#mini kit idea

[plotarcade]

My sister is always telling me what to do—where to go, who I can and can’t see—and honestly? She’s usually overreacting. So when the cutest guy at school asked me out, and she warned me not to go, I rolled my eyes and snuck out the window anyway.

But now, hiding behind a tree while he and his friends hunt me down, I have to admit… she was right this time.

I hated to admit that she was right this time.

[feyburner]

Okay everyone tell me in the tags what’s in your everyday bag. I’ll start. Phone keys wallet, Vaseline chapstick, mini sunscreen, 2 types of lip color (Innisfree tinted balm & Stila red lipstick), mints, listerine strips, comb, hairbands, glasses cloth, mini notebook, pen, sharpie, tampon, face mask, hand sanitizer, sometimes a travel size perfume. Okay it’s your turn, what items do u have in your inventory

[littlealienproducts]

Felt realistic spring beetle sewing KIT by MiniMiFeltThings

[lymooniee]

Bracardi Curry please teach me your ways I LOVE LOVE HIS ART AND IN THE IDW COMICS MUAH-- just had to post about these. The way his art also screams vibes like jet set radio or bomb rush cyberfunk like I'm literally melting...

[shopaholicsrus]

Gifts for Hobbyists - Miniature Dolls House - Maybe for Mother's Day?

DIY Miniature Dollhouse Kit with Furniture - Handcrafted 3D Wooden Model House Puzzle - Creative Mini Villa for Ages 14 and Up - Ideal for Hobbyists, Holiday Gifts and Home Decor

Five Star Review: I was quite intimidated when this little house kit first arrived, but once I got started It has been a lot of fun. It comes with so many tiny intricate things that you have to put together first. It's so cute!!! Great winter project!

Get a great gift!

[dogs-with-lightsabers]

tried to draw the Kurusu cat plushies last night and had an actual meltdown yikes

in the meantime: Morgana and Mordred are these cat plushies that Yosuke bought before Akira was born! Morgana looks like kitty Mona still, a tuxedo with blue eyes and and Yosuke’s yellow dancing bandanna! Mordred is orange (probably a tabby but i gotta figure out that pattern), with the bright green eyes and a blue bandanna from when Yosuke was younger!

these plushies still exist in the Kurusu house now, nestled in a cubby in Yosuke’s office/study

(Akira thought it was weird seeing Morgana as a cat, remembering a childhood plushie of the same name and same appearance still sitting in their dad’s office. They didn’t tell him this fact though. Just let their mind wander back to their apartment as they whispered their plan to him and the blondes.)

[peruviandesertfox]

Just off the top of my head:

Wallet, Stain remover stick, Pen, Sharpie, Dry Erase marker, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, fidget spinner, glasses cloth, water bottle, dr pepper, phone charger, multitool, pads, lotion, gum, bandaid, hard candies

Also, admittedly, I have a medium purse that holds most of this and then I put said purse in a large bag with my beverages, charger, phone, and keys lol

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours

[strawb3rry-hon3y]

cliché but opposites attract with yeon sieun? can be a headcanon or a scenario !! whatever you want 🫶🏼 tysm

Impulse And Intellect

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x GN!Reader Requested: Yes

Summary: A headcanon about Si-eun falling for someone who is his complete opposite.

Length: 676 Words Genre: Fluff / Light Angst

Warnings: Fluff, outgoing/impulsive reader behavior. Status: Complete!

♡. Si-eun first noticed you because you were everything he wasn’t. Loud laughter, quick emotions, and a warmth that seemed to follow you wherever you went. He didn’t understand you at first, and it lowkey annoyed him how you could just say whatever you were feeling so easily.

♡. You, on the other hand, found him fascinating. Calm, composed, and almost infuriatingly blank at times. Si-eun was like a puzzle you wanted to figure out.

♡. When you two started hanging out more (mostly because you forced yourself into his space, sitting next to him at lunch, dragging him into random conversations). Si-eun realized you weren’t just reckless, You felt everything deeply. But somehow, that didn’t make you weak; it made you strong in your own way.

♡. You love poking at Si-eun just to get any reaction out of him. Tugging his sleeves, mimicking his serious expressions, leaning way too close when he’s trying to study. Half the time he just blinks at you like "are you done yet?". But sometimes you catch the tiniest smirk before he hides it.

♡. You had no problem dragging Si-eun into chaotic adventures sneaking off-campus for snacks, last-minute study sessions that turned into you ranting about life, and even stupid bets like who could stay quiet longer, which are always his idea. (you lost every time, but he secretly liked when you talked).

♡. Speaking of, Si-eun secretly loves hearing you talk about your day, even when you ramble about random, pointless things. He won’t always respond with full sentences, but he listens so intently it makes your heart hurt a little.

♡. He doesn’t always know how to comfort you when you get upset. If you cry, Si-eun sits there awkwardly for a second before offering his hand or wordlessly pushing a snack and drink toward you. He’s trying, okay?

♡. Si-eun is the type to wordlessly fix your jacket if it’s slipping off, or move you to the inside of the sidewalk without saying anything, and press his hand lightly to your back when he feels you getting overwhelmed. No big gestures. Just quiet, constant care.

♡. He tries not to show it but seeing you upset messes him up more than anything. He’ll stay awake texting you, walking you home, or sitting quietly by your side, anything just to be there. Even if he doesn’t know what to say.

♡. You're the reason he starts carrying extra band aids or mini-med kits easy to carry. Not for himself: but for you. Because you keep scraping your knees, bumping into things, and somehow managing to get minor injuries doing the most ridiculous things.

♡. The first time he calls you "reckless," you grin and say "And you love it." without missing a beat. He looks like he’s about to argue but just sighs and looks away.

♡. Si-eun always pretends he’s not worried about you when you get yourself into stupid situations, but the way he shows up without you calling, and the quiet one or two word lectures he gives you afterward: kind of gives him away.

♡. When you’re feeling restless and impulsive, for example: "Let’s go on a midnight walk!" "Let’s dye our hair!" "Let's prank Baku!" Si-eun sighs.. but 95% of the time, he goes along with it. Quietly, Grumpily, But he’s there. Always.

♡. You once tried to teach him how to take silly selfies. He just stared at the camera like O_O the entire time. You love him for it anyway. (that exact photo became your home screen wallpaper.).

♡. He doesn’t say "I love you" first. Instead, it’s you blurting it out in the middle of a heated moment. Si-eun just blinks at you before replying in a small, quiet voice like it's the most embarrassing thing in the world: "I know. Me too.." Which is honestly more then you expected in that moment.

♡. People wonder how the two of you work so well together. What they don’t realize is that You don’t fix each other. You just make the hard days softer, the lonely days warmer, and life a little more bearable, together.

Taglist: N/A Header’s Creator: @saradika-graphics

[poguehearted77]

Baby Steps

Summary: You and Rafe are expecting your first child and decide to take a trip to the beach, not expecting to be joined by a guest with chubby cheeks and pull ups.

-some more domesticated rafe as per your request-

The golden hues of the late afternoon sun stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Rafe arrive. You smile at the feeling of the hot sand between your toes.

The waves lazily lap against the shore, creating a serene soundtrack to your special day. It was a beautiful day out, for sure. With the cooler gripped in one hand, with the umbrella on top, and the box containing a special mini cake in his other hand, Rafe is already in full preparation mode.

“Here, let me help with that,” you offer, but Rafe shakes his head, his grin both charming and determined. "You're already carrying something valuable, let me handle the rest, okay?" Rafe reassures you as he places the items down in a nice vacated space.

Far enough from the waves to not get wet, but close enough to still hear the water cracking against the sand at an amplified volume as the perfect white noise for you to do some beach reading. You glance down at your rounded belly, letting your left hand rest over the precious cargo he's referring to.

"I'm only four months, babe. I can still carry things. Just let me help you set up at least." You hold onto the muscle of his upper arm with a soft frown and he can't resist. An idea visibly dawned upon him. "Yeah, you know what." He props open the cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of water, "I need you to drink this, I don't want you to get too hot."

Your eyes roll and you take the bottle, about to ease yourself down onto the beach chair when Rafe is suddenly behind you, a guiding palm on your lower back to lighten your load as you sit down. "Rafe, you're joking, right? I know how to sit down by myself." You huff and he sees you're starting to get frustrated.

He crouches down to be near you, "Look, baby. I'm sorry, okay? It's all just so new to me and I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby especially not if I can help it." Your arms unfold, and your composure melts under his apologetic gaze.

How could you be mad at him? He was just so cute and excited to be a dad, he wanted to make sure you had the safest, most comfortable pregnancy possible, and he made sure of that at all times. He set up everything while you didn't lift a finger.

You'd even slipped into a light nap as he did so. Waking up under the shade of the beach umbrella and almost certain there was an extra layer of sunscreen on your arms that wasn't there before.

Your towels laid out on the sand in front of you where Rafe knelt, the cake now put away in the cooler as he organized the supplies in the first-aid kit he insisted on bringing along.

"Is this all you're gonna do all day?" You mumble, lifting up your sun hat a bit to see him better and he smiles. "Well, you fell asleep on me, so I was keeping myself busy." Taking that as your cue to stand, leaving your hat behind on the chair and untying the flowy coverup you'd been wearing.

"I'm up now, let's get in the water." He's right behind you as your heels kick up sand with your eager steps to the ocean. Your laughs blend harmoniously in the water. Playful splashes and stolen kisses fill your afternoon for the next hour until you're ready for lunch.

Now Rafe was lounging under the shade, sunglasses covering his sky-blue eyes as he relaxed on the chair. Meanwhile, you enjoyed the warm sun kissing your skin as you sat on the towel, preparing some sandwiches for you both to share.

That brings you to now, the two of you sitting on the sandy towels with satiated appetites and a pleased smile on your faces, enjoying each other's company. "You ready now?" Rafe proposes, referring to the mini cake in the cooler which had either a pink or blue filling. You shake your head.

"Not yet, I need more time." He laughs, "At this rate, you'll find out when the baby comes." He says casually and your brow arches, "Only me? Don't you mean the both of us?" His head shakes, "Uh uh, I'm eating that cake with or without you." He jokes and you swat at him, causing him to spill some water from the bottle he was sipping before putting it away.

His attention was stolen from you and focused on something behind you, before you could even turn your head, Rafe's reflexes are shown as his arms reach out for the tumbling toddler who'd tripped over the uneven terrain and it seems she'd been running at a pace faster than her chunky legs could keep up with.

"Woah! Hey there, pudding," The nickname rolls off Rafe's tongue so naturally you hardly even recognize it, she looks up at him from within his stronghold. "Hi!" She waves and Rafe smiles so big it warms your heart to see.

"Where are your parents?" He follows up but she busies herself with the chain around his neck, blabbering the words 'Dada' in the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.

Rafe's eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile as he looks at you, mouthing the words, "She's so cute" and you mouth back, "I know," "I wonder where her parents are." You say, checking the tag on her swim top for any signs of identification but nothing. The two of you stand, the toddler hanging off Rafe's side, having the time of her life with a cheeky smile.

The two of you paced the beach, up and down. "I know her parents are worried sick," You mutter, checking your phone for any services you can contact for a 'lost baby on the beach please help!'

"If they don't come back, do you think we can keep her?" Rafe inquires and you laugh, "It's probably every parent's nightmare to hear a stranger say that as you're holding their missing child." You say, stopping in your tracks and placing your hands on your back with a sigh, worn out from all the walking.

"Are you okay?" Rafe checks in and you nod, "Maybe we should just go back and wait? Her parents might be walking around too and we keep missing them." Rafe agrees and the three of you walk back to your place on the beach, each of you holding her hand as she had insisted on being put down.

You kept her busy once you returned to your spot, building sand castles and giving her some water and sunscreen to keep her hydrated and protected from the slowly setting sun.

"How old are you?" Rafe laughs at your attempts to have full conversations with who he assumes is a two-year-old, but your guess was three. "Me Ava." She says and your eyes widen. Your initial question remained unanswered but now you had other answers.

"Ava! Hi Ava!" You coo, tickling her tummy until she's a bundle of fits and giggles, completely oblivious to the longing look Rafe has on you. "Tummy!" She says, and you laugh, not sure what she's talking about until she places a hand on your belly. "Big tummy!" She repeats and Rafe can't help but stifle a laugh at her direct observation.

"That's right. There's a baby in here." You explain but her head tilts, lost. "Baby?" You gave the soft waves of her hair a gentle pat, admiring her innocence, "Yep, it's either a girl baby or a boy baby." To your surprise, she begins chanting for a 'boy baby'. "See, Ava gets it." Rafe teases, always taking the opportunity to talk about having the boy he so desperately begs you for as if you had any say in the matter.

"Hungry," She whines and that sends Rafe digging into the cooler for snacks. You let her decide which fruit she wanted but her eye had caught sight of the mini container of cake that had been taken out in order to find the other items.

"Looks like she knows what she wants," Rafe smiles and you think about it, "We can't give her sugar, Rafe. Here, do you want some watermelon?" Her focus now is on the juicy red fruit you presented to her on a plate.

She must be fond of it, slurping up the juices and making a mess of her top. Fortunately, it was later washed off with the salt water when Rafe insisted on playing with her after she'd digested her food.

The sun was slowly beginning to set and the three of you had been lounging around for the last thirty minutes or so, when Ava made a loud shriek, "Mama!" She yelled, hopping off the towel and into her mom's arms.

Ava's mom graces you with a tight hug and a desperate stream of never-ending apologies and gratitude. She congratulated you on the little one you were expecting, confident you'd be amazing parents. "Now, what do you say to the nice people who watched you, Ava?" Her mom prompts, with what you could imagine is a very secure hold on Ava's hand, ensuring she doesn't slip away again.

"Thank you!" She beams, showing off her tiny baby teeth and you feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The last two hours, though chaotic, gave you the reassurance you were looking for with the whole parenting thing.

You wave them goodbye and you take a deep breath, "I'm ready," You don't have to explain anything more and you're both walking back to your spot to cut the cake. Only to see a toddler-sized footprint in it that Ava must've caused as she got up, denting the container and the contents inside smushing against its confines.

Pink.

"Wait…" You say, in disbelief, kneeling down with Rafe doing the same. "Are we-" He says, eyes misting over and you call him out, "Hey, I thought you wanted a boy." He holds you close, "I thought so too, but I'm honestly just glad it's with you." He brings you in for a kiss on your forehead. She's so loved already and she doesn't even know it.

[sheep-from-rad]

breathes, I need to make a masterlist for DC. Writing Batfam is becoming too fun 

*I don't own DC also reader is gender neutral. this could be applied to yandere batfam as well, i think*

Bruce, Batfam and baby! Reader would be fun to watch. This man raised children but apparently having a baby in the house made him realize that he still has a lot to learn. Reader arrives at the estate as a baby after their mom (ex fling) decides that it will be better if they will be with Bruce instead.  

If this man’s sleep schedule was bad before, now it's abysmal. It was so bad that Batfam had to step in. Baby! Reader cries at 3 a.m. and before Bruce can even stand up he sees Jason at the dark corner of the room telling him to go back to sleep because Dick already has it handled. I love the idea of baby reader’s crib being in Bruce’s room because it will be easier to reach the crying baby reader at night that way. 

There’s no such thing as too much clothes. Batfam sees something cute or a baby clothing, they are buying it. Damian is partial towards stuffed animals and he will deny it but Bruce had seen him bonding with by reading animal related baby books. I also see Damian as a possessive brother in the sense that once they have their hands on  baby! reader, they will never let anyone else hold them. Not even Bruce. 

Batfamily had to now pack another shirt whenever they go outside with baby!reader or else they’ll be coming home wet with baby drool. Every Batsibling has their alarm clocks and they’ll always fight each other on who gets to feed the baby reader. Alfred wins most of the time because the siblings get too caught up in the fighting; they just forget about feeding the baby. 

Jason will nonstop troll Bruce for sure. Bruce will be entering the dining hall all tired with baby reader in his arms and Jason will be singing, ‘A single mom who works two jobs’ meme until Bruce glares at him or tells him to stop. Coffee supply on the estate doubles because Tim is not the only one addicted now, Bruce too. 

Superhero themed onesies are banned inside the house because it became a mini competition between the batfam but don’t let anyone know that Bruce kept a Batman bib. Every bedroom is baby proofed because each sibling just loves to monopolize baby readers. 

Galas are now fun. The batfam who previously avoids galas like it’s a plague now from time to time pops in to say that Bruce is gonna be late because either baby reader got into a teeny tiny accident and needed to be changed or baby reader got into Stephanie’s make up kit and needed to be wiped clean. 

The idea of a baby!reader learning how to crawl and walk is funny too. Bruce just constantly stressed out because his little baby just disappears and then comes back in the arms of a sibling who told him that they crawled to their room. Baby reader sees older siblings training and they’ll be trying to replicate it (with the siblings making sure it won’t be dangerous of course). Just imagine Dick’s social media with a picture of him stretching and baby reader (face covered for privacy) next to him replicating it. 

Batfam was overprotective before and it became more protective now. Tim will always be quick to cover baby!reader’s face when the siblings  are out in public say for ice cream or a little shopping trip. Securities are doubled too. If one sibling is taking baby reader out, another one will be following behind and the others are on the roof.  No baby photos because let’s face it, one quick photo can land on a random newspaper and some villains might get their hands on a copy. 

Damian will always be quick to pull away baby!reader on galas especially when Bruce is surrounded by women who try flirting with him using their ‘maternal’ skills. Passing baby!reader around the gala are not allowed unless Bruce himself lets the person hold the baby!reader. 

Imagine one day Batman goes to a Justice League meeting with the baby! Reader strapped on their chest because apparently the batfam is busy and Alfred is on vacation. If Bruce only knew that the batfam lied because the JL wants to meet the baby reader. Did Justice League got overboard with the Christmas gifts the next year? Shhh… we don’t talk about that, the impromptu storage room is still full.

[mylittleponyoh]

New Mini CC Kit "Honey, I Cooked !" by MylittleponyOh

Hey Simmers,

Here is my new minikit : it's all about kitchen clutter but make it messy !

If you like to add life into your builds or your sims life then this kit is made for you :)

This minikit has 10 base game compatible & lowpoly items :

Citrus Branches In a Vase - 10 swatches

Cutting Board - 4 swatches

Flour Mess - 1 swatch

Flour - 4 swatches

Mess (spills) - 6 swatches

Messy Cloth - 6 swatches

Pot - 12 swatches

Rolling Pin - 2 swatches

Sink Mess - 8 swatches

Wooden Spoon - 6 swatches

Special thanks to @ itsnoma_m for the idea !

Hope you'll like it !

Download here (CF)

Download here (Patreon)

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ your walking glam kit .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x gn!reader

⤿ Bakugou secretly carries your entire glam kit and handles every beauty emergency like it’s a battlefield mission.

there’s always that one guy who seems like he doesn’t care but somehow knows everything. yeah, bakugou is that guy—except he does it with the energy of a man who’d fight a god just to blend your contour better.

you once joked about forgetting your setting spray and this man deadass pulled out a travel-sized bottle like it was a weapon. from his cargo pants pocket. where was he keeping that? no idea. don’t ask. he sure doesn’t offer.

“what, you think i’d let you go on camera lookin’ like a powdered donut?”

rude. but also valid.

mascara smudging a little from laughing too hard? he’s already tapping the corner of your eye with a Q-tip he somehow had on him. like he’s been waiting for this. like he trained for this.

you try to mess with him sometimes.

“man, wish i had my brow pencil right now.”

without a beat, he grunts, “left inner pocket.”

you check. it’s there. sharpened. pristine. your shade.

how?

he doesn’t carry a bag. he doesn’t wear a bag. and yet—you once counted—he had four glosses, two mini palettes, a mini straightener, and a set of falsies on him.

“how are you carrying all this?” you whisper, suspicious.

he side-eyes you like you’re the weird one.

“don’t worry about it.”

he clicks your lash curler shut with precision.

and don’t even get started on the time you muttered, “i need a light for my tiktoks,” and he whipped out a foldable ring light from his hoodie pocket. he clipped it to your phone and said, “you’ve got 10 minutes. i’m timing you.”

if anyone asks, he’s “just prepared.”

but everyone knows—he’s got a sixth sense for your glam emergencies.

and he cares—a little too much for someone who grumbles every time you ask for help, then proceeds to give you a full 5-star beat.

you stopped carrying your own makeup bag after month two.

because now you just turn to your boyfriend and say,

“babe, you got the—”

“yeah. here.”

hand already outstretched.

© jxwl4k 2025

[kingdom-of-peace]

Spotlight. | N.R

Older!News Anchor!Natasha x Younger!Female!Professor Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, one of the most recognized faces in television, finds herself under unexpected scrutiny when a young academic’s lecture on media ethics gains traction online — setting the stage for an unlikely rivalry that blurs the line between enemies and something else entirely.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (natasha late 30s, reader 27ish), language, mentions of homophobia, mentions of sex, Me not being familiar with the inner workings of network television.

Word Count: 5.6k+

A/N: Hey everyone! Long-time reader, first-time poster here. So I guess you could see this as a little thank-you for getting me through some tough times with your amazing stories. This chapter is a bit of a practice run - if you guys like it, I’ll probably be continuing this as a mini-series. The idea has been lingering in my mind for a while. FYI English isn’t my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes!

The clock ticked toward the seven-hour mark, numbers climbing up steadily as the seconds bled into each other. The studio hummed, a cacophony of voices layered on top of one another. Producers, directors, and assistants hustling between monitors, whispering instructions and updating cues. But through it all, Natasha Romanoff the pride of the network moved like a conductor of chaos. Every step, measured. Every glance, deliberate.

She made her way to the sleek glass desk, the papers for her notes already laid out in perfect alignment— black letters against white background. The desk, like everything else around her, was immaculate, designed to make the person behind it the centre of attention. As she sat, Betty, a new member of the makeup crew, approached with a kit. The girl was eager, almost too eager, hands slightly shaking as she opened her compact mirror. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she reached for the earpiece.

“Don’t put too much highlighter on my face,” Natasha said, her voice clipped, without a hint of softness. “Last week, your colleague made me look like a disco ball.” Betty froze eyes wide. Natasha could feel her anxiety before the words even left her mouth. “I-I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I’ll try my best...���. “Don’t try your best. Do as I say,” Natasha interjected sharply, her tone biting. “Y-Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” Betty stammered. “two minutes,” someone called out from the back of the studio.

As Betty moved to step back, she quickly wished Natasha good luck. Natasha didn’t respond, merely rolling her eyes before glancing toward the producers’ booth. She could already feel the inevitable irritation building. The earpiece clicked into place, and the familiar voice of Maria Hill, her producer, filled her ear. “Finally decided to grace us with your attention, huh?”

Natasha’s eyes flicked upward to the glass wall behind which the production room was located, her lips curling into a smirk. “Maybe you shouldn’t let Sharon take a holiday whenever she wants. I know you two had a thing back at university, but those doe-eyed makeup artists turn my pretty face into a caricature. Sharon is the only one, who knows what to do with a pretty face like mine.”

Maria’s laugh crackled through the earpiece, dry and sharp." They don’t stay doe-eyed for long. Give it two weeks, and Betty will be completely head over heels in love with you, especially once you start showing off your... bedroom charm." Natasha’s smirk only deepened. “What can I say? I know what a woman wants.”

“You mean intentionally creating potential workplace conflicts the moment they realize their feelings are not reciprocated. You know Agatha from HR told me, your file is by far the heaviest on her desk.” Maria replied with a slight edge to her voice. Natasha knew Maria was not a big fan of her sexual escapades at the network but once in a while the stress of the job caught up even to her. She opened her mouth to respond, but Maria’s voice came through again, cutting the conversation short: “All channels open. 15 seconds.” Signalling that the conversation was over and no longer private. Time to focus.

The tension in Natasha’s body shifted. Taking a moment to collect herself, every inch of her posture shifting from sharp banter to the cool, controlled persona she had perfected over the years. The camera would be on her in seconds, and there was no room for anything other than perfection. Repositioning herself in her chair—back straight, shoulders squared, the very picture of professionalism. As the last few seconds ticked away, Natasha’s eyes snapped to the teleprompter, locking into the script. It was all business now. Her world contracted into that single, glowing line of text. Her fingers twitched slightly, but otherwise, she remained still.

“We are live in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1,” Maria counted down, the words cutting through her thoughts.

The red recording light snapped on, and everything else—the noise, the chatter, the chaos—ceased to exist. The iconic newsroom music blaring through the speakers. The sound that had become synonymous with what Natasha had achieved. A few quiet clicks echoed in the room as cameras shifted into position. Natasha didn’t blink. Her face settled into its trademark calm, eyes piercing the lens like twin weapons. Showtime.

“Good evening. I’m Natasha Romanoff, and this is The Hour.”

Her voice, cool and steady, carried the weight of authority. As the camera zoomed in, her gaze never wavered, her presence filling every corner of the screen. “Tonight: disinformation, climate crisis, and the story the numbers won’t tell you.”

The graphics behind her came alive in choreographed rhythm—images of protests, wildfires and talking points sliced into headlines. She didn’t look at them. She didn’t need to.

The redhead had already memorized the arc of the story: crisis, confusion, control. Natasha told it backwards, starting from what the public feared and unravelling the mess with her usual signature—calm, vaguely unforgiving clarity. In her earpiece, someone was murmuring time cues. She ignored them. She always did.

“In five minutes, you’ll hear from a senior intelligence analyst. But first—what we aren’t talking about.” That was the trick. Tell them what they didn’t know they wanted to hear. Make it feel like truth. Deliver it with a stillness so complete, it silenced doubt before it could form.

----

The lights above Natasha dimmed for a second—an automatic adjustment to keep the focus on her. From the control room, Maria watched her like a hawk, fingers dancing over her tablet, the constant pulse of the broadcast in her veins.

"She’s on fire tonight," Maria murmured to Pepper the network president’s personal assistant, standing beside her, flipping through notes. Pepper didn’t look up. She didn’t need to. Natasha always delivered, always commanded the room. “She always is.” Pepper’s voice was dry, but there was a touch of admiration beneath it. She could feel the heat even through the glass. She paused, the corner of her mouth curling up slightly. “How much do you bet that his career is over after the interview?”

Maria shrugged, her sharp eyes never leaving Natasha, who was now in the midst of her segment. The current topic a prominent politician—someone who had recently come under fire for money fraudulence now being interviewed by her.

“Senator Rumlow, you’ve been under fire recently for a report that surfaced showing you used large portions of your campaign donations for luxury vacations. These funds, which were meant to support your ‘community welfare initiatives,’ were instead spent on lavish trips to the French Riviera and resorts in the Maldives. How do you justify that?”

The senator’s mouth twitched. A quick glance to the side, a nervous swipe of his hand across his brow. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Miss Romanoff, I... there’s been a misunderstanding. These funds were used to secure partnerships and build networks with international leaders. I was meeting with potential investors who could bring millions in funding to my community.”

Natasha didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked on his, a calculated silence hanging between them.

“So,” she leaned forward, voice cutting through the air like a blade, “you used funds intended to alleviate poverty and support struggling families for personal vacations to network? A trip to the Maldives to discuss ‘potential investors’—is that the kind of network we’re talking about?”

The senator's face flushed, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words.  Natasha’s expression never shifted, while the senator on the other end of the interview appeared slightly uncomfortable. She leaned in just enough to suggest she was giving him a chance to speak, but also to control the pace of the conversation. He was about to make a mistake. Maria could feel it back in the production room.

"Yeah, she’s definitely on fire tonight." Maria allowed herself a slight smile, eyes sharp. “The way she’s making him squirm, you’d think they were old enemies.”

Pepper glanced over at the monitor. Natasha was listening intently, her gaze never leaving the senator, dissecting every word he said, her expression calculated but not unkind. She didn’t need to look at the teleprompter anymore. This was where Natasha was dangerous—the moment she stopped relying on the script and instead started using her own control over the conversation.

“I never—look, these trips were necessary for the larger cause. My team and I were—”

“Your team?” Natasha interrupted, her tone cold, unforgiving. She didn’t give him a second to recover. “You’re telling me that your ‘team’ thought it was acceptable to spend taxpayer and donor money on personal luxuries under the guise of ‘building international relationships’? And those relationships just happened to involve resorts, yachts, and five-star hotels?”

The senator’s face tightened, but Natasha’s sharp, relentless gaze showed no mercy. Her posture was perfect, the epitome of control—one hand lightly resting on the table, the other folded under her chin as she leaned forward, waiting for him to crack.

“Senator,” Natasha continued, her voice low but cutting, “you’ve used the public’s trust to fund personal indulgences. You’ve done nothing to benefit the very communities that donated their hard-earned money in good faith. You’ve used their trust as a shield for your personal gain.”

The senator shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but the sweat on his brow was the only sign that he was losing his composure.

“I... I apologize for the perception this has created, but I am still working tirelessly for the people. I don’t expect you to understand the pressure we face in this position.”

Natasha’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was the kind of smile that signalled the end of a conversation, not the beginning.

“Understand? You’ve already made it clear, Senator. You’ve made your priorities clear. You’ve misused the public’s trust, and no amount of ‘apology’ will make up for that.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “You’ll have a lot to explain in front of those who donated their last dollars to your supposed cause. I don’t think a few ‘networking’ excuses will make that any easier.”

The camera panned out slightly, framing the senator on the screen, defeated, under the weight of her words. Natasha sat back in her chair, her expression coldly satisfied, but there was no triumph in her gaze. Just the quiet assurance that she had exposed the truth—and in this game, truth was always her weapon.

Maria looked at Pepper. “This is going to be everywhere by tomorrow morning.” Pepper, watching the screen, nodded but said nothing. She had worked with Natasha long enough to know the pattern. She didn’t miss a single beat, didn’t flinch even when the questions cut close to the bone. She was ruthless—but always just controlled enough to keep the narrative hers.

Maria continued, her tone dropping a bit, a hint of something else in her voice. “Have you seen the video of this upcoming professor from Shield University? What do you think?”. Pepper’s fingers hovered above her phone, pausing as she considered the question. “She’s definitely been keeping an eye on Natasha,” Maria added with a knowing smile. “It’s only a matter of time before Natasha finds out—and it’s probably not going to be pretty. For that woman, or for us... I’m not sure.”

Pepper finally smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Yeah, well, she’s got competition now. She doesn’t seem like the type to just back down. Maria nodded. “Let’s just hope Natasha doesn't end up too intrigued. If she starts getting personal, that’s when it gets... interesting.”

---

Natasha’s expression remained unchanged as she moved on with the interview. The camera panning back to her, flawlessly.

“Thank you for your time, Senator Rumlow,” she said, her voice a calm cadence that barely masked the satisfaction of knowing she’d just made the politician’s situation far worse. Every channel and newspaper would be jumping on this story tomorrow, no doubt splashing it across their front pages.

“Also thank you to our generous audience tonight. It’s always a pleasure to bring you the news about what’s happening in the world. And remember, stay informed, stay sharp, and never let anyone sell you a story that's less than the truth.” she said, a hint of finality in her tone. “Now, I’ll pass it over to Steve Rogers, our weather anchor, who has a much sunnier forecast for you.”

The camera switched to Steve, who was already grinning behind him a large screen displaying shifting regions and temperatures. “That’s right, Natasha. The last few days of sunshine are upon us before we officially roll into the fall season. So, grab your families, go outside and enjoy...”

As soon as the words left Steve’s mouth, Natasha pulled her earpiece out, the familiar click of the disconnect echoing in her ears. The moment she was clear from the screen, she shifted in her seat, the professional mask slipping away, just slightly—only enough for her to exhale, her expression finally softening, if only for a moment. She rose in a single, smooth motion. The producers didn’t approach immediately; they never did unless they had to.

As Natasha turned to leave the desk, a younger intern stepped forward, tablet in hand, speaking quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

“Sorry, Ms. Romanoff, I—I just wanted to say you were amazing up there.” Peter, who had joined the team last year to gain experience after his graduation, was still a bit green, though for some reason, Tony Stark—who owned the network—had taken a particular liking to him. Which is why his golden retriever-like personality felt like a constant presence she couldn’t escape.

Natasha didn’t break stride, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. A few crew members glanced at each other, nervous, hoping Peter wouldn’t get an earful for approaching her without a significant reason. But to their surprise, Natasha offered him a brief, unexpected smile. “Thanks,” she said, her voice calm and unbothered. "Keep up the good work." Though she’d never say it out loud, she’d grown surprisingly fond of him and the unshakable optimism he brought with him. Maybe it was because he reminded her of a time when life had been simpler, before everything became high stakes and expectations or perhaps it was the adrenaline rush from having just put the senator in his place.

With that, she made her way down the hallway toward her dressing room, the echo of her heels fading with each step, leaving Peter standing frozen in place—blinking, stunned. The Natasha Romanoffhad smiled at him. A real, genuine smile. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Then, unable to contain himself, he did a quiet fist pump and half-skipped down the corridor, suddenly determined to be the best intern the station had ever seen.

-----

When Natasha stepped into her dressing room, Betty and Pepper were already there. Pepper, as always, was glued to her phone, typing away with that near-obsessive focus Natasha had come to expect from her. She often wondered if Pepper had put her phone down for more than five minutes in the last few years. Meanwhile, Betty was busy clearing the table, preparing to remove Natasha’s makeup.

“You did a good job out there,” Pepper said, glancing up from her phone just long enough to catch Natasha’s eye before diving back into the glowing screen. “Thanks,” Natasha replied, settling into the makeup chair. “I mean, it’s hardly difficult when the senator does most of the work embarrassing himself.”

Natasha smirked, enjoying the victory of another successful segment. Betty began to work on removing the makeup, her hands steady despite the usual hustle of the room. “Still, it takes talent to make people like him squirm like you did,” Pepper remarked, her eyes still glued to the phone.

“I don’t know if it’s talent or just good instincts,” Natasha replied with another sly grin. “Either way, I’m hoping he’s out of office by the end of the week.”. “Well, Maria bet he won’t last past tomorrow night, thanks to what you pulled off,” Pepper said, her tone light but amused. And just as if on cue, Maria walked in, her presence immediately filling the room. “Great show as always, Natasha,” she said, striding over to the couch and sitting down behind Natasha.

Natasha met her gaze through the reflection in the mirror. “I couldn’t do it without my tirelessly working producer.”. “Damn right you couldn’t,” Maria replied, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she picked up a magazine from the table and started flipping through it. The conversation flowed easily between the three, mostly floating around ideas about upcoming segments and possible interviewees, with Betty shyly asking Natasha to tilt her head for better access occasionally as she worked. About half an hour later, Betty finished packing up her things and, with a quick “Good bye,” exited the room, clearly relieved to have survived in the lion’s den.

“I swear, they’re more scared of you than Tony,” Pepper observed, watching Betty leave with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not my problem if they’re that easy to intimidate,” Natasha replied coolly, giving a slight shrug. “Debatable,” Maria countered, her voice teasing. “You could at least go a little easier on them.” Natasha smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”.

There was a brief pause as Natasha rummaged through her bag, searching for her phone. When she looked up, she caught the silent exchange between Maria and Pepper through the mirror, their eyes communicating something Natasha couldn’t quite place. Turning in her chair, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”. Maria and Pepper exchanged one last glance, and Natasha’s patience wore thin. “You’re not going to keep it from me, are you?” she asked, her voice a low murmur. Her eyes didn’t waver from the two women, the challenge clear in her tone. She had worked with them for years and even shared pieces of her college days with them, so she knew, whatever they were about to reveal, she probably wasn’t going to like it.

Reluctantly, Maria handed Natasha the tablet, the screen already pulled up to a paused video. Natasha’s gaze immediately fell on the title: The Sociopolitical Influence of Media in Modern Society. She glanced up at Maria, eyebrow raised. “A lecture? You really think this is important?”. Pepper, not meeting Natasha’s eyes, sighed. “It’s... well, it includes you. Specifically.” Natasha’s lips parted slightly. “About me?” she repeated, voice hardening. “What are you talking about?”. Maria took a breath before responding, her voice cautious. “It’s a lecture. From a professor at Shield university. She’s young, so she wasn’t around when we were there. But she... uses you as an example in her talk.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed, the weight of the words sinking in. “She what?”. Pepper winced. “She talks about how news anchors—people with a platform like yours, aren’t just reporting the news but shaping it. And, uh... she singles you out by name.”. “Great,” Natasha said, her voice sharp. “What exactly does she say about me?”. Reluctantly, Maria tapped the screen and started the video. The camera panned to you, standing at a podium, adjusting your notes before speaking directly to the audience in the lecture hall.

“The media’s role isn’t just to inform—it constructs reality,”you began, your voice clear and confident. “Take someone like Natasha Romanoff, a news anchor with the most-watched primetime segment in the country. She doesn’t just present the facts—she defines how those facts are received. With a single word, a glance, a choice of guest or segment, she can shift the public narrative for millions.” Natasha’s jaw tightened as she listened, her fingers curling around the armrest of her chair. She’d always known she had influence but hearing it described this way, hearing herself used as an example of media manipulation, made her blood boil.

“Figures like Romanoff,” you continued, “can shape heroes or villains with a single broadcast. Their influence is vast and rarely questioned. The issue isn’t just about power, but about how and whether it’s wielded responsibly.” Natasha set the tablet down with a sharp click, her expression hardening. “So, I’m the villain in her story?”. Maria nodded slightly. “It’s more complex than that. You’re the example she’s using to critique a larger issue.”. “She might as well have painted a target on my back,” Natasha muttered, her tone thick with frustration. Pepper shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s not personal, Natasha. But the way she frames it… it feels personal.”

“I don’t manipulate people,” Natasha snapped, her posture rigid. “I don’t twist the truth. I present it—clean, honest, verified. Just because I know how to deliver it doesn’t mean I’m playing puppet master.” She turned toward Maria, frustration boiling over. “Is this seriously the kind of crap I have to put up with now? Academics critiquing my work from their ivory towers?”. Maria raised her hands, trying to calm the storm. “It’s not about you. She’s critiquing the media as a whole. But yeah… you’re the example that serves her point.”

Natasha paced the room, her steps rapid and sharp. Why her? Why not the other anchors who sensationalized or fabricated? Sure, she was the highest-rated, most successful. She’d climbed the ranks quickly, but she never used her position to control the narrative, did she? She prided herself on her professionalism. She worked hard to ensure her biases didn’t creep into her delivery. She turned back to Maria and Pepper, eyes flashing with frustration. “It’s just a professor talking. The students in her class, maybe a few online nerds, will care for a few days, but that’s it.”. Maria and Pepper exchanged another glance. Maria spoke first, her tone firm. “It’s already spreading, Natasha.”. Pepper nodded, setting her phone down. “The video’s gaining traction—blogs, social media, even some paywalled articles. Small waves now, but they’re starting to grow.”

Natasha froze, her gaze shifting between Maria and Pepper. “Viral? It’s just a lecture. Seriously?”. “Not anymore,” Maria said, her arms crossed, her stance serious. “This thing spreads fast. And with the narrative it’s building, it’s only going to pick up steam. And don’t forget people are already out there who’ve held a grudge against you for years because of your success, your gender, your sexuality.”

Pepper leaned forward, her voice quiet but urgent. “You need to prepare. If this keeps going, it’s not just a lecture, it’s a movement. And once the perception shifts, you can’t ignore it.” Natasha’s gaze shifted back to the screen, her arms folding across her chest. The weight of what they were saying hit her. She’d worked hard for her credibility, for the trust of her audience. But if this narrative took root… it could undo everything. It wasn’t just about your opinion anymore, it could become public discourse, with herself at the heart of it.

“I don’t “control” the narrative,” she said firmly, almost like a mantra. “I report it.” Maria’s gaze softened, but she didn’t back down. “We know that. But the issue is how people perceive it. And right now, this perception is being built, whether it’s fair or not.”. Pepper showed her phone to Natasha, scrolling through the notifications. “See this? It’s trending right now. People are questioning your integrity, your influence. It’s not just going away.” Natasha stared at the screen, her heart sinking as the headlines flashed before her eyes of future articles that would cast her as the embodiment of everything wrong with the media landscape. 

“So, what should I do?” she asked, her voice quieter now. Maria leaned forward slightly, offering a calm but firm suggestion. “We stay low for now. The wider public hasn’t really caught on yet. You’ve built your career on credibility—don’t let this shake that. But if this picks up more steam…”

“We’ll be ready.” Pepper added, her voice calm but determined. Natasha exhaled, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I don’t want to give this more attention than it deserves. But if she continues to use my name, in her little act it won’t be pretty.” Pepper opened her mouth to protest, but Natasha cut her off. “No. She should know better. Publicly crucifying someone without context? That’s wrong, and she should know that.”

The room fell silent. Natasha stared at the tablet screen, your words echoing in her head, even as she wrestled with the weight of her own thoughts. Maria and Pepper exchanged one last look, both knowing Natasha well enough to understand she would not let go of the topic easily. If there was one thing Natasha excelled at, it was holding onto grudges. She grabbed her bag, offering both women a curt “good night” before making her way out of the room. As she stepped into the cool night air, a black SUV already waiting, ready to take her back to her apartment.

---

After a silent car ride, with a brooding Natasha sitting in the back seat, her gaze fixed out the window, too consumed by what had been said to engage. The driver, initially trying to make polite conversation, quickly fell silent after receiving a few clipped, one-word replies, enough to register that her mood was not to be tested. When they finally reached her apartment building, he offered a quiet nod as she stepped out.

She had moved into the place after the second year of her show’s success, when for the first time, she no longer had to think twice about money. The apartment was more than a living space; it was a quiet reminder of everything she had built, and everything she had once thought would bring her peace.

When Natasha finally stepped into her loft apartment, the door clicked shut behind her with a familiar, hollow finality. The view that greeted her was one she never quite grew tired of—floor-to-ceiling windows framing the river and the city skyline, skyscrapers lit like circuit boards against the night. Somewhere in that sprawl was the studio she had just walked out of, its glass tower faintly visible in the distance.

Before she could set down her keys, a soft, expectant meow echoed through the entrance hall. Liho, her long-time feline companion, padded gracefully into view and rubbed himself against her calves, tail high with dignified affection. “Hey, soldier,” Natasha murmured, crouching to run her fingers through his fur. His purr vibrated warmly beneath her hand.

She hadn’t planned to keep him. Years ago, when she was still a glorified intern running coffee for people whose names she barely remembered, she’d found him one night half-frozen in a cardboard box outside the train station near her old apartment—or rather, a shoebox-sized room. A vet diagnosed hypothermia, said he’d recover with proper care, and gently implied there was nowhere else for the tiny creature to go. Natasha, who had never seen herself as someone who owned a pet—who barely trusted herself to care for plants—had taken him home, wrapped in a soft blanket. Told herself she’d find him a nice family.

She never did. He’d stayed. Through the grind, the promotions, the late nights, and the loneliness. Liho remained the one quiet, dependable thing in her life. She named him after a figure from old Russian folklore—Likho, the spirit of misfortune and chaos. A creature you were warned not to name or challenge, but whose presence was sometimes inescapable. It was meant as a joke at first—dark humor, a habit she never quite grew out of. But over time, the name stuck and softened. Likho became Liho—less an omen and more a constant.

After giving him a generous serving of premium cat food, she microwaved some frozen supermarket pasta-dish and poured herself a glass of red wine. Dinner was quiet, save for the low hum of the television. A dusty old Western was playing, something about cowboys and crooked sheriffs. Natasha wasn’t really watching. She sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, Liho curled beside her like a sentient heating pad.

Her thoughts kept drifting. Back to the studio. Back to the lecture Maria had shown her.

Back to you.

She hadn’t said it out loud, but the words had stung more than she expected. The calm measured critique of how anchors like her “curated truth,” how polished delivery could sometimes mask institutional bias. The examples had been academic, but Natasha had felt it—she had been the example.

And yet… you were compelling. Articulate. Passionate in a way that wasn’t performative. You didn’t grandstand; you just believed in what you were saying.

She pushed the thoughts aside, finished her meal, rinsed her wine glass, and went through the motions of her nightly routine. Brushed teeth. Washed off the last traces of studio makeup Betty hadn’t already removed. Changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized Shield University shirt she’d never admit was from Bucky her old dorm roommate. Then, finally, she slipped into bed, Liho jumping up to settle at her feet.

It should have ended there. Lights off. Day over.

But Natasha lay there in the dark, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the echo of your lecture still playing in her mind. She sighed, reaching for her phone on the nightstand, and opened the video again—not to rewatch it this time, but to scroll through the comments. Most were thoughtful. A few were aggressively supportive of her, others staunchly in your corner. Some were messy and contrarian for the sake of it.

Still, the consensus was unsettling: people were listening to you. Her curiosity piqued, she tapped your name into the search bar. Dozens of results popped up.

“Youngest Professor at SHIELD University Breaks Down Media Ethics in Viral Lecture.”

“SHIELD University Appoints Rising Academic to Faculty—Is the Professor the Future of Public Communication?”

“Bridging Theory and Practice: How the Professor Makes Media Research Accessible.”

She clicked on your university profile. A picture of you smiling at the camera greeted her. Natasha couldn’t deny you were attractive, it was a shame you seemed to despise everything she embodied. Below the picture was a brief introductory text.

We are proud to introduce Professor Y/N, who began their academic career here at SHIELD University. After completing their master’s abroad, they returned to complete their PhD and were recently appointed as the youngest faculty member in our Department of Media and Communication. Their research focuses on media literacy, narrative framing, and the role of journalism in democratic decline.

Natasha scrolled further.

Recent Publications:

• “The Myth of Neutrality: Power and Performance in Anchor-Centric News”

• “Narrative Fracture: The Battle for Public Trust in Digital Broadcasting”

• “Face of the News: Gender, Perception, and Charisma in Prime-Time Journalism”

Beneath that your contact email and Office hours.

Natasha sat back against the pillows, resting her phone on the nightstand, the soft glow of the screen now gone. It appeared that very little private information was available about you online to the public. She stared at the ceiling, the weight of your words from the lecture still lingering in her mind.

"Why the hell am I even looking at that?" she muttered under her breath, shaking her head slightly as if to dismiss the whole thing. Liho, curled up at the foot of the bed, paused mid-purr, his amber eyes narrowing as he stared at Natasha. His ears twitched, confused by her sudden outburst, but he didn’t move. Natasha let out a frustrated sigh, rolling onto her side, her fingers lightly brushing her hair away from her face. "This is ridiculous," she murmured, though the words felt hollow even to her. “She’s nothing more than an overachiever, leveraging recognizable names to draw attention to her small research hobby.’’ Liho blinked, then slowly stretched before curling up into a ball again, letting out a soft, contented sigh as he drifted off to sleep beside her, unimpressed with Natasha’s mood swing.

She didn’t like being called out. Didn’t appreciate being used as a case study for all that was wrong with modern journalism. It shouldn’t have gotten under her skin the way it did. And yet…

It wasn’t just criticism. It was smart. It was sharp.

That’s what bothered Natasha. She turned onto her side, her alarm clock faintly glowing in the dark room. She told herself she didn’t care. That it was just another critic, jealous of Natashas success. Just another overconfident academic with a limited view of how things worked in the real world. She had seen it time and again—people criticizing her without reason, trying to dismantle everything she had built from the ground up. You don’t even know me, she thought bitterly. To you, she was manufactured. Superficial. A product, not a person. Power-hungry. Egocentric. It didn’t matter how many stories she had broken, how many sleepless nights she’d spent carving out her place in a world that never welcomed her. You had already made up your mind and in the media world, that was dangerous. A single narrative, repeated with enough conviction, could become truth. The public loved a fall from grace. To you, she was nothing more than a symbol. But to protect herself, Natasha clung to the thought that you were just another fleeting presence in the endless crowd of critics—one more voice hoping to see her fall. No one had ever succeeded in pushing Natasha out and you wouldn’t be the first. But as sleep tugged at her, slow and unrelenting after an eventful workday, the cadence of your voice still echoed in her subconsciousness. And despite herself, she was already wondering what you’d say next.

-

-

-

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[tunaricebowl]

i don’t know which autistic/adhd/any kind of neurodivergent person needs to hear this but: make a “just in case” bag

this is a pic of mine. it contains:

loop earplugs on the zipper

prescription glasses with a clip on sunglasses attachment

my public transport discount card

a pen

a glasses cloth + wet glasses wipes (which can also be used to clean my hands if needed!

wireless earbuds in case my headphones give out

tips for my apple pencil + silicon covers if i need a different texture/the sound is too loud

a sanitary pad (not for me, as i had a hysterectomy, but i like carrying one around for my menstruating friends)

a pouch with hair ties for when my hair bothers me

autism lanyard (not pictured, as i put it in after i took it)

will i use these every day? not necessarily. but it’s good to have these all in one place in a little pouch so it’s easy to throw into my bag as i use different ones for different occasions. that way i don’t have to think about all these things individually.

it might seem like common sense for some people, but i didn’t think of this until recently. so i wanted to share this in case it could be handy for other people. some more ideas for what to put in your bag under the break. you can make this as big or as small as you like so some ideas may seem a bit big

powerbank + cables (preferably a powerbank that has a LOT of charge)

snacks (do keep an eye on the expiration date)

painkillers/emergency meds (same thing about the expiration date)

sewing kit

deodorant/perfume

mini fan

hand warmers

scissors/nail clippers (for when tags/threads/your nails are bothering you)

tweezers

lucky charm (i have my lucky cat keychain. it just calms me to have)

plushie/stress ball/fidget toy

mints/a mini toothbrush and toothpaste

extra pair of underwear (for if you suddenly need to stay somewhere overnight or if an accident happens)

comb

band-aids + disinfectant

hand cream/soothing cream

soap/soap leaves

similarly, some mini shampoo or mini body wash (again for if you suddenly need to stay the night. there’s probably already some wherever you’re staying but again. this is a just in case bag)

q-tips

chapstick

makeup remover wipes

razors

hand sanitizer/general sanitizer

wet wipes/tissues

foldable bag

ruler/tape measure

this is a lot but keep in mind, these are just ideas. you don’t have to use everything, just pick out which things you think would be handy for you and make your bag accordingly. do feel free to add onto the list if you have any other ideas.

[aventurineswife]

Hello, I just had the cutest idea, for Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, and Jiaoqiu, what if the reader dressed up their toddler in a mini version of their father's outfit, ngl lie I think that would be so cute.

Little Reflections

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Blade x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Fluff, Family Bonding, Domestic Moments, Miniature Costumes, Parental Love, Tender Interactions, Slice of Life.

Jing Yuan lounged on a garden bench in the Luofu’s arboretum, a cup of tea balanced delicately in his hand. The peaceful atmosphere seemed to mirror his unhurried demeanor. Despite his reputation as the "Dozing General," his eyes missed nothing—especially not the sound of small, uneven footsteps heading his way.

He turned his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You approached, holding the hand of your toddler, who waddled toward him with as much dignity as a two-year-old could muster. Jing Yuan's sharp gaze softened when he noticed what the child was wearing: a perfectly tailored miniature version of his own uniform.

The tiny cape draped over your child’s shoulders fluttered with each step, and the golden accents on their blouse glimmered in the sunlight. Even the nian-inspired armor on their right arm had been lovingly recreated, though made of light fabric instead of metal.

“Look who’s decided to join the Cloud Knights,” Jing Yuan teased, setting down his cup. He crouched and opened his arms as the toddler tottered into his embrace.

“Say hello to General Jing Yuan,” you teased back, watching as the child babbled nonsensical sounds, clearly more interested in tugging at Jing Yuan's ponytail ribbon than any formality.

Jing Yuan chuckled, adjusting the red ribbon so it wouldn’t be pulled loose. “I must say, this little knight already looks the part. Who made this for them?”

“I had some help from the tailors,” you admitted. “But the design is all mine. Do you like it?”

Jing Yuan stood, cradling the toddler in one arm while placing a hand on your shoulder with the other. “Like it? I love it. Though I think they might upstage me at the next council meeting.”

You laughed. “Well, maybe they’ll share the workload, too.”

Jing Yuan smirked, looking down at the child now trying to gnaw on the tassel hanging from their hip. “Perhaps. But for now, I’ll enjoy having both of my little stars by my side.”

Blade was rarely one to let emotions show, but when he stepped into your living quarters and saw your toddler standing proudly in the middle of the room, even he paused.

The child was dressed in a miniature version of Blade’s attire, complete with a tiny replica of his tailcoat. The red inner lining peeked out with every wobbling step they took toward him, and the dark blue embroidery shimmered faintly in the dim light. They even had a bandaged arm and a toy sword strapped to their waist.

“Is this your idea?” Blade asked, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

You smiled from where you sat nearby, a sewing kit still on the table. “Do you like it? They wanted to look like their papa.”

The child reached Blade and tugged at his coat, their bright red eyes looking up at him expectantly. Blade knelt, his usually piercing gaze softening as he reached out to brush a hand over the child’s head.

“You’ve done well,” he murmured, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to you or the toddler.

The child giggled, gripping the toy sword and thrusting it forward with all their might. “Fight bad guys!” they announced, their high-pitched voice echoing in the room.

Blade chuckled—a rare, genuine sound that you hadn’t heard in a long time. “You’ll need a lot more training for that.”

You approached, resting a hand on Blade’s shoulder. “I thought it might make you smile. Do you like it?”

He stood, the child now perched on his arm, their small hands gripping his coat. “I do,” he admitted quietly. “It’s...perfect.”

Sunday was deep in thought when you entered his study, guiding your toddler into the room. His sharp eyes shifted from his documents to the sight before him, and he froze.

The child wore a small version of his regal Halovian outfit, complete with a tiny halo hovering above their head—a clever accessory you’d crafted using lightweight materials. The gold cross-shaped cutouts on their gloves and the navy wing-like vest were lovingly recreated, and the soft gray blazer hung slightly oversized on their small frame.

“Is this...my little successor?” Sunday’s voice was tinged with amusement, though his piercing gaze softened as he took in the sight.

You grinned. “They wanted to dress like their papa. What do you think?”

The toddler toddled toward him, their hands reaching out to grab at the papers on his desk. Sunday leaned down and scooped them up, careful not to disturb the halo balancing atop their head.

“I think they’re a vision of perfection,” he said, his tone warm. “Though I might need to keep them away from my work.”

The child giggled, their small hands patting Sunday’s face. “Papa!” they exclaimed, clearly delighted to have his attention.

Sunday chuckled, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “Perhaps this is a sign,” he mused, looking at you. “A reminder to step away from work every now and then.”

You smiled. “I thought it might bring some joy to your day.”

“It has,” he said, cradling the child in one arm. “Though I think our little angel might outshine me in this outfit.”

Jiaoqiu sat quietly on the veranda, his feather fan resting on his lap. Despite his blindness, his ears perked up at the sound of light footsteps approaching, accompanied by your soft laughter.

“Who’s there?” he asked gently, his closed eyes tilting toward the noise.

“It’s us,” you replied, guiding your toddler closer. “And we brought a surprise.”

The child toddled forward, their tiny hands gripping the edge of Jiaoqiu’s robes. They were dressed in a miniature version of his healer’s attire, complete with a feather fan of their own. The soft salmon-colored fabric matched Jiaoqiu’s hair perfectly, and their fluffy fox ears twitched with excitement.

Jiaoqiu’s lips curved into a smile as he reached out, his fingers brushing over the child’s outfit. “What’s this?” he murmured.

“They wanted to be like you,” you explained, kneeling beside him. “Do you like it?”

The child climbed onto Jiaoqiu’s lap, giggling as they waved their tiny fan. Jiaoqiu let out a soft laugh, his hands resting gently on the child’s shoulders.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice warm. “Though I think they’ll make a better healer than I ever could.”

You leaned against his shoulder, watching as he playfully ruffled the child’s hair. “I just thought it might make you smile.”

Jiaoqiu turned his face toward you, his gentle expression full of gratitude. “It did,” he said quietly. “Thank you—for reminding me that even in the darkness, there is light.”

[russo-woso]

The baby’s having a baby?

After a rough tackle, Y/N accidentally reveals the pregnancy to the team, leaving some thinking she’s pregnant with Jesus, some shocked, and some in need a of a beer

9 weeks

-> you can find the rest of The unexpected universe here!

A/N hiya! Just a quick note but I’d love some requests for this universe. It can be based during the pregnancy or after the pregnancy, whenever! I love writing these and would love some ideas 🫶🏻

“Are you going to tell them today, kid?” Leah asked as you both pulled into the car park at London colney.

“No, Leah. You asked me that half an hour ago. My answer still hasn’t changed.”

“No need for the attitude. I’m just saying that you need to tell them soon. You’re gonna be showing in a few weeks.”

“I’ll tell them soon.” You muttered, grabbing your kit bag and leaving the car.

“Don’t go hard on yourself today.”

You nodded, both walking towards the building.

“You know I love you, kiddo, right?” Leah asked, stopping and looking at you. “I know it’s hard for you right now but I need you to know that I’m here and I love you.”

“I know.” You whispered

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“Say what back?”

“That you love me.” Leah stated, her jaw dropping in shock, a look of fake hurtfulness on her face.

“I love you, Leah.” You said, a smile displayed on your face as your big sister pulled you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Come on then.” She said, wrapping her arm round you as you both walked into the training facility.

To begin with, training started with a sit down meeting discussing the upcoming game against West ham before everyone headed out onto the training pitches.

As the team and Jonas didn’t know you were pregnant, you were still training like normal. Maybe you weren’t pushing yourself as much as you would, but you were still making it look as though you were trying.

Training had gone relatively smoothly. Up until the mini games.

You hadn’t played any type of football game since you found out you were pregnant.

With your age and lack of experience, you weren’t often subbed on and Jonas had told you that before you signed a contract.

Of course you weren’t supposed to play any type of physical games but a few mini games wouldn’t hurt.

“You’re on my team.” Leah told you, pulling your arm gently so that she could whisper something in your ear. “Don’t throw yourself into tackles. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I know, le. I won’t.”

A coach blew a whistle and the first mini game began.

Your team were sat out for this one, so you watched the teams play.

Before long, the game ended and it was your turn.

You got into your position, the game soon kicking off.

You had made a few good runs, even bagging yourself an assist.

But when Emily sent a ball flying into your chest, you collapsed to the floor, gripping your stomach.

“Kid?” Leah questioned with panic as she knelt down next to you.

“The baby.” You muttered, a wave of dread running through you at the thought of the baby.

Emily hadn’t hit the ball that hard so it wouldn’t have injured the baby but it was still enough to hurt.

“The Baby? Funny joke kid.” Katie laughed, whilst Leah comforted you.

You don’t know why, maybe it was the hormones, but you burst into tears.

You didn’t want the team to know yet but after a silly mistake, you had no choice but to tell them.

At your sudden wave emotion, Katie soon realised that it may not have been a joke.

She looked at Leah, then back at you before Leah again.

Leah just nodded, her hand still rubbing your back as you shook with tears.

“It’s true. The baby’s have a baby. Now that you know, if any of you tackle her or send a ball too heavy, I will two foot you and break both your legs, is that clear?”

Everyone’s jaw dropped at the revelation.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone I promise. I’m still a virgin.” You sobbed, Leah sat next to you rubbing your back as your body shook with emotion.

“What’s going on here?” Kim asked, walking over to where everyone was huddled round you and Leah.

“Y/N’s the new Mary. She’s a virgin but she’s pregnant. It’s Jesus!” Kyra exclaimed, receiving daggers from both you and Leah.

“I need to sit down. I’m too old for this.” Kim muttered, walking away from the situation.

“I’m joining Kim. I need a beer.” Katie said

“Wait, so if you’re still a virgin, how are you pregnant? Kyra might be onto something here. Are you carrying Jesus?” Alessia added, genuinely confused but the whole situation.

“I… I went…” You attempted to begin the story but cut yourself off by sobs.

You looked at Leah, vulnerability and sadness in your eyes.

There was no way you were going to be able to explain what had happened.

“She went in to have an endometriosis examination done but the system mixed her files up with another woman who was going in to complete her IVF treatment. Y/N got artificially inseminated instead of this woman. It’s a long court procedure but we’re putting it on hold until after the baby is born.” Leah briefly explained, looking up at everyone who had their jaws dropped.

“Oh kid.” Beth whispered, crouching down beside you and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“How far along are you?” Steph questioned

“9 weeks.” You managed to say through a few ragged sobs.

“Are you keeping it?”

You nodded, looking down at the grass waiting for everyone’s reaction.

“You’re all disappointed, aren’t you?” You asked, your bottom lips quivering as you looked up at the team in front of you.

“Disappointed? Of course not, kid. It’s not your fault. We’ll be here the whole journey with you.” Lia told you, a collective hums following.

Your body melted against Leah’s, the tension and weight off your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You said, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Was that so difficult?” Leah joked. “I’m proud of you for telling them, bubs.”

“Auntie Leah, huh?” Beth teased Leah who let out a small laugh.

“Auntie Leah.” Leah confirmed with a nod, as if it was only setting in - despite her having known for a few weeks.

You looked around you, all of the girls having smiles on their faces, patting your back and making you feel better.

“Is it okay if I take her home? It’s been a long day.” Leah asked Jonas who immediately nodded.

Leah helped you off the floor and pulled you in to a tight hug.

“Are you sure you and the baby don’t need to be checked out?”

“I’m sure. It didn’t hurt that bad. I just need my bed.”

“Let’s get you home then, kiddo. Sounds like an afternoon of movies.”