense stare. Part of you wondered what the or else would be, although the other part didn’t want to know. 

“I understand,” you said, bowing your head. “I’m sorry, sir. And I don’t… Captain Buggy and I don’t have any kind of relationship. Last night, we didn’t do… Didn’t do anything. I swear.” 

“That’s not my business,” Cabaji said. 

“I really mean it,” you muttered, although you could tell he didn’t believe you, and you thought about what Crina said, and waking up in your underwear, and you felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with a hangover. 

“We should get started,” Cabaji said, ignoring your weak objection. You swallowed hard and nodded. You had a job now, you needed to focus on that.

The first thing you learned about being a pirate was that you had next to no idea what you were doing. There were hundreds of things you needed to learn simply about living on the ship before you could begin learning your job, whatever that entailed. The biggest problem was how quickly you wore out. Cabaji was accustomed to being on a ship and athletic, you were neither. Having such a bad headache didn’t help. As the afternoon passed, Crina’s medicine wore off. If it were only the one hammering your temple, you could handle it, but the lump on the back of your head pulsed with every heartbeat, sending fresh sparks of pain down your spine every time you moved your head. 

Like a wind-up doll slowly running down, you fell behind. It was only a matter of time before you collapsed, his voice fading out and the world blackening on the edges. You didn’t do something as dramatic as fall, but you distantly felt your legs fold beneath you, too rubbery to support you anymore. 

“What are you doing?” Cabaji asked, stopping. 

“‘m fine,” you said automatically, your voice faint. “Sorry. I’m fine. I just need a second.”  

“Are you sick?” 

“No, jus’ dizzy,” you said, trying to get your bearings.

Cabaji knelt in front of you, tilting your head up with a hand beneath your chin. Your eye spun, his face blurring.   

“Let’s take a break,” he said, dropping your chin and standing up. 

You might have protested, but the truth was that you very badly needed a break. It was embarrassing, but it would be worse to pass out. So you accepted Cabaji’s help getting your feet, the world blackening on the edges. Fortunately, the officer’s mess wasn’t a long walk, and you gratefully dropped into one of the chairs. Cabaji sat opposite you, his dark gaze unwavering. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but his stoic intensity made you squirm. 

“I’m really sorry, sir,” you said. “This won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” Cabaji told you. “There are things we should discuss. About your role on this ship, and about your duty to the captain.” 

That made you bristle, but you forced yourself to relax. He was your senior officer, this conversation was necessary. “Okay.” 

“Captain Buggy is a very unique man. He demands a lot of his crew, especially those who serve him directly. As his Chief of Staff, it is my responsibility to ensure you’re able to meet those demands. Your failure would reflect very poorly on me.”

“I won’t fail,” you told him sincerely, if a little defensively. “I promise. I-I know what a cabin boy does. I’ve sailed before, sir.”

Cabaji leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes narrowing at you like you were stupid. “Were you listening to what he said? Captain Buggy didn’t hire you to be his gopher or attendant. He gave you an official job to acknowledge you as a member of the crew so the others don’t mess with you, that’s it.” 

“Oh, um,” you said slowly, frowning, “maybe I misunderstood. I’m sorry, sir.” 

“We all know why you’re actually here,” Cabaji told you. “I’ll teach you how to perform basic duties, but your only concern is serving Captain Buggy. You will provide him with whatever he wants—will do anything he asks of you. You do not tell him no, or question his judgment.”

There was an implication bubbling beneath his directions that made you skin crawl, thinking again of what Crina said before, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Cabaji said earlier that it wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t. 

“I understand, sir,” you told him instead. “I really do.”

Cabaji’s demeanor softened slightly, his head tilting to the side. “No, you don’t. I’ve known people like you. Children who grew up on the streets, or malnourished ship slaves. Small. Frail. Weak.” He spoke bluntly, though without malice. “Add in your lack of skill and experience, and you’ve got no idea what you’re in for.” He sighed, leaning back. “I’ll do what I can to help you. As I said, your failure would inevitably become mine as well.”

“I won’t fail,” you muttered softly, staring at your knees, your headache hammering at the back of your skull, down your spine. 

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

When you thought about being on a ship, it was with the experience you had on Marine vessels. Strict order, stricter schedules, and militant discipline. What you didn’t think about was exiting the hatch from the lower deck to see a circle of pirates loosely gathered around a nearly empty spot in the middle of the deck. Nearly empty, except for a lone man beneath a makeshift spotlight. Music crackled out of a speaker, providing him a beat to follow for his routine. It looked like a dance, although not one you had ever seen.

“What’s going on?” you asked Cabaji as he came up behind you.

“Crew inspection,” he told you. “These are the new recruits.” 

You watched the man for a moment before your eyes strayed past the spotlight. Captain Buggy wasn’t hard to find. He leaned against the railing with crossed arms, his dark silhouette cutting through the sunset. Although his scowl was only barely visible, tense displeasure underscored every aspect of his posture. 

Following the flourishing swell in the music, the pirate ran from one corner of the emptied area, using his momentum to do a flip. To you, it was one of the most impressive things you had ever seen, but he landed wrong. A sharp intake of breath rippled over the gathered crew as he stumbled, unable to save it and falling down onto one knee. 

“Stop,” Buggy said, pushing away from the railing, waving his hand to stop the music. “Just stop. I’ve seen more than enough.” 

The pirate got to his feet, his head bowed in deference as Buggy approached him. 

“Was that a joke?” Buggy asked. The man didn’t respond. Without the music, a very loud hush had settled over the entire deck, even the flapping sails and creaking wood quieting down in the face of Buggy’s temper. “You’re all in on it, right? Because if you performed like this in front of an audience, the only thing they would do is laugh.”

The pirate muttered something you couldn’t hear. Buggy leaned in with wide eyes to listen.

“You’re hungry?” he repeated. The man spoke again and Buggy nodded sympathetically, his anger suddenly gone. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you were hungry.” He grabbed the man by the shoulder, smiling. “You shoulda said something sooner.” 

Without any warning, he struck the man in the stomach, using the grip on his shoulder to push him to the side. 

“How about some food for thought,” Buggy said, raising his voice as he strolled into the center of the impromptu stage. “I hired you, all of you, because I need talent worthy of my show. That’s what you signed up for. So where is that talent? All I’ve seen today is shit so bad it’s stinking up the deck. I oughta let every single one of you good for nothing nobodies starve until you can give me something—anything—that I can work with.” 

Everybody in the circle shuffled uncomfortably, most of them bowing their heads rather than meet Buggy’s eyes as he looked at each one in turn. 

“We’re done here, go get some grub,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll try this again after you’ve had time to reflect on your failure.” With that, Buggy stalked out of the circle towards the quarter deck.   

“Go get the captain’s supper,” Cabaji told you. “Bring it to his office.” 

“Oh, um. Yes, sir,” you said, nodding.

Cabaji left to follow the captain, and you joined the flow of people going down. It was a solemn group, full of stormy expressions and whispered dissent. You felt a bit of that yourself. Captain Buggy seemed amused by your lack of talent last night, but would that hold? You didn’t have any unique skills, and especially not anything even approaching as impressive as the acrobat from earlier. The only answer that came to mind was Crina and Cabaji’s sickening assumptions. But if that was true, Buggy would have said something. 

It had to be more simple than any of that. He wanted somebody who would be loyal, obedient, and could perform the boring quality of life tasks that captains were too busy for. You just had to prove that you really were the best person for that role. 

Food was already being served to crew members who were not among the new recruits, taken from the kitchen to the mess by other younger pirates. Nobody paid you any mind while you nervously hovered, unsure if you were meant to wait in line or not. You didn’t want to keep Buggy waiting, but you didn’t want to cut in front of anybody and draw attention to yourself. Your indecision was ended by the ruddy-faced cook recognizing you from earlier, giving you the captain’s tray without any further comment. Your skin crawled with the weight of the eyes that tracked you, watching you quickly take the tray and hurry out of the kitchen. 

Working against the flow of people was more difficult than following it, and you had to stop twice to catch your breath, the dizziness from earlier returning. 

The main deck had returned to something like normalcy when you returned. The spotlight had been exchanged for lanterns and crew members had returned to their duties. By now the sun had fallen very low, casting the ship in a smoky haze of near dark. You crossed the deck with your head down, watching your feet to make sure you didn’t trip on anything. 

There were no lights in the map room, just an illuminated line between the doors into Buggy’s office. As you got closer, you could hear Cabaji’s low, calm voice. You had taken too long, and you were a little winded, and Buggy was already unhappy, and part of you wanted to stay in the dark until you could calm your breathing and think of a good reason for making him wait. Instead, you knocked. 

“Come in,” Buggy called, and you opened the door, blinking as you entered his well-lit office. “Took you long enough.” 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, hurrying to his desk to set down the tray. 

You half expected him to berate you, but he only rolled his eyes, looking back to Cabaji. “You were saying?” 

“Once we seize another ship, we can remain in that area. Those waters are thick with smaller supply vessels and that-” 

“Boring,” Buggy said, cutting him off with a loud enough voice to make you wince as you pulled the lid off the tray. “All of this. It’s all completely uninspired. I’m not gonna drum up any buzz by doing the same tired act as everybody else. People don’t give a shit about small fry supply vessels and shithole villages in the middle of nowhere. You know what makes people pay attention? Giving them something they’ve never seen before. Artistic vision—does anybody else on the ship understand that?” 

Cabaji didn’t say anything. What was there to say? You knew the flint-like look in Buggy’s eyes, in the tone of his raised voice. Any response could be the steel to start a fire.  You didn’t dare draw any attention to yourself, trying to remain as small as possible in the tense silence. A silence that was broken by the door opening loudly. Mohji walked in without knocking, a leatherbound book under his arm. He seemed to realize that he was interrupting something too late, nervously looking from Cabaji to Buggy. 

“I’m sorry to-”

“Did you get what I asked?” Buggy cut in brusquely, his mood shifting yet again to business. 

“Of course, Captain Buggy,” Mohji said. You took that as your cue to leave, passing Mohji with your head down to catch the door from fully closing. 

When you raised your eye to watch where you were going in the dark map room, a pair of eyes reflected back at you. It took a second for your brain to process that what you were seeing was real, but then you yelped in fear, stumbling back into the office and landing hard on your butt. 

“What was that?” Buggy asked from the other side of the room, amused.

“There’s… something in there,” you said, scrambling to get to your feet. “An animal.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Buggy said, nonplussed. “Why’d you let him in there? Everything’s gonna smell like wet dog.” 

“Richie doesn’t stink,” Mohji said. Realizing how his clipped tone might come across, he lowered his head respectfully. “Captain.”

“That was a dog?” you asked. 

“A lion,” Mohji corrected.

“A lion?” you repeated, your voice thin. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Mohji said dismissively. 

You nodded as though you understood. Even Cabaji looked more exasperated than concerned. They made it seem like it was no big deal, like lions weren’t terrifying wild animals that you would never want to meet without a set of bars between you. Even if circuses generally had animal acts, allowing one of them to wander around freely couldn’t have been safe. 

“Don’t look so scared,” Buggy said. “Not even Richie would bother trying to eat you. Not nearly enough meat.” 

That was obviously your prompt to leave. Between the embarrassment of staying out of fear and getting eaten by a lion, you decided that the second was at least more dignified. Still, you could feel the cold sweat on the back of your neck when you slipped out of his office and into the dark room. Hidden in shadow, the only thing you could really make out about the creature was its size. How could it even live on the ship? 

Slowly, you circled the table opposite where Richie laid, keeping your eye on him to ensure he didn’t move. You were nearly to the door when you heard the lion growl. Jumping in fear, you stumbled the last few steps to wrench the door open with shaking hands, practically slamming it shut out of terror that the beast would follow. 

Several seconds of silence from within convinced you that you were safe, scurrying away with only a few backwards glances to ensure you weren’t being followed. 

When you reached the bottom of the steps on the main deck, you stopped to breathe. Maybe from wearing yourself out physically, and definitely from being afraid, your head ached with an agonizing pulse, as if the pain were generating a heartbeat of its own. All at once, an overwhelming sense of alienation froze you inside. You were surrounded by strangers, stuck on an unfamiliar ship, there was a lion on the loose, and your only tether to a life you weren’t physically cut out for was a man you barely knew. And the day wasn’t even over. 

The wave of exhaustion that rolled over you at the thought of all you had left to do was almost enough to knock you over.

Squeezing your eye shut and rubbing your temple, you forced all of those thoughts away. It didn’t matter if nothing made sense, or if you were making a mistake, or that you were afraid, or that you were in pain. Those things never mattered, not when you had things to do. During all those dark months after the accident, that’s what dad said. Submitting yourself to service was the best way to deal with unwanted feelings, to express your grief in a way that could benefit others, and therefore be a salve to your wounded heart. 

All that mattered now was proving your own worth to Captain Buggy through service. You could do that. 

[hopefulromances]

can you do 37. “Is that my shirt?” with jamie? also love your writing <3

Thank you so much dear! Thank you for the ask!

37. “Is that my shirt?”

You stretched out on the sofa, feeling the stretch all the way from your fingers down to your toes. Jamie was out at some away game. You wanted to come but it didn't match up quite right with your work schedule, so you had to stay behind this time.

You missed Jamie so much, you really did. But man was it nice to have some alone time. All day everyday you were constantly bombareded with social interactions. From work, colleagues, after work activites, then going to pick Jamie up from training, you rarely had a moments peace.

Jamie was due back the next day, and you were excited to have him home. You couldn't wait for him to walk through the door, excitedly telling you about the city they had visit, what rom com Ted had forced them to watch, and the exciting play-by-play of the game. After about an hour of listening to him, he would ask you how you had managed the weekend without him to which you would respond with telling him your exciting weekend plans (which mainly contained lots of baths and New Girl marathons).

Which was exactly what you were up to at this moment. You laid out on your couch, an episode of New Girl that you'd seen a million times playing on the TV that you weren't really watching, while you played a mindless app game on your phone. Tomorrow night you'd most likely be doing the same thing except Jamie would be there.

To mimic that, you'd gone over into his single drawer that he had at your place and stolen one of his shirts. As much as you loved your alone time, Jamie's presence was one that you needed in your life. His upbeat yet laidback energy helped you to relax and wearing his clothes when he wasn't around helped you to find that energy.

Not that he knew that, of course. You weren't sure how he'd feel about you stealing his clothes just yet. Having just passed the 8 month mark in your relationship.

You felt yourself just start to nod off, when you vaguely heard the door open and close. At first it seemed like the dreaming part of your brain making it up. Jamie wasn't meant back until tomorrow and no one else had a key to your place. But then a voice confirmed that someone was indeed in your apartment.

"Is that my shirt?"

Your eyes flew open as you looked up to see Jamie smiling at you from the doorway.

"Jamie!" you exclaimed, scrambling up from your spot on the couch.

He opened his arms to welcome you in as you embraced him hastily. The shirt was no match for the real presence of Jamie Tartt. He chuckled as he pulled back breifly to look down at you.

"That's my shirt." He repeated, looking down at the Manchester City shirt you were wearing.

Your cheeks began to burn as you realized your situation. No pants, wearing Jamie's shirt, and nothing else. You pulled on the bottom of the shirt. "Oh... yeah it is."

"Aww, you missed me, did ya?" He teased, pinching your cheek. You batted away his hand and frowned.

"No! I just... liked the fit is all!" You denied, though you knew he was completely right.

Jamie couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by his affection for you. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms keeping you tight against him.

"Well, I'm home now, sweetheart, no need to steal my clohtes anymore." But he was quick to add. "But you're free to if you want cause you look fit as fuck in my shirt." He reached down and pinched your ass, pulling a squeak from you before you dissolved into laughter.

"You want to know what looks even better?" You asked, releasing him from the hug.

"What?" He cocked his head at you. God, he was so cute.

"Me without the shirt."

"I have to agree with you there."

Let's just say you weren't wearing Jamie's shirt for much longer after that.

[caesarinsalata]

A List of My Headcanons for Edward Elric: Full Throttle Edition!

What I mean by the subtitle, is what I think happened in the parts of the story, between, that weren't shown. Like what happened during their travels and locations they went too or things they did that are NOT in canon

Share your thoughts if you share any Headcanons with me or have any ideas to expand upon these, because I feel these are topics and ideas that are so interesting to ponder!

Onto the List!

(I'm adding a break cause this post is VERY wordy~)

The precursor to the rest to "set the scene":

HC 1 - Ed does NOT have a sexist or elitist bone in his little body!

This is something EVERYONE knows about him. Given the plethora of female role models in his entire life, he grows to respect and/or fear women. He treats everyone equally and bases his opinion on them based on their actions.

As well as despite having a fat pocket full of cash because of his status, it never goes to his head. He happily gives his money to those that help him. He sometimes uses his status to get what he wants, but not always for selfish reasons. It's usually to help his cause or someone else.

HC 2 - Edward wore Winry's clothes when he was hiding out in Resembool waiting for her and Al.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but these boys burned EVERYTHING they owned. Maybe except for what Ed carries with him in his trunk, whereever that thing may be on the regular basis no one knows. But! I'd like to believe that after the incident and the time skip, Ed most likely didn't have ANY of his original belongings, right? I mean yeah, he could go to fabric stores and transmute himself some stuff while passing towns. At the same time, he probably couldnt just walk into a store or town very often for fear of being recognized because of being a fugitive at the time. He could always have his big strong body guards go get him clothes, but they don't understand his style, so he wouldn't ask, right? Besides, what's the fun in that?

I believe, that while he was waiting in Resembool and Pinako told him to go take a shower, because imagine how dirty and stinky they'd be traveling in the forest and by night for days?? I feel she would've given him Winry's clothes, to change into.

And you can very well argue 'His clothes look like they're made for men. They aren't women's clothes. They aren't the same size and Eds grown, they wouldn't fit!' Ah! But what if, he just transmutes them to better fit his shoulder width and leg length?

That's what's fun about this thought, he could very well still have clothes at the Rockbells and just transmutes them bigger when they don't fit by combining fabrics. But if he did in fact burn everything he owned in the fire, he'd have to use something for material for clothes when he's under the radar.

But if he didn't wear Winry's clothes, what do you think he grabbed to transmute himself some clothes while down in Resembool? If he doesn't transmute himself clothes in hiding, then what if he uses Pinako's sons old clothes or old clothes from hohenheim? Pinako's bound to have clothes laying around her house from all the boys running around.

HC 3 - Ed PREFERS his hair up (braided or tied) over down.

Okay, so hear me out....if you put aside the fact that he obviously wears it tied back for convenience purposes because of being very mobile and active. BUT! At the same time when you think about when Ed comes back after the time skip and he reads the note of the description they're looking for: Red coat, blonde w/braid, and short. And he says: "Guess I'm stuck with this look for now..." It makes me think:

Obviously, he cares about his looks, right? Not in a selfish way, but he cares about his appearance and he feels confident in his old red and black attire with his signature braid. But he can't have that right now because he'd be easy to spot.

So, Ed's OKAY with his hair being down, but only if he's not doing anything. As soon as they get caught and he's carried to the car, he puts his hair up. It would just get in the way.

But like I said, I believe, he just prefers it being up, especially when he's doing something. In this instance, since he cant braid it, he just puts it in a ponytail.

Which this preference for his braid makes sense later when he's fighting Pride, cause it's in a braid again. So he obviously feels he looks better with the braid.

But when he changes it to a ponytail when he's older is probably just for mature reasons so he looks older. Plus he's letting it grow, so it's harder for him to braid when it's much longer than his shoulders, so I feel he's just like 'Fuck it, ponytail it is!'

Before this post gets too long, I'll stop here and maybe make continuations as I think of them. Feel free to expand upon these ideas or tell me your ideas! I love delving deeper into character personalities and properties they have.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Trouble Makers P2 (Zolu X reader)

Zoro x Luffy x Reader. Reader is GN and a gunslinger of the crew. polly relationship, established releatinship.

Plot: The new island you docked on seems peaceful until a strange rumble catches you all off guard. The secrets of the island will be relived as you try to make your way back to the surface while the boys raise a little hell.

Warning: Bad language, Violence, Blood, injury.

Part 1 Part 3

Your head pushes out of the cold water taking in a sharp breath your hands reaching to grab the rocks on the dry ledge in front of you. You struggle to move your body up onto the rocks panting once your whole body has left the water, a white haze leaving your mouth and body shaking uncontrollably. You were in pain form your shoulder and chest knowing you needed to move if only to get your body temperature up. Sitting up you took a look at your shoulder seeing it out of place, the pain getting worse with the shock wearing off. "Fuck" you let out under your breath, you were lucky though, a long time ago you dislocated your shoulder and Chopper showed you how to put it back in, those memories come back. Manipulating your arm was painful but needed to be done, gritting your teeth as not to scream in the echoey cave, one more lift and it popped back in the pain stopping immediately. Rolling your shoulder a few times you let out the breath you were holding taking in your surroundings, the cave wasn't too big, water taking up most of it except the ledge you were on. The only sores of light coming from a small gap in the wall, too small for anyone to fit through. Sharp stalactites hanged in random places from the ceiling dripping water form time to time onto the rocks around you and the water. As you looked around you noticed blood on some stones behind you, you remembered what happened and hitting something before rolling down, this prompted you to stand up and look yourself over.

You couldn't find where the blood would have come from until you touched your lower back, Pain sprang threw you body a piece of sharp rock was lodged in your back. The adrenaline flowing threw your body must be blocking the pain and there was no point in removing it. you'll let chopper do that once you get out of here. A loud cracking sound almost defining as it bounced off the walls of the cave cause you to cover your ears. light filling the whole cave as the crack in the wall opened up, the cracking sound stopping soon after being replaced by foot steps and male voices. Panic hit you, you had to hide and the only place you could was the water, not thinking to much about it you slipped into the water trying to be as quirt as possible. Your head just making it bellow the water line as five men walked in "Gods i can't wait for a beer after work", "oh shut up about that already." "Quirt you two now where did they go?". Their voices where muffled as you swam under the water deep enough as to not disturb the water line. Your gun was socking wet and unusable so fighting these guys wasn't an option, instead you intended to give them the slip. slowly rising above the water you saw four guys looking around the rocks one examining your blood. The least guy was blocking your exit standing in front of the opening but he was distracted looking up at the ceiling.

Carefully climbing out the water you snuck up behind him and locked him in a chock hold, he struggled but even hurt you were much stronger than him. pulling him back through the opening he fell limp in your arms so you let him drop to the floor. a switch on the side of the wall caught your attention a smile forming on your face as you pushed it, it did exactly what you thought it would do, the opening in the wall closing and that same cracking sound catching the other men's attention, they yelled and ran to you but you only waved as the opening slamming shut. It didn't echo though so that meant there was a big area near you. Taking the man's cloths you put them on replacing your old socked ones. Light blue overalls covered your body the collar fanning out in a deep blue and around your waist was a black work belt with all kinds of tools on it. You had to adjust it so it wouldn't touch the rock still in your back. making your way down the path, rock flooring was soon replaced my metal until you reached a huge white room, people wearing the same outfit as you walking around talking, pushing carts and pulling things up scaffolding. It differently seemed like a mine but there was no indication of that on the island. Something was going on here but the most important thing now was getting your gun dried off, you mentally scolded yourself for only bringing one. you had four others on the ship so why did you only grab one?

---------- Surface level

Luffy and Zoro made their way into the town finding a bunch of villagers gathered around a fountain a small statue of some strange creature in the middle. Some villagers where crying with glee and others where cheering in joy, the only person who stood out was a youngish man wearing dirty cloths, he didn't say or do anything just stand there and smiled looking over the crowd. he soon noticed the two boys their stares burning holes in him. The young man gulped and ran off, Luffy stretchs his arm wrapping around the mans waist and forcefully pulling him back. Luffy let the force carry the mans body into a shop wall catching everyone's attention, the wall cracking and falling apart. The villagers yelled behind them, some in fear and others yelling treats, it took one look form Zoro for them to shut up.

The man sat up slowly from the rubble Luffy now standing over him. "Your... straw hat?" he man asked looking up at the angry pirate in front of him "Where?" Luffy simply asked his hat shading his eyes. his anger boiling, people where cheering and happy while people where missing, he had a feeling it wasn't just Y/N that was taken but the villagers too. "I... I dont" the man barely got out before a sword was thrust into his face "Yes you do" Zoro's eye burned with a fury like no other "The... The mountain... The rest of the v- villagers are t- there" he says almost chocking on his words, as Luffy started walking away the man sighed feeling like he escaped death only for Zoro to grab his neck "Your coming with us" Zoro smiles dragging the man along with them.

On the way to the mountain they headed through the forest, the young man gave them directions hoping these two wouldn't kill him. he tried to explain what was going on but Luffy stopped him turning to face the man being dragged by Zoro, The captains eyes now showing, red rage is all that could be seen "I dont care, i want Y/N back" Luffy hardly gets angry but when he does its scary, if looks could kill many people would be dead before him. "B-But.... you don't know what your getting into." the man stutters looking at the two only for Zoro to let out a laugh throwing his head back before looking at his captain "It doesn't matter" the smile on the sword mans face made luffy smile and laugh "Lets cause some trouble"

---- Bellow

As you walked around no one seemed to pay you any attention, the metal in this place was crazy, pipes lined the ceiling, wires dangled and metal grids covering big wholes in the floor. As you looked around you realized it wasn't the metal that made the room white it was the rocks, pure white lined the rocks, they seemed to be digging them out, it wasn't anything you have ever seen before. Getting distracted you bumped into some one, a little girl fell to the floor, Dark brown hair parted in the middle two short braids on each side of her, her face round and cheeks red. She was wearing the same uniform as you but why would a little girl be here "I-im sorry" the girl stuttered fear in her bright green eyes "no no, i should be the one to apologies, i wasn't watching where i was going" you bend down holding out her hand to take "Your- your" her eyes widen, before she could let out a scream you covered her mouth with you hand picking her up into yours and making your way into the nearest room, which so happened to be a closet. "Hay hay, its ok. im not going to hurt you, i just need you to be quirt ok? can you do that?" you ask looking down at the little girl, she nods as you set her down on the floor making sure your in between her and the door. you slowly let go of her mouth and sign "Your not going to hurt me?" she asks looking up at you with wide eyes "Why would i hurt you sweetie and how did you know i wasn't from here?" the little girl shrugged then pointed at your shoulder "You dont have a number. see" She pulled her overalls revealing a number, 79. It hit you, very hard, the shaking, the small amount of villagers, they were taking the towns people to work in their stupid mine. you sigh and stand up zipping your jump suit up more so your shoulders are covered.

"Do you know a way out of here?" you ask only for the girl to nod and stand up with a smile only for it to drop "Yes but its closed off. only master Lilitu can open it. he uses his devil fruit powers to do so" you ponder for a minutes "So thats how the ground opened. Kid, is there a weaponry here?" you ask the girl nodding "If you take me there, ill make sure i get you and everyone else free form this place" the promise of freedom was too much for the young girl to pass up. She took your hand with a big smile "Im Em and you are?" she asks shaking your hand with a bunch of energy, just like Luffy. "Im Y/N." you answer walking out the closet with her heading to the weapons room. Thinking of Luffy made your heart hurt, you didn't know where he was and what happened to him, You dont think him or Zoro got captured too otherwise you would differently hear it. "Where are you two?" you whispered under your breath gaining the little girls attention, she didn't ask not wanting to talk out in the open but she was wondering if you had more people with you.

The weapons room was much bigger than you thought, guns lined the walls and there was two guys in there cleaning weapons. they noticed you two and glared "What are you going here brat?" One of the men asks, before the girl could answer you walked in with her closing the door behind you "Im so sorry she was showing me around" you say letting go of the girl and looking around the room "Wow this place is amazing" you say walking over to them "Your not meant to be here either?" the same man spoke up putting his gun down. you took the chance grabbing him around the neck and kicking the other guy into the wall. Body slamming the guy onto the floor knocking the wind out of him. the other man tried to get up reaching for the gun he dropped but you were quicker grabbing the rifle on the side and butting the man in the face knocking him back into the wall and passed out on the ground. you did the same on the guy below you just in case he was faking before grabbing some rope on the wall "wow that was so cool" the little girl almost screamed. you laughed a little and tied the two up. "Thank you." you pulled out your gun and placed it on one of the table starting to clean it and replace the gunpowder and bullets.

"Where are you from? Your not from the village" the little voice form the door chirps out making you smile "Im from the sea." you state not wanting to scare the girl by telling her your a pirate, as soon as people hear that word they think the worst. "Then your a pirate" you gasp and look over at the child, how did she know and why was she smiling "My daddy's a pirate he's Birudingu Suneiku, do you know him?" that name is so familer to you and then it hits you, Luffy talked about him "You mean Building Snake of the Red haired pirates?" the girls face lite up running over to you and hugging your waist. You met that man once and he was super nice, if this was his daughter then you needed to protect her with everything you had. it sparked a fire in you, placing a hand on the girls head she looked up at you "Im gonna get you out of here. i promise". your moment was cut short when the door bursts open "What the hell man your taking too long." One of the three men outside said only to see you, a little girl and two tired up men. They drew their swords only for a loud bang and an alarm going off. this gave you the prefect opportunity to grab your gun and fire hitting two of them in the chest and the other in the head.

-------- Surface level

The large mountain before them seemed normal no doors or hatches "Have you been lying to us?" Zoro asks the man who was still being hold by the neck "Im not i swear. the master can control rocks. he covers over the door." It didn't convince Zoro too much but Luffy nodded "Ok step back Zoro i got this" Luffy placed his hand on his bicep and blew on his thumb making his hand and arm bigger and bigger before using his Haki to turn it solid "Gum-Gum… Elephant Gun!" he yells as his fist hit the solid rock braking it into big chunks, the rocks fell away to reveal a massive metal door. Zoro threw the guy to the side placing his third sword in his mouth and holding the other two before widening his stance and slashing the door " Ultra Tiger Hunt" with a flash the door was distoryed pieces flying into the mountain, the bang of both their power sent shock waves threw the facility inside, alarms rang out as Zoro cracked his neck "Think we went too far?" he asks Luffy walking to stand next to his swords man, his arm now back to normal "Nah..." a laugh leaving the captain's lips.

The dust starts to settle the two men walking forward using their Haki to scene around them. the dust cleared revealing stairs and lots of them. The two ran down hearing foot steps running up the stairs to him. Lots of men and women in jump suits ran up the stairs guns and swords in hand firing and swinging as soon as the two where in site, Luffy dodged punching his way through while Zoro cut through the blades, bullets and people that got in his way. it wasn't long until they made it into a big room. metal pipes covering the ceiling, mine cards, rails and white shiny walls all around. metal walk ways up above where people stood aiming guns at the two "Who the hell broke my door?" a large booming voice came out form bellow. Heavy foot steps slowly climbed the stairs at the other end of the mine. Soon a man emerged, he was big almost 7 foot tall and heavy set. His suit was fancy too fancy for a mine and gold rings gripped around his chubby fingers. "Where Y/N?" Luffy yelled out making the large man raise his eyebrow looking at the two, running a hand threw his think black hair he signed "I have no idea who your talking about but you will pay for braking my door. do you know how much that is going to cost me?" the mans voice boomed through the cave making some workers cower in fear and others grip their weapons harder.

Zoro closed his eyes for a second taking in everything around him "Luffy... their here. down there?" Zoro points out feeling your aura. Luffy looked to the man and the large stair case behind him "We'll lets go then" Luffy walked Zoro right next to him "The hell? dont come any closer your both filthy." They took no notice of the large man until he spoke again "Keep them away form me, kill them" The men and women above firing immediately. Luffy dodged with ease, Zoro running over to the platforms and slicing their supports causing it to fall along with the people. Luffy ran at the man pulling back his arm and using his armament hardening before bring his first towards the man "OUT OF MY WAY" the captain yells only for the man to raise his arm, a hand of rock rises up and smacked Luffy away form him and into the wall, the rocks around him pinning him to the wall slowly pulling him in "LUFFY" Zoro yelled running to help a wall of rock rose form the ground, even though zoro cut through it the rocks didn't fall instead shot up hitting him up into the air.

This is way longer than i though but i wanted to make it good. Part 3 will be up later today :)

[ijustreallywantagrilledcheese]

ELEVEN FROM STRANGER THINGS IS NOT JANE IVES AND I CAN PROVE IT.

I've been rewatching Stranger Things before we cancel our Netflix subscription, and while I've always believed El is not Jane Ives, I can prove it now after this rewatch.

So, let's start with Season 2, where El finds out that her mama is still alive.

She finds Terry Ives' files that Hopper stupidly kept in his cabin (literally, Hop, you have an ENTIRE office to put that stuff in, why did you put it in your CABIN?)

And like Jim and Joyce, come to the conclusion that SHE IS Terry's lost daughter.

So she sets out to find Terry. Once she does, she talks with Becky, tells her who she is, and then talks with Terry in a special sorta way that only they can do.

El goes up to the woman she believes is her mother, and says "Mama, it's me, Jane. I'm home."

AND TERRY'S FIRST WORDS TO HER LONG LOST DAUGHTER, THE CHILD SHE LITERALLY ENDURED YEARS OF TORTURE, RIDICULE, AND MOCKERY FOR, LOOKS AT THIS GIRL CLAIMING TO BE HER DAUGHTER, AND SAYS NO.

And THEN she shows her what happened to her.

When she shows El that she had a dangerous and traumatic labor, she shows that she had an emergency C-section.

KEEP THIS IN MIND, IT'S IMPORTANT.

Also, she shows a different lab, a different rainbow room, and two little girls who, specifically, were wearing normal clothing and who did not have buzz cuts.

El understands that Terry wants her to find someone, but she thinks it's the other girl, Kali?

If Terry wants her daughter to come home, why send that same daughter who has been gone for over a decade out to find another child that isn't hers?

And Kali doesn't know who El is when they meet? She has to show her tattoo? She literally doesn't recognize her.

Furthermore, when picking out one of the Bad Men to kill, El only remembers the one that she saw in the memories Terry showed her? She doesn't recognize ANYONE else out of all those people except for one person she doesn't know personally?

Then, Season 3 goes by with few references to El's past.

Then we get to Season 4.

El has lost her powers from her fight with the Mindflayer at the end of Season 3. She is starting to remember her past, and she remembers something completely different from what Terry showed her.

Children with buzz-cut hair and hospital gowns, just like her.

A different-looking rainbow room from the one Terry saw and was in.

Then time goes by.

Brenner magically shows up to help El get her powers back, proving that he has connections outside of Hawkins and the Bad Man that El picked for Kali and the others to kill was NOT lying.

And El slowly gets her memories back. At least enough to remember what happened with 001 and the Upside Down and how things started. Conveniently, the memories of where she was before the lab are ALMOST COMPLETELY in Terry's POV.

Except one very awkward and out of place memory that didn't fit the others.

She remembers her birth. And she remembers going through a tunnel--like a child passing through the birth canal.

Which can only be done via a vaginal delivery.

El remembers being born vaginally.

Why is this detail important?

Because TERRY DIDN'T HAVE A VAGINAL DELIVERY, SHE HAD A C-SECTION.

THEREFORE,

IT IS IMPOSSIBLE for El to be Jane Ives.

[miutonium]

Saw @mango-mya 's si/oc inspo post (lmk if you want to be untagged its ok!!) and decided to make a seperate post instead since I'm going to ramble about Chloe and I dont want to clog the main post with my infos (anyway the post is here if anyone wants to reblog with their char's oc inspo :3)

Here's some inspo for my s/i oc Chloe! I don't really have a lot of inspo as oppose to others but I do have a bit detail about it and ahshskaja I think it's fun for me to pick on so the rambles undercut! (Like, im not kidding all my points are everywhere hsksksk)

When I was making an early concept for Chloe, I used Ima (Sedusa) as my early reference for her design. There's a lot of unique body figure of woman in PPG but I am mostly attracted to Sedusa's frame and I cannot stress enough that I love love LOVE her design! Her design is the exact opposite of Utonium (curvy and circle as opposing to Utonium's rectangular and sharp edges) so like I wanted her design to be the opposite of him. I love the idea of opposite attracts and I refered to this idea a lot when I build her character. More on that in just a bit.

When I created her, I was working as a service crew/waitress and I wished it theres something that could swoop me from my boring job so I thinkered with the idea that she found love at the dinky diner she worked at. So one day, I discovered Suzanne Vega's Tom's Diner and I loved this song! What's so interesting to me about this song is that it's an acapella so like I'm able to focus on the lyrics and it basically captured the essence of what I want Utonium and Chloe to be except Chloe would be the one greeting him every morning and give him hello kissies and hhh thats basically the catalyst for their story.

For most of her inspo, mainly personality and clothes, I refer a lot to The Nanny's Fran Fine. I grew up watching The Nanny and I always love how her character is someone that's street smart, extroverted, cares about others and charismatic at times so I based Chloe's personality off this. I also refer to Fran's outfits a lot whenever I draw Chloe in other clothing so if you take a hard look at any of my previous art you may recognize some of her clothes that I used as reference.

For Chloe's hair, I want a distinctive short hair for her and P3's Yukari Takeba was my first choice for a cute short hair cut. I love how her bangs just swoops to her sides and the end of her hair just curls outwards its just so cute to me. I added the heart curl design on her bangs because I really want her hair to be the main focus for her design so that when she wears any other clothes, her hair will remain the same and recognizeable. The heart curls that sticks out of her hair was added veryvmuch later during design process and it almost didn't make it. I'm so glad I keep it, I think people mostly recognize her heart cowlick the most.

While I did say Fran Fine is my main inspo, I did have Bojack's Pickles as another of my personality inspo. She's bubbly, energetic and sometimes ditzy and I never mentioned this but Chloe's a bit ditzy and has a valley girl accent. I have not think of a voice claim yet but the voice that I think that would fit Chloe rn is ATSV's Lyla. There's a significant age gap between Utonium and Chloe and I really want to show how both of them came from different generation (Utonium's a boomer while Chloe's more of Gen X so I want to play around their understanding of trends and how they act with their age accodingly hhh)

Overall, what I want to achieve for Chloe's personality and appearance is someone that would compliment Utonium's personality and appearance in the opposite way because like I said, I love the idea of opposite attracts. Where she lacks education, she makes them up for her communication skills. Where Utonium is big on being a book smart person, she is street smart, she knows how to handle things by her way.

I have no intention to make Chloe have a cool career like Utonium because I still want her to be normal. I always make elaborated backgrounds and jobs for my other s/i ocs so for Chloe, I want to relax, I want her to be normal, have a normal job, nothing interesting. I don't want to rely heavily on those points but instead focus more on building her personality.

When I think about it now, I think its good thag I make Chloe normal. She is really the normality that Prof and the girls needed in their family. She doesn't have any special skills, any benefits directly to them nor any interesting history that makes her unique, she's just some woman that just walks into their life yet unintentionally becomes someone significant to the family's life.

[iamacolor]

2023 sewing projects - part 1 details at the end of the post (click here for part 2)

Note: I work for a fabric shop so I get most of my fabrics for free as well as some patterns as I have to be wearing our products at work (I definitely consider it a perk). Without this job I would not be sewing as much and I'd probably be buying most of my fabric second hand or on sale as I used to do before. I also sometimes sew during work hours so keep that in mind if you're also a sewist, go at your own rythm 💜 Although I have basic training in pattern drafting I prefer to sew from pre-existing patterns to save on time (as i have to regularly make myself some new clothes for work) and discover new techniques and styles - but I often change stuffs to adapt the designs to my style.

1 - first outfit for my friend's wedding (this one was for the henna night), it's made in a linen-viscose blend and it's very easy and quick to make + i can easily wear each piece separately!

2 - second outfit for my friend's wedding made out of 100% silk muslin (it was a big remnant i found on sale) - i ended up making made a lot of changes from the base pattern: i lenghtened the sleeves a lot, i changed the skirt piece as the og one was too short for me and also too wide for my narrow fabric so i just cut rectangles in the desired length and gathered everything at the waist - the skirt is fully lined both in silk and in lining fabric - I also took a lot in at the middle back and some on the sides (i would've have loved to make a toile but sadly a nasty tendinitis kept me away from sewing for a few months so i had to speed things up before the wedding)

3 - i made this bodysuit last week - it was my first time working on a knit fabric in a while and i should have lenghtened it a bit more than i already did as the shoulder seams are being slightly pulled back - in a viscose/polyester milano knit + modified pants from a magazine in a viscose , large pants in fluid fabrics like that are great for all seasons as i can easily put some tights on underneath when it's too cold. I'm so glad i found a knitted fabric to match the print on the pants!

4/5 - this dress and blouse have the same base pattern from the same book but i modified the end of the sleeves on both (they were supposed to be gathered on a wrist band and closed with buttons) to create a ruffle effect with an elastic - on the dress i took out the collar piece and slightly adjusted the side seams to make them more fitting + i traced another skirt piece based on the back of the skirt in pic1 and added a ruffle at the bottom - the dress is made in a viscose twill and the top in a coton double gauze

6/7 - both of these tops are made from the same pattern, i simply lenghtened the sleeves for the checkered version and on both i tightened the sleeve band - it's a very quick pattern to make. The dotted one is made from a very fine coton corduroy and the checkered one is in a coton double gauze. The pants are made in a thicker corduroy, I'm very much in between sizes when it comes to pants (depending on the brands I cover around 4 sizes between my waist and my thighs at their thickest) I ended up cutting the size for my thighs and simply deepening the folds and the darts to make it fit at the waist + I wanted a loser fit on the legs so i added 1cm on each side

8 - this shirt is made in a linen and viscose blend (same fabric as the pink matching set) except for the contrasting blue elements which are in linen-coton - i had fun playing with the classic shirt finishing and deciding what to do in blue (the buttonholes are threaded in blue!)

9/10 - this top is made from a simple coton gauze, the bodice is lined with the same fabric (super quick to make although the fact that the right and wrong side are the same means i've put in on wrong at least twice lmao) - the pants are made in coton gabardine (i've also had to trace between sizes here - this is a us sizes pattern and for this i'm in between 6 and 10 with a slight redrawing of the crotch and the side seams under the pockets) I love this pattern because it comes in a slim legs version, a straight one, a wide version (this one) and a short version. I've made another large version in orange and a slim version in white.

11 - these pants are made in a coton-linen twill - pretty straightforward in their making, as always I am in between sizes for pants so I cut a size 10 (can't remember if this was in us or uk sizes)and ended up having to do my usual changes for pants by deepening the front folds and the back darts (which I also had to make longer to accomodate not just for my waist circumference which is 2 sizes smaller than my thighs but also the arch of my back). Really like how large the belt is and how the fold is pressed all the way down the leg. I wore it with the green top, a red jacket and gold shoes for christmas eve!

[overly-verbose]

I take back my previous threats of violence as my foolish self had not scampered through your art book in all its glory.

Chapter 8 has the reference that is to be used in general, correct?

No worries, I actually chuckled a bit reading that lmao - I didn't expect a reference for SIkuna being in high enough demand for me to be threatened at watergun-point 😂

(the previous Ask with the 'threats of violence' in question for context purposes;

😂)

I'll probably try to draw something of an actual approximation of a 'reference sheet' with the little differences (I was actually planning to do that for the Ask but uh that'd take much longer than this), but to explain it quickly (well, for me quickly which isn't at all);

Chapter 8 of Visuals has actually moreso to do with a perhaps-hypothetical scenario in which later down the timeline SIkuna gets Somehow separated from Yuji and gains a body of his own

- and that allows him to switch between Normal Form

which is basically how he looked whilst possessing Yuji, except probably quite a bit taller (it's already a bit stifling in comparison to the Big Form so he wouldn't make himself even shorter just to keep to Yuji's height lol), a bit older

(he looks a bit older whilst possessing Yuji anyway but yeah),

with some (usually) black earrings and two slits in his left eyebrow to connect it to the Big Form visually

The version with the earrings and slitted eyebrow can f.e. be seen in Chapter 11 lol, just with pink hair for that last one

And Big Form/True Form

which is about 9~feet / 3~ meters tall (I based it off of that one short manga flashback moment rather than some other seemingly smaller depictions?), has four arms and such + mostly wears the outfit from Chapter 8/14 but would also wear different things just like he would in Normal Form

- and I follow the logic of the clothes Somehow changing to fit whenever he suddenly shrinks or grows rather than having to have specifics outfits, but the four-arms thing still kinda demands a different wardrobe anyway for most cases lol

(+ he does have the stomach mouth in the Big Form, and sometimes he'll prefer to leave it uncovered so another outfit difference then,

like maybe an open robe in place of a shirt, something cropped, or occasionally just forgoing a shirt altogether lol)

I think a better reference for the height comparison between him and other characters in that form is moreso Chapter 11 and 14, but it doesn't matter That much

But like, in terms of outfit it doesn't have to be exactly what I've drawn before lol

- he's more of a comfy/casual guy but I'm 1000% certain that Nobara + perhaps other kids would take him shopping sometimes (she or they can't let this particular Older Familial Figure go unfashionable constantly!) and he'd probably want to occasionally wear something more Wowowo so he'd likely have something other than a dozen sweatshirts (and robes and comfy pants and such) somewhere in his wardrobe too 😂

(some Hello Kitty™ merch is also a must, For The Meme!!!)

And I've mentioned it a few times before but, especially if separate from Yuji unless he'd also agree to painted nails which he just might, he's likely to have painted claws/nails sometimes lol - they're a nice big canvas for Nobara to practice her skills on y'know, and he definitely wouldn't mind

.

In terms of how he looks inside the Domain, it's mostly just Canon-kuna's look lol

The kimono/kosode(? I have yet to understand what the exact difference is but heard it may be the second) is the same, the scarf and blue(?) accents on the sides of the main robe and stuff

with the anime-only addition bow to the back of the sash/idk material belt because yes, and because it's something to fiddle with whenever SIkuna gets ungodly bored lmao (the equivalent of fiddling with a sweatshirt's zipper or hoodie string lol)

I've interpreted whatever Canon-kuna wears on his legs as some sort of simple black pants that run down until a bit after the socks beneath the sandals(?) start or something like that??

I don't think he wears anything under the upper part of the kimono(?) but maybe there is some sorta ancient Japanese equivalent of a t-shirt I dunno about lol, besides that it's the same with the wide sleeves and everything

The sandals(?) are the same as in Canon, I've seen somewhere that they could have a small false heel (like a cut underneath that doesn't actually raise the heel of the foot idk how to explain it better) but it's an utter detail lol

As aforementioned, the scarf-thing around his neck is the same too, it's definitely an addition SIkuna appreciates heh - it's comfy 👍

(the Inner/Innate Domain examples I've drawn in Chapters 1, 4, 5, most of 10, 1st bonus drawing in 11, a cropped out glimpse in 13 and second drawing of 14 is ok lol - I just forgot about some things earlier/got better at it with time maybe)

.

In terms of physical differences, in or outside the Domain, the biggest one is probably the eyes

His usual/regular look involves the pupil/most inner part of the eye being white, then having a ring of darker red, then much lighter/brighter red

Meanwhile, whenever he's feeling particularly murderous/spooky/overall more OG-kuna-like (f.e. in Part 4 after a bit of 'experimenting' on the Special Grade), the sequence becomes [very light/bright red, much darker red, a bit lighter/brighter red]

(I mostly draw the eyes in a more oval shape, but that's just my stylistic choice lol - I don't mind it being the same but don't mind otherwise ofc

Same with the colours, they don't have to be Exactly those)

Like this;

And the fact that he actually has a whole Four eyes be eyes and usually all open - the secondary eyes are smaller, but are full eyes with colour and stuff rather than the sometimes barely-there look they had with Canon-kuna

(I'm not yet 100% certain if the difference in colouring is seen in-universe, though 🤔 - but for drawings yeah)

Another thing that isn't usually consistent in the manga/anime (from what I can remember) is the way Canon-kuna sometimes has moreso claws Or fingernails - SIkuna basically always has claws (they sharp!)

I'm kinda contemplating including slightly pointed at the tips ears to the list but it's not an 'official' characteristic lol

.

I've... Uh. Gone off on a tangent?? As per usual lmfAO-

But hope you get at least a little useful info from this?? 😂

(I don't mind clarifying questions lmfao (though my apologies if I take some time to respond))

Also, I'm not that much of a stickler for detail just fyi - even if the interpretation were to differ in some way from this rambly excuse for a guide I'd still love and adore any and all art created for my story because hOLY MAC A R O N I- *implodes from pure joy*

(Assuming, of course, that that's what 'for scientific purposes' meant 😂)

[seas1mping]

Small comfort fic for my friend @sweetpayaso <3 love you big bro /p

Reena & Cade Bellamy Grossman | Cake Topper [PLATONIC], referenced Reena/LJ and Sweet Tooth CT/LJ

Umm I'm going to be using the boys from the previous one shot I wrote (Seth, Roman, and Randy) but they're only mentioned. Also Cake is in his normal human clothing, not the clown outfit!! :)

I wrote this watching fireworks for 4th of July I LOVE FIREWORKS RAAGGGHHHHH and then getting sick right after boowomp

----

Cake Topper didn't really know how long he'd been out there. They know when they got out there, the sun was at least partway up still. But the sun was almost under the treeline now. The door to the balcony creaked open, and Cake turned around.

Ducking under the doorframe, she brought out a plate of food, gesturing towards her friend. "Hey, Cake. You'd been out here for a minute so I just wanted to bring you some food in case you were hungry. I know meal time can be a lot with the boys, but we're all done now!"

He nodded, then shook his head. "Thank you, Reena, but I'm not very hungry right now." A lie, they were starving and that food looked good, but they had no interest in eating right now. Not with their mind where it was then.

She shrugs and sets it on the table set next to the door. Reena doesn't go back inside though, she goes up to Cake and puts a hand on their back before leaning over the balcony and watching the world with them.

"My hair is getting too long, I need to cut it soon. Randall has, like, an irrational fear of it." She laughs softly, tugging at the part of her hair that falls over her shoulder. Cake makes a questioning hum, tilting his head. "Oh, yeah, Randy hates my long hair. I think the little guy thinks it's gonna swallow him or something. It's kind of funny to watch."

Cake lets out a snickering sound in response, but it doesn't last long, getting distracted by his headspace again. "Reena, can I ask you something?"

She nods in response, looking over towards him. He looks at her with his brown eyes meeting her clashing ones. "Do you ever get that feeling that you just...don't like yourself?"

"Well I just mentioned my hair, so-"

"That's not what I mean."

Reena blinks, she can't remember if Cake has ever outright interrupted her before, usually changing a subject is common, but flat out stopping her is..not a thing.

She sighs, watching some construction happen off of the hill the house was on. "Yeah, actually. Here."

She points at her right arm, the amalgamation of Down Belowian on her otherwise human form is quite the looker. Jagged spikes up and down it, long, rough fingers. She points to the lighter lines carved into it on her hand.

"My best, best friends, who I grew up with in the palace, didn't have the same mutation that I did. My older brother was completely normal, and my little sister looks exactly like my dad. But I got stuck with this eyesore of an arm."

She flips her arm over, it's smoother on this side, but there are still tiny bumps on it.

"I hated my arm for most of my childhood. A constant reminder that I wasn't exactly 'normal'. I wore gloves, but they always ripped on the edges. I tried to wear long sleeves, but I would just get them caught on stuff. My arm was one of my biggest insecurities."

She looks back at Cake Topper. "But, you know what I did about it?"

He swallows thickly. "What?"

"I changed it. What was an insecurity to me, was a wonder for others. I had my friends draw out ideas for the etches I was going to have. Think of it like a tattoo, but you have to carve it on this stuff. Most of the etches on my hand are from the both of them. Except for...this one."

She points to the one on the inside of her arm, a mass of scratches and scribbles.

"It's my daughter Nari's name in my native language. You may have seen her before, she works at the carnival. She has the mutation I have, but on both arms!"

Cake recalls seeing a girl that fits the description somewhere, but he can't place it.

"Anyways, the moral of the story, I think. Is that no matter what you have, mutation, weird family, maybe something you have doesn't work right. You could always change it. And if you can't change it, try to make it look prettier, or at least bearable to see."

She then winks at him and laughs "But, to me, I don't see anything wrong with you, Cake Topper. I think you look just like you ought to. Jack seems to like looking at you, anyway."

Cake Topper looks away with pink cheeks. But he nods brokenly. "Uh! Yeah, thank you."

She bends down to him, which is a lot because he's like 3 feet shorter, but she looks at him at eye level and gives him a big smile.

"And if you need anything at all, please know that I am here, and Jack is here, and I would do anything to see that you are alive, safe, and well. Do I make myself clear."

Cake sniffles, they hadn't noticed they were crying when she finished, but they wiped their eyes and gave Reena a big smile. "Crystal."

She nods, using Cake a bit to push back up to her full height. "Now, come back inside, I bought brownie mix and I need help cracking the eggs. My claws end up puncturing them and getting shells everywhere, you know?"

Cake laughs, they've definitely had crunchy cake before, and knew that was probably what that was. "Yeah."