#i had so much fun coloring the pink and white splotches

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, I have some questions regarding confusion over a certain topic. First off, I have a character with a severe scarring on the upper right side of their body. I've heard in some tumblr ppsts that such appearance shouldn't be fetished. Then I stumbled across some posts, mentioning how the character can be described as 'pretty with it'.

For sure, I'm trying my best to normalize the looks. Because I have a love interest set up for them and while they don't mind the looks, I feel confused on how to convey their appreciation for the character's looks even with the scarring. They like the character as they are and stuff.

Sorry if this is a lot, I tend to get confused on how to handle such scenarios. And this sort of varying opinions is making me go '???'.

It's okay if you take your time to answer! Have a good day ahead of ya!

Hi!

"Fetishization of a disability" and "thinking that a disabled person is pretty" are two very different things. Despite the somewhat similar sound, they're not connected by much.

In the context of scars, fetishization would be what I would call the "Zuko situation" (yes, I love ATLA as much as the next guy, let me explain) - the scar isn't really a scar, it's more of a, I don't know, make-up? It's just the color that changes, it's all sharp edges and intricate shapes, the facial structure stays the exact same. There's no physical symptoms. Essentially, it's permanent body paint.

It fetishizes a disability by making it inaccurate, sometimes almost mystical. You don't see anyone fetishizing how real people with facial burns look like because they only like the idea of it. They don't care for us; they don't care for Face Equality or why we are offended by "villain with scar #32482". It's just a fun splotch of color to add to your OC when you're out of ideas.

Another aspect of fetishization is the "a scar is the worst thing in the whole world", the tragedy porn. It's using a disability for cheap drama. Again; it's inaccurate and exploitative. I don't see writers excited to depict my "coming to terms with my facial difference as a teenager, and eventually being proud of it" experience because where's the shock value and pity points? Fetishization, again, is about liking the idea of it, not the real thing.

Describing your character as beautiful, well, isn't any of that.

The point that I tried to make on that post was that a scar is often considered inherently ugly. That it's a stain on someone's beauty, that it would be better if it wasn't there.

"Brown beautiful eyes, thick facial hair, strong cheekbones - he managed to be irresistibly handsome even with that nasty scar going across his nose."

This, well, sucks. It's as if the character's beauty and their disability are contradictory forces that have to fight each other. But in reality, scars and any other visible disabilities are neutral. If the character is pretty, their scar is pretty too. It's a part of them, so how could it not be?

"She was a cute girl; her pastel pink, thinly braided hair framed her face, defying gravity by curling towards her mouth. The burned skin on her lips shifted as she smiled, revealing a tooth gap. She played with her equally pink 'white' cane, holding it between the two fingers she had on her right hand, bopping it against the ground to the rhythm of the song."

This, on the other hand, just states her disability as a part of her person. It's nothing weird or shocking, she's pretty, has a burn on her face, she's blind, she's missing some fingers, she's enjoying the music - it's almost boring when compared to the usual "scar introduction". There's no "even with her horribly burnt face", no "if only she wasn't scarred she would be beautiful", no "poor thing, lost her fingers in a horrific fire" - instead, she is beautiful, and she has scars, and she sure is having fun. That's it.

This is my best shot at explaining the difference between "fetishization" and "yeah they're pretty :-)" ft. my questionable writing - I hope this makes sense.

I definitely took my time to answer, sorry about that. Thank you for your ask!

mod Sasza

[idyllcy]

juliet roses

word count: 3.2k

summary: it was his fault for letting you go, but your fault to leave.

You wonder how long it has been since you've met O'Connor.

The first time you meet him, you had your place of first in your department snatched from you, your name placed second after his despite the fact that he had never shown up to class and only took the exams. He's evil, you find. He was personally sent by the heavens above to steal your place as top of the art department, and it makes your blood boil. Your head hurts just thinking about him. The fangirls next to you are NOT helping his case either. Maybe you are just cursed to be annoyed by him consistently and always.

He strutted up next to you, hands in his pocket as he stares at his name, smirking down at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Oops—"

You punched him.

The principal went off on the two of you as you sat in his office, and O'Connor whistled, feet kicked up on the desk as you tuned out the rambling, looking to the window as you plan your escape. The principal really could not do much about the two best students in the department. It's not as though you're some goody two shoes and he's not some model student either. The art department should really start picking some better-behaved students.

"That's why— are you two even listening?!"

"No."

"I bet I could live if I jump out the window." O'Connor grins.

"Can I have your studio if you die?"

"I'm leaving that to Emerald."

"HE'S NOT EVEN A STUDENT—"

But that's how your day to day life with O'Connor started, and it was how it would continue without effort or change. Even when you look back on it in the future, the world was bitter and lifeless at your fingertips. He smeared colors onto your cheeks while you weren't looking, pignmented yellows staining your skin and tumeric oranges wrapped around your bicep as he throws paint at you in your shared studio, splotches of color staining every edge of the wall until the two of you are inevitably scolded by the rest of the faculty and left to create what you can. Your final project is a piece of art, and you fear that you will never find the inspiration that you once held when you were young.

There is no light in your life when you are at the end of your educational time.

You watch O'Connor paint, his fingers sliding across the canvas as he leaves the brushes, fingerprints digging into the canvas as you watch him draw his muse. White hair, purple eyes, portraits upon portraits of your shared art professor. You stay quiet, lashes fluttering as you observe O'Connor, your muse. You observe your muse, but he does not bring color into your life. You find it depressing. What world do you live in, and why must your muse not care of you the way you do of him? So, you turn around, brush sliding across the canvas as you tune out O'Connor.

Your world is colorless.

Color in your life comes quickly and simply.

It will stay that way until something changes.

You wake up one morning, pink petal in your mouth, and for that moment in time, you seem to understand.

You are the artist, but not the muse. Perhaps you will die before you ever receive your final degree. It makes you sick, and you find an idea. Perhaps you will die, but you will leave one final thing for the world. Perhaps then, you will understand why people love so fervently.

You find that pink is a fun color. Many of the other female students wear it, and when you stick your first petal onto an empty canvas, you understand why the flower has chosen to bloom in your lungs. It is a flower that means everything to certain people. You will bloom a flower so dazzling that it will have no choice but to bleed out of your lungs and onto a canvas — until you are dust and your portrait is in a gallery. Until the world crashes and burns, your painting will stand untouched. That way, perhaps some sort of a color will appear into your life.

"New materials? Where'd you find these petals from?"

You turn to face O'Connor, kicking your legs.

"This one's my trade secret." You continue painting, O'Connor stopping to stare at your painting. The man in the portrait resembles him to some degree, yet the way you paint him makes him look so foreign — almost as though he were someone unknown to you. You make him look like a man he will never see himself as. Though, as you stick one petal after the other around him, he wonders if this is what he looks like to you.

Halfway though, you push the canvas to the side, clattering as the wood crashes onto the ground and the petals stay put.

"Why are you wasting?"

"I have a better idea."

O'Connor watches as you leave the room, going back to his painting as he observes the fallen portrait of himself on the ground. He hops off his seat to adjust the painting, leaning it against the glass doors as he stares outside of them. That is perhaps some sort of Eden out there. The world is clear and beautiful, yet the two of you are stuck. He turns his head to stare at you when you return, three new buckets of paint lugged behind you as he walks over to offer help.

"Hands off. Your piece involves no glitter." You huff. O'Connor watches as you dig your fingers into the glitter, grabbing a handful as you throw it at his portrait.

You are changing. Ever so slowly, you are changing.

When you finish, you hit the canvas from the back, glitter falling to the ground as it stains your feet and dress. The ink of your side of the room becomes stained with shimmer, your paintbrush overflowing with a glisten that only the sun could rival. You paint. Even when you're coughing uncomfortably and O'Connor leaves for the night, you stay in the room, fingers forcing across the canvas as you bring O'Connor to life. If your life would depend on his actions from now on, then you would make sure that everyone would know of your demise.

You will go out stained with so much glitter that the world suffers a shortage.

O'Connor returns in the morning to you on the ground and knocked out, chest rising and falling with each breath, body surrounded by petals as he pauses to stare. A tattoo on his body glistens, and you sit up, coughing out another petal, eyes wide as O'Connor stares down at you, frozen.

"Okay, well, cat's out the bag, I've been coughing up flowers."

O'Connor smiles, lips curled upwards as he takes it out of your hand.

"Who are you in love with?"

"Bold of you to assume that I'm in love with someone." You huff. "This comes as a curse too, you know? I helped someone tattoo that once."

You do not bother looking at O'Connor, closing your eyes and knocking back out instead.

The world will not end if you take a nap.

O'Connor takes the chance to move his own portrait, white hair purple eyes hiding a portrait of you behind it, his fingers gentle against the canvas as he paints you, life slipping through his fingers as he continues. You are his final assignment before he is allowed to finally teach. He will bring you to life, even when his tattoos glow against his back and you cough your lungs out, he will turn you into a permanent memory. Perhaps one day when he is old and wrinkly, he will remember the portrait of you, lips curled upward and pointing at the joy he got to experience as a final project.

When you stir, he moves the painting of Emerald back.

You do not need to know.

You wake up, coughing out even more petals, pink stained with glitter this time, making you do a double take. Wow.

You are literally cursed at this point.

O'Connor watches you, a patch of ink on his skin dimming as you finish coughing, blood on your lips, his head spinning.

Perhaps it is rude of him, but he can not say that he would have let any other curse you like this.

"Lotus flowers?"

You cough, fishing out another petal from your throat. "Yes? I suppose so."

He stares at you, pursing his lips.

"Can I borrow some?"

"Kill yourself." You huff, sticking the new petal to the canvas, glitter smearing.

O'Connor dips his hand into the paint, skin pink as he jumps off his seat, chasing you as you scream. You race past the windows, hopping off the second floor balcony onto the tree as passing students pause to watch. It is not new, but it is not normal either. They can only wonder what has caused O'Connor to chase you around with pink paint. The top of the class with one on equal standing.

You finally escape his clutches when you slam your dorm room closed behind you, heart racing as you sigh. Perhaps you have left a trail of glitter and pink again, perhaps you have not. Perhaps the two of you are cursed. You blink as your roommate returns, ink sleeve fresh against her skin as she blinks at you crouched in the corner of the door. The two of you don't exchange words, but you offer her your forearm instead. If you are to die then you might as well die while having fun.

"I'm surprised you're letting me do this to you." You hiss at your roommate's words, needle puncturing your skin as you wince. "What's with this change? Is it because of that god-awful cough?"

"You can say it's that." You whimper. "What are you drawing?"

"Magic circles."

"You hate me." You hiss. "What are the circles for?"

"To wash the glitter off of you. It's technically telekenesis."

You go quiet, staring at the circle that starts forming from the ash.

"Would you like one on your back?"

"What do I get out of it?" You grumble.

"Wings."

"Yo..." You mumble. "It is the weekend..."

"Stay still." She grumbles. "Do you want anything else?"

"Oh, can I get a canon to blast flowers from my lungs?"

"Not possible. Not discovered yet."

You sit in silence, arm staying still even when your roommate finishes with the ink on your skin. You stare down at the pattern, closing your eyes focusing on the tattoo as your skin burns.

"Yeah, just like that." Your roommate mumbles. "Focus on the skin."

You open your eyes once the circle starts glowing properly, and the objects in the room rattle slightly as the glitter seems to pull off of your skin.

"Hands out." Your roommate mumbles, showing you the movement as you follow.

Shimmering, the glitter forms an orb, and you have an idea.

"I could glitter bomb someone."

"That's right." Your roommate winks at you as a knock comes from the door.

"I swear if the two of you are fucking, I will kick this door down."

"Oh, William! Do you happen to know where O'Connor is?"

"I'm with him. Are the two of you having an orgy or something?"

"Yeah, her head game is strong." Your roommate calls, waving her fingers to unlock the door.

"William, duck."

You throw the glitter at O'Connor, pursing your lips in amusement when he blinks, spitting out the sparkles from his mouth as he locks eyes with you.

"You."

You throw him a peace sign, jumping out your window as you pull the glitter out with you. He chases after you, tattoos on his body glowing as you cough, flurry of petals and glitter following behind you as your roommate and William blinks at the window.

"... I honestly can not tell that they are older than we are."

"Well, perhaps only with each other can they be that casual." Your roommate shrugs. "Such a shame, though. I was going to give her wings."

The two of them watches as your magic develops to create wings out of the glitter.

"...or not."

"You've just given her a weapon that could just result in the end of the world."

The world does not end when you cough out flower petals again, sticking them to the painting as the glitter sticks it to the canvas. It is beautiful, at times. O'Connor turns to face you, canvas turned away from you as he turns you to life. Perhaps you cough up flowers because he is cruel and wishes to bind you to him, or perhaps you are coughing up flowers because he does not genuinely like you.

The world is not ending, and that much is evident when you complete your piece, staring at O'Connor and the everlasting petals that surround him on the fabric.

You celebrate the finishing of the painting by retiring early, cheeks and ears warm with giddiness as you expose your back for yoru roommate to continue drawing on.

"I'd like the upper half of your arm."

"What are you unlocking for me this time?"

"You'll see." She hums.

"Oh, right. What tattoos do O'Connor have? I was drawing them earlier, and some of them looked foreign to me."

You roommate tilts her head.

"He has tattoos?"

"Yeah! On his... back..." You trail off when you realize how weird that sounds. "And..."

"What? Are you going to tell me you've been exploring each others' bodies next?"

You gape. "NO????"

"What context are you seeing him shirtless? He's not the type to just go around parading himself shirtless, you know?"

"In our studio? He takes it off because it gets stuffy from the sun occasionally." You blink. "There's no way he's been flirting with me. I know what you're thinking."

"I don't know about that..." Your roommate mumbles, taking the needle out. "You good with an elemental one?"

"What will you let me control?"

"Air." She deadpans. "Be a menace, but don't tell O'Connor I'm granting you that ability."

"Isn't it going to drain my mana?"

"Not with a threshold like yours. I'm surprised you didn't just pick the magic department with how much affinity you have for it."

"Art is much more fun."

"Yeah, it really feeds your delusions to be able to draw the ficitonal twinks who appear in your dreams, huh?"

"MY DREAM MEN ARE NOT TWINKS."

"The love of your life who's making you cough flowers up sure is."

You wince as she speeds up with the needlework.

"You're mean."

"I love you too."

The second tattoo heals much quicker, and you manage your newfound magical ability with the help of your roommate. She holds the power to grand and negate magic through art, now that you think about it. You wonder how people are supposed to get rid of tattoos. Perhaps they just use up all of their mana without replenishing it. It's a scary thought... that you honestly do not care for. You'll die before that happens to you. At the rate that you had been coughing up flowers and glitter, you might as well be one of those little glitter trolls the students had been reading on except you'll die if you spit too much out.

You've taken care to paint over your tattoos to keep them hidden for multiple reasons, one of which is to stop O'Connor from asking you more questions. The questionable gusts of wind that nearly knock over his paint supplies is enough comedy to you in your day to day life. But it is a game of cat and mouse for the two of you. Perhaps there is no cat, and the two of you are just rats in the subway in the city. There is really no chasing or courting when O'Connor could not care less for you.

Perhaps you are stuck in this never-ending hell as a result of which.

"Now that you are finished, perhaps you could aid the student council." Emerald hums. "You signed a contract."

You wince, puffing out your cheeks with a huff as you grimace at the paperwork.

"Must I really?"

"You promised."

You go through the papers, banned from leaving the room unless it is to return to your dorm, fingers sliding through the piles as you speed up the process with Emerald. The end of the year means much to everyone, only it seems to bother you to no end that you are no longer able to see O'Connor all the time. You cough up more flowers as well, a mess of edible petals on the ground as you work. The coughing slows you down, but not a significant amount. You still finish earlier than Emerald. Perhaps your beauty has just charmed him— who are you kidding. There's no way.

The two of you sort out files, and quickly, you forget what it was like previously with O'Connor, blinking at your fingers as you complete the job for the day, Emerald granting you freedom as you skip into the halls, wind pushing you into the skies as you do tricks, head spinning gleefully with each move.

"Gotcha." O'Connor wraps his arms around your waist mid-air, earning a piercing scream from your lips as the two of you crash into the ground, only cushioned by O'Connor's magic. You blink as you process the fact that you did not just die, heart still racing in your chest as O'Connor laughs from underneath you. You can just imagine the shit-eating grin that's on his face at the moment, and it only irks you. You do not understand why he had chosen to stick to you of everyone in your graduating class.

Perhaps there is just a reason why he is the way he is, and perhaps you just aid him in bringing that out.

Perhaps it is a blessing to be someone's place of comfort, even if he does not love you back.

When the day of graduation comes, you put your piece on display next to his, both of them hidden behind a cloth, and you blink at O'Connor, lips quirked up as he stares down at you with a smile.

"I wonder what Emerald will look like."

O'Connor chuckles.

"You will see."

"I wonder if he will see."

You never quite see O'Connor's final piece.

You are called in for an early graduation instead, degree received in private as you rush off to somewhere where O'Connor can not find you.

Instead, you leave him alone, stuck to stare at the portrait of the two of you facing each other, lotus petals surrounding him, juliet roses framing your face with closed eyes, traces of glitter visible in the tattoos stained onto your skin. He will not see you again. You have left, because he had been cruel to not tell you. It had always been that way. You had always been such a free soul, he was wrong to think that you would have not jumped at the opportunity to leave a place that was causing flowers to bloom in your lungs.

He scratches the tattoo on his back with more ink, freeing you from a curse that he had decided to place on you.

It was his mistake to let you go, and your mistake to leave.

[bomberqueen17]

acid dyes in squirt bottles

I didn't take great pictures. I thought I had but I'm going back through and I just didn't take the ones I thought I had.

So, to start, I used the bottles you can buy from dharma, because I was ordering stuff from them anyway. I'd also gotten one of their kits on a clearance thing so I had gloves and rubber bands and such to hand.

what photos I have are behind the cut.

[image description: A silk/wool blend scarf, folded in half and also slightly scrunched along its length, lying on top of a slightly crinkled length of aluminum foil, on top of a plastic bag, with the bottoms of a few bottles visible at the top of the frame, and a plastic container with some dye in it and a plastic spoon.]

So here's the only one I photographed in-progress. It's a scarf, about eight by 32 inches or so? To the left it's pale yellow, then it's orange, then red, then fuschia, and then black at the far left end.

I had four bottles, so I had yellow, red, fuschia, and black in the bottles by this point. But I had two different colors of yellow dye, and I wanted a very pale color on the extreme end of this one. So I mixed up some of the pale-pale yellow in a plastic takeout soup container and dabbed it on with a spoon. I kept the right end of the scarf slightly elevated, so none of the darker dyes would run along under the underside of the scarf into that yellow section.

I've found that squirting two colors next to each other doesn't blend them very smoothly-- which is an effect to play with, but. I wanted a gradation, so I experimented, and smooshing the scarf around with a spoon carefully can do it, but the thing i settled on for this one was putting a lot of yellow and a tiny bit of red from the squirt bottles into another plastic soup container and then applying drops of that mixture with a spoon in the middle where I wanted them to meet, to get a better orange. (My motivation was partly that the intended recipient of this scarf loves orange, so ymmv with this technique.)

I did do one scarf where I did not attempt to blend colors but squirted them as standalones. I'd done a tub-dye in a pot on the stove of a brilliant blue, and I'd done some shibori-tyeing of scarves in that bath earlier, and they were out and drying while I did this. one of them, i'd tied far too well, and it had large expanses of white and then some very dark blue banding, and I decided that was too much white left for me. So I took that one and overdyed it with the squirt bottles, in all the white areas, in random splotches. To get green for this I did just get the tiniest amount of green dye powder and mix it up in a soup container and apply it with a spoon, because I did not have another squirt bottle.

[image description: here's that scarf, after steaming and drying but before ironing. An expanse of wrinkled silk fabric lying atop a metal drying rack is mottled with dark blue, and then is softly colored in splotches of pink, yellowish-green, green, and purple.]

A bit gaudy but kind of cool, I'm giving it as a gift to a preteen girl whose wardrobe I think it will compliment, but would have worn it myself. Couldn't get a pure yellow because the white areas had backstained pale blue in the rinsing, but the sort of violent chartreuse here is fun.

The black dried to a purplish-gray color, so next time I should do actual math on the dye amounts. I do own a kitchen scale and had intended to use it to weigh the fiber and the powder, like the tutorials say to do, but *jazz hands* my kitchen is tore upppp and everything I own is in boxes, so where that scale ended up the sweet lord only knows and I will find out before I do my next batch of this.

(the reader can swap in whatever entity they prefer for "the sweet lord" because i am actually not specifying, I don't want to know what kind of entity is tracking the belongings nominally in my possession because obviously they are not on speaking terms with me and won't tell me where any of that stuff is no matter how nicely and desperately I've implored, over the years, so I just assume we're not friends. I will reciprocate the disinterest, politely, as that seems wisest.)

And finally, for a bonus shot, here's a shibori-dyed silk/wook scarf I'm *very* pleased with, which I achieved using the blocks of wood the kit came with, accordion-folded it between and rubber-banded around it, simmered it in the acid dye according to directions, and then rinsed it. It was originally a really striking white in the excluded patches, but one of the other scarves it was rinsed with had a lot of excess dye still in it, so it backstained the white of this scarf, which I actually prefer somewhat.

[image description: a length of fabric, translucent, stretched over a drying rack. It is a dark navy blue with big splotchy white shapes connected by wiggly strings of white.]

The blue dyebath, I hadn't measured the pigment into and it had way too much. So I came back the next day and threw in some habotai yardage, loosely gathered and folded and then rubberbanded along its length, and then I had a wool/nylon dress that had become stained so I threw it in too, scrunching and rubberbanding it because I knew it wouldn't dye evenly. (There was already some acid in the dyebath from the previous use, which I think encourages it to strike fast, that's why they have you put the item in and simmer it a little before adding the acid? this is something I've surmised, so I might be wrong, but I just felt like I wasn't going to get a good solid color from this bath so I'd better tie-dye on purpose and hope for a cool accidental result.)

I was busy, so I turned the heat off after half an hour and let the goods sit in the bath until it went cold, and when I went to pour it out, the dyebath was completely, entirely, one hundred percent clear, clearer than the previous day's rinse water.

The yardage came out glorious:

[image description: my mother-out-law's immaculate basement (trust me, it really is) bisected by a slightly translucent length of silk habotai, gently mottled in deep blue and white, hanging from the laundry line in gentle folds.]

I might buy another batch of scarves, I have a ton of stuff I need to do fiber-reactive dyes on but I have the fever and want to get better at silk scarves.

But I have. So many muslins I have made out of real cotton muslin, and I can't really wear them until I've made them be some other color. So.

[gsstories]

Poison Maple

-----

In a swamp, there was a Rosy Maple Moth creature sitting and leaning on a brick wall, talking to something or someone. The moth had blue skin with purple splotches around her face, a bit of green on the tips of her fingers and ears, a fluffy collar that was yellow and pink, light pink hair that reached her mid back with matching wings and a fluffy tail as well. She wore a red crop top with a brown corset with the sides having some holes in them, her pants being dark brown and her thigh high boots being black. Her eyes were blood red, the irises a white color and her antennas red and transparent.

"People keep asking 'Oh, but why ingest poison? It's sooooo bad for you, it could kill you!' I know that, you think I just started eating poison right off the bat? No! I took it little by little! It tasted so good but eating more than I could handle hurt my stomach, it was sooooo annoying!" The Rosy Maple Moth complained to the creature behind the wall, who was watching through the hole.

"That truly sounds frustrating... What did you do with those who asked, hmm?" The voice behind the wall asked.

"I ate them! I didn't want to hear their voices anymore, so annoying! They didn't even taste that good! No poison or venom, nothing!" The bloody moth huffed as she crossed her arms, her fur getting ruffled in her annoyance.

"Do tell, just HOW did you become so obsessed with poison?" The voice, who belonged to a spider creature, asked.

"It started with a mushroom... A simple, inconspicuous mushroom. I ate it. I got high, like, sooooo high! And when I woke up, I felt pretty crappy. But the kick that mushroom had... it was exhilirating! I felt excited, so alive!" Gin, the moth, exclaimed as her wings flapped at the memory. "Back when I was a harmless moth, I was so shy... SO scared to take the risk of anything... But after that mushroom, I saw there was so much to the world, so many things that could make me feel alive, I had to find more!"

"Prefer the you that you are now I assume?" The spider chuckled.

"Of course I do. I am not afraid anymore! I am not a weak moth anymore! Others fear ME now!" The moth said, her eyes widening as her mouth turned into a wide, sharp smile, drooling a bit as she looked crazed.

"Ahhh, bringing others fear really is the best feeling~" The spider, Eclipse, said, grinning behind the wall.

"Truly... I'm getting hungry." Gin said as her fur got ruffled up.

"Do bring something for me for when you hunt, sugarfly..." Eclipse said.

"Of course!" The moth said as she stood up before flying off to hunt.

The spider smiled behind his prison. How fun to have a fellow maniac like himself around...

-----

I wanted to make it longer but this all I could come up with!

Swamp Things AU belongs to @missterious-figure! I tried my best to write Eclipse as accurate as possible, I apologize if it ain't!

Gin the Bloody Rosy Maple Moth be mine!

[zz-chikorita]

What do your versions of Guzma, Leon, and other characters think of shiny pokemon? Like would Guzma publicly say shinies are pointless to aim for but secretly has always wanted one, has Plumeria ever shiny hunted, or have any of the grunts ever seen one or pretended to have seen one to get the other grunts going?

Also, do the people in your version of Alola have like urban legends about shiny pokemon?

Ok! So, in this universe, shinies are caused by rare genetic mutations, changing the pokemon's phenotype (as opposed to something more mystical/mysterious going on). How people regard them are different from region to region but, in general, people react to shiny pokemon similar to how we react irl to seeing normal animals with very atypical phenotypes. For example, have you ever seen a black squirrel? They're very common where I grew up but when my friends from further south saw them, they were shouting and pointing and climbing over one another in the van trying to look at it. Furthermore, have you ever seen a white squirrel? I'll tell ya, it was absolutely magical to receive a nest of squirrels at work that had fallen from a tree and open the box to find the four of them all curled up, three the normal gray coloration and one single one almost completely white, save for a few splotches. That's how I imagine people in this world react to seeing shinies.

Growing up, Guzma didn't even know what a shiny was. He even befriended a shiny oranguru as a child, but he knew him for an entire year before Kukui saw him and told him that it's rare and called a shiny. Guzma thought it was weird that the oranguru was pink, but he just figured it was an oranguru with abnormal fur. After all, he himself is a human with abnormal "fur". As such, he now thinks encountering shinies in the wild is a cool experience but he doesn't go out of his way to try and find them.

Leon was always fascinated by shiny pokemon. His parents were wooloo farmers so he actually experienced a handful of shiny wooloo hatch during his childhood. He thought their jet black fur was so pretty! During his gym challenge, he really wanted a shiny on his team because he thought it might get him more attention from sponsors (and also just because they're really cool), however he quickly became extremely attached to the members of his party. Even if he did find a shiny, he wouldn't have been able to replace any of his friends.

Plumeria is slightly obsessed with shinies. They're striking, they're different, they're unique... just like her! She also loves plushies and would always choose a shiny over a normal one if she had the choice (and the price was the same... assuming this is taking place after her thievery days lol...)

Here's a fun fact, in one of my earlier concepts of A, his salandit was actually a shiny male. Of course, it's awesome to have a shiny but kinda sucks when it happens to be the kind of pokemon that can't evolve. (Like how the first shiny I caught in PLA was a male combee -_-) I, evidently, changed it to him just having a normal male salandit cuz I think it's even more meaningful that he has this pokemon he caught himself and has decided to stick with it, even though he'd be better off finding a female that can actually evolve. But yeah, as you can imagine, any of the grunts would be stoked to find a shiny pokemon and it would probably get them hella bragging rights if anyone actually did. Of course, many will try to convince each other that they have seen a shiny ___. It's mostly untrue. They'll often go out to try and find a shiny someone saw but it pretty much just being a snipe hunt.

Moon is your typical pokemon protagonist and will spend hours and hours trying to find shinies. However, in this universe there's no "chaining" to increase your odds. You just have to keep searching. And searching. And searching. And searching...

Kalani (Surfer OC) is similar to Guzma in his view of shinies. The shiny phenomena is just a part of nature. He appreciates it when he sees it, but he won't try to search for them.

Alola has many stories/myths about atypical pokemon, many of them relating to the Totem pokemon phenomena. This includes legends of pokemon that can change their size drastically at will. One common legend related to this is of jangmo-o that can evolve or devolve on command to/from hakamo-o and kammo-o (based this idea on the Mo'o legends which are probably at least in part what those pokemon are based on). Shinies, as well as Pokemon with other distinct features were often described in the legends of 'aumakua- sacred spirits of pokemon that guard a family.

'Aumakua

Mo'o

[mha-platonic-yanderes]

Settling In: Elder Sister

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Family series

There isn't a clock in your room. There is a bathroom but no clock. You don’t have a phone, but there is a laptop still on the desk. You could look at the time on there, but your curiosity isn’t worth getting out of this bed. The bed itself is absolutely massive, dwarfing you on all sides. You can stretch out and be nowhere near any of the edges. It’s the most comfortable bed you’ve ever slept upon. Knowing what time it is isn’t as important as the comfort this bed provides.

It’s early morning and the sun is just starting to rise. You know that much. Looking out of the window, you see the golden yellow sun illuminating the sky, pushing out the dark, depressing night sky.

It’s a new day, one filled with potential and hope. You aren’t immediately put off by living here. Sure, nothing will replace your parents, but Rei and Enji aren’t bad. They seem to be strict, but so was your last couple of homes. This is an upgrade, truly.

You can hear your door unlock. You turn to it, seeing Rei in the entrance. For a brief moment, you see a golden object much like the sun you were just staring at. Though, you blame it on a trick of the light. The door wasn’t locked; you didn’t lock the door last night.

“Ah, [Y/N].” A shocked expression quickly melts into the warm smile she gave you all of yesterday, “You’re up already. Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night!”

“Oh no.” You move to sit on the side of the bed. Though you had the ability to, you didn’t put the canopy part of your princess bed down. It’s a little babyish for your taste, though you’d never admit it, “I haven’t been up long. The sunrise was really pretty this morning.”

“I know; I saw.” Rei grabs your hands, helping you up and towards your closet, “Maybe I’ll wake you up earlier and we can watch it together.”

“Alright.” It’s your new favorite response. It’s perfect for situations you agree with, but have no other words to say on the matter.

Rei lets go of your hands and you let them fall to the sides of your pale pink nightgown. You didn’t really like this when Rei bought it, but you never said anything. You’ll try to stay in their good graces as long as possible.

“Now, let’s pick you out something to wear today while we go over house rules.”

She does exactly what she says she’s going to do. You appreciate her honesty, even if the clothes aren’t your style and the rule list is something you’ll probably not remember.  She’s honest, unlike prior caretakers. 

You’re handed a white sweater with bubblegum pink hearts on the elbows. They’re about as big as your fist, with the heart’s point pointing towards your wrists. With how it’s made, you can’t see the hearts. They’re for other people to look at. That’s the epitome of your new wardrobe. You don’t mind it too much.

The matching skirt is pink and pleated, not unlike the cheer skirts the cheerleaders at your old school wore. The white stockings ruin the cheerleader image, but they keep you warm. Every room Rei steps into turns cold. Every room Enji steps into becomes hot. You don’t imagine that Enji is here much, being the number one hero. But Rei is here, possibly all of the time. You’ll need to keep warm around her. Shoes are forgone. You’re probably not leaving the house today.

She leads you towards the vanity. The warm lights are flipped on and you look at yourself in the mirror. Wordlessly, she does your hair. You look yourself in the mirror. This is similar to how your peers used to play with dolls. She does your hair and dresses you up without allowing your input. At least she doesn’t make you stay silent. You’ve already had a home like that.

“Umm… Rei?” You ask tentatively, “What are we going to be doing today?”

“My other daughter is coming around.” Rei replies, smiling at you through the mirror, “She comes around, once a week or so, to check in on me.”

You smile back at her, looking away from yourself and at her reflection, “Alright.” 

Rei helps you up out of the vanity’s stool. She leads you to another room. This one is wall to wall windows, near the center of the complex. Waiting there is a conservatively dressed adult, with mid-length, almost completely white hair. Red splotches break through the strands of snowfall colored hair. You’d think it would be a bad dye job, but the family pictures on the wall show a younger her, with the same red splotched, white hair. You like her hair. It’s interesting.

“Mom.” The adult woman pulls Rei in for a hug. When they untangle, she waves at you, “Y/N, right? Call me Fuyumi. Nice to meet you.”

She’s inherited her mother’s smile and cool air radiates from her. Fuyumi looks very much like her mother, except for the bright blue eyes Enji drilled into your soul yesterday. They’re kinder, softer. She doesn’t make you instantly uneasy, like he does.

“Uhh, hi.” You wave back, “Nice to meet you too.”

Rei grabs your arm. Her icy fingers drag you to another soft seat—this time, being this room’s light grey, almost white couch. You wouldn’t want to stain or ruin this. It’s way too nice. Fuyumi sits in an adjacent chair. It looks almost identical to the couch and contrasts with her dark jeans. Rei wears dresses

“I’ll start breakfast.” Rei comments, “Will you be staying for breakfast, Fuyumi?”

“Do you need help?” Fuyumi stands back up almost immediately, “I thought you all would’ve already had breakfast. We could help! You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

Rei laughs lightly, “Oh Fuyumi, you worry too much. As long as you two stay out of the kitchen, I’ll be fine. And besides, you two should get to know each other. I’m sure you’ll love Y/N. It’s impossible not to.”

“Alright…” Fuyumi responds, “If you say so.”

Wordlessly, Rei leaves and Fuyumi sits back down. The sun’s well in the sky now. You can see it through any of the countless windows. This would look cooler, when the weather wasn’t so nice. Though, the sunlight warms the room slightly.

“So... Y/N. How was your first night?” Fuyumi turns to you, smiling once again. Her worried expression with Rei has all but melted away. You don’t know why she’d be so worried about the adult, she seems extremely capable. Maybe it’s age? Or it’s because of something you don’t know about, yet? Anyways, it’s not your place to add.

“Alright.” You decide on answering the question and not asking your own, “I got to watch the sunrise.”

“I did too, back at my place.” Fuyumi comments, “though, it’s not as nice in the city, as it is out here.”

The Todoroki residence is on a massive plot of land. Nothing else is here for miles. If you squint, you could see bits and pieces of Mustafu off in the distance. But nothing is in walking distance, certainly. They almost have you in the middle of nowhere. It’s scenic, that's for sure.

“I like your outfit. It looks adorable.” You fight to scrunch up your nose at the compliment. Adorable. Images of toddlers fill your head. That’s not what you wanted. Though, it’s out of your control anyways, as Rei picked out your outfit this morning.

“Thanks.” Y/N chooses to reply with acceptance and push the conversation forward, “I like your outfit too.”

“You’re too kind.” Fuyumi asks, “So… tell me about you? What do you do for fun.”

You answer her question, only mentioning things that you’ve been able to do this past year. You don’t talk about things you did with your parents. Those are firmly in the past now. They’re dead and the things you did alongside them are too.

Fuyumi never pushes an issue too long and she tries to keep the conversation interesting. You appreciate it. There is never a moment you feel unsafe or insecure. Other homes haven’t been this pleasant. Sure, Enji unnerves you and being dressed like a doll is weird, but everything else is alright. You’re able to overlook it—especially if the rest of your new siblings are like Fuyumi.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door. 

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?” 

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

[jackalgirl]

Telling vs. Showing

I had posted an excerpt from the Turkey City Lexicon a while back, about "Telling Not Showing", which is one of those things that writers are recommended not to do.

Violates the cardinal rule of good writing. The reader should be allowed to react, not be instructed in how to react. Carefully observed details render authorial value judgments unnecessary. For instance, instead of telling us "she had a bad childhood, an unhappy childhood," specific incidents--involving, say, a locked closet and two jars of honey--should be shown.

I was thinking about this the other night -- and I stress that it came to me by itself, please please don't anyone think I'm calling you out on this, because I am not -- and thought it might be fun* to provide an example. Stick around (under the cut) if you're interested.

* I lie. Aethel and Felix told me to write this, and woke me up early to do so. Fine. I'm done, you two, may I please go get some more coffee? Thank you.

Telling

Felix found Aethel in the galley, reading one of Max’s books. He made a face, wondering why she was reading it. When he’d first met her, it probably would have never occurred to him to ask her why — she’s weird and more than a little scary — but he had come to understand that she put all that weirdness and scariness to service in the way she cared for people, and he knew she cared for him, so he sat down and asked anyway. She looked, he thought, a little relieved to be interrupted, which did not really surprise him. She was very much willing to tell him about it, and in fact confirmed his suspicion that she found the text…how did she put it? Tedious. But she was reading it to better understand the way the people in the Order think, so she was determined to read it anyway. Good luck with that, he thought, and got himself something to eat out of the fridge.

versus Showing

Felix found Aethel in the galley, a book open before her on the common table and a line between her eyebrows. It must be one of Max’s books, he thought. He sat down and she looked up. Perhaps he was imagining it, but it appeared to him that she had a look of relief on her face. “Watcha readin’, Aethel?” He asked her. When he’d first met her, it probably would have never occurred to him to ask her a question like this — she’s weird and more than a little scary — but he had come to understand that she put all that weirdness and scariness to service in the way she cared for people, and he knew she cared for him, so in this particular moment, he hadn’t hesitated. “One of the vicar’s books on Scientism,” she said, confirming his guess. He made a face. “Ugh. Why? You’re always arguing with him about it.” And driving him nuts. Another point in her favor, actually. “It’s important to him,” she said. “And what’s more, it’s important to this colony. It would be foolish for me to dismiss it. I want to understand it better.” Felix gestured at the book. “Is that helping?” Aethel let out a sigh. “Alas, no. It is tedious.” “That’s why I like serial books,” Felix grinned. He tilted his head. “Why is it, ah, tedious, though?” “The author uses words like a collector,” she said. “But not like an artist.” Felix tilted his head and his expression must have told her he didn’t get it — I don’t get it — because she leaned back and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Do you remember the Sprat Fancy party in Byzantium?” She asked. Felix felt his face screw up again. “It was awful.” At first, Byzantium had impressed him. It was so clean! But eventually he realized it was as full of trash as the rest of the Colony — just higher-class trash, is all. Plus, the people there were always looking down on him — worse than the crew of the Groundbreaker, if that was possible. Or worse than the crew had been, before I helped Aethel fix the heat. Now they liked him well enough. But in Byzantium, nothing the crew had done had changed the Byzantines’ attitudes towards them. Their disdain is baked in, Aethel had said at the time. And speaking of baking, Aethel said, “do you remember the food?” “Ugh. Do I ever. The prettiest food you ever saw. Tasted like shit, though.” “What would those people have thought of a Boarst Pocket?” Aethel asked. “Ha!” Felix drummed the table with his hands in amusement. “They’d hold up their noses, for sure. Something that plain and simple?” “And yet, it is delicious?” “Yes,” Felix spoke with the conviction of a dedicated cultist. Aethel nodded. She tapped the pages in front of her. “This book is like the food in Byzantium. It is concerned about its appearance, and about all the different colors it can show you — it is very pretty. But it tastes like shit.” “So why are you eating it?” Felix asked, then remembered she’d answered him earlier. “Because you want to understand the system,” he said. She nodded. “I think of it as reconnaissance,” she said. “At some point, I’m going to have to deal with Order people who are higher ranked than Max. I need to understand what they think — or at least, what they’re telling people they think, which may not be the same.” “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if they all turned out to be a pack of hypocrites,” Felix said. “I’ll bet it’s all a show for power.” “Perhaps it’s not all a show for power,” Aethel suggested. But then she relented. “But yes, I tend to think that in the end, that’s the Order’s primary goal.” All that talk about Boarst Pockets made him want one, so he got up and got one out of the fridge. “Would you like one, boss?” He said, waggling the packet, knowing her answer in advance: “No thank you, Felix,” she said politely. He chuckled to himself. I don’t get how she can like spratwurst and not like boarst. Some things just defied understanding. I hope she has better luck with that book.

I liked writing this, because it gave me a little epiphany for another scene (the "Sprat Fancy" party) and an opportunity to put Sprat Fancy magazine into the actual fic, as opposed to it remaining as something of a joke.

[ Image description: cover of "Sprat Fancy", showing an adorable pink-splotched, white sprat from above, looking up at the camera with her gorgeous black eyes. Text reads: "Sprat Fancy Magazine - your guide to Halcyon's Fancy Sprats" and "Volume 22, Issue 8, 2 bits" with article leads: "Sacred Beasts: The Role of Sprats in the Faith", "Refuge: Keeping your precious sprat safe from marauders (and hungry neighbors)", "Ooo La La! Jolicoeur Haberdashery releases an all new line of fancy sprat fashion! Get a sneak peak of the latest on the Byzantine spratwalk!", "Place Your Bets: Your comprehensive guide to this season's All-Colony Fancy Spratstravanaza - who's in? Who's out? You may just be surprised by this year's contenders!" and a corner flag: "Ask Doctor Sprat". The cover image is captioned: "'Bakonu' by Captain Pearl Jenkins. With this large beauty take 'Best in Show' from Lord Reginald Kim III?" End ID. ]

Sometimes, having to write stuff out like this (especially between major scenes) is really daunting, because it generally doesn't come to me all at once like the major scenes do. I know, right from the get-go, that this is going to be a time-consuming process (I call it "sausage making"), and it's scary when I don't immediately see a clear way forward or understand how it will turn out. But I find that once I get going, the characters are happy to cooperate. And it's always worthwhile, because most of the time, I get some kind of revelation or epiphany (as above) that makes the story better, or maybe it's just neat and makes me giggle. But that's reason enough.

This is part of the pros of showing versus telling, in addition to giving the reader more to discover, understand, and react to on their own (rather than simply telling them how to react, which is what you want to avoid). The obvious con is that it takes so much longer. I would think that telling would be useful in contexts where you just don't have the column space, or are limited in the number of words you can provide. And I think it could also be useful -- used judiciously -- if you're deliberately trying to hide something from the reader.

But if you've been telling instead of showing because the amount of work you can see in front of you daunts you (or you just can't envision how it's going to go), I can only say: give it a try. You'll be surprised at what the characters are just waiting to tell you, if you only give them the chance.

[awilddreamermain]

Hi, Chels! Congratulations!! I'm so happy for you! You deserve every follower and more! That is a threat, I'm holding everyone hostage 🔪

I would love to get a MHA matchup, I wanna see who you'd match me with! Got me so curious! SFW & NSFW if you'd be willing!

My name is Chloe but I prefer May, nicknames include May-May, Maybell or Chlo.

I'm 25, pronouns are she/he, Cancer Moon, Aries Sun and Virgo Rising. Quite the weird mash of zodiacs, huh?

My favorite colors are pink (that soft pastel kinda baby pink), red (especially blood/garnet red) and...can I add pink again? Any shade of pink this time. Bubblegum or hot pink.

Favorite AU's include A/B/O, Mafia, Historical, Fantasy and does Mythical Creatures count?

Oh...oh boy, I gotta look deep for some fun facts that aren't just...facts but I'll do my best!

1) My sneezes are so short and high pitched I go "chu".

2) I have vitiligo, makes me look like a dog because it's mostly around my mouth and my right eye so I have a spot!

3) I have atrocious balance, my knees and shins are always banged up because I cannot for the life of me walk correctly.

4) I have a stutter, on top of speaking so quickly it turns into a jumbled mess. So good luck understanding what I said because I have no idea either.

5) I have a growing unicorn plush collection. My favorite is Cupcake, one that's actually taller than I am. Big chunk.

My likes are pretty simple. Cute & soft sweaters, blankets, warm coffee and strawberry milk, pastries and the cold! Winter is my favorite season. History, particularly the Medieval and Victorian times.

My interests revolve around creativity and you could say they're my hobbies as well. Drawing in particular, I used to do digital but I'm stuck with traditional pencil and paper at the moment. I'm dipping my toes into painting and its very fun! Obviously writing and reading and if I'm not doing of those listed then I'm definitely playing video games.

Personality I might say I'm quite split down the middle. At first, to a complete stranger I might come across as cold, stoic, with a resting bitch face, that just wants to get whatever I'm outside for done so I can leave. I'd create a witty or sarcastic comeback if I was given sass by a Karen but with my speech issues? I'd be lucky to get one coherent word out at her...and spend the rest of the day fantasizing what could've happened. So I'm rather quiet, agoraphobia hits hard in large or crowded places so I'm an anxiety riddled mess on the verge of a panic attack. In private or with people that I'm comfortable with? Complete opposite. Happy, bubbly, cracking puns and jokes so get those groan worthy reactions. I try to be the "mom friend" and get over my issues if someone is having it worse, I'll march up to a counter and ask for ketchup if someone wanted it but was too scared to do it themselves. The shoulder to lean and cry on, I'm highly empathetic and understanding, compassionate at times. But I have to actively try and keep myself positive and say good things about myself because I do fall into the pit of self-loathing and hate.

For appearance I'd say I'm average height, pale with white splotches that are inching larger due to my vitiligo, chubby, ashy blonde, blue eyes, button nose. I'd say I'm decently cute? I don't know if I can rate myself.

Okay I know I said I'd be looking into Zodiac compatibility for this but— I literally just screamed internally "KIRISHIMA" when I was reading this. You two would be perfect omg. This Libra king would do anything for you. For this you're an artist and the daughter of a mafia boss :) I like to think of ship names sometimes so like, yours would either be like Eijmay or Mayjirou or Kiriloe— that last one and first are awful I know so lets go with the second? I can't write a proper stutter for the life of me so I tried to keep your dialogue to the minimum.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AU: Mafia

⠀Theme Song: You're The One That I Want - Alex & Sierra

How you meet (his point of view):

⠀⠀The gallery was full of black and white suits, tight, floor length dresses with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses meeting his ears. It was a joyous evening, celebrating the wonderful art work created by the boss's daughter. He had never met her before but he had heard whispers, all good as no one would dare slander the name of their leader's precious little girl. You were the boss's pride and joy, thus he kept you as far away from the darker side of the family business as possible.

⠀⠀Kirishima was still a new hire, a bodyguard of sorts and would consider this his first gig. He had an idea of who he was looking for as he walked further into the mass of people admiring your work but didn't expect what he would eventually come across. You were as far away from the crowd as you possibly could be, guzzling glasses of wine and over all appearing to be a deer in headlights. He couldn't fugure out for the life of him why you seemed so frightened until he watched people approach you to talk, noticing the stutter in your voice when you replied to questions and greetings,your body language telling people to stear clear of you.

⠀⠀So, he did what he was hired to do. "Kindly step away from the lady." He said with a smile, approaching with his large arms crossing over his broad chest as he towered over the guests. They looked at him as if he were a giant shark looking to devour them before scurrying away, leaving the two of you alone. He stood quietly, listening to the voices on the other side of his ear piece as his ruby eyes scanned the area around you. He made sure to not stand so close and avoided in letting his gaze wander.

⠀⠀He couldn't help but admire your skin in quick glances, finding the spot over your eye to be quite adorable. Your silky, ask blonde hair was all dolled up for the event, light make up on your face but not enough to cover the vitiligo. You were stunning and his heart hammered against his chest. So the rumors were true.

⠀⠀You thanked him, voice quiet and careful as you set down your wine glass and clasped your hands together. Out of the corner of his eye he watched you twiddle your thumbs. You didn't want to be here, did you? This obviously wasn't your idea, how could it be? A girl like you, timid as a mouse, didn't want to be surrounded by strangers. "Miss..." He began, thinking carefully because the last thing he wanted to do was piss off the boss and likely get himself killed. But this was his job wasn't it? Making sure you were happy and safe? "Would you like to leave here for a bit? We'll come back of course, but you look like you need some air."

Extra.

He ended up taking you to a drive thru restaurant and got you whatever you wanted, letting you talk about whatever you wanted or sat quietly if you chose not to talk at all If it was quiet in the suv then that was fine too, he just wanted to help you in any way he could. Eventually the silence becomes small talk and then leads to a rather deep conversation about whatever the hell was going on inside that beautiful brain of yours. Kirishima wasn't the smartest man but he wasn't stupid, he wasn't as clueless as most thought he was. You told him how your father made you do this as an attempt to get you out there, to socialize and possibly find a suitor. This was the mafia after all.

The Confession:

⠀⠀It was a tradition now, every Sunday you and Eijirou would go to your favorite café to have coffee and enjoy the early day weather before it got too hot. You sit at the same table, in the same chairs with him facing the door. You get the same drinks and food and just overall enjoy each others company. After that night at the gallery you two became fast friends, which your father obviously had to approve of but thankfully he did. Kirishima was a good man, he's trustworthy and puts you before himself.

⠀⠀The day he approached your father and asked to speak in private was the day he knew he was likely to get thrown in the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean. He has confessed his feelings for you to your old man, who listened intently with a blank face behind his desk. "Sir, I'm in love with your daughter, and with your blessing I'd like to... court her." He was utterly terrified when your father cleared his throat and sighed, shifting where he sat so he could stand and move around the desk. He reached out for a handshake which Kirishima looked up at him with a questioning look.

⠀⠀Your father gave his blessing and now... He just had to tell you, his best friend, that he loved you. God he loved you so much— "Kiri," you interrupted his thoughts, bringing him crashing back to reality," a-are you alright? You seem nervous." He swallowed hard in response but cleared his throat, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

⠀⠀"Oh yeah— definitely." He breathed with a laugh, moving a hand to the back of his neck to scratch. How was he going to say it? "So, uh—" he licked his lips, adjusting himself in his seat multiple times until he groaned and leaned forward. "Fuck, I'm just gonna say it— Maybell, I love you. I have for a long time now and I talked to your father and he said—"

⠀⠀"Said what, Eijirou?" Your eyes widened at his confession and he felt like a complete idiot. Should he had said something to you first? Was this a mistake? What if you didn't feel the same way? God his mind was going to explode—

⠀⠀"That I could... court you. With your permission." You were quick to nod and smile to his surprise, which prompted a grin if his own.

Extra.

Kirishima HAS to be facing the door in any public place you go to. I don't make the rules.

He never let's you walk close to the road, he has to be between you and it at all times when you're walking.

He oders your food and drinks for you when you can't but is there for moral support when you do. He wants you comfortable and happy. He wouldn't ever dare get in your way though, you're a lot stronger and braver than most may think you are.

The Relationship:

⠀⠀On days like this, Kirishima can't help but admire you. He catches himself staring wuite often but he just can't help it. What did he do to deserve such a beautiful partner? He looks at you and all he can think about is how much he loves you and wants to see you smile. He watched you from the kitchen island, leaning against it as you waltz around the kitchen in your pinky fuzzy slippers and one of his shirts that's much, much too big on you. He remembers your surprise when you found his clothing was actually too big on you and how happy you were.

⠀⠀"Maybell?" He hums, adjusting his stance and crossing his arms on the counter. He listened for you to him back in response, a smile on his lips. "You look so cute in my clothes.

⠀⠀You giggled, shaking your head and continued putting the dishes away until Eijirou appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and his forehead coming down on your shoulder. "Need somethin' baby?" You turned your head just slightly, a brow cocked inquisitively. He squeezed you in response, swiftly lifting you and making you squeal. Thankfully you didn't have anything in your hands at the moment. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face, setting you down only to lift you again bridal style.

⠀⠀"I've got all I need right here in my arms." He chuckled and you playfully smacked his chest, letting him carry you to your shared bedroom.

Extra.

TICKLE FIGHTS.

He thinks your sneezes are the cutest thing in the world.

He loves your god awful puns, they crack him up every time.

Adores the fact you're a nurturer, especially with your friends. He thinks you'd make a great mother but if that's something you don't want he respects that.

You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you? Eijirou is always there to be your shoulder to lean and cry on, he's your sound board and is always happy to let you talk about your feelings with him. You're allowed to not be happy and bubbly all the time, he realizes how staying positive all the time can actually do more damage than goof, especially if you bottle everything up.

If on a particular day you're struggling with your speech he's happy to be your voice as well. He understands you better than anyone, even your own father.

Speaking of your father, he can't wait to make Eijirou his son-in-law! He's a good man with a good heart and treats you right, what's not to like?

He has trouble saying no to you and spoils you quite a bit.

The Fights:

...

Extra.

There's nothing, what you say goes and all he can say is "yes dear". He knows better than to argue with you, however when he's right and he knows he is, he finds a way to prove it without making you mad.

The Sex:

⠀⠀"Fuck baby—" he hissed, hands finding your hips and guiding you as you rub yourself on his cock. Your hands are on his thighs and your head is tossed back, giving him the perfect view of your tits. God he loves them, he loves the plush skin of your stomach and your thighs, your ass too, he loved seeing all of you. He was so happy that you allow him this privilege of seeing you, granted you've been dating a while now but still. Your sounds are music to his ears and all he wants is to make more, make you feel so good you're calling his name and making a mess.

He wanted— no, needed, to feel you, to feel inside your warm and wet cunt, to feel it squeeze him and milk him dry. He was quick to flip the two of you over, careful to not hurt you as he did. You gasped and giggled, reaching up to hold his face as he smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He loved your taste, he could go on and on about all the things he loved about you all day if he could. "You want it baby?" You nodded excitedly, lip caught between your teeth. He smirked and reached between the two of you, thick fingers tracing a line between your lips and slipping inside your soaked pussy.

"D-Daddy—" you whine, a slight pout on your lips as your face morphs into one of pleasure. He chuckled, pumping his fingers in and out a few times before removing them and grabbing his cock. He coated it more in your slick, guiding it between tge lips of your cunt before slowly pushing inside, groaning at how tight you are. You squeal of course, gasping for breath because Kirishima is an impressive size, you still struggled to take him sometimes but like a good girl you always managed.

"That's my good girl." He cooed, moving so his forearms were on either side of your head. He gave a couple test thrusts, waiting for you to adjust u til you nodded for him to continue.

Extra.

Terrified of activating his quirk while he's fucking you, but he keeps himself under control.

He loves his hair pulled and he loves to be bitten, he especially likes it when you scratch his back when he hits that good spot.

Eats you out for his pleasure mostly, but for yours as well. He loves when you grind on his face and moan his name when you do it. Speaking of, please sit on his face, he loves that shit. He knows how to be careful of his teeth!

If you have pets they CANNOT be in the same roon when you're doing the do, it's just weird.

He'd happily bend you over in the kitchen and do you right there. Hell, he'll fuck you anywhere you deem suitable.

He likes to do a mixture if praise and degradation with you, and edging and overstimulation is a big go-to. He just loves seeing you squirm under him, hr loves hearing you beg and say you need him.

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Medici Ivory and Coral Clay

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hey cuties! Back at it again with another chapter! Thank you for your patience! I honestly am so thrilled with all of the lovely comments and likes/reblogs I have been getting. I even go through and read the tags because i crave validation. But for real though, they are all seriously so sweet and I love all of the support and want to thank you all for it! I do have some angst planned for future chapters though, got to make some young discourse to keep thing spicy, but don’t worry, I want to keep this story light and funny so it wont be anything too bad! also PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DM me if I have missed your tag! I feel like I am missing some people in my tag reblogs.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, smut, fluff, some friendly banter between roger and reader, consensual recording, not proof read

Word Count: 3k 

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

Freddie’s dark brown eyes practically gawked at you, “You what!” He grinned. Your face flushed and you swirled around your bottomless mimosa, “I knew you would start doing live streams,” He eagerly stabbed his fork into the yolk of his eggs Benedict, cracking it and causing the yellow liquid to ooze down the sides of the biscuit, “I knew you would; how are your clients? Do you have regulars? Do they ask you to do anything- kinky?”

As Freddie rambled on, your eyes zoned in on his egg yolk, the viscous liquid slowly oozing out of the broken egg and falling down his plate. Should you tell Freddie about Roger? No you couldn’t, that would bring on another series of questions you were definitely not prepared to answer no matter how many bottomless mimosas you had at your biweekly Sunday brunch.

“[Y/N]” Freddie spoke, his tone somewhat sharp, “Are you paying attention? I want to know the details.” The curious glint in his eyes hadn’t dampened.

You gave him a shy smile, “Yeah, I have a few regulars, they’re all nice, some are a little creepy, but I never show my face,” Well, that was a lie. Tonight, was going to be the first night you showed your face on camera and was also the first night you and Roger would film together.

The two of you hadn’t had anything special planned, you were going to change your tips around to reflect different actions people could pay for. It was bound to be fun, right?

You couldn’t shake the nervous jitters from your mind even after your brunch with Freddie and his probing questions. You loved him dearly, but he was often too nosey for his own good. He wouldn’t dare tell a soul the information he knew, but it was as though his very being needed the substance to survive. His head was full of knowledge and he just soaked it up like a delicate sea sponge in an ocean of information.

When you returned to your apartment, you were surprised to see the furniture moved around and a large tarp covering the floor closest to the walls in the living room, “Uh, Roger?” you called out, hanging your keys on the shelf, surely you didn’t drink that much… right?

You closed your eyes for a few long seconds and reopened them, yup, this was real all right, “Roger!” You called louder, “What’s up with the living room?” You kicked your shoes off and walked further into your home before you stopped in the kitchen.

Surprisingly enough, Roger was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an old faded tee shirt; it was sloppy even for your low standards. Roger looked up at you from his bowl of pasts, mid bite, “What?” He asked with a mouth full of noodles and sauce.

“You’re disgusting.” You mumbled, “What’s up with the living room?” You repeated your question from earlier.

“What do you mean?” He asked, clueless as ever.

You let out a puff of air in frustration, “The living room Roger, everything is all moved around and there’s a tarp on the floor. What are you doing? Opening a mud wrestling pit?” The annoyance in your voice was very evident.

“Oh, I picked up a few buckets of paint so we could finally paint the paneling, the mud wrestling is a good idea though, you think we could charge for it?”

You rolled your eyes at his joke- you hoped it was a joke- and a small smile graced your face, “What colors did you pick out?” You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of changing the drab, old, and dusty wood paneling that encased your living room walls.

“You know that cream color you were talking about? It turns out it’s actually called Medici Ivory, so I got a few buckets of that and a bucket of this nice red color called Coral Clay.” He finished up the last fork full of his pasta and got up, rinsing it in the sink, “We can paint right now if you go change.”

You looked down, realizing you didn’t want to get your brunch clothes dirty, “Right, I’ll be right back.”

After you quickly changed into some sloppy clothes you and Roger set out to paint the wood paneling, “You know I realized I said you get two walls and I get two, but there are really only three wall in the living room.” Roger pointed out, “I mean, we could paint the little parts of the wall outside of the kitchen, but then I would want to paint the kitchen too.” He thought out, chewing on his plump lower lip.

You swallowed thickly, distracted by the way his pretty pink lips popped out from his mouth after he sucked on it, “Well you can have two and I’ll have the accent wall.” You offered.

Roger looked at you as though you were a moron, “You cant have an accent wall as the lighter color,” He said in a matter of fact tone, “I’ll take it and you can paint the other two cream.”

After a few more minutes of planning, you and Roger finally decided upon who was getting what walls, Roger pointed out it didn’t matter what color the walls were, his decorations were still going to be hung back up. So, he got one wall to paint Coral Clay, and you got the remaining walls to paint Medici Ivory.

You connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker before Roger could beat you to it and shuffled your favorite playlist on Spotify. Take Me To The River by the Talking Heads began to flood your apartment. You hummed along to the song and began to paint, long even brush strokes on the wall, staining the ugly wood paneling Medici Ivory. As your playlist cycled and paint began to coat the walls you glanced over at Roger’s side of the wall, there were uneven splotches and awkward shapes that coated it. No cohesion at all.

You frowned, “What are you doing to the walls, Roger?” You frowned, “You can’t paint like that.” You scolded him.

Roger pulled away, allowing the brush to loosely hang from his hand, gobs of Medici Ivory dripped onto the tarp making a soft pitter patter noise that blended in with your music, “What? You’re doing better than me?” He asked.

You looked at him in disbelief, “Yeah, I am.” You said pointedly, “This is how you’re supposed to paint,” You said, demonstrating with long even brush strokes, “This isn’t finger painting.”

Roger scoffed and flicked his brush at you, your clothes staining the creamy off-white paint, “I suppose it isn’t.” He responded in a huff.

Your eyes narrowed “Real mature, Roger.” You said going back to painting next to him.

Roger continued to defy you, painting in big circles on the wall and ignoring the clumps and uneven layering that covered the wood panels. You turned towards him and flicked your brush at him, this time little spots of white paint speckled his face causing him to close his eyes and jump, “Oh, you’re going to get it now.” You heard Roger mumble as you turned away from him.

In the blind of an eye you felt cold liquid smearing and staining your skin. A shiver ran through your body feeling Roger’s calloused fingers roughly rub across your cheek “Roger!” You shrilly yelled, bringing your hand up to wipe the paint off, only to smear it.

You swiped your hand across your brush, coating it in the goopy, off white liquid and lunged at him. Roger stumbled backwards and fought your hand as it tried to smear the paint on his face. Your brush had fallen, mushing between your two bodies and covering your shirts in paint. Your legs were firmly planted on either side of Roger’s waist as you straddled and fought against him, still trying to palm the off viscous substance onto his perfectly soft skin.

“Come on, [Y/N],” Roger whined, trying to hide is laughter, “You’re dropping it in my hair!”

“You’re dropping it in my hair!” You mocked in a dopey voice.

Roger gaped at you, “I do not sound like that!” He protested, a shock of laughter rumbling through him and causing his guard to drop.

Your hand came down, smearing Medici Ivory onto his cheek, your hand slickly gliding off his skin. Before you had time to react Roger flipped the two of you over and within a few minutes the two of you were covered in stripes of paint, “You arse!” He was breathless from laughter, still straddling you, “I have to shower now.”

You hummed back laughter of your own and wiggled underneath him in an attempt to break free. Roger wasn’t having it, so you stayed trapped beneath his warm, out of breath body. Suddenly, you were aware of the closeness of your two bodies. His hot breath puffed against the paint that stained your skin causing you to shiver. Roger cleared his throat. The tension in the room was thick. Roger’s erection pressed against your thigh, when did that get there? Your ears felt like they were ringing, the music but a muffled sound that filled them.

“I should get in the shower, the we can do that camera stuff, yeah?” Roger asked, suddenly leaning up. Cool air flooded your clothed chest. It worked in tandem with the paint and caused you to shiver

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head, “Did- uh,” you couldn’t find the proper words to come out of your mouth, “Did you want me to wear anything specific?” you asked.

Roger settled back, his hand tracing soft patterns on your knees, “You could join me, you know, to save on water…” He trailed off, not looking at you.

You shifted and nodded your head, “Yeah, to save water.” You said, suddenly nervous, “Do… Do you want to film it?” You knew very well that the two of you would just be showering.

Roger looked up at you, his typically bright blue eyes now dark and filled with a naughty glint, “Yeah, we can your phone in and see what happens.”

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself pressed against the cold tile of your small steam filled shower. You hissed against Roger’s mouth as the contrasting temperature bit into your skin and arched your back against him. He roughly sucked your lower lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth across it as he pulled away and allowed it to plop back into place.

It was obvious to you that this was going to be different from the first time you and Roger had sex. He was rougher, needier, more dominant with his touches. You didn’t know if it was the amount of steam from the scorching hot water or his touches that caused you to feel dizzy and your brain to spin. Roger quickly turned you over, his hands smoothing over the globes of your ass. You quickly got the message and braced your hands on the wall in front of you.

You swayed your hips from side to side, impatiently waiting for Roger to do something. “Fuck” He silently cursed to himself, “What’s your password?”

Oh right.

You were supposed to be filming this to put on your snapchat. Was your phone waterproof? What if Roger dropped it? How was he going to plow you into next week and hold onto your phone?

The series of questions that flooded your brain was cut short by Roger lightly tapping your cheek, “Come on, before I lose my stiffy.”

“Oh, it’s uh 2580.” You answered, thankful that Roger couldn’t see your embarrassment.

Roger scoffed, “Really? Right down the middle?” He chastised.

“It’s fine- Oh fuck” You hissed out feeling Roger’s thick fingers filling you up, pumping in and out of your throbbing core. You hummed with pleasure and pushed back against his fingers, but as quickly as they filled you, they were gone.

Roger roughly filled you up with his cock, you gasped, feeling him stretch you open. He didn’t leave much time for you to adjust to his still unfamiliar size before he sharply snapped his hips against yours. Your back arched and you kept your hands firmly splayed against the wall. Your legs spread further apart, and your mouth fell open as sinful noises began to spill from it.

“Fuck.” Roger grunted, his hips slapping loudly against yours, “That feel good baby?” He said as he grabbed the meat of your ass and kneaded it in his hand, spreading it apart and getting a perfect view of his cock disappearing into you.

Roger’s calloused hand came down, roughly smacking your cheek. He bit his lip and watched it jiggle under his hand. The water amplified the stinging sensation that rang through your bones. You let out a breathy gasp, “It feels so good,” You slurred. Your mind was drunk with pleasure, “Fuck me harder.” You preened, pushing your hips back against him.

Roger shifted behind you, “You want me to fuck you harder?” He asked, roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him. Your face now rested against the cool tile as you sat up on an angle. Rogers sharp and methodical thrusts caused you to rhythmically jolt forward, the sensitive skin of your breasts occasionally brushing against the cool tile. The flood of sensations caused every nerve in your body to stand on end.

“Yeah, fuck me harder, Rog.” You practically purred his name, letting it roll off your tongue like honey.

Roger pressed his back against yours. His lips latched onto your shoulder, biting at the soft skin and running his tongue over the teeth marks he pressed into you. One of his hands snuck around to your chest, groping and fondling your painfully ignored tits in his rough palms while the other remained on your hip, pulling you against him at an even pace.

You let out soft breathy moans “Ah, ah, ah” each one getting higher and higher in pitch as the coil in your stomach tightened and threatened to break under the pressure that had begun to build until finally it snapped. You arched your back painfully against him, the muscle in your back cramping from the awkward angle. Your walls, pulsating out of him, coaxing Roger to his own release as he chased it, frantically and unevenly thrusting into you before he pulled out and painted the perfect skin of your plump ass white.

Your chest heaved and your arms shook lightly as you came down from your high. After a few moments to regather your brain you let the water wash you clean of the mess.

After your shower you found yourself curled up in your bed. Without bothering to knock, Roger opened the door to your room, his towel still loosely hanging over his shoulders and a pair of boxers hanging comfortably off his hips. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his light blond hair dripping small water droplets and littering his pale skin with moisture. Fuck, you want to lick them off, what the hell was wrong with you?

“Can I help you?” You croaked out. You voice gave away your current struggle.

Roger cluelessly grinned at you, “I want to see what I filmed!” He said plopping down next to you on your bed.

Your face flushed with heat, “You video taped what happened in the shower?” You gaped at him, shifting the blankets so he could get comfortable.

Roger responded with a nod and flatly held his hand out for you to place the phone in his hand, “Yeah, come on we have to pick the best ones to upload.” He responded. Right this was for professional purposes.

When you grabbed and opened your camera roll you saw sure enough, there were several saved short clips and a few pictures in it. Heat began to build in your belly upon seeing the little thumbnail previews. You had to take a moment to remind yourself that watching the sex tape you and your roommate made was strictly for business purposes and not for personal pleasure.

But when you clicked on the first video and caught a perfectly angled shot of Roger entering you, your back arching, the steam of the shower beginning to fog and cloud the camera your mind went blank. You stared at the image before Roger nudged the volume button, turning it up, “We have to make sure it sounds okay.” You almost missed the deviant glint in his eyes that hid behind Roger’s focused features.

The cheeky bastard knew what he was doing.

Your breathy sighs and moans filled your room, Christ, that was what you sounded like? You blinked at the short clip when it was over, “What do you think?” You didn’t dare look at Roger. You didn’t even want to think of what his stupid smug face looked like right now.

“I think it looks even better the second time around.” He confidently retorted back to you.

“Fuck off,” You couldn’t help but smile and let out a little laugh before swiping to the next little clip.

“Fuck” Roger’s husky voice rang against your ears, giving you flash backs to what happened only moments earlier.

SMACK the crisp sound of Roger slapping your ass echoed through your brain just like it did in the bathroom.

“That feel good baby?” Your walls throbbed, hearing Roger’s commanding tone and watching his hand kneading the meat of your ass as it bounced against him.

The tension in the room was beginning to settle and surround the two of you once more. You swallowed thickly almost positive Roger could hear your audible gulp. “That one looks good too.” Your voice sounded shaky. Your skin felt like it was on fire and Roger simply sat next to you, seemingly unfazed.

[nerdypanda3126]

The Snowball Effect

Happy holidays @tazil-writes! I'm your LO Discord Secret Santa! 😁

You asked for adrinette and ladynoir being blushy dorks in love and I figured what better way to answer that call than with a Card Captor Sakura episode rewrite? This is part one of three. 

Huge thanks to @chanceuseladynoire for the inspiration and the beta read!!

Read on Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Marinette careened down the bunny slope, her skis out of control beneath her, the poles in her hands flailing along with her arms as she tried to stop before—

She hit something rather solid, but soft at the same time—something that made a rather pronounced “oof” as she collided with it. Something—someone—whose arms wrapped around her as if by instinct. 

When she dared to glance up to see who had come to her rescue, she was staring at colored stripes on a white ski jacket. Her stomach started fluttering as her eyes followed the zipper up to a familiar face. Adrien was giving her a kind, patient smile, and his emerald eyes caught a reflection of the sun off the snow around them. 

“A-Adrien!” She pushed off him harder than she meant to and slid backwards, flailing again as she tried to find her balance. Adrien reached out to grab one of her hands and pull her back to center. 

“Are you all right, Marinette?” 

A dreamy smile spread across her face before she could help it. “Yeah, you’re perfect...” Her eyes widened when she realized what she said and Adrien raised his eyebrows. “I mean! You’re fine—I mean, I’m fine, thanks to you, because you’re amazing—but! not like in a way other than friends, because we’re… friends. Yeah. Good friends.” She blinked as she realized she was rambling. Adrien chuckled softly and let go of her hand.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiled at her and her knees were melting out from under her. 

“Adrien!” Nathalie called and waved him over. He shrugged and waved at Marinette before he turned to push away and ski over to her. Marinette couldn’t help but admire his athleticism. Fencing undoubtedly helped him understand how to move and balance his lean frame, even with the six-foot fiberglass appendages strapped to his feet. 

They’d come to the Alps for a class field trip and they were supposed to stay overnight at the ski lodge. They’d had a beginner’s lesson earlier in the day where they were shown how to use the rope tow and chair lifts and how to stop and turn before they were all released onto the slope. 

As Marinette looked back up to the top of the hill, a lot of her classmates had already mastered this new skill. Kim was bragging that he could win a race against anyone, and a few had dared to take him up on it—mainly Alix, who had rolled her eyes at the concept of the “bunny slope”—and Max was refereeing as only Max could. Rose looked like a frosted cream puff bundled up in her bright pink jacket with white faux fur trim, especially when she stood next to Juleka, who was a dark violet tower against the snow. 

There were a few of her classmates who hadn’t been terribly interested in the sport. Nathaniel, for one, seemed more content to sit and sketch the mountain landscape. Chloe and Sabrina had disappeared into the warmth of the lodge soon after they’d arrived, Chloe complaining loudly about the cold air being terrible for her complexion. 

Marinette glanced down at herself—at the snow clinging to her light pink winter coat from every time she’d fallen, or nearly fallen and managed to catch herself. Ladybug might’ve had a chance on skis, but Marinette was another story. The snow was starting to make everything feel slightly damp and the chill of the mountain air was biting at every unguarded sliver of skin. She shivered. Well, at least she'd tried. She sighed and used her poles to scoot herself over to the hot chocolate stand that was waiting nearby for skiers like her who were already capitulating to the cold. 

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya said as Marinette slid up. “Throwing in the towel already?” 

“I’m not cut out for anything requiring balance.” Marinette grumbled. “And I crashed right into Adrien!” She groaned and leaned over to rest her head on Alya’s shoulder, who patted her head fondly.

“What about Adrien?” Nino turned away from the stand with a hot chocolate in each hand for him and Alya. He raised his eyebrows as he took a sip, handing Alya’s to her nonchalantly. When he brought his cup back down, he had a splotch of whipped cream clinging to his nose. Alya giggled as she swiped it away. Marinette couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit jealous of Alya as she watched Nino’s golden eyes go soft when they turned on her to watch her scoop the bit of cream into her mouth.  

“Oh, nothing,” Alya said with a wink. “Marinette’s just trying to bowl him over with her skiing skills.” 

“Alya…” 

“And look, here he comes now.” Alya grinned and straightened Marinette up with her free hand and spun her before she grabbed Nino’s hand and pulled him away. How she did all that on skis was an absolute mystery to Marinette. But she didn’t have much time to wonder because Adrien was actually skiing right towards her—or at least towards the hot chocolate stand that she happened to be standing next to. She pasted a smile on her face and tried to remember to breathe. 

“How’s the hot chocolate? Any good?” he asked. 

She nodded, although she didn’t know why because she hadn’t gotten herself any yet. Adrien seemed to notice at the same time she did and he reached up to rub the nape of his neck. 

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you hadn’t gotten any yet. Can I get you one?” 

Another nod. Good, nodding was good. She hadn’t stammered yet, she hadn’t slipped into him yet, and she also hadn’t changed her expression at all the entire time he was watching. She blushed when she realized, and he quirked his head to the side. 

“Marinette? Are you okay?” 

“Hot chocolate, yes, I would love you…..I mean! I would love for you to get me a hot chocolate.” She tapped her pointer fingers together and chuckled nervously. That was a close one. But Adrien just smiled and pushed forward to get to the stand. Marinette sighed in relief when his back was turned. 

Her pocket at her hip unzipped and Tikki poked her head out. “Remember to breathe, Marinette,” she said with a tiny giggle. 

“Tikki!” Marinette hissed at her kwami and shooed her back down. “What if Adrien sees you?” 

After another tiny giggle, Tikki snuggled back down, and Marinette zipped her pocket shut. 

“Here you go,” Adrien said behind her. She turned slowly on her skis to face him, focusing on making teeny steps and planting the poles at her sides firmly. 

“I’m not sure you should hand me anything, hot stuff,” she muttered down at her skis. Her head snapped up and her eyes widened again when she realized what she’d said. “I mean! You shouldn’t hand me anything hot right now because—” She flailed as she tried to explain. One of her skis slipped forward and tipped her into him again. She sighed and dropped her head on his chest. “Because I’m a disaster zone…” she said with a groan. When she managed to straighten back up, he smiled again and gave her one of the hot chocolates. Then he looped his arm through hers, pulled her easily over to a bench, and helped her sit down. 

“You’ll get the hang of it. You’re already doing great for your first time.” He settled onto the bench next to her and took a sip from his cup. “Wow, this hot chocolate is good!” He grinned at her, and her heart did a little flip. 

She remembered Tikki’s advice and took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before she took a sip from her own cup. The warmth of the liquid spread through her and felt like it thawed her from the inside out. She sighed and watched a cloud of condensation leave her mouth with a strange sense of wonder before she turned to look at Adrien. 

When she caught his eyes, he chuckled and reached out, hesitating once before he swiped a finger at the tip of her nose. It came away with a small dollop of whipped cream on it. Marinette rubbed at her nose self-consciously. Adrien laughed again and casually swiped the cream into his mouth, just like Alya had, before he took another sip of his own. 

“I haven’t been skiing in so long,” he started, “I almost forgot how much fun it was.” 

“I’m glad you got to come with us.”

He nodded and glanced over to Nathalie. “I’m surprised Nathalie agreed to chaperone. It was the only condition my father set.” 

Marinette snuck a glance over at her, too. She seemed out of place among the students and teachers, with her hair pulled back tightly, her shoulders tall with her arms crossed behind her back, and in a basic black windbreaker. She wasn’t even on skis. She was just standing off to the side, barely interacting with anyone, and she seemed a bit bored as she watched everyone else skiing back and forth. 

“She doesn’t seem to be having much fun,” Marinette noted quietly. 

“I’m sure she is. That’s just Nathalie.” Adrien shrugged and took another sip. “Besides, she’s probably just worried about my father back home. She helps him with everything and I bet he’s feeling a bit lost without her.” 

She dared to glance over at him. He was watching the other skiers with a content smile. 

“You don’t have to sit here with me, you know,” she ventured, “I’m sure you’d rather be out there.” 

He turned towards her and his eyebrows knitted together as his head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just because I’m a disaster on skis doesn’t mean you should miss out on all the fun.” Her voice came out a lot more glum than she intended as she contemplated the steam rising from her hot chocolate to avoid looking at him again. 

Surprisingly, he chuckled. “I always have fun when you’re around, Marinette.” 

Her head snapped up and he was looking right at her, his bright green eyes tinged with concern for her, and something else. She would almost call it fondness. 

“Besides, I’m sure you’re a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for.” He downed the rest of his drink and tossed the cup like a basketball into the nearest trash can before he stood and offered her a hand. “All you have to do is relax and trust yourself.” He grinned at her lopsidedly, and Marinette was surprised she wasn’t a puddle on the ground. 

She stood with him and finished her hot chocolate, too, although she shuffled over to the trash can to throw her cup away instead of trying to toss it, planting her poles firmly each time and feeling like a fish flopping its fins on land. 

When she turned back to him, he reached out and took her hand to lead her to the rope tow. She caught Alya’s eye on the way over, and Alya gave her a toothy grin and a thumbs up. Nino waved to them both as the rope pulled them up towards the top of the bunny slope.

***

Back at the lodge that night, they were all relaxing in front of the fireplace and warming up after an entire day of being out in the snow. 

And Adrien had taken the seat right next to Marinette, his thigh pressed against hers as they all crammed onto the sectional, everyone jostling to try to get a little closer to the fire. 

She was still amazed she’d spent most of the day with him. He’d helped her gain confidence on her skis, and by the time Mme. Bustier had called everyone into the lodge for the day, Marinette could slide smoothly down the hill and even managed a little jump over a snowbank. And the way Adrien had cheered for her when she got it. That was going to be replaying in her dreams tonight, for sure. 

Her stomach lurched into her throat as Adrien adjusted next to her and she caught a waft of his cologne mixed with a musty smell she couldn’t quite place, although she had a strong association to it. But before she could figure it out, her attention was stolen by Kim calling for scary stories, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“Aw, come on, it’s the perfect setting for one!” Kim complained loudly. “We’ve got the fireplace, the lodge to ourselves... doesn’t anyone know a single good ghost story?” 

Marinette prayed that no one would answer Kim’s request, but of course Alix rose to the challenge. Marinette whimpered and Adrien’s head turned a fraction of an inch towards her as she sank into her seat and brought her knees up to her chin. 

“Has anyone ever heard of the Pale Lady?” 

Murmurs of confusion echoed around the circle. No one had. Alix grinned.

“Well, there was this group of kids, staying at this very lodge.” She looked around dramatically and some of the other kids rolled their eyes, but Marinette had to shiver again. “So they all went to bed that night, and one of them gets up for a glass of water. And there… in the hallway… is this pale, white lady. Covered in snow, her lips blue and her eyes black. She looks at the kid. And she points… to an open window. The curtains fluttering in the breeze.” Alix had everyone’s rapt attention now as she mimicked a windy night on the mountain, not unlike the one tonight. 

“The night was clear, but as the kid watched, clouds started forming over the mountain, gathering at the top, creating a storm of epic proportions.” She pointed out the window of their own lodge, towards the mountaintop, and Marinette whimpered again before she hid her eyes behind her hands. 

“And out of nowhere… a deep rumble started growing, and growing. But it wasn’t the mountain. No.” Alix paused for effect. “It was the Pale Lady. Groaning.” The sound effect she made was unearthly, a whining, grumbling groan. Marinette wished she had extra hands. She couldn’t cover her eyes and her ears all at once. 

An arm fell across Marinette’s shoulders and squeezed as she started shaking uncontrollably. When she peeked out from underneath her fingers, Adrien was gripping her tightly, his green eyes straight ahead.

“And the mountain groaned with her,” Alix continued. “Until a ledge of snow broke off the top, and crumbled on its way down. Right. Towards. The lodge.” 

There was a breathless pause in the room. “What happened?” Mylène asked. 

Marinette peeked between her fingers, incredulous that Mylène wasn’t scared stiff like she was. But Mylène was cuddled into Ivan’s side, his arm dwarfing her as it wrapped around her waist, and she was listening to the story intently, just like everyone else. 

“There wasn’t any time,” Alix said in a hushed voice, “and everyone was asleep. The avalanche crashed into the lodge and buried everyone in an icy grave. They say that the Pale Lady still haunts these mountains, joined by her victims, and anyone who looks into her eyes is Never. Seen. Again.” 

Alix’s story faded into the silence of the lodge and Adrien tensed against her. Bracing for—

A deep, rumbling groan filled the space. Not from Alix this time. It didn’t even sound human. Everyone’s eyes widened. It was just like Alix’s story. The sound echoed around the room and sent a collective shiver through the group. 

Marinette didn’t care anymore. She hid her face in Adrien’s shoulder and gripped at his shirt, shaking, as his arm wrapped all the way around her to hold her close. 

The sound repeated, closer, louder. 

“It’s her! It’s the Pale Lady!” Alix whisper-shouted. 

The group gasped, and Marinette knew they had all turned to face whatever Alix was pointing at. Adrien rubbed at her arm before she felt him turn his head, too. 

“Nothing’s there,” Rose whispered with a nervous tremor.

“I see her! I see her! Don’t you?” Alix's voice trembled and Marinette heard the group move over to the window to follow her. 

“It’s okay, Marinette,” Adrien whispered when the group was away. “It’s just a story. There’s nothing there. Alix is playing a prank on everyone.” 

Marinette heard the screams of her classmates and gripped Adrien’s shirt tighter, squeezing her eyes shut tight. 

He craned his neck to look and chuckled. “It’s Markov. They put a sheet and a wig on him and gave him the soundbyte to play.” 

“I hate scary stories,” she whimpered. 

“I know. I remember.” 

She dared to pull away and look up at him, realizing suddenly that she was practically in his lap. But she couldn’t bring herself to move as he smiled down at her. In the background, she heard Alix cackling and Kim congratulating Max. Mme. Bustier stuck her head in to call for everyone to turn in. As everyone else groaned, Marinette sighed in relief. 

“See, you made it through.” Adrien’s thumb rubbed against her shoulder, comforting her and thrilling her at the same time. 

“Thanks to you,” she whispered back. She glanced up and saw the group heading back towards them, and straightened up to stand abruptly. Adrien stood with her and they both fell into the group as they all trooped back to their respective rooms for the night.

***

Marinette tossed in her bed and pulled her blanket up over her head. All the other girls were fast asleep, but the bright moonlight pouring into the window of the room threw the mountain outside into a deep shadow and all she could think about was Alix’s ghost story. She shivered and curled into herself. This was so stupid. 

With a groan, she threw the blanket off and padded over to the door, grabbing her coat on the way out. “Thanks a bunch, Alix,” she muttered under her breath.  

As she made her way down the hall, intending to go back to the fire that was still roaring in the main area, she noticed the dark figure of a woman slipping down the hallway. She froze when Alix’s words came back to her. And there… in the hallway… is this pale, white lady. But the figure didn’t pay Marinette any mind, hurrying instead towards the main area with what could only be described as malicious intent. 

Marinette patted her coat pocket for Tikki. The kwami poked her head out, on alert just like Marinette. With another glance up, Marinette steeled herself and followed the shrinking figure outside into the snow.

[raydom-gamer]

SPOILERS AHEAD

PACK MARKINGS I'M YOUR'S/MC'S BODY AND THE BROTHERS

I've made this post on Reddit and I cut and paste most of it here because I would also like to rant about it here because it's a bugs me.

Okay this is been driving me crazy because ever since I got to pack with Asmodeus and I saw Mammon's markings in his demon form. I just have to ask, am I the only one who thinks it would be really cool detail that every time you end up making a new pact with a demon you get some of their markings.

Mammon's white markings going down your collar bone to your shoulders and then down your torso. Leviathan's purplish diamond markings on your neck. Beelzebub's black neck and collarbone curved slashes markings. Asmodeus's pink bleeding heart on your upper arm. Lucifer's black diamond would be on your forehead. Belphegor's black cow spots are there on your neck or on your leg or maybe even both. (I don't know how demon markings work.)

(The only one that doesn't show any signs of markings is Satan but if you can figure out how he ties That bow tie it seems to spider itself around his entire chest and to his groin then you can have all rights to those markings. But that's a rant for another day.)

You could sense when they go into demon mode because the tattoo or the tattoo will only get its color when they're in Demon mode. Or maybe like when you summon Asmodeus, he mentioned how you're able to kick up his magic in a way he's never felt before. What if you use is their powers in some way that's when they glow or actually show color.

I also like the thought that the marking stamp that you see when you make a pact is the mark that is on the boys. It's the same design symbol which would make more sense that it would be from you to them then them to you. I also think that that would be on the hand that they use to make The Pact with you. But only shows up when you're in near or summoning them.

Especially when you're a magic-less human and every demon wants to eat you/take your soul. Lesser demons would end up looking at you with one of the stronger demons markings and know what would happen if they mess up or hurt you.

Someone had made the comment in Reddit that the mark could be yours and it's just a stamp over and over on your hand. (and I don't want to discouraged other people for their headcanons because I hadn't even thought about the seal mark until they mentioned it.) But I don't think that would quite work because Solomon would have probably like a red or black splotch on the back of his hands because of all 72 of the packs he made. Also Solomon would like straight-up have like sleeve tattoos, considering he has a pacts with 72 demons. That be hot.

Another reason why I think that that would be at least for the brothers that you would get their markings instead of just a pack symbol is due to their power. I honestly don't think that they would take too kindly to just being another mark their own ego and sins weekend their way. Amadeus being the narcissist would never want to have the same mark as Mammon. Mammon would be far too greedy to allow someone to have the same claim and something without standing out from the crowd. Lucifer would also be the same way his pride wouldn't allow him to just be another mark. I don't think that their power and egos would allow that type of simplicity. Leviathan and Beelzebub probably wouldn't care but due to their power it would just come more naturally the show that kind of dominance.

I have to ask if I'm the only one who has thought about this because the more I look at the markings, I think that would be like one of the more interesting aspect. Honestly, everyone could have so much fun just toying with the idea of just the packs without anyone actually being wrong about it. Like I saw someone had mentioned what if the markings of the pack are instead with symbols on the tapestry of the classroom background. I honestly would love to hear more people's opinion or thoughts on this.

Also weird random thought as well about the pack marks on the boys. I don't know if you know about the heartbeat rings or bracelets. But it's where you can sync up ring or bracelet to another ring or bracelet and feel the other person's heartbeat or if you hold on to it, it'll make a little vibration telling the other that you were thinking of them. Another really cool thing that would be just a weird interesting detail is his pack mark would allow him the same as the heartbeat ring or bracelet.

My thoughts are because they made the pack with MC/you it would make sense that they would be able to check without having to physically find you. Because from what it sounds like when you have made The Pact with Mammon it came off like he was supposed to take care of you whether he wants to or not.

Also I'm sorry if no one cares but I had to get it off my chest again because the concept just fascinates me.

[feralnumberfive]

I expect no one to read this at all. It’s more of a way to get some feelings off of my chest. This is a look into my personal life and what I went through in 2020. I cried quite a bit while writing this, haha.

My farewell letter to 2020:

To you 2020, the year that shook the world. You’re certainly one to go down in the record books. You changed my life as you did to everyone. To you, the month of March. I had hit the lowest part in my life since the shock of my parent's divorce 11 years ago. My beloved cat had died in October of 2019, a few days short of our one year anniversary of fostering him, which soon turned into us adopting him. It was sudden and unexpected. I still can remember clear as day that horrid call I got from my sister from the vet. “Hey, we need you to come up here. It’s kidney failure.” As she spoke through her tears, I instantly began to cry. I had felt sad for months after that. 

In December of 2019, the adoptive dad of one of my closest friends committed suicide. She was torn apart, having had three people she knew died earlier that year. I stood by her side and watched her cry. We colored together in the counseling room, making small talk and doing anything I could to comfort her. 

From late February into March, another one of my closest friends revealed to me a traumatic experience she went through. She had been raped by a classmate of mine, one who I considered to be good acquaintances. She was a grade younger than me, and was practically completely dependent on me and my friend, as she was too scared to tell her parents. She eventually completely relied on my friend as I became shoved out of the problem. Her story and the amount of support required from her, which she never gave back to me throughout our friendship, made me realize at that moment I had hit rock bottom. I was tired and so sick of it all. This sentence that I'm about to say is one I've never admitted to anyone: I didn't want to be around anymore, or at least alive. I needed somewhere to escape. I didn't want to commit suicide due to expectations I held upon myself. I was also too scared to commit suicide. 

I finally admitted I needed help, which was scary for me to do. In March of you, 2020, I was diagnosed with situational depression. I was soon put on an anti-depressant. It felt good to put a name on it, but little did I know I would pay the price for my relief. Preparing to go off to college, I needed to get a First Class Medical Certificate in order to apply to the flight program at the colloege I wanted to go to. I went and got my FAA Medical Certificate done, ticking off the boxes on my journey to fulfill my life long dream of becoming a pilot. 

Spring Break came and after watching schools around me close, it was announced that we wouldn't be returning until mid April, and then the end of April, then until May. I quickly realized it wasn't possible to return and that unbeknownst to me I had already spent the last days of my Senior year at school in March. A frantic question was suddenly formed amongst my classmates and soon the world: Will the class of 2020 graduate? I, being burnt out, didn't care what would happen to me or my class. We soon became a laughing stock and a sight to pity around the world. Class of 2020, Corona Class, The Class that would be telling this story to their kids. It didn't matter to me. As I held up the “Class of 2020″ shirt my uncle got me with the zeros as tp rolls, I sighed. I just wanted to graduate without getting laughed at. Spoiler Alert: That didn't happen. 

Around this time I ended my friendship with the girl who I cherished but didn't cherish me back. I still to this day can’t exactly understand why I did that. I blocked her and left without saying goodbye. That wasn’t the right thing to do at all. She had been raped and needed support, but here I was leaving her. She always needed and wanted my support but never gave it back. It was always “Aw you have a problem? Here, let’s try this minimal effort plan to help you. That didn’t work? Oh well, let’s get back to me.” This is no excuse at all for my actions of cutting her off. I really still don’t know why I did this. I had hung out with her everyday in the summer of 2019. Here I was, easily letting her go. Jackie, I’m so sorry. I hope you are doing well and get into ISU to follow your dreams of being an engineer. 

In May I received news that still hurts and effects me to this day. I had been denied my Medical Certificate. It wasn't due to me being on an antidepressant, is was due to the fact that I was depressed. This was soul crushing news, but there was still a chance I could reapply for the Medical Certificate if I jumped through multiple hoops. May also provided the announcement that my safe haven in Oshkosh, Wisconsin wouldn't be happening this year. It was definitely understandable due to the virus, but still very saddening to me. It’s really the only thing I look forward to each year, but I understood and agreed on why it was canceled for 2020.

In June I got the news that a beloved teacher of my family and I passed away due to a heart attack and complications of Addison’s Disease. She was the best math teacher I had ever had, and the best in my High School. Math is my worst subject, but she never made me feel stupid like the other math teachers. She always made sure I understood what I was doing. Sometimes when she didn’t feel like having class she would have a free day. She would gossip with my classmates and tell us stories of her youth. Sometimes though she would give us free days due to having intense migraines that sometimes hospitalized her due to her disease. It wasn’t fun to see her like that. 

In June she was hospitalized where even her husband and two kids weren’t allowed in to see her. The only person allowed into her before she died was her twin brother. The family decided to have a public funeral, with tons of people in the community and school district socially distancing and wearing masks to pay their respect. I began to cry as I listened to her husband tell everyone that he wasn't ready and was so scared to be a single parent. Their children were both under ten, and were now motherless. Mrs. Johnson it was so hard saying goodbye to you. I loved you so much, and I still do. You gave my friend who had lost her dad food and comfort. You did so much not only for my family and I, but for everyone in the community and school district. I miss you so much. 

Hot days came with hazy skies. Everyday I checked the wildfire smoke map as I watched the sun turn bright pink as the sun became a blazing red when the sun went down. For weeks our sky looked hazy. Some days looked cloudy, but it was actually smoke. As someone who lives the Midwest, this was quite surprising. 

In August I experienced something that will forever be remembered by me and everyone who lives in my state. A Derecho tore through and ravaged my hometown and the state that I dearly love. We watched through the window as trees snapped in half and branches and leaves whirled around everywhere. We watched through the window as water roared down the road, appearing as if a stream had started right next to us. We watched in fear as shingles were torn off and large items were blown through our yard. As the electricity flickered out, we wondered if we would be crushed by either tree that were on two sides of our house. Wet leaves were torn apart and slammed into our window, where they stayed there for a month afterwards. They looked like confetti, torn into thousands of tiny pieces. 

To the branches and trees I still see today in the neighboring towns and cities, broken reminders of the damage done. To you, the metal grain bins that still sit out in the flattened cornfields. Our once tall and proud cornfields that are a proud symbol of my state were now flattened to the ground, completely parallel to the rich farming soil that it stood in. Painting the countryside in flat waves of green with splotches of silver from grain bins and white from barns and houses damaged. Our proud stalks became damaged goods that costed us billions. To the buildings that still show their battle scars from months ago, the houses with the tarps on their roofs and the old wooden barns that couldn't handle the 140 mph. To you, Donald J, Trump, the President of the United States who was supposed to tour Cedar Rapids to exam the damage that still lies there today. You stayed in the airport and immediately left after getting your business done. You didn't care about us, you were there to do business and leave to start your campaigning.

My small town was able to clean up within a month or so, but even still TODAY the bigger cities are littered with damage. There are tree trunks and branches scattered along roads. Thousands of houses still have tarps on their houses and siding missing. 

In August my grandma was also diagnosed with Dementia. I've watched her deteriorate over the past few months. Every time we call she forgets that I’m not in school. Sometimes she forgets my name. When we tell her we’re on our way to visit outside her window, she forgets within 10 minutes. Grandma, I hope you never forget that I love you.

In September I finally met with a therapist. I am so thankful to be working with her. After months of my family getting angry and upset at me for being scared to go to the store, my therapist diagnosed me with Social Anxiety. I was so relieved to be diagnosed with it and to be working out the issues I have with my therapist. We work together weekly to help me become a better and more comfortable version of myself. 

Over the summer months the health of my already diseased cat took a steep decline. She was my cat, and I felt powerless as I slowly watched her die. She could no longer stay inside due to her having constant accidents. As we made our plan to take her to the vet to give her a peaceful death, I received a heartbreaking call from my mother on a cold September night. My little Jill had passed away in her sleep on our porch. I came over to say goodbye to my baby as I pet her cold fur one last time. I love you my little Jilly Bean and I miss you everyday. I miss and love you so so so much. 

September also brought the news that a precious B-25 had a crash landing. It always hurts to hear about a Warbird crashing or getting damaged. I was happy to hear though that they were going to fix it back to airworthiness.

In October I had to make a difficult decision with the FAA. Do I try to visit four different doctors for phycological examinations in order to complete my Medical Certificate or do I wait to get off my medicine and start feeling better on my own? I opted for the second part due to the decline of visiting all of those doctors coming up in November. We had been given that option early in the year, but Covid prevented us from traveling out of state to see those doctors. I sent a letter to the FAA to let them know what I was doing. I received a letter about a month ago that stated that I still needed to visit those doctors or something like that. I honestly didn’t look through it that well because it’s just such a pain in the butt.

Another thing about you 2020 is that you provided me with he opportunity to meet amazing people. I began to watch The Umbrella Academy in September, but I decided to make my account on October 1st. I’ve met tons of funny and talented people on here. The show itself had provided me tons of comfort. It has given me the courage to start writing fanfiction for it along with starting back up on drawing fanart

The end of 2020 has slowed down for me. One of my aviation heroes died this year, Mr. Chuck Yeager. It was heartbreaking for me to hear that. One of the worst days for me was ironically on my birthday in December. I felt really bitter and down and just wanted to sit in my room, but I didn’t. I don’t like celebrating my birthday anymore. As I get older it feels less and less special and in turn I feel sad about it. Another reason why is that I don’t like having a fuss made about it. I don’t like the attention from it haha. It’s okay though because even though this year I felt upset I eventually felt a bit happier as it turned to night. 

This year I witnessed history being made. Let me be clear that history is made every year, but this year was very eventful. I witnessed innocent black lives being slaughtered by the very people who are sworn to protect everyone. It’s so disappointing and soul crushing to see all of this. I don’t know if I’ve made it clear on here, but I strongly stand with the BLM movement. I may not understand what they haven been going through for decades, but I stand with them to make things right. Black Lives Matter, not All Lives. All Lives only matter when it’s actually true and Black Lives are included. If you saw a house on fire in an entire block of houses, you wouldn’t say “All Houses Matter!” No they don’t, that house on fire matters. Black Lives Fucking Matter, and All Cops Are Bastards.

To you, the Pledge of Allegiance. Everyday in elementary school I proudly held my right hand over my heart as I stared up at Old Glory and recited you. This year helped me realize that “With liberty and justice for all.” is total bullshit. The only thing I truly appreciate about my country now is the scenery and nature it provides. 

To you 2020, as I finish writing this letter on December 31st. You’ve made me cry a lot, including right now. You’ve deeply effected my life and brought me lots of sorrow. Despite all of this, I don't feel upset about you. Yes, you gave me some events that will always haunt me but that’s okay. 2020 even though you’ve hurt me, you’ve also shaped me. Yes, you also made my lose faith in my country and humanity, but I can only hope for the best. You’ve pushed me to become a better version of myself. 

So to you 2020, you’ve been a hell of a year. I’ve hated and loved you, but mostly hated you. I went through some shit, but others have gone through worse this year. To those of you who have had a very hard time this year, I love you. I sincerely hope things get better for you. Friend or stranger, you can always rely on me as someone to talk to, to rant or vent to, and to cry to. This year was excruciating, but don’t give up. It has ended and a new year has begun. Sure 2021 may also be bad and we’re all exhausted from 2020, but let’s fight till the end. 

[abruisedmuse]

7. Finger painting with little one - Thuna ?

UGH MY ORIGINAL HP RAREPAIR BABIES. I MISS THEM 🥺🥺.

**************************************************

Luna wandered aimlessly and yet with purpose as she strode down the hall of Nott Manor. The padding of her feet dancing along the cold mahogany floors. Saying hello to each and every house elf she passed offering them a chocolate frog. This time the elfs eyed the floating case behind her, with several jars clinging against one another. Curious as to what the Lady of the manor was up to. The majority of the house elfs loved Luna for her kindness. For listening to them when no one else would. Theo as the elfs stated wasn’t a terrible owner. Far from the likes of his father, still he hardly paid the elfs any mind. He was too focused on Luna, their daughter Thea and being an Auror. However, Luna stayed in the manor, mainly running the quibbler from home. Today she was taking off for some, exciting changes as she called it to the four-year-olds room.

With the help of Weasley twins and their patented experiment rooms, Luna assisted in creating a new product. She took it home Experiment 126 to test it out on the room. A paint one could use that came alive. Much like the same concept as a wizards portrait. In this product, anything you paint would come to life at the stroke of a brush or a simple touch. No sounds, just movements. She had wanted it primarily for Thea’s room and perhaps others in the Manor. Luna thought of how fun it would be to paint the cobblestones in the gardens. Having bright colors of various swirls, that would dance at the touch of her toes. Now, she wouldn’t think too much beyond that. Thea Nott was waiting in her room for her mother. For her surprise.

Luna made it to the end of the hall, The clinging behind her coming to a halt as she twisted the knob and stepped inside. Thea sat on her bed, atop a pillowy mattress, in sheets a rosy hue, like the sky. Her hair is onyx like the darkest nights, yet long and wispy like that of her mothers. Her eyes were Luna’s pale blue, with silvery grey flecks. Like the sky when light storm clouds began to roll in. Excitement shined in those eyes of hers, as she hopped off the bed leaving her dolls behind. A bright smile reaching from ear to ear displayed brightly on the young witch's face.

“Oh hello mother,” her voice high and breathless like that of a gentle wind, “Do you have my surprise?”

“Hello starlight,” Luna replied, flicking her wand casting protecting charms on all of Thea’s toys, her armoire, and her bed, “I believe it’s here,” she smiled softly, in an ethereal kind of way. The way that took her husband’s breath away. With a swift motion of her hand, the case settled on a table in the far corner of the room.

Thea ran as quickly as her little feet would carry her. She stopped brows furrowing, nose scrunched up as the girl peered into the case. Turning to meet her mother as Luna crouched down. Thea rested a hand over her orange striped dress, another pointing at the case, “These are just jars mummy. Is it wrackspurts again?”

Luna laughed, “No starlight, These jars are quite special. Would you like to see?” Thea squinted her eyes and nodded. Like she wanted to know yet was uncertain what these jars would entail. 

The case held some brushes and nine jars: yellow, red, blue, purple, pink, green, black, white, and orange, Thea’s favorite color. Her mother believed it was due to dirigible plums from her childhood home. And that her love of the magical fruit spread to her daughter. 

"It looks quite ordinary doesn't it?" her airy tone questioned

Gripping one of the tightly sealed jars, Luna twisted it open with a pop, dipping her finger into the orange color. Thea nodded her agreement, watching as paint fell from her mother's ivory fingers into the jar creating a rippling effect that seemed to shimmer with magic. She couldn't help but marvel at it.

"It moves when you paint. Watch."

Luna stood with Thea trailing closely behind as they moved to the cream-colored wall. The former Ravenclaw swisher finger over the smooth surface. At first, the bright orange mark remained still. Luna cocked her head to left, the right, and then back again as if she was studying the strip of paint. Thea copied her movements inching closer to bright orange color. Soon after, the young Nott heiress felt a hum of magic as the strip began to wiggle. Like an arm-stretching in the morning from restful sleep. The mark curled in on itself, then sprang outward darting back and forth across the wall. Thea screamed in a surprise, stumbling backward. Luna caught her, keeping the girl upright.

"Wow," Thea breathed out, "Can we paint?"

Luna looked down at her, a mother's smile on her mouth, "Of course," pulling out her wand she cast protection charms on the two of them, keeping their clothes clean. Thea giggled as the blanket of magic fell over her, "Just like your father and myself. You love creatures. Perhaps we could paint those."

"Yes!" Thea squealed with excitement.

"Suppose we should get to work then."

At first, mother and daughter both opted for using their fingers. Thea drawing random blobs of colorful paint and calling them wrackspurts. The tiny splotches of paints she called nargles. Before moving on to other random shapes. All with various sizes and heights. Some had one eye while others beheld twelve. Others with no ears and wings. A few with too many ears and several tails. Each painting of hers pranced about over her walls. 

Luna opted for paintbrushes after Thea got the hang of the magical paints. She painted smaller creatures since her daughter took over most of the walls within minutes. Nifflers, bowtruckles, blast ended skrewts to name a few. Thea marveled at the nifflers running across the walls. The bowtruckles jumping on and off the imaginary creatures she painted. The blast-ended skrewt didn't move much, only an odd breathing motion. Luna was distracted trying to paint pixies on the opposite side of the room. Thea crept slowly towards the image. Until it jumped backward, editing a glow of red, yellow, and orange from its headless form. The four-year-old jumped back screaming this time without her mother to catch her, Thea fell into the paints knocking all the colors over. Quickly it became clear why this experiment was still an experiment.

The colors leaked out onto the floor. Increasingly taking over each and every corner of the room. Suddenly the magical and imaginary creatures painted on the walls were now traveling through the room. Running and jumping over the bed, furniture, and toys, leaving moving colors in their wake. Luna grabbed Thea hiding for cover under the bed. 

Luna was unsure how long they had been stuck under there. Until she heard a male voice shouting.

"What in the bloody fuck?"

Then there was a flash of light. The vibrant arrangement of colors was gone. 

"Lu?" She heard his heavy steps approach the bedside, crouching down. A smirk on his lips only a Slytherin could muster, amusement flashed in his emerald eyes, "Hi."

"Hello, Theo."

"Daddy!" Thea cried, "We were painting. I used my fingers!"

"Is that so? Seemed the paints had a mind of their own."

Thea crawled out from under the bed, settling into his lap. Theo outstretched his hand to his wife. Luna took it as he helped pull her out. It was clear to Theo that Luna only protected their clothes, as their skin was covered in blotches of blues, reds, purples, and well any other color he could think of. Streaks of it littered her moonlight hair, and flecks of it coated Thea's dark tresses. 

"Merlin Lu what happened? Ainsley popped up in my office saying you and Thea were trapped in her room. That Thea was screaming. I ran to the nearest floo to get home."

Luna pursed her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "126. I wanted to test it," she replied, her tone laced in apology. Knowing he too lost his mother how Luna did, to creative experiments, "I'm sorry to worry Theodore."

Keeping an arm steady around Thea, the Nott heir leaned over kissing Luna’s brow, "It's fine. I just.." he sighed running a hand through his dark hair, "I can't lose either of you."

*****************************************************

Taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @clockworkgraystairs @hizqueen4life @sjm-things @negativenesta @b00kworm @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12 @illyrian-bookworm @thesirenwashere @vanessa172003 @thewickedkings @sleeping-and-books

[warmau]

Prince!AU Jeno

requested by my giveaway winner! + find all other aus here

the most charitable prince the nation has ever seen 

literally lives for helping others

does charity work whenever he can and refuses invites to fancy balls or galas 

opting instead to get down in the dirt and plant new vegetables in the local gardens

or volunteering to help teach kids after school

even though he’s a shining star when it comes to community service and giving back

and the public adores him to pieces

he really,,,,,,,,,doesn’t act like a prince at all

not to say that he isn’t mannerly or that he doesn’t know the his country’s own values and laws

it’s just he’s a hyper young boy who thinks skateboarding through the palace halls is fun

doing kick flips over expensive pieces of art and scaring butler renjun half to death

he’ll be caught red handed stealing sweets from the pantry - mouth full of chocolate covered strawberries

and of course the hoarding,,,,,,,,and by hoarding i mean the hoarding of stray cats he keeps trying to hide in his room

but renjun is staring at the various bite marks and scratches on jeno and he’s like

“oh - how’d you get those?”

“uhhhhhh chenle bit me.”

“that’s almost believable, but hand over the kittens”

would live in the animal shelter if he could

just getting his gucci suit covered in cat fur 

grinning from ear to ear as all the animals flock to him 

and the shelter works swoon at the sight of his eye smile

but yeah, he has no sense of royal boundaries - or that he’s above anyone else simply because he’s a prince

like he’ll hop out of the carriage during parades - the queen nudging for knight jaemin to follow him 

before jeno gets himself lost in the crowds

greeting shop keepers with deep bows and letting young kids cling onto him and offer him flowers and candy

there was once a newspaper headline about how a thief had managed to slip one of jeno’s rings off his fingers

when jeno had walked through the streets without his knight

but then the thief felt so bad that he approached the prince a couple of minutes later and offered it back

someone asked him later

“why did you give the ring back?”

“i didn’t want prince lee to be sad, he’s too handsome to be sad.”

renjun keeps stocking prince jeno’s closet with “princely” attire - in navys, greys, and blacks 

because those colors make him look like he’s being serious 

but jeno just shows up in all pink like 

“i heard we’re going to be doing negotiations with prince haechan today - he likes pink, right?”

you’re actually kind of a rowdy kid yourself - ever since you were young you liked causing trouble and pulling pranks

always running around with scraps on your knuckles and bruises on your knees

you never cared about politics or the royal family,,,,,,,,,,,,or school,,,,,,,,,,,,or anything really

you just liked doing things for a rush

living on the edge and sometimes getting scolded for it by your (in your opinion) overtly tight and proper roommate doyoung

who treated you like his noisy, rough around the edges child 

that always paid the share of the rent late

but somehow,,,,,,,,you’d managed to survive

doing small jobs here and there - mostly art focused as that was where your talents lay

you used to do a lot of graffiti - but on several occasions you’d been caught

and you were kind of wary that the next time the local authorities got their hands on you, you wouldn’t get away with just a slap on the wrist

so you strayed away, instead you did paid mural work and designs

it was pennies really, but it was much better than slaving away in an office

well,,,,,,,in your eyes at least,,,,,,,,

but when the royal family unveils a new painting in the town square

you can’t help but feel your palms itch at the though of spray painting a giant mustache on the prince’s face

a part of you argues that you don’t need to do this - really, this is childish and you’ll get caught and regret it

but the other part of, the one that always wins, goes absolutely bonkers

so you end up on sneaking down the fire escape, bag pack stuffed to the brim with cans in all colors

you pull up your hoodie and make the short, zig zagging walk through back alleys to the square

it’s dead quiet. not even stray cats are out at this time

and you excitedly rub your hands together as you stand in front of the large painted faces of your country’s royals

now you really don’t mean it as anything but a harmless joke

you’re not making a political statement by drawing stars on the queens white blouse or giving the king goody glasses

you just want to cause a stir - you just want to do it because you can

and as you lean up to run a red line on the side of the princes’ handsome jawline

you hear a voice

“ah. if it isn’t you again”

for a moment your body goes cold - seriously, only fifteen minutes in and the cops are here?!?!?!

you expect they’ll haul you down to the station, be given a long and boring speech about respecting property, and then let out by the time the sun rises

but that doesn’t happen

instead you find yourself spending the night in the station, no one tells you what’s happening, until finally you hear a rustle going on in the hall

and the door to the room you’re being held in opens

a knight walks in, you can tell by his uniform and the crest of the lee kingdom he wears on his chest

he gives you a once over and shakes his head

“jaemin, what’s going to happen to them?”

an officer questions and you sit up a little straighter

“that’ll be up to the royal family to decide”

you can’t believe it - actually you’re pretty sure you must be fever dreaming when you find yourself in the main ballroom of the palace

a place you’ve only seen in photos and on tv

“i- im here all over a harmless prank ?!?!?!”

the knight, named jaemin as you learned, gives you a sympathetic shrug

“it’s not harmless to deface the people who run this country.”

“deface then? all i did was doodle-“

he shushes you and stands at attention as the doors open with a loud and heavy sound

in front of your wide eyes step the queen and the prince, both dressed in golds and jewels

you're so frozen that jaemin has to cough thrice until you realize you have to bow in greeting

as you hang your head low, the queen gives an annoyed tsk

prince jeno on the other hand observes you curiously

his hands clasped behind his back as he looks at your black hoodie and jaemin drops the bag full of your supplies on the spot in front of you

“child, you really shouldn’t have drawn such crude things on a public mural.”

the queen begins and you swallow

her tone doesn’t sound all that sweet like when she’s giving speeches over the radio ,,,, i might have really messed up this time!

she continues to talk, pointing out that the mural took weeks to perfect. that the townspeople are just as disappointed as the family and authorities are. at some point there’s a comment about how you were probably just raised poorly

all of it kind of drowns in your head as you panic about your fate

“as for punishment-“

you stiffen and you think you even hear knight jaemin tense up at your side

“wait, mother may i?”

the prince speaks for the first time and your gaze shoots over to him instantly

he’s wearing his blonde hair back with golden pins, a loose fitting blouse tucked into riding jeans with a belt that looks like it’s been encrusted with rubies

“i think i have a good idea, it’ll help them both reflect on their crime against the town-“

crime? it was some harmless drawing!

“and help restore the mural.”

“oh?”

the prince smiles, but you’re hesitant - gripping the sleeves of your hoodie as he gives a slow nod

“let’s just make them re-paint it!”

you let your jaw drop, but no noises come out of your mouth

he wants me to re-paint that giant thing all by myself? it’ll take weeks - i won’t be able to do anything else - i would rather -

“it sounds better than being banished, right?”

you can’t really formulate a sentence, so knight jaemin answers for you

“that’s a splendid idea prince lee! im sure the culprit is grateful!”

you feel a sharp elbow in your side and you kind of sputter to life

give a groggy

“thank you so much my prince”

as jeno brings his hands up in a clap and his mother, seemingly bored already with you, gives her agreement

just like this whole situation - you think you have to be in a bad dream as you stand in front of the mural in broad daylight

a tiny circle of whispering locals around you

as jaemin sets up a ladder and hands you a large, clean brush

“this is going to take forever.”

“maybe you shouldn’t have messed it up in the first place.”

he grins when you give him a sideways glare

but make your way up the ladder, you come face to face with the splotches of red paint from your prank and with a frustrated sigh you begin to paint over them

after a while, people become uninterested and disperse

jaemin is supposed to be guarding you, but he disappears somewhere

saying that it’ll be obvious if you slack off - someones got to get those goofy glasses off of the kings face

so you end up tired, alone, and grumbling about how this punishment might just be worse than banishment

“what is prince lee’s problem anyway? butting his head into the conversation -”

“oh, i think you missed a spot on my face.”

you almost drop the paint can in your hand with surprise

when you hear a familiar voice from down beside the ladder

you turn, carefully and see the prince himself

jaemin is beside him, pretending as if he’s been doing his job all day as jeno takes a look at your progress so far

“hmmm looks like this project might take a while,,,,,”

he muses and you have the sudden urge to turn the bucket of paint upside down and watch it dump over onto his blonde head

but you restrain yourself at the last minute

“but still. i trust you’ll get it done nicely?”

you can’t tell if he’s being annoying on purpose, mocking you and teasing

or if he really means it

“well then, carry on. you can leave when it’s dark and return in the morning. jaemin, you’ll be here - yes?”

jaemin salutes and you roll your eyes as you turn back to your work

you don’t notice how the prince’s stare lingers a bit before he turns on his heel and is off

the next couple of days is grueling, you wake up early - get told off by doyoung for getting yourself into the mess - trudge up to the town sqaure and clamber up the ladder with your paints

you hate it at first, but after a while you kind of come to terms with it

whistling tunes to distract yourself and even sometimes holding conversations with knight jaemin

you don’t expect the prince, or anyone from the royal family to come and check on you

but by the end of the first week - you’re surprised to see jeno at the mural and without jaemin 

“my prince?”

you approach with caution and he gives you a smile in response

he’s dressed more casually then you’ve ever seen before, dark jeans and leather suspenders over a button up shirt

but then you see the golden necklace and wrist watch 

once a prince, always a prince

he motioned to the mural with his head and goes

“it’s coming along well, i knew your talent would show.”

“my talent?”

“do you think i don’t know about your other work?”

for a moment,,,,,,,you look at him confused 

“a-are you -”

“the graffiti and the paid work you’ve done around the town. i did my research.”

again, you aren’t sure if he’s bringing it up as a compliment or not - so you just shrug in response

“well, im happy your highness is pleased so far.”

he puts a hand under his chin and steps back

“although i see you haven’t gotten to my face yet?”

you huff - ready to go on a tangent about how the king and queen need to be fixed first

when jeno bursts into laughter at the sight of your furrowed expression

“im teasing, take all the time you need.”

you step back with him - thinking nothing of it when you motion to his portrait on the wall

“the original artist didn’t do that good of a job - do you see the shade on your neck, it’s not from the right angle. and they weren’t able to capture your eyes well either.”

jeno looks impressed at your comments, but you aren’t even doing it for that

you just have been thinking about it since you started your “punishment”

“when light hits brown eyes like yours, the color becomes almost translucently brown and they made it muddy-”

“why, maybe you should become a full time artist instead of running around getting in trouble?”

you scrunch up your nose

“no, traditional art is fine and all that. but my kind of style isn’t really appreciated. im lucky enough to find small work.”

you pick up a paint can of green, making your way up the ladder - jeno comes to the side and holds it steady as you reach the top

why is he even here in the first place? don’t prince’s have better things to do?

you wonder to yourself as you pluck a brush from the front pocket of your jeans - leaning back to make sure you’re in a good spot to reach the lapel of the king’s uniform

“have you always been an artist?”

the prince’s voice wafts up to you ears and you shake your head

“no, i didn’t start until i was older.”

“what a shame, you clearly have talent.”

you push back the warm feeling that crawls up onto your cheeks

and you assume that at some point he’s going to have to leave,,,he cant stay here and chat with you forever

and he does 

but then

he keeps coming back

bright and early, every morning - the prince is waiting for you beside the mural

he can never stay past an hour or so, and it really confuses you as to what he gains out of watching you paint and asking you questions about yourself, but it is something to distract you 

as the work on the mural trudges on slowly

after a couple of weeks - you finish the king and queen and get started on the prince

for some reason, you approach fixing his portrait with more care

you spend a lot of time looking at it from affair, even sketching it out on scraps of paper before you bring a paintbrush up to it

one day as you’re getting ready to re-paint jeno, you notice a small cat is making rounds around your paint cans

you watch it with a tiny giggle, before you see the prince - scurrying after it like a entertained large child

the kitten hops through some nearby bushes and jeno squats down to see where it’s gone when he sees a pile of abandoned papers beside them

you’d forgotten where you’d put the sketches you did of him from some time ago

but when the prince unfolds the papers he finds them, looking over the fine pencil work and the familiar features that make up his handsome face

he lifts his hand up - waving them to get your attention

“did you draw me?”

you feel your throat go dry a bit and you shake your head

“n-no, i mean i did but for the painting reference.”

even from up on the ladder you can see stars in jeno’s eyes as he looks at the drawings

“can i keep them?”

it’s an unexpected question, so you don’t really know how to answer - it catches you off guard

so you turn your body a bit too fast

and before you can stop, gravity takes its course and your balance is thrown off

the green paint in your hand goes flying, a pretty arch splattering down over the mural and the ground below as you feel yourself falling backwards

the impact scares you - so you shut your eyes tightly and don’t hear jeno’s voice call out your name

you wait and wait to hit the ground

but instead you tumble straight into a pair of arms, your weight momentarily causing jeno to teeter backwards, but he manages to steady his grip

“are you alright?”

he asks, breathless and you refuse to open your eyes

“did i die?”

“yes.”

your eyes shoot open and jeno laughs at your panicked “what?!?!?”

“no, you didn’t die. you’re ok.”

you look at him - before reaching out and touching his face to confirm

forgetting that one of your country’s laws is that you’re not even allowed to touch royals

but you don’t care

his skin is smooth and warm to the touch and you let out a sigh of relief

“oh -ok.”

but jeno nearly drops you at the sudden contact, shaking his head to fight the oncoming blush

he sets you down and you turn to see the damage

a giant splatter of green right on the center of the queen’s face

“oh no - now i have to redo it again”

you groan and jeno just blinks before regaining his own composure

“i’ll help you.”

you step back and shake your head

“no way! you’re the prince, if people see you helping me - they’ll think -”

“i don’t care.”

jeno picks up a spare paintbrush and smiles, the pretty brown eyes turning into crescent moons as he does

“this time it wasn’t your fault, it was mine for startling you. it’s only right that i get the same punishment you did.”

you’re skeptical - and a little embarrassed

but jeno climbs up the stairs and turns to point

“im not good at painting though, so i will need your help.”

after news spreads that the prince has joined in on helping re-paint the mural

the circle around you two grows bigger and bigger each day

jaemin is called in, and even renjun at some point

which you find a little odd because at the end of the day renjun is berating you with questions about what kind of style of clothing you like - if you think the prince is handsome blonde - and other questions that you feel you really don’t need to be answering

but jeno never goes back on his word

he shows up everyday until the mural is fully fixed 

the last day, as you’re working on small details - and the crowd is bustling around you as jeno mixes paints at the bottom of the ladder

you hear an uproar of cheers and see from the corner of your eye that everyone is bowing low

“mother!”

jeno calls out and you quickly make your way down - ready to greet the queen as she ignores you and takes in your work so far

“jeno, you really must stop wasting your time here. you’re a prince not a painter, come now - let’s go back to the palace.”

she says - voice prim and proper

golden crown shining against the early morning light

you don’t say anything, but you feel jeno look back at you 

“the mural is almost done, when it is. ill come back.”

his mother’s lips form a straight line and she shakes her head

“it’s their punishment, no prince would ever help-”

“but i also messed up mother, i caused an accident and now i have to do my diligence too.”

renjun, whose beside the queen is shaking his head frantically - trying to tell jeno to just stop and come along

jaemin is silent on the otherside

and then you finally find your voice

“prince lee, you’ve helped me so much, but the queen is right.”

you begin and jeno straightens up his back

“no. she isn’t. i messed up all your work, im going to stay and help you fix this. then ill go back to the palace.”

you swear you see renjun plant his palm against his face 

but the queen doesn’t say anything

not until jeno perks up and adds

“you’re welcome to come back with me too.”

“what?”

you blurt out and the queen gives out an even harsher “what?”

renjun nearly falls over and jaemin looks amused as jeno walks over to you, hand swung around your shoulder

the common folk watching the scene all gasp and you feel your face turn red hot

“come back to the palace with me!”

“je- prince what are you -”

jeno grins

“i’d like them to work as the official artist for the royal family, and -”

he leans in a little, tilting his head and whispering the next part into your ear

“and maybe something more than just a friend to me?”

from your expression everyone knows what he said

the queen is ready to deny the request, but she’s struck speechless

and you kind of just

“i - uh -”

everything is paused and then you hear the shout of your name

through the crowd comes your roommate doyoung, seemingly unaware of the queen or the princes presence

as he stomps up to you

“we need to discuss rent!”

he exclaims, taking your hand and hauling you out down the street

am i dreaming?

you ask as you feel yourself tugged away from the  crowd

and you come to terms with the fact that this has to be some crazy dream you’re about to wake up from

but only an hour after being lectured about paying your due

the doorbell rings and you open it to see the prince there

“my dad said you can come work as the artist for the palace, he convinced my mom too. but about the other thing i asked?”

“um -”

you start and doyoung’s voice rings from the kitchen

“prince or not, you’re only allowed to go on a date with him after i get your share of the rent!”

you feel like a child just scolded by a parent in front of their crush

but jeno bursts out laughing and you want to tell him to stop

but instead he just shouts back

“i’ll cover their missing rent - but can i take them to dinner then?”

after a moment of silence you hear doyoung again

“deal!”

jeno offers his hand and you take it 

dreaming, im definitely dreaming - am i going to wake up? when will i wake up?

but you don’t wake up because it’s not a dream

and you end up having a dinner picnic in front of the finished mural, sharing sandwiches with jeno

the sketches you did still sticking out of his pocket, the sound of knight jaemin (whose supposed to be standing guard over you and the prince) snoozing in the background 

[haiq-trash]

Cinderella AU

So a heads up. I was previously @lu-haikyuu I lost that account :(anyways this is a repost. To clarify I am the writer and owner of this fanfic👉👈

This AU I wrote inspired by @kos-tyan art work of Hinata and Kageyama Cinderella AU fanart they made♡

[Word Count: 1,189]

[Type: Fluff]

His pale hands were marked with spots of red and muddy purple. He’d been cleaning the floor for hours, the wet rag never seemed to clean as effectively as it should or maybe it was his evil step brothers who walked in and out dragging not only dirt into the house but there sneer comments as well.

“Oops! I think you misses a spot,” the spoiled brat sneered at him, “better hurry or you’ll never make it to the ball!”

His laugh was neither enjoyable or pleasant it sounded as if though you dragged nails on a chalkboard while babies screamed.

Hinata just bit the inside of his cheek trying not to talk back the voice of his stepmother ringing clearly, “You talk back once and its no ball for you!”

They had left him on his own as his mind reeled. An Hinata had finally finished cleaning the floors as well as waxing. He walked with heavy arms and feet up the stairs. Sighing with relief when his body landed like a rock on the bed, as the stingy frame creaked.

The door opened slightly and there stood Natsu, her muted brown dress all splotched. Threads sticking out from every direction.

“Come here. I’ll fix that stingy thing for you real quick!”

Natsu shook her head full of striking orange hair, “ No Onii-chan! You must rest, tonights the ball after all!”

Hinata chuckled a bit. Tired or not, Natsu was his only remaining blood. After both their mother and father died, Natsu became Hinata’s life. But as she grew older, more independent Hinata felt lonesome.

He stood from bed grabbed some needles, a needle cushion, thread and began working away. Adjusting those loose strands in a flash.

“There all done, see? No time at all either way I have to finish working on my tux for the ball!”

Natsu’s eyes held specks of glitter, “Oh! Can I see how it looks like? Pleaseee!”

Hinata stood up from his bent down position and walked to the corner of the room there stood a mannequin wearing a almost completed tux.

Blue in cloth color and trimmed in the edges with gold/yellow lining. All gathered from discarded materials and clothes from his step brothers. All that was missing were the final buttons and he would be done.

“Wow that looks amazing!”

Hinata flustered a bit and nodded, “Thanks Natsu.”

Soon enough the step mothers cried for help were heard and Natsu stood up to do so. Not before saying, “I’ll go Onii-chan, you finish your tux and don’t have too much fun!”

Hinata was about to protest but his sister had already left. He began to humm a lullaby his mother sang to him a long time ago. As tiny baby crows flocked to his window peering from the edge to see the dancing ball of orange fluff.

Once complete, he swifty changed his clothes. The sun no longer shone as bright so it was safe to assume some hours had passed by.

An although the sun wasn’t as bright, Hinata sure was. As he saw his hard work on himself, he look amazing. No longer the markings of a peasant.

He twirled around as excitment drew near, it was almost time for the ball! Oh how much did he want to go! Socialize and make a multitude of friends, he even heard the prince was quite the looker.

He knew many girls would want him as a suitor but it was well known that the prince preferred men. So his step brothers were out for the hunt.

But his peaceful moment was interrupted when he was called down stairs. Still in hi suit in all he walked as he saw his step brothers dressed in over the top clothes with [quite dreadful] ruffles.

“Hinata you forgot this mark!”

“N-No I didn’t it must have been made recently”

“Are you calling your step brothers liars?!”

“N-no! Its just-”

“Mother! I dare say isn’t that MY clothes? As well as my dear younger brother?!”

The oldest of the two walked to Hinata and gripped the suit.

“N-Now wait! Its clothes you’ve discarded and-”

But Hinata was silenced by the gasp of the older step brother and as he ripped the sleeve. The younger one followed, each devil pointing out where or what the cloth was taken from.

Till Hinata laid sat down, head facing the dirt mark, suit in shreds. His step mother towered over him, her menacing shadow ending any sunlight that hit him.

“You shall not go to the ball! This behavior is unacceptable! You will stay here with Natsu and clean the dishes all night!” An dare he say he saw a smirk graze her wicked face.

Soon the carriage arrived and the bumbling devils left the home. Hinata walked upstairs to his room and cried as the little crows flied near him. One began to peck at his toes, he sniffled.

“W-what?”

The little crow hopped from one place to another. Moving, flapping its wings toward outside.

“I have to go help Natsu”

The little birdie did not care and began to peck him on the head.

“Ow! Ow! Okay, okay I’ll go!”

The little birdie flew out the window as Hinata walked to follow it. It lead him to a patch of clear forest, no shrubs or weeds in sight as a beautiful river laid on the middle.

He walked around and saw his reflection, the mess he was and began to cry. His dream ruined, crushed.

But he stopped. When he felt a hand be placed on his shoulder, looking up his eyes widened.

A man with silver hair, warm golden eyes and a mole under one wearing a robe smiled down on him.

“Don’t fret my boy! I’ll help you go to the ball!”

Hinata sniffled as he stood up, “Why would you do that for me?”

The robed man lifted one hand from beneath his robe revealing his wand, “Well i’m your Fairy Godfather after all!”

Hinata eyes widened as he looked at the man who was chatting with the crow from earlier.

“I know Asahi! Can it or I won’t turn you back,” he cleared his throat and turned to Hinata.

“Now my boy. You want to go to the ball yes?”

“Yes! I really do!”

His Fairy Godfather waved his wand, “well you going to need a new tux and a carriage while your at it too!”

“Bibbity Boppity Boo!” He began to chant and sing as he moved. Specks of magic wrapped themselves around Hinata and his ruined suit became a art piece. Patterns and stitches so complex not even the best tailor in town could compete with. The small pumpkin the crow had brought turned into a huge carriage and the crow from before turned into a tall, long haired bearded man that stood handling the horses that were once mice.

Hinata stared in awe as he began to choke up, “Thank you!”

“Your welcome but be warned! The magic will wear off once the clock strikes midnight!”

He pushed Hinata to the carriage and he rode off, his heart pumping.

When he arrived, the grand staircase greeted him as royalty and nobles from across the land arrived. He mingled with them actively avoiding his step mother and brothers. Although they possibly couldn’t have recognized him.

As he walked he caught eye of his step brother dancing with the prince he was wearing a white suit trimmed with a golden color. Hinata thought the prince looked absolutely beautiful. His stepbrother on the other hand kept stepping on the princes toes. An Hinata suppressed a giggle and once the music stopped and there dance was over the prince caught the sight of orange hair.

Their gazes met and Hinata flushed. Then the prince pointed at him and declared, “You, dance with me.”

Hinata awkwardly stumbled to him as his step brothers and mother glared at him. Yet did not recognized him as the prince grabbed his hand. He planted a kiss on it and Hinata fumed as he began to blabber.

But it all halted as the music started and they danced. Hinata peering into the princes magical blue eyes. His dark hair , strong arms. Hinata realized he didn’t want the dance to end. An for the rest of the time the prince had Hinata by his side as the people whispered amongst themselves.

“Who is that boy with orange hair? What is he doing with Prince Kageyama!?”

Hintas step mothered glared as realization hit her, “No idea.”

Meanwhile Hinata and Kageyama talked all night, finding multiple common grounds and differences. Everything was paradise.

Until Hinata heard the clock chime as the clock struck 12. He began to panic and tole the unsure prince, “I-I have to go!”

Kageyama tried to grab his hand, “Wait! Where can I find you!”

But Hinata was already off, running leaving nothing in his awake, besides a stand of orange hair. He hopped on his carriage and was able to get home just in time before the carriage transformed into a pumpkin and the horses into mice.

The next week Hinatas mind was occupied with thoughts of the dreamy prince. Until a marshall came and declared that every house hold would be checked for orange hair. Hinata’s eyes widened, he was looking for him?!

An when the knock came to the door Hinata rushed to open it, but was stopped by his “family”.

“Don’t even think about it! We already saw you with the prince at the ball that night!”

One brother had Natsu in his grasped and forced Hinata inside his room with his sister. Locked the door as he shouted and banged on it.

The marshall had come in with prince Kageyama. His blue eyes scanned the room, two orange haired boys stood peering at him. He grabbed the strand of orange hair and held it to there’s for comparison.

“Its too dark” he scowled.

“Oh your majesty you must be mistaken! It is clearly the colo-”

“Its not” his voice was gruff, it was not his hair. It was too dark. The marshall and the prince were about to leave, bodies half way through the door. When Hinata ran into the room, pink and sweating. The prince turned back to see his eyes wide.

“Its you!” The prince shouted as he pushed aside the protesting mother and step brothers.

He held his strand of hair to Hinata and it was a perfect match. The prince hugged him in a warm embraced and spin him around.

(A few months later)

Hinata stood in the palace nervous as his Fairy God Father, Suga giggled.

“You’ll be fine!”

Hinata stuttered, “I-I’m getting married!”

Natsu giggled as she spin in her adorable dress with bows on it.

Suga adjusted Hinatas tie and pushed him to enter the door. There as he walked down the aisle he saw Kageyama standing handsome as ever.

His step mother and brothers no where to be seen, doomed to wash palace dishes for lifetime.

As a Hinata and Kageyama were seen kissing through the carriage windows. Flying off to their own happily ever after.

Hinata walked hand in hand out of the church with his prince. As crows flew and petals rained from the sky, bells ringing symphonies of happiness.