#please take me under your wing and teach me your ways of your talent

[rayix]

Your ocs cool

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Mae Clarke (The Public Enemy, Frankenstein)—she was in frankenstein. which i think is neat

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Mae Clarke propaganda:

Barbara Stanwyck propaganda:

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads.” (Source: https://misstanwyck.tumblr.com/post/72996544180/barbara-stanwyck-photographed-for-ball-of-fire)"

[chibiranmaruchan]

There's something that's been on my mind about the fandom scene, that's kinda bugged me for about as long as I started taking tumblr more seriously for posting art and taking part in fanzines, bangs, gift exchanges etc. quite a few years ago now. Sometimes in fandoms that are older than Gen Z, (which in the majority of these fanbases, people would at least be in their late 20's, usually the majority are in their 30's and 40's) there's a lot of resentment to younger fans, particularly the Gen Z's. Now I'm not saying, with Gen Z, there aren't problems specific to our generation when it comes to fandoms; however from what I've observed, (this might be in the older fandoms that I'm specifically in) a lot of the issues come from the original fanbase themselves and Gen Z's are just the scapegoats to blame, instead of actually fixing the fanbase those issues, which I find come from rigidity to keeping the fandom the same way it was 20, 30, 40 years ago.

Sometimes older fandoms do feel gatekept by older members, which is a shame, because more fans, means more exposure, more content, more creativity, more joy. I've definitely felt talked down to and know others have, just for giving an opinion or suggesting something, like a headcanon, often with good natured intentions to bounce around ideas and as prompts, just because it doesn't fit what the fandom olds have decided to be canon (which isn't always canon/word of God or act like they personally are the director/writer/mangaka etc's mouth pieces delivering upon us, the holy gospel). If you're older than me, I don't need you to take me under your wing to teach me what's right and wrong for a fictional piece of work, just because one generation decided it's one way and another likes another way better. You aren't my parents, so please don't talk to me in a strict tone like you're correcting my bad behaviour; it's personally insulting and infantalising. In fact, I believe this phenomena is so common, the term 'fandom mom' was coined because this happens a lot.

I've heard a lot of older people in some fandoms blame Gen Z for ruining things, but a lot of the things that I've heard them being accused of, I see the older members fight with each other on, such as rules established by the older generations themselves like "If you don't like X ship, character, franchise, tropes etc, move on to what you do like and don't stay around to hate on X thing". It just comes off as hypocritical to me if you're going to instruct young people on established fandom ettiqute, but break them yourself and make excuses for other fandom olds when they do something wrong, but would crucify a younger person for doing the same thing.

Another thing I've seen, is envy towards the talent of Gen Z, especially when it comes to their fanart and fanfic output and the technology available to them with digital fanart. I understand wishing that you had that technology when you was younger and more energy and time now to contribute to these fandoms, as you're in a different stage of life to most Gen Z's, but it's not our faults that we're the ones that exist in the time for technology to be really good to create art with. I've seen this cause a divide between older and younger fans, by older ones trying to keep up the younger ones, to an obsessional level and half the time, we're not even seeing it as some competition, we do it for fun.

I keep seeing younger fandoms such as My Hero Academia, Miraculous Ladybug and Steven Universe, as well as rebooted/alternate versions of older fandoms like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power and Voltron: Legendary Defender, be used to justify treating Gen Z fans a certain way and projecting this image that every Gen Z is this frothing, cringy mess of a person who will rip others to shreds. While some people are like this, I think it's unfair to say the majority are, especially when comparing it to older fandoms or the original version's older fanbase, since the young people in those fandoms will eventually grow up and mature over time. You can't judge people who are mostly in their teenage years, as if they'll all be like that forever, especially not when I've seen some people pushing 40, say and do a lot worse over fandom.

The fandoms especially where the original source material is old, but still around and continuously aimed at children, just to name a few that I personally still enjoy, such as My Little Pony, Transformers, Pokémon, Sailor Moon, Kingdom Hearts etc. I don't understand when the older generations of fans get so possessive of keeping it gatekept from Gen Z, to the point they forget first and foremost, that it isn't even aimed at older people anymore, but children. If a lot of these kind of franchises were going to age up in accordance with the original fanbase, then they would have in the majority of their future installments; I could then understand this hold to gatekeep a little bit more. But a lot of them haven't and the companies making and selling them, still want to primarily focus on being marketed towards kids, but just of a new generation. No one's stopping older fans from liking older franchises aimed at kids, which they grew up with, but please let kids have things that are aimed at them and more than likely always will be, without this struggle to keep it just as it was when you were younger. You can dislike the direction something is going in, criticise it and prefer an older version, but you can't expect it to cater to you as an adult.

At a certain point, you have to accept that things change over time, including fandom. Demographics will naturally change, as more younger people come in and will eventually become the majority and fandom olds get older, eventually becoming the minority. With this change, generally, Gen Z are not trying to pry fandom out of your hands; we're just trying to co-exist and like the same things older fans do. Generally, we're not trying to antagonise older fans, by having a different opinion or different way of doing things. The Simpsons puts it best, "I used to be with it, but then they changed what it was. Now what I'm with, isn't it and what's it seems weird and scary to me. It'll happen to you". It's ok to feel out of your depth with younger people, who seem better at something than you with more charisma, energy, time, followed and engagement with their socials, but please don't project that on us as if we're undeserving or we're doing something wrong. I don't want to feel like any time I draw, it's a competition, I just do it for fun. I don't want me giving an idea, to be shot down, because you don't want to think of something in a different way. I just want to share inter-generationally the things I like and interact with like-minded individuals, but only if they're not going to do these things that I've grown weary of seeing and personally experienced.

[ofdetonation]

@starshinc​  inquired :      Izuku storms into Katsuki’s office, dressed appropriately in workout gear. He’s carrying a longer version of his pole weapon, pressing the device and letting the new version pop open. It’s longer range. Sturdy. Helps covers areas that he can’t without a quirk. Stalking right up to Katsuki’s desk, he slams the weapon on the desk. “Teach me. How to fight.” It’s clearly not a request. “I want to learn how to defend myself, in case something ever happens. I’ve been designing this thing for months. I can knock people out with it.” But he doesn’t have the technique. Yet. “I’ve cleared my afternoon. And yours, by the way. Please.” Those eyes are shining with determination again. He’s not taking no for an answer.      ╱      loud  yelling.

𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜'𝗦  𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟  𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗡  𝗪𝗔𝗦  𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬  𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 .      there were plans to have him meet up with new recruits,   even take a couple out on patrol,   after he’d gotten through the paperwork necessary to clear them      ⸺      it isn’t everyday that the pro hero dynamight would take a few fledgling heroes under his wing,   after all.     his pr team liked to make an effort to see it happen.     some of them believe it’s a good idea to brush aside all the intense accusations of his past      ╱      katsuki,   in comparison,   just wanted to do his job.

in a way,   izuku storming into his office is a sort of silver lining.

crimson gaze looks between the freckled other and the weapon he slams on his desk,   brows furrowing for a moment,   listening to what he says.     teach me how to fight.     (  katsuki knows damn well izuku’s capabilities even without a quirk      ╱      but to fight ?     that demands more than just good footwork,   great battle sense.     there’s a talent to understanding how your target uses their quirk against you and knowing  how  to combat it with your own      ⸺      even as a means of self defence,   someone without a quirk is more likely to get hurt,   at a higher risk of being injured beyond what a pro might experience.     but ...  )     katsuki leans forward a fraction to inspect izuku’s new weapon.

there’s a risk to everything being so heavily associated with pro heroes.     katsuki  knows  he needs to remember that,   and needs to remember that he can’t possibly protect izuku from every situation.     if he isn’t there,   and nobody else is ⸺     the shine in izuku’s eyes feeds into katsuki’s decision.     (  even if he tries to turn izuku away,   he will find someone else more willing      ╱      he should know katsuki doesn’t trust others as far as he can throw them.  )

❝    and y’cleared my afternoon ?     gotta ask you how y’get it past my teams.    ❞

he stands nonetheless,   eyes staring intently at the weapon.     everything izuku creates is well-designed and fleshed out      ⸺      he worked on  all  of katsuki’s gear,   made them accommodating to his quirk,   gave him the ability to be the hero japan needs.     if izuku can combine the use of his own support gear with enough talent to defend himself,   then ...     crimson gaze raises to meet emerald,   matching his determination.

who else would have the guts to throw around someone quirkless in the training room,   anyway ?

❝    y’wanna learn how t’fight ?     i ain’t makin’ it easy.    ❞     (  izuku should know what he’s getting himself into.  )     ❝    i’m the one trainin’ you.     y’gotta learn how to hold your own against people with quirks ‘cause most people got one,   which means i’m gonna start usin’  mine,   ‘n learn how to use your weapon without puttin’ yourself at risk.     if y’can’t keep up,   none of the training’s gonna matter.    ❞     he leans forward.     ❝    y’wanna defend yourself,   then y’deal with the consequences of trainin’ with me.     still up for it ?    ❞

he has a feeling he  knows  the answer.

[beifongsss]

flirt [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x earthbender!reader baybeeeeee

Summary: An anon request <3 “ zuko and a super outgoing/confident/flirty reader? all the fics i’ve seen so far are super shy reader x zuko, they’re super cute, just not very relatable to me lol”

i hope i do your request justice :3 also i’m sorry that I keep making the reader a bender but this fits bc they have to fight Zuko lol

.masterlist.

~

You don’t even know how you ended up traveling with the Gaang.

One day you had been living in a small Earth Kingdom town, helping out the Beifongs as Toph’s etiquette tutor and the next, you found yourself being tugged away from your home by the youngest Beifong. You couldn’t deny the fact that you finally felt free flying on the (abnormally cute) sky bison as you headed to who-knows-where.

You had nothing left for you back in the Earth Kingdom town you had been born in. You were the only daughter of a well-known family who had always been loyal to the Earth King. Unfortunately, they had been captured on a trip to Ba Sing Se and subsequently killed by the Fire Nation. With no family left to turn to, you proceeded to accept the Beifong’s offer to stay with them in return for you teaching Toph about high class etiquette.

Toph was an interesting girl and you found yourself being impressed with everything she did. You were always her number one supporter, especially when it came to her being The Blind Bandit. She was an extremely talented bender and in return for you tutoring her, she was your bending instructor and you became her only most promising student.

Eventually, Aang, Katara, and Sokka all filled you in about the banished Fire Nation prince and how he had chased the Gaang everywhere they had gone in an attempt to capture the Avatar. You and Toph were upset at the stories and were immediately anti-Zuko, promising to help Aang master earthbending as fast as possible.

You got along well with everyone, especially Sokka who was almost as talkative as you were. Of course the good vibes didn’t last long and you all found yourselves arguing as you found yourselves being chased by Azula and her friends. The situation had culminated in a battle at a small, abandoned town. You had arrived to see Aang being cornered by two people, each of them throwing fire towards the young Air Nomad.

Engaging with the person closest to you, you thrust your hands out, shooting a pillar of earth out and tossing the person into the closest building. Sharing a look with Aang, you waved him off. “Go! I’ll hold him off.”

“Be careful,” Aang warned, looking towards Azula uncertainly. “That’s Zuko.”

Your eyes widened as Aang ran off before turning your attention back to the boy in front of you. He struggled to get up before a burst of fire left him, sending rock debris everywhere. Quickly, you sent up another wall of earth, protecting yourself from the flying rocks before breaking it apart and sending it towards Zuko. The banished prince grunted before throwing a few fireballs towards you, causing you to stumble back and fall.

Eyes narrowing, Zuko made his way to you, pulling back his fist as fire formed around it. Groaning, you sat up, finally getting a good look at the boy in front of you. Almost immediately, a flirty smirk made it’s way onto your face. You quickly scrambled to your feet, bouncing up to him without any hesitation. You dodged his attacks, fighting back as you bit your lip.

“So...you’re Zuko?” you asked, dodging another punch. At this point, you were engaging in hand to hand combat instead of relying on your earthbending. Zuko didn’t reply, his eyes narrowing as he kept sending blasts of fire again.

“Aang told us about how you haven’t been able to capture him,” you continued, blinking innocently as Zuko became visibly angry. “But he failed to mention just how handsome you are.”

At your words, Zuko’s eyes widened and he misstepped, losing his focus at your words. You took that opportunity to step back as well before taking a strong step and raising your hands, encasing the banished prince in a slab of rock.

“Let me go!” Zuko cried out, steam coming out of his nose as he struggled. You stood in front of him, arms crossed as you stared at him. He truly was handsome, with piercing gold eyes and soft-looking black hair. You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Sokka.

“(Y/N)! A little help here?” the Water Tribe boy yelped, narrowly dodging a blast of blue fire from Azula.

“Coming!” you replied, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern before you addressed Zuko once more. “It was real nice meeting you Prince Zuko. I hope to see you again under more pleasurable circumstances.”

With a wink, you sprinted away, jumping in front of Sokka and sending up a wall of earth as Azula struck again.  You continued to sprint around, helping out whenever called out to you. The fight came to an end when you all had Azula cornered, and you sent a brief smirk to Zuko as you saw him standing near you. “Finally made it out huh?”

He had glowered at you and you simply rolled your eyes before turning back to Azula. “The whole tough guy act is hot but something tells me you’d look better with a smile.”

You missed his surprised look as Azula shot a blast of fire towards an older man, who you later learned was Zuko’s uncle Iroh. In the ensuing chaos she escaped, and you were left with a shaken Zuko and an injured Iroh. At Zuko’s threats insistence, the five of you left, looking back at him as you flew off on Appa. It was silent for a few minutes before you finally spoke up. “So, why didn’t you guys mention that Prince Zuko is hot?”

The only sound that was heard was Sokka slapping his forehead.

~

The next time you saw Zuko was in Ba Sing Se. You had been walking around with Katara, having stayed behind with her to plan the invasion. She was talking quietly as you looked around the city, pretending to be listening to her. On your shoulder, Momo was chattering quietly, also looking around with his large eyes.

You sighed softly as you entered a cozy-looking tea shop. You looked around in appreciation before you heard Katara gasp. Quickly, she grabbed your hand and whirled around hurrying out of the shop. You felt yourself crash into someone else, losing Katara’s hand and falling to the ground. You looked at the door before looking at Momo, shaking your head at Katara’s weird behavior.

“Are you alright?” a soft voice ask. You pushed yourself up, ignoring the hand in front of you before looking up. Your eyes widened in surprise as you found yourself staring at Zuko’s uncle. Iroh, you recalled vaguely. Recognition flashed in his eyes as he looked at you, remembering you as the earthbender who had trapped his nephew. Bracing yourself for the worst possible scenario, you nodded in response to his question, holding Momo to your chest.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” the retired general asked, a warm smile on his face as he guided you to a table. “You look like a jasmine type of girl.”

Sensing no ill intentions from the smiling man, you nodded. “Jasmine happens to be my favorite.”

“I see. It is my nephew’s favorite as well,” Iroh continued, gesturing to the boy behind the counter. You smiled as you noticed Zuko standing behind the counter, his back to you as he focused on whatever he was doing. Noticing your smile at the sight of his nephew, Iroh smiled as well. “I’ll send him over to give you your tea.”

“I would greatly appreciate that,” you said, your eyes not leaving the handsome boy.

You played with Momo when Iroh left, silently speaking to the winged lemur as you waited for your tea. You placed Momo in your lap when you heard someone set down a tray on your table, looking up to see Zuko standing there. “Hey handsome.”

Zuko glanced at you, doing a double take when his eyes met yours. “Y-You!”

He grasped your hand, pulling you out of your seat and towards the back as you struggled to hold on to Momo.

“Ow! Ow! Can you stop?” you hissed, pulling your hand away from him. You placed Momo on your shoulder before rubbing your wrist. You glanced down at it, noticing how raw it looked. “You really need to learn how to control your temper Zuko.”

“What happened here?” Iroh’s asked before Zuko could speak again. He gently took your hand in his inspecting the burn before turning to his nephew. “Now Lee, is this any way to treat our customers?”

“She isn’t a customer uncle,” Zuko replied bluntly. “She’s traveling with the Avatar. She is the earthbender who fought me the day you were injured.”

“You’re the earthbender who trapped my nephew?” Iroh looked at you in surprise. You nodded, causing the older man to chuckle. “You are a very talented bender.”

You blushed at the compliment before answering, thinking about Toph. “Thank you, I was trained by the best.”

“We must get this wrapped up. Come with me,” Iroh led you to a back room, where he proceeded to get some type of salve and some wrappings. “Zuko if you could please do this for me, I’m afraid I have to get back to the customers.”

Iroh left the two of you, but not before stopping and handing Momo a few litchi nuts. Momo chittered before jumping off your shoulder, landing on a windowsill as he began eating the fruit. You glanced at the burn once more before looking back at Zuko. “You know, you just gave the term ‘too hot to handle’ a whole new meaning.”

Zuko tried to hold his blush back at your words as he sat in front of you. He grabbed your arm, applying the paste and then gathering the wrappings, beginning to tie them around your wrist.

You hissed when he tightened it a little too much, pulling away from the boy. “Ow! If I wanted you to be rough with me I would’ve told you.”

This time, Zuko could not hold his blush at your double entendre. A faint smirk appeared on your face as you began to wrap your wrist.

“Let me do it,” Zuko muttered reaching for your arm.

“No,” you replied leaning away. “Trust me I can do it myself.”

“Why are you being so difficult,” the boy groaned, lunging for the wrapping. You leaned back too far, falling onto your back as you reached out for something to grab on to. The only thing you succeeded in doing was pulling Zuko down with you.

You stared at the boy above you. “When I told you that I hope we’d meet under more pleasurable circumstances, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Not that I’m complaining.”

Zuko stuttered for a few second before deciding to scowl at you instead.

“If I had known I was interrupting, I would’ve stayed outside. Prince Zuko, I never knew you were so good with the ladies,” Iroh’s voice floated in. You sat up immediately, only succeeding in getting closer to the prince. You tried to ignore the blush that you knew was visible on your cheeks.

“I would be honored to be wooed by such an attractive man,” you said, looking up at Zuko through your eyelashes. Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I simply fell back and pulled your nephew down with me.”

“Well, as an apology on his behalf from earlier, let me offer you a nice warm cup of jasmine tea,” Iroh said, setting down a tray. “On the house.”

You smiled as you pulled yourself up, leaving Zuko on the ground. “It smells delicious but I am afraid I must get going. Katara must be wondering where I am. Thank you very much for the offer.”

You bowed before whistling sharply, causing Momo to fly to your shoulder.

“My nephew will walk you out. It was nice to met you...” Iroh trailed off as he realized that he had never asked for your name.

“My name is (Y/N),” you supplied, smiling.

“A truly beautiful name,” Iroh said, stepping away from the door. “It was nice to meet you (Y/N). I hope to see you again soon. Zuko, please walk her out.”

You bowed once more before you followed Zuko back out to the store. When you reached the steps, you turned around and faced him once more. “It was nice to see you again handsome. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Zuko’s reply was lost as you stepped forward, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “Have a nice evening.”

Momo’s chittering was the only thing that could be heard as you walked away. Zuko stood on the steps until he could no longer see you, the blush on his cheeks only intensifying when he remembered how your lips felt pressed against his cheek.

“It seems to me that she is the one wooing you,” Iroh said, hiding a smile.

“Shut up uncle.”

~

You didn’t see the handsome prince again until you had all safely escaped to the Western Air Temple. You had been trying to talk to Aang about learning firebending when you and Toph had felt someone arriving.

“Aang, I think we should be making some plans about our future!” Sokka exclaimed, trying to get Aang to pay attention.

“Okay, we can do that while I show you the giant Pai Sho table! Oh, you're gonna love the all-day echo chamber!” the air nomad replied, already preparing to run off.

Aang came to an abrupt stop when you sent up a wall of earth in front of him.

“I think that’ll have to wait,” Toph said, turning to face the newcomer.

“Hello, Zuko here,” the prince said, raising his arms up in greeting. Immediately, everyone except you took a fighting stance. You didn’t really pay attention to most of the conversation, too busy staring at Zuko’s hair. It had grown out some and to be honest, you thought it looked really good.

“Wait,” you interrupted, stepping forward slightly. “You look really good with your hair like that. Not to say you didn’t look good before but this, wow. you’re even hotter.”

“(Y/N)!” Sokka and Katara exclaimed at the same time. Sokka pulled you back before smacking you lightly. You smacked him back, the two of you bickering nonstop. You missed Zuko’s bewildered expression, along with most of the conversation.

“There's no way we can trust you after everything you've done,” Aang spoke, catching your attention. “We'll never let you join us.”

“You need to get out of here,” Katara added, a hard expression on her face. “Now.”

Zuko looked at you, his eyes pleading.

You sighed before speaking, your arms raised in surrender. “Look, I think you’re probably the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen-”

“Hey!” Sokka cried indignantly.

You ignored him. “But to be fair, you did send an assassin after us. Not to mention everything else you’ve done. I can’t help you handsome.”

“If you won't accept me as a friend, then maybe you'll take me as a prisoner,” Zuko said, kneeling with his hands out. You looked at Katara, a suggestive smirk on your face.

“(Y/N), stop,” she sighed before turning back to Zuko and bending some water. “No, we won't! Get out of here, and don't come back! And if we ever see you again, well, we'd better not see you again!”

Zuko bowed his head and turned to walk away, glancing back once more. For once, you didn’t meet his eyes.

~

“Has anyone seen Toph,” you asked as you rushed into the courtyard. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

“I haven’t seen her since she stormed off yesterday,” Sokka said, polishing his sword.

“Maybe we should go look for her,” Katara said, noticing your distress.

“We’ll look for her!” The Duke said, rushing off with Haru and Teo.

You whirled around when you heard a loud rumble, only to see a gaping hole in the wall. Toph tumbled out of it, her eyes wide.

“Toph!” you exclaimed, wrapping her up in a hug. “What happened?”

“My feet got burned,” she replied, pushing you off of her.

Her feet were an angry red and you felt your anger rise up as you realized who had done it. “The next time I see Zuko I swear to the spirits that I will-”

“It was an accident,” Toph interrupted you, placing a hand on your arm. You bit your lip as Sokka carried her over to the fountain.

“Ah that’s the stuff,” Toph said, closing her eyes as she dipped her feet in. Soka opened his mouth to say something only to be cut off by an explosion. Being the closest to the source, you were flung back, metal and stone landing on top of you.

“(Y/N)!” you heard Aang yell as everyone else ran away.

“I’m fine!” you called back. “Go I’ll be okay.”

You bended as much earth as you could away from you, only to still be stuck when you realized you couldn’t move the metal.

“We have to get (Y/N),” Toph said, worriedly grabbing onto Katara.

“We will. Hold on,” Sokka said, staring at the blasts Combustion Man was sending their way. After a few more blasts, he was able to tell where he was and aimed his boomerang. The boomerang met it’s mark and they all ran out, Sokka and Toph immediately going over to you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thanks Zuko,” Aang spoke softly.

“Hey! What about me?” Sokka asked, helping you up. Your leg was injured but luckily nothing had been broken. Sokka was fussing over you, looking at the nasty bruise that had been left from the metal and you were trying to push him away, claiming that you didn’t need his help.

“...I’d like for you to teach me,” Aang’s words gained yours and Sokka’s attention. Zuko bowed.

“Thank you. I’m so happy you’ve accepted me into your group.”

“Not so fast,” Aang said. “I still have to ask my friends if it's okay with them. Toph, you're the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?”

“Go ahead and let him join,” Toph said as the pounded her fist into her palm. “It'll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet.”

“Sokka?” Aang asked.

“Hey, all I want is to defeat the Fire Lord,” the Water Tribe Boy shrugged. “If you think this is the way to do it, then, I'm all for it.“

“Katara?”

“I'll go along with whatever you think is right,” she said simply, glaring at Zuko.

“What about you (Y/N)?” Aang asked, already knowing what your answer would be.

“You’re telling me I’m going to have to see him every day?” you asked, gesturing towards Zuko. “That sounds like a dream come true.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said, redder than a tomato. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” you replied. Groans were heard from everyone else.

~ “Come on (Y/N)!” Toph yelled at you. “Do it!”

You stared at the metal in front of you, trying to concentrate on it. You were in the courtyard, a few days after Combustion Man’s downfall. Zuko and Aang were firebending a few feet away from where Toph was trying to teach you how to metalbend. Ever since you had gotten trapped, she had been insistent on teaching you.

With a loud huff, you closed your eyes. You reached out focuising as much as you could and turning the pieces of metal in front of you into smooth, shiny balls. You opened your eyes when you heard clapping, turning to see Aang cheering softly for you. Zuko stood behind him, shirtless.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Toph taunted, bending the balls of metal back into scraps. “Do it again. This time concentrate harder. I don’t know why you’re so distracted today.”

“You don’t know why I’m distracted?” you said turning to face Aang and Zuko. “Prince Handsome over here is training shirtless and you expect me to not be distracted by that?”

“I don’t get distracted by that,” Toph countered.

“Of course not,” you said, facing her again. “You’re blind.”

Aang snickered and Zuko coughed as he tried to choke back his laughter.

“Do it again,” Toph barked. “Zuko come stand next to me.”

Zuko complied and crossed his arms as he stood next to Toph. You found yourself blushing lightly as you stared at the way his arms flexed before focusing on the metal once more. You struggled for a few minutes, feeling Zuko’s eyes on you. You glanced at him once more, watching his arms flex once again as he shifted in place. Looking up at his face, you saw him already looking at you, a smirk on his face.

You looked back at the metal trying not to look at the prince again. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

~

It wasn’t until Ember Island that you got to spend more time around Zuko. After the day Toph had made him stand next to her as she trained you, you made sure to train as far as you could possibly get from the prince. That didn’t stop you from flirting with him every other chance you had though, always commenting on how you couldn’t train around him because he made you flustered.

Your comments seemed to make him equally, if not more, flustered.

The day you guys went to see the play, you had sat next to him, intertwining your fingers when the lights went off. He had stiffened up, an unreadable look on his face when he felt your hand in his. Thinking he had been uncomfortable, you pulled back your hand, only to blush when he pulled it back towards him this time taking it upon himself to intertwine your fingers.

Your hands remained intertwined for the rest of the play, even when you exited the private box for the intermission. You didn’t miss the smug looks from everyone else and while Zuko blushed, you had simply leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek the same way you had back in Ba Sing Se.

When the second half of the play started, you proceeded to lean on Zuko, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. His heart racing, Zuko disconnected your hands before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer. You closed your eyes as you leaned into him, enjoying the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

~

The next few days were spent watching Aang and Zuko training as you lounged around the beach house. You spent most of your time with Toph as she kept drilling metalbending into you until you could do it with your eyes closed.

A few nights before Sozin’s comet, you found yourself sitting on the roof of the house, staring up at the moon. You jumped slightly when you felt someone sitting next to you, the warmth emitting from them telling you it was Zuko.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, his eyes never leaving you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you hummed, still looking at the moon. You looked at him to see him scowling. “I couldn’t sleep so I came out here to look at the moon.”

“Sokka’s first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Zuko said, fidgeting under your gaze.

“That’s rough,” you said, looking back up.

It was silent for a few minutes before Zuko spoke up again. “Why do you like teasing me so much?”

You looked at him, bewildered. “Teasing you?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, turning to face you. “All the compliments and the kisses and everything. Why?”

“It’s called flirting, Prince Zuko,” you said with a smile. “People typically do it when they’re attracted to or like somebody.”

“So why do you do it to me?”

You stared at him in disbelief, wondering if he was joking or if he was truly that oblivious. “Because I like you!”

Zuko’s eyes widened in surprise at your words. “You like me?”

“I thought you knew! I thought that’s why you kept flexing the day Toph kept trying to get me to metalbend,” you hissed poking his arm.

“I was joking around,” Zuko replied, swatting your hand away. “I thought you saying I was distracting you was a joke so I kept flexing to tease you.”

“Well you did tease me,” you mumbled. “Just not in the way you’re thinking of.”

“So,” Zuko said, not meeting your eyes. “You really like me?”

You rolled your eyes before leaning forwards, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. His eyes widened in shock before he closed them, his hand reaching up to cup your face as he melted into the kiss. You pulled back and giggled as his lips chased yours, pecking him once more before leaning back. “Does that answer your question?”

Zuko nodded quickly before grabbing your hand. “I like you too.”

You smiled as you shuffled closer to him. “Good. I’d be pretty upset if you didn’t.”

You gasped lightly as Zuko pressed his lips back to yours, sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. Your arms wound around his neck, hands tangling in his hair as you eagerly kissed back. Zuko pulled away first, a chuckle escaping him.

“What?” you asked leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I can’t believe uncle was right,” he replied. At your questioning gaze, he explained.

“You did end up wooing me.”

~

AHAHAHAHAAHHHH i hope this is good i spent a lot of time on this one and i’m not too proud of it but i hope you enjoy <3

[rextasywrites]

Look At Me -Donna Beneviento x reader

Years had passed since then, and whenever you asked Mother Miranda about Donna, she just told you that Donna didn’t want anyone close to her, and that you should stop putting your nose into things that weren’t your business. But she was your best friend after all!

The reader misses their best friend Donna so much...how will their reunion go?

If there is more demand for Donna x reader content, I’d be more than happy to write more for her! I do have a soft spot for her!

Warnings: bit spoilerish, angst, crying

“Look at me.”, you cupped Donna’s cheeks through the veil she was wearing, the lace feeling rough under your fingers. It’s been years since you last saw her face, since she last let anyone come close to her. What had happened to her?

You two grew up together. You clearly remembered how much she always loved the dolls her parents made. They were a fairly well known puppet maker family after all. From a young age, she knew she’d step into her parents' footprints, them teaching her things as soon as she could hold a hammer and sandpaper. Her only friend was you as you didn’t taunt her about the scar in her face she had gotten very young. You loved watching her make new dolls and gave her suggestions what she could do differently. The first doll she ever made was gifted to you, and you have kept it on your nightstand ever since.

But then, her parents fell ill. Nobody knew what was happening to them, and they died only several minutes apart, leaving Donna as an orphan. For the first few weeks, their gardener looked after her, cooking her meals and holding her when she cried over her parent’s deaths. How they held hands as they drifted into their forever sleep, how she had to watch her parents go from healthy and strong to barely able to hold down a simple soup.

That’s when Mother Miranda came into the game. She felt pity for the girl and took her under her wing. The house of the Beneviento family was far outside of the village and only a dangerous walk across a rope bridge connected her to the village. Mother Miranda made sure the girl got enough food and some time in, she adopted her. Now, Donna spent most of the time with Mother Miranda, and after some time, the gardener disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to him, Mother Miranda suggested that he might have drunkenly fell off the rope bridge.

Mother Miranda taught Donna everything she needed to know when it came to school things, but she also gave her the Cadou. The day before she got the Cadou was the last time you ever saw her.

Years had passed since then, and whenever you asked Mother Miranda about Donna, she just told you that Donna didn’t want anyone close to her, and that you should stop putting your nose into things that weren’t your business. But she was your best friend after all!

That’s when you decided to take matters in your own hands. The rope bridge was ways more terrifying than back in the day when you were kids, laughing and throwing stones into the river beneath it. With wobbly legs you made your way towards the house, a good march away still. Only when the house was already visible you realized that the birds had stopped singing their songs.

The house looked just how you remembered it - the waterfall crashing down behind the cliff, muting every possible sound. You knocked on the door in a certain manner. Back in the day, to show it was you and that you wanted Donna to come play with you, you knocked two times quickly, a short break, one quick knock and one last long one.

Memories flooded your mind but before you could lose yourself in them, the door was opened. To your surprise, it was Angie opening the door. She had always been Donna’s favourite doll, the second doll she ever made. “Welcome here, (Y/N)!”, Angie crackled and opened the door more for you to step into the house.

“Where is Donna?”, you asked as you looked around. The interior hadn’t changed at all. Everything was looking like the day you had last entered the house so many years ago.

“Donna? Oh Donna is in her room! She isn’t doing well!”, Angie said and pointed you towards the staircase leading to Donna’s room. Well, you didn’t need that reminder, you still knew where it was. “Go to her! You know her so well!”

You nodded at Angie and patted her head, the doll jumping with happiness. She kinda liked it that you weren’t scared by her at all. Together you headed towards Donna’s room and you knocked on the door.

“Mother Miranda?”, Donna called out. Her voice was muffled, maybe she was hiding under a blanket or had her head under her pillow.

“No, it’s me, (Y/N)!”, you replied.

“(Y/N)?! You shouldn’t be here!”, Donna called out, her voice clearer than before. Angie looked at you and you looked at her. You two nodded at each other and you opened the door to Donna’s room. For sure she was in her bed, blanket up to her chin. Her face was hidden by the veil even now that she was alone. “Does Mother Miranda know you are here.”

“No, why should she?”, you asked and sat down on the bed next to Donna, who was still laying down. “I am here because of you and not because of her.”

Donna nodded, avoiding your gaze by looking at Angie, “May you please leave us alone for a bit, Angie?”, and the doll nodded, heading out of the door and closing it. “(Y/N), why are you here?”

“I missed you, Donna.”, you instantly confessed, didn’t want to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you in years, Mother Miranda keeps me from seeing you...and I just couldn’t stand it anymore!”, the word vomit out of your mouth didn’t stop, and Donna felt her heart opening up.

“Oh…”, she muttered. Had it really been years? At some point, she lost track of time passing.

“You are my best friend, Donna, and I missed you so much over those past years…”, you continued to talk, letting out all these feelings that had built up over time. “I just wanted to see my best friend again.”

To your surprise, you heard a soft sob coming from Donna, and by the way her body shook, it was clear that she was crying. Tears of years of built up loneliness, anger and sadness spilling over. “Oh Donna...look at me…”, you whispered not to scare her, but Donna moved her head away.

“No! Don’t look at me! I’m ugly!”, she cried out, grabbing the veil and pulling it tighter over her face. Her body was shaking even more and tears stained the veil.

“But Donna...I know your scar, and it doesn’t make you ugly.”, you added in confusion. When you last saw her, she wasn’t happy about the scar but she learnt to live with it. Why now…?

“No, no, you don’t understand.”, Donna shook her head even harder, making you fear that she’d give herself whiplash. She loosened her grip on the veil once it was covered in tears and snot.

“I do understand. Donna, I am your best friend, please, let me see. And let me help you.”

Those simple words, the simple encouragement from you, broke Donna’s heart even more. It had been years since she last heard your voice, and it only just now dawned to her how much she had missed you too. With shaking hands, she slowly lifted the veil, revealing her ‘ugly’ face.

The Cadou was visible on the right side of her face where her scar used to be. You didn’t flinch or showed any kind of disgust. It was Donna after all. And she was still your best friend, no matter what that thing on her face was.

“I am so ugly.”, Donna cried out and threw her arms around your body, her head in your lap as she wailed even harder, the self disgust so evident it hurt.

“You are not. Who the fuck is telling you this bullshit?”, you asked and shook your head. Yes, she looked different, but why did it even matter? What mattered was the friend you finally reconnected with after all this time.

“I am! Just look at me! What do you see when you look at me?”

“I see my best friend and a wonderful woman. A talented doll maker and mother of Angie. You are amazing Donna.”, you whispered, making Donna look up to you in confusion.

“You don’t think…?”

“No, I absolutely do not think so. With scar, without scar, or whatever that thing is...you are still Donna.”, you smiled.

And for a short second, you saw that Donna was smiling too. Oh, how you missed her pretty smile. Your heart grew ten times at her happy expression, and you dared to wipe a tear off her cheek with your thumb. “I am so glad you are back in my life.”, Donna muttered, the crying clearly exhausting for her. “Just...don’t let Mother Miranda know. She won’t be happy about this....”

“I don’t care about Mother Miranda. All I care about is you, Donna. How about we go into the kitchen and make some tea? Catch up with everything that happened in the past few years?”

“Sounds good. Come with me.”

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

A Comedy of Errors. Chapter 3: The Way of the Aces.

Please read the previous chapters before proceeding!!

Click here to read Chapter 1: Negotiations.

Click here to read Chapter 2: Suga the Setter.

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

Background: Y/N is a transfer student who joined Karasuno High in her second year because her family shifted to Miyagi. She is a volleyball player and plays as a wing spiker (ace) in the Girl’s Volleyball team.

Pairing: Karasuno x fem reader || Romantic Pairing: Asahi x fem reader

NOTE: Y/N plays volleyball in this. I am not familiar with all the rules of the game so pls 2 forgive if I get any of the technicalities wrong.

Genre: Fluff and comfort with sprinkles of comedy this time! || SFW

A/N: At last, the final chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. I really poured my entire soul into this. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Say, since you guys are already here. Why don’t you stay and watch us practice?" Asahi's lifespan is being shortened with every word as Suga invites Y/N and Michimiya to watch them practice. Asahi waits with bated breath. Even though he is extremely nervous, a part of him does want you to stay. So, when you do say yes, he doesn't know whether to feel happy or run out of the gym screaming. As they walk off to warm up, Suga whispers to him, "I know you're probably thinking about how you're going to fuck up your play and embarrass yourself in front of her. But while you're at it, maybe you should also think about what will happen if you actually play well." Asahi nods. "Suga." "Hmm?" "Thank you. For everything you just did. I really do appreciate it." "Of course! I'm just glad it worked out well." "And you are right, I do like her. I don't know her much but I would like to." "Aha, finally some truth around here! Well, then we just gotta make sure you give her a show worth remembering!" Suga says, winking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michimiya had been watching the game intently, as was evident by her gasps and comments on everything. But you? You hadn't been able to keep your eyes off of Asahi the entire game. So much so, that you had barely given a second thought to the first years' amazing quick attack or Nishinoya's outstanding libero skills.

Asahi's spikes, his serves, his receives, his posture, his spirit, and his determination had you just...rapt with attention.

"In case you are wondering, yes, he is single." Michimiya's whisper startles you.

"W-what?" you start to blush. "I'm just taking notes!"

"But I didn't even specify who I was talking about."

You turn redder.

"He's really nice too, you know. A very genuine and kind person. I think you two would make a cute couple."

Your face is so hot now that you're sure you'll hear a sizzle any moment. You turn your head back towards the game to avoid Michimiya's gaze.

"I- I don't know who you are talking about."

Michimiya chuckles. "Of course you don't."

Even though you can feel Michimiya's gaze on you, you can't help but smile as you watch Asahi land another beautiful spike in the opponent's court.

You didn't know, of course, that you being around and watching him had been a huge boost of motivation for him to perform at his peak. You didn't know how he had been wondering what you were thinking about him the entire game. You didn't know how hard it had been for him to not glance at you after every move he made, just to see your reaction.

But he didn't know how you had felt either. He didn't know how your heart rate sped up every time he came on to serve. He didn't know you had also felt frustrated whenever his spike got shut down, feeling as though you had been shut down. He didn't know how you had wanted to shout and cheer him on but you hadn't because you didn't want to come off as a weirdo.

Truly, you would make a good couple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Practice is now over. Asahi's team won both the practice matches (of course they did, Suga would not have had it any other way). You and Michimiya walk over to the third years. As Michimiya starts gushing to Daichi about their game, you turn to Asahi.

"You were really - glorious, brilliant, like a God, I wish you were spiking me instead - amazing out there," you say, your eyes full of admiration.

Asahi instantly turns a deep shade of red.

"Th-thank you." He says with a smile.

"See, I told you he is great!" Suga says with a proud smile on his face.

"You were right. Karasuno really has a very talented ace."

"No, it has two of them," Asahi says, looking at you with a smile.

Now it is your turn to blush.

"Aah, I wish. I'm not quite there yet. I'm definitely nowhere close to your level," you say.

"I would love to help you any way I can."

"I would be honoured to learn from you," you say with a bow.

Suga piped up, "It's Saturday tomorrow! The boys' gym will be free till 10AM. If you want, we can practice here early morning. Say, around 7? Asahi can teach you the techniques and I can set for you both. We'll ask Daichi and Michimiya too if they want to join." and before you can answer, Suga is off to ask Daichi and Michimiya.

Wow, he really doesn't wait for an answer, huh.

Asahi looks at you and he can see you're a little unsure. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just... I really don't want to bother you guys so early in the morning like that."

"It's no problem at all, we usually practice early on the weekends anyway." Asahi says with a reassuring smile. That seems to melt your doubts away.

Suga walks back to you. "I've spoken to the two of them, they will join us but a little later."

"It's sorted, then." you say, smiling.

Of course, Asahi was the one who ended up walking you home that night.

Of course, Suga was "late" for the morning practice the next day, giving you and Asahi a lot of time to get comfortable around each other get nervous and DIE.

Of course, situations like these happened more than a few times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before you know it, two months have passed. With Asahi and Michimiya's help, you improved tremendously and the Karasuno Girls Volleyball team cleared the first set of qualifying rounds for the Spring Interhigh. And so did the boys.

During this time, you and Asahi have become really good friends. Since you two live in the same area, you often end up going to school and walking home together, giving you a lot of time to talk about every topic under the sun. It took a while but you are now very comfortable around each other. In fact, Asahi himself wonders how he is able to tell you things so easily.

Both of your friend groups (and your entire school, also the neighbouring schools, random passersby, street dogs, birds flying past - you know, basically anyone with eyes) can see that you two are absolutely head-over-heels for each other. The only two people who don't know it are you two.

The way Asahi had gone out of his way to teach you everything he knew; how patiently he had walked you through every technique, every mistake; how he had sweetly asked you for permission every time before correcting your posture and showing you the right finger placement (mind outta the gutter fellas, we talking about volleyball here); how every time he did that, you felt a jolt of electricity whenever his fingers touched you (I promise it is still about volleyball); how he cares about even the littlest things regarding you; how every time he smiles reassuringly at you, the world feels all right again; how supportive and encouraging he has been through it all: You have fallen for him harder than you have ever fallen in your entire life.

And you just keep falling harder and harder every moment you spend with him. He has become your comfort now. No matter how stressed or nervous you are, just having Asahi around makes you feel much calmer and confident.

Asahi, on the other hand, has smiled more in these last two months than he has ever smiled. He can't help it, being around you just makes him feel like he is floating. He was blown away by how talented and hard working you are and is so proud of the progress you have made.

The way you are so kind to him. The way you always speak up whenever someone makes fun of him. The way you always hype him up and believe in him. The way the world seems to stop every time you smile at him. The way your laugh has become his favourite sound in the world. Asahi could not be more enamoured by you even if he tried. You too, are his comfort now. He knows he can talk to you about every "sentimental" topic on earth without being made fun of.

The only problem is: You both are afraid that this comfort you find in each other will be ruined if either of you confesses and the other does not reciprocate your feelings. It is now a waiting game to see who spikes their ball into the other's court first, if at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are shaking. Partly with excitement, partly with nerves. After defeating Tohoku High, only one school remains between you and the nationals: Niiyama Joshi, one of the most powerful schools that always makes it to nationals when it comes to the Miyagi prefecture.

The boys' game had ended earlier than yours and they had already left the stadium. You were absolutely delighted to hear that they beat Seijoh. Now, they have to face Shiratorizawa, another powerhouse school that always makes it to the nationals.

You and Asahi both have your own mountains to climb tomorrow.

As you are walking out of the stadium with your teammates, you spot something.

"Hey, you guys go ahead, I will be right there." you say and turn back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a very long day but you cannot sit still at all. You cannot stop thinking about the match tomorrow. Your hands are sweaty knees weak, arms are heavy because you keep clenching your fists open and shut as you pace around your bedroom. You had hoped to be able to meet Asahi and maybe feel a little better but by the time you had reached school, the boys had already left. You know how big a day it is for him tomorrow too so you don't want to bother him by asking him to meet. However, you should at least text him and congratulate him on his victory. You open your phone and see you already have a message from him:

Asahi: Hey, I heard you guys beat Tohoku! Congratulations! I knew you could do it.

You smile.

You: Thanks, I still can't believe we did that!!! Congratulations on beating Seijoh!! I heard it was a close match.

Asahi: Thanks! Yeah, it was anyone's game by the end. It was really intense. But we managed to win. Also, I had full faith that you would make it!

You: Damn, wish I could have seen it. Sooo, Shiratorizawa next. How are you feeling?

Asahi: Really, really nervous. They're really strong and I don't think anyone believes we can beat them.

You: Well, you just gotta prove them wrong, then! I truly believe that you guys can do it.

Asahi: I really hope so. Anyway, what about you? How are you feeling about going up against Niiyama tomorrow?

You: Honestly, I cannot stop shaking and thinking about tomorrow. We are so close and I just don't want to screw up and let my team down.

Asahi: Can you get out of your house?

You stare at your phone for a moment before replying.

You: Yeah, I can sneak out the backdoor. Why?

Asahi: Sneak out after 5 minutes. I'll be there.

You: You sure about this? It's late and you need to rest for tomorrow too.

Asahi: I'm sure and I'm already on my way.

You grab your schoolbag and quietly make your way out the backdoor. You see Asahi standing outside your house. He's wearing a purple t-shirt and is carrying a bag in his hand. He smiles and waves at you as you make your way towards him. The knots in your stomach are already starting to loosen.

"Hey, Asahi!"

"Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry for making you sneak out like this but... I couldn't help myself when I read your messages."

"No, it's completely alright. Actually, to be honest, I was kind of hoping to meet you too. I-I always feel calmer after talking to you."

Asahi blushes.

"R-really?"

"Yeah."

"I always feel better after talking to you too."

You can feel the heat starting to build in your face as you smile at him in response.

Asahi continues, "I-I know I am not good with words. But I want to tell you that I know exactly how you feel. You won't let anyone down. I have seen you play and really, you have nothing to worry about. You have made it this far and you are strong enough to take it further."

His words make you want to cry. He has always shown so much faith in you. You look at the ground and don't say anything as you try to hold back your tears.

"-And I - uh - got you something that I thought might make you feel better."

You look up in surprise and you see him reaching his hand into the bag he brought with him. As you watch, he pulls out a light blue cloth. It's a t-shirt.

You gasp as you recognize what it is.

He holds the t-shirt open by the sleeves so that you can read what's written.

It's a "The Way of the Ace" T-shirt.

"Oh my God!!" you say loudly.

He is completely thrown off by your reaction as you throw your head back and laugh.

Oh no. Does she think this is lame? Asahi starts to panic.

You reach into your own bag and pull out a similar looking light blue cloth. Asahi's eyes widen.

"I bought this today at the stadium for you. I know how important tomorrow's match is for you and I knew you'd be nervous so I wanted to give you this as a motivational sort of good luck thing." you say as you hold out a larger sized "The Way of the Ace" T-shirt.

All of your tension and nerves melt away as you both stand there laughing and holding the T-shirts.

"I hope I got the right size," Asahi says as you exchange the t-shirts.

"Same."

"It's perfect!" You both say at the same time and erupt into a hearty laugh again.

"Thank you, Asahi. I feel a lot better now. Really, thank you for everything. We wouldn't have made it this far if not for your help."

"It was all you, Y/N. All I did was show you the way. You walked it on your own."

"Yeah, you showed me the way of the Ace." you say, smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The score is 30-31 and it is match point for Karasuno Girls' High School against Niiyama Joshi for what seems to be like the 100th time. It has just been ties after ties after ties and every set has stretched well into the 30s. Somewhere at the beginning of the fifth set, you looked up to see the Karasuno boys piling into the stands to cheer your team on. From the looks of it, they won their match against Shiratorizawa.

Playing such intense 5 sets back to back has taken a massive toll and the players on both sides of the court are at their limit. However, it is now your turn to serve and if you manage to get this point, you will be through to the nationals.

"Y/N, GIVE US A NICE SERVE!!" the boys cheer for you from the audience.

Your knees are quaking and you feel like you can barely stand, much less run or jump. You are so out of breath that you feel like you are going to pass out any minute. As you somehow force yourself to walk into position, you can feel your knees buckling under you.

As you stand there, waiting for the referee to blow the whistle, your eyes instinctively search for Asahi. Even though he is far, you can easily spot him due to his height and the familiar light blue t-shirt he has changed into after his match.

As your eyes meet, Asahi cups his hands around his mouth and BELLOWS.

"JUST ONE MORE. YOU GOT THIS!"

The whistle blows.

BAM.

You barely have time to realize what happened as you are tackled to the ground by your teammates. There's a lot of hugging and crying and shouting.

As you recover from your shock, it finally registers. It was a service ace. Niiyama's libero had tried to dig the ball but it had bounced out of bounds.

You've won.

Tears of exhaustion and exhilaration start to flow from your eyes as you hug your teammates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your feet are killing you as you walk out of the locker room towards the bus, wearing your own WotA t-shirt. It's late and the corridor is silent and empty as you're one of the very last few people to leave.

"I told you you could do it."

You look up and see Asahi standing a little further ahead, smiling at you.

You don't say anything, you just walk up to him and hug him. He seems taken aback but only for a bit as, barely a second later, you feel his large arms wrap around you tightly.

You both stand there for a while, both too exhausted to speak but finding comfort in each other's arms. It just feels so...right. Like this is exactly where and how you are meant to be.

When you finally break apart, you can see that Asahi is looking a little nervous.

"S-say, Y/N. I was wondering... i-if you would maybe want to go on a- on a date with me?"

Your eyes widen in surprise.

"It is completely okay if you don't! I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anythi-"

"Yes, yes, YES! I will go on a date with you."

"Really? You really want to go out with me?"

"Yes. Honestly, Asahi, I fell for you a long time ago. I was just afraid of freaking you out and ruining our friendship. So, I didn't say anything."

Asahi let out a little laugh. "It's freaky how we think so similarly because same." He takes your hand in his. "I fell for you the day I met you. And I just kept falling harder and harder the more I got to know you. I just never imagined you would feel the same way for me too."

"I do, I do, I so do! I always have!"

Both of you have the biggest smiles on your faces as you stand there holding hands and looking into each other's eyes.

You suddenly start to blush furiously.

"So...um...since we usually seem to be thinking the same thing. Um, would you like to kiss me?"

Asahi's eyes open so wide that you're worried they'll pop out of their sockets any minute. He is blushing furiously as he simply nods and leans in.

Your heart is thundering as your lips meet. But, it's Asahi. He kisses you with such tenderness and affection that you just melt into him.

The two aces of Karasuno walk out of the stadium hand-in-hand, wearing their matching WotA T-shirts. You're going to nationals, you've found some really great friends and you have found each other. Life is good.

FIN.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, I am so happy with how this turned out. I was stuck for a while trying to decide where to go with this story and I was panicking a little about not updating sooner. But I am glad I did not hurry this up because I really LOVE the turn this took in my head which it wouldn't have if I hadn't let the ideas stew in my mind for a while.

I know this was a long read but I really hope you guys enjoyed it and it was worth the read and the wait.

Likes, comments, reblogs and follows are always appreciated. Please DO NOT repost

Buy me a Kofi! <3

[divine-mistake]

helios, his modern muse

Summary: You prefer the version of him that you can keep inside your tiny apartment, the Steve who looks beautiful in a blue button-up and slightly wrinkled khakis, what he’s wearing now. The Steve who has dried clay beneath his nails sometimes, the one who sculpts and molds objects of beauty from nothing, who makes art out of ugly things. Sometimes, you think it’s why he chose you out of everyone—his need to make art from something ugly.

Characters: Steve/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), language, female body imagery

Word Count: 2801

A/N: This is a tumblr request for someone who wanted a sculptor Steve and a plus-sized reader. Please enjoy!

main masterlist | AO3

If Steve is the sun, then you would give up everything to be his moon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His eyes are fire when he looks at you and you wonder if you could touch the sky, the same blue of his eyes, would it feel as warm as the way his gaze does? “How was work?”

He’s sitting at your kitchen table, looking like a god among the stained wood and rickety chairs. A newspaper—so old-fashioned he is, you’ve tried to teach him he can read the news on his phone but he always insists it’s better from the paper—is spread across his lap, thumbing through the pages, a glass of water sitting within reach. Your tiny New York apartment, kitchen tiled green and ugly, looks so small when he resides there. Like his body takes up space and his aura, his being, the light he projects even when he’s just sitting there doing nothing at all, swallows up the atmosphere inside.

If Steve Rogers is the sun, then god, you only shine in the light he radiates.

“Exhausting,” you reply, throwing your keys into the catch-all bowl in the entryway and kicking off your heels. A bath, a blanket, and a bottle of wine are calling your name, but Steve does this incredible thing where the moment he sees you, he opens his arms up like the gates of Heaven and you have no choice but to slump into his embrace.

He does that now, too. With a shuffle of his paper, where he folds it and places it on the dining table, he stands up from the wobbling chair and takes a step toward you, opening his arms wide and smiling with that boyish grin that gets you every time. And like always, you’re stuck in his orbit and unable to resist him, throwing yourself into his hold and relaxing against him.

Your bodies press and mold like magnets forced together. Steve’s arms slip around the smallest part of your waist, squeezing you, his hands roaming over the generous curves and dips that make up your body. Your own arms twine around the back of his neck and you hang from him, letting him support your weight, and on another day if you were less tired and more aware, you’d feel embarrassed at this whole thing.

It’s just simple math, most of the time. If Steve is the sun and you’re still heavier than him, then what are you?

But Steve never makes you feel like that and you love that about him. He holds you like you’re weightless, like you’re this stretch of empty space he needs to cling to before it disappears. Steve drinks you in like you’re oxygen, nothing but gas, a method of sustaining him. And more than anything, he looks at you as if he isn’t the fucking sun, all twenty-seven-million-degrees of him, like he isn’t the star that everyone else revolves around, his warmth, his smile, his blinding light.

No, Steve looks at you like you’re his sun, and sometimes, like now, it steals every ounce of heat from your soul and leaves you frozen.

He must feel you stiffen in his embrace because he ducks down to kiss you then, pulling you impossibly closer, nudging under your jaw with his nose to make you tip upward to reach his lips. You respond like it’s second nature, your mouth moving with his in a dance you’ve choreographed over the last year, and when his tongue smooths over yours like velvet, it ignites a flame in the dredges of your stomach that turns you messy and frantic. Steve laughs against your lips as if he doesn’t know whether to give into your demands so easily, but you know, eventually, he will.

This time, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, and your eyes flutter shut as you breathe him in. He smells like earth, bergamot and clay, something fresh that you can’t name as you still the excitement in your heart. It’s a preferable smell to when he comes home from missions, tang and copper and smoke and death. You prefer the version of him that you can keep inside your tiny apartment, the Steve who looks beautiful in a blue button-up and slightly wrinkled khakis, what he’s wearing now. The Steve who has dried clay beneath his nails sometimes, the one who sculpts and molds objects of beauty from nothing, who makes art out of ugly things.

Sometimes, you think it’s why he chose you out of everyone—his need to make art from something ugly.

When your eyes open again, his are closed as he drinks in your effervescence, like he needs your presence to survive. Like you’ve been gone for so long he can’t stand it and needs to bask in your body once again. Behind him, and you’re not sure how you didn’t notice it before, his newest project is left drying, old newspapers he swears he only keeps around for art sitting beneath it to protect your rented floors.

It’s something new, you realize. Something Steve hasn’t attempted to sculpt before. When he first decided he wanted to move on from painting to clay sculptures, he started off small. Oven-baked clay he turned into plates and bowls and lop-sided cups. Things he could paint afterward, combining his talents, something that always brought this look of pride and satisfaction to his face, especially when you cooed over how beautiful his pieces were. He made little statues he gave to his friends, too, an angel’s wing for Sam and a white wolf for Bucky—which took him so long because he had to get it perfect and sweetheart, animals are so hard to make, but I gotta do it for Buck.

This though, this thing that’s sitting, drying, in your kitchen, is a body. And it’s silly, really, but it’s a woman’s body, with her breasts shaped perfectly and her stomach taut, her hips flared into a base. Her neck is slim and her shoulders are smooth, held confidently.

It’s a woman’s body and it isn’t you. It could never be you. You’re too wide, too inelegant, too round in the areas that are so so flat. Steve makes beautiful art out of ugly things. You remind yourself of this so you are painfully aware that Steve could never sculpt you. He would never sculpt you. His need isn’t to make art of you, but to make art out of you.

Steve never makes you feel like that. He never makes you feel ugly.

You’re plenty good at doing that yourself.

“Do you like it?” His voice interrupts your descent into self-pity. He must have realized you’d been staring at it.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, and it’s the truth, it really is beautiful, but it feels like a lie to say it outloud.

Steve scratches the back of his head and you miss the warmth of his hand on your waist. It feels like a rejection. 

“Yeah,” he says, drawing his hands through his golden hair. “Natasha, uh, well, she wanted something like it. It’s not her,” he quickly assures you, eyes finding yours again. “She didn’t model or anything. It’s just a symbol of feminism, inner goddess, or something like that. Her words, anyway.”

He’s nervous. You don’t know why.

“She’ll love it,” you tell him, your hand smoothing down the wrinkles of his shirt over his chest. It seems to calm him, a happy sigh leaving his mouth. “It’s a powerful statement for her. I think she forgets that her body can hold beauty, not just power and strength.”

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, a reassurance. Are you trying to reassure him or reassure yourself?

His hold around you tightens. “Sometimes I think you’re the opposite,” he says, his voice low, rumbling in his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder if you know how much power and strength you hold over me.” His nose follows the curve of your soft jawline. “It isn’t just your beauty that makes my heart beat like this.”

Steve unwraps your hand from where it caresses the fine, sun-sprite hairs that meet his neck, and he presses your palm against the warmth of his chest. Underneath it, you can feel his pulse, jumping like it's attuned to you.

“This is what you do to me,” he murmurs against your ear, making you shiver despite his heated breath. “You’re the greatest work of art I never made. The kind that belongs in a museum.”

You laugh, but it’s mean, and you never meant to be mean. The guilt sets in when Steve’s eyes, his gorgeous baby blue eyes, are awash in a steely hurt as he searches your face, looking for something that might not be there.

“I’m sorry,” you force yourself to say. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You don’t believe me?”

If Steve is the sun, you’re just existing in his shadow, basking in all the good that he projects and never knowing what to give in return.

Instead of answering, you cup his face in your hands and run your thumbs over his cheekbones, sliding your fingers down his neck like trickling water, then smoothing out the stress, the stiffness, in his shoulders. He loves it when you do this—relaxes into your touch like a big cat, warm and pliant from the light of day.

But he doesn’t relax this time. Steve stares down at you, his gaze faraway, like he’s looking through you. Like he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking.

You hope he never can.

The arm slung around your waist begins to guide you toward the bedroom, and you let him, because if there’s one thing in this life you trust with everything, it’s Steve. Not because he’s Captain America, not because he’s a superhero whose job description is to save the world, and not because he might love you the way you love him. You trust Steve because he’s Steve, he’s safe and secure and soft, and there’s never been a moment where he’s given you a reason to doubt him.

But those words—you’re the greatest work of art I never made—can’t be real.

Steve moves with you until you’re standing in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on your wall, the one he installed for you when he got tired of seeing it balancing precariously on the floor where you left it, and it steals your breath for a moment. To see him standing behind you, nearly a foot taller than you, his body wide and broad and warm and so goddamn beautiful, you think that if a year is all you’ll ever have with him, to touch him, to see him like this, then you’re the luckiest girl alive.

If Steve isn’t the sun, then he’s its God. Helios, you might call him in your dreams where he brightens the night until you feel alive, I love you and your sun.

“What do you see?” he asks you, his hands clutching your waist, holding you in place.

“The most beautiful thing in the galaxy,” you tell him. “The man I love more than anything.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Me too,” he says. “You’re like the goddamn sun, sweetheart.”

But it makes you frown, and he notices it in the mirror’s reflection. “You’re the sun,” you say, spinning around to face him, but Steve’s hands lock around your body and he stills you, and once again you’re staring at his eyes through the mirror.

“Do you ever see how beautiful you are?” he asks.

No. He hides his face in your neck and you’re forced to stare at yourself now instead of him.

“Do you know how much light you bring into my life? How cold I feel until you’re in my arms?”

No. You think about the statue, the body of a woman you wish you were the size of.

“Do you know how much I need you to exist?”

No. Steve’s arms wrap around your soft middle and you wonder what he would look like holding a woman who takes up less space, who lets his brilliance shine without weighing him down.

When he looks back up at you, in the mirror, your face is twisted into something ugly. Steve, you suppose, will want to make art out of it, to smooth away the pucker in your lips and the draw of your brows, the way your forehead wrinkles with contempt.

He releases you, stepping away, feet taking him toward his dresser. You are frozen in front of the mirror, eyes roaming over your body, highlighting every insecurity you’ve had since you were young, the ones you always said you’d grow out of.

If Steve isn’t the sun, then you can’t be the moon—you’re just an asteroid floating around in space, lost, dying, crumbling. People don’t look at you and assign a value like beauty to you.

You almost don’t notice when Steve is behind you again, his arms wrapping around you, something colorful in his hands. He places it against your body, cupping it in his arms like a treasure. A gasp leaves your mouth.

It’s a sculpture, like the one he made for Natasha, but it’s different. The breasts are heavy, hanging lower and a little uneven, still beautiful. The stomach isn’t flat but round and the way he’s carved it makes it look soft to touch, bouncy, despite the knowledge that it’s clay. The hips and shoulders are wider, more familiar, and he’s painted it in shades of blue that match his eyes, match the sky right as the sun is setting and night is moving in, when the moon is coming alive.

But what catches your eye more than anything are the golden stripes of shimmering paint that make up the stretch marks—dangerously similar to the ones that decorate your own body—and how they catch in the light.

It’s rapturously gorgeous.

“You made this?” Your voice is breathy when you ask, your hands trembling, reaching out to touch this beautiful statue, but you just can’t bring yourself to.

Steve hums in agreement. “It’s why Natasha wanted her own.”

“Who—” You swallow thickly. “Who did you make this for?”

If Steve is the sun, you would burn up in his atmosphere, just for a taste of his solar flare when he looks at you the way he is right now, loving and kind and still hungry, like he’ll never get enough of you.

He kisses the skin behind your ear, taking one of your hands in your own to press the sculpture into your grasp. Gently, he folds your fingers over it so you can feel the delicate curves of his art against your skin.

“Can’t you tell?” he asks, his lips drawing a line of fire from your neck to the top of your shoulder. “It’s you, sweetheart.”

No—how could you? This sculpture can’t be you. It’s too beautiful to be you. Even with all its flaws, all the things that should point out that make it less than perfect, it’s art. Steve is an artist. He makes art out of ugly things. He made art out of you, and it’s so fucking stunning, you wonder if maybe his hands could do that to you. Could his hands sculpt your body, your living body, into something better than it is now if you let him touch you enough? Are his hands warm enough with the light of the sun to melt all your imperfections away in the same method he uses to shape clay?

“You made me look so beautiful,” you say, a sob choking your words.

“No,” he says. “I could never make anything as beautiful as you.”

He sweeps you into his arms and kisses you sweetly, then, the sculpture he’s made of you the only thing keeping your bodies apart from one another. You cling to it like you’re afraid to lose it, like if your hands aren’t on it, maybe it will disappear and it’ll have been a dream, the fact that Steve’s made you into art. You’re glad you aren’t art, though. Because if you were art, put up in a museum where he says you belong, then Steve wouldn’t be allowed to touch you so generously, so warmly, so perfectly.

And you let him touch you, hoping to memorize the way he molds your wide hips, the dip of your waist, the curve of your shoulder, as if he is sculpting you all over again.

If Steve isn’t the sun, then he is your Helios, your god, your everything. And if he is your Helios, then perhaps you are the sun after all.

Taglist: @melancholic-metanoia

[ignisnocturnalia]

Ushdhsjdhei those Nokris hcs had me SWEATING they were so good! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests currently, but if you are, could we have some for Oryx please? At any rate, I hope you have a lovely day! 🥰

Oryx was on my personal list next, so this request lines up PERFECTLY 😏 I hope you've been having good days as well, my friend 😎

Oryx x Reader

Relationship

As the Taken King, congratulations, you are now the Taken Queen and most likely an ✨outlaw✨ to the city

Things might get a little dicey, since before you came along he viewed “loving” as killing the object of his affections repeatedly… (I have the anthologies, bro has killed his siblings like 3 times not even halfway through the book while gushing about how much he cares about them)

Takes you to the different planets he’s conquered, detailing their indiginous species before he had them annihilated whenever you ask about them (including war moons)

Tries to help you create your own throne world, and if you can’t or don’t want to, he shares his with you

Just the same as him, Hive kneel to you, and though unnecessary you receive a part of the upward stream of power acquired through their Sword Logic per Oryx’s command

Even though you might not understand the culture very well, your words will still carry hefty weight; be mindful of what you say, it could literally get a solar system erased

It’s highly unlikely, but on the rare occasion that you’d have a run in with one of his siblings he’s ready to challenge their doubts about you being his mate

Since you don’t use the power given to you and Oryx doesn’t restrict what you use it on, the fastest way for you to befriend his soldiers is by dangling favors just within reach; the Thralls act like cats to you in the absence of the King, and Wizards flock to you so you can see their accomplishments and be impressed by their work enough to give them a boost in their hierarchical climb

Oryx has, in fact, made a throne beside his for you and frequently invites you to help him study the Darkness; he thinks your cluelessness of the universe is cute, but he is determined to get you to understand what he means when he speaks of “The Final Shape”

You have your own fleet, no questions asked. If you’re going to be his Queen, he wants you to grow your influence across space so your name becomes known and feared as equally as his is

NSFW 👁👄👁

I have a supreme feeling, that as the “King of Shapes”, Oryx can totally shift between a female morph and a male morph especially since he used to be female

Pays close attention to what makes you squirm, can and will make you come through touching alone

Prefers being dominant, but will give you opportunities to feel like you’re in control

Don’t care how tall you are, size difference will exist and he digs it in the sack, bonus if he can see his outline on the skin of your stomach

His wings twitch and shudder a lot, and they’re quite sensitive to light touches, so if you can reach them  d o  i t 

He is very rough, prepare to lose your legs for ~1 week. If he’s feeling generous for whatever reason he will be a little more gentle, but it’s almost unnoticeable

Likes it when you try to scratch his chitin, and will be very vocal if you can actually cause any amount of damage

He is a big fan of overstimulation, as well as teasing, so you’re either going to be over the moon and unable to speak or begging for him to do something

A human’s flexibility has him totally enraptured, and every chance he gets he will put you into the most questionable, and sometimes uncomfortable, positions just to see the way your body will bend

You merked basically all of his children and annihilated quite a few of his high ranking soldiers; if that isn’t a testament to your strength and worthiness, what is? He thinks it’s extremely arousing, and biology be damned he will figure out a way to breed you so he can have his strongest heirs yet

Fluff

You both make certain auras with your powers, so if you’re ever at different places on his Dreadnaught you send waves of Light and Dark to each other; normal Hive are jarred by the Light you send out until they realize it’s just you and not a massive assault from Earth’s Guardians

When you two sit together, he makes a point of allowing you to rest your hand on top of his or interlock your fingers

Oryx leans over a lot whenever you want to give him a smooch, like damn,  you wanna give him back problems you tiny ass person?

While he definitely isn’t going to understand and will think it’s childish, he does let you decorate his horns occasionally (flowers, precious metals, etc)

Once you get used to it, he has you go with him to check on planets being conquered. Nothing boosts incentive better than having your King and Queen watching your progress! Even if the work is insufficient for his tastes, you can usually dampen punishments; some Hive regard it as human softness, but countless others will grovel at your feet in gratefulness later

You two spend freetime with sword dueling- if you don’t know how to properly fight, he’s more than eager to teach you

He postpones his invasions in the Sol system in regards to your feelings on the subject, but he always has an excuse ready to go; however, give him an inch and he will go a mile. If he’s under the impression that you don’t care enough or prioritize him over your race, he will push his work full force

While he prefers not to, he’ll basically never let you sleep or nap with him; he doesn’t need or want sleep in the same way that you do, so he thinks it’s a waste of time, and he only likes it because of your warmth

Should you try to dip into Hive magic, he will watch your growth with tremendous pride and help where he can, even sending in Wizards with similar talents to help cultivate your skills

Enjoys holding your shoulders and pressing your body close to his in more private moments because it makes him feel big even though you could totally cripple him in a 1v1

[winchesterxxi]

Us Women (Luke Skywalker x Reader)

Rating: G (General Audience)

Type: Fluff

Request: “Could you please write a Luke x Reader in chapter 16 of The Mandalorian, where she’s a Jedi master along with Luke and they’re like married, and they walk in after kicking some dark trooper ass, and after a moment she’s like ‘did you girls do that to the storm troopers?’ And they’re like ‘uhh yeah’ and readers like ‘way to go, girl power! Kicking some storm trooper ass.’ And Luke’s like ‘y/n wtf’ and she’s like ‘well it’s true 😒’ and as they’re leaving to get into the elevator she’s like ‘they really did kick ass’ 🥺🥺”

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: Two Jedi Masters married, one sporting Chanel boots and the other being a witty badass, ahhhh the couple dynamics.

A/N: Short but sweet??? Comedic relief???

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

Following suit behind your husband, Luke Skywalker, the both of you step out of the X-Wing you managed to cram into behind his seat. You insisted in coming along with him to pick up a force-sensitive being that ignited a signal of danger, but you were no pilot, so squishing yourself into the ship was the only viable solution.

“My back is killing me.” you grunt, stretching your body as soon as your feet hit the ground, audibly cracking your back.

“If you knew how to fly...” Luke starts trying to remind you of the amount of times he had to go around in his X-Wing with you squished in it, and the amount of times, he has offered to teach you.

“I’ve told you, I am scarred.” you remind him, dusting off the sides of your mahogany-colored cloak, while he looks around for any possible threats.

“Then stop complaining.” 

“You’re an asshole.”

“Then why did you marry me?...” his words die down at the end of the phrase as he is standing a few feet ahead of you, looking to the side.

“Maybe I had a concussi-...”Finally stepping to his side your eyes meet what he had been looking at. About 50 stormtroopers laid dead in front of you in a pattern that lead into the a hallway with an elevator at it’s very end.

“That’s... a lot of troopers.” You state, already impressed with whoever might’ve dared to pull such an amazing stunt.

“Yeah but it’s not all of them.” he muttered before turning to face you. “Do you feel it too?” he asked you, referring to the continuous danger message that you were still getting from whoever was emitting it.

“Yeah.” you nod, holding a strong grip on the hilt of your lightsaber, still deactivated.

Both of you run for the elevator and it is quick to open its doors as you step inside, and the higher the transport went, the louder a banging noise was. Looking to your husband for a reassuring loo, which you find, you both nod and get into fighting stance, your orange blade and his green one, surging from the hilt, ready to strike whoever came in your way.

Once the doors open, you are faced with around 20 troopers that you’d never seen before. These were pitch black and, as it became very obviously to you very quickly, no human stood inside of them.

Luke steps in front of you, striking the first troopers that came in his direction and you quickly take a quick stride to his side, as you connect back to back, making for a more efficient stand against the troopers.

To your surprise, they put up less of a fight than what you were expecting, both of your light sabers efficiently striking them across the chest and head, them falling limp to the floor.

You both step over the scraps of mechanical bodies scattered across the ground and head towards what feels like the source of the force you have been feeling for the past half an hour.

Before you could even reach the sliding doors, they open, making the smoke that was emanating from the blacktroopers swirl around both you and Luke as he steps into the room.

“Dramatic little shit.” you whisper under your breath, completely unaware that he heard and was sporting a momentarily smirk across his lips under the cloak’s hood.

Stepping into the main room you are presented with three women in fighting costume, the man you knew to be Moff Guideon by one of them, on the floor, handcuffed and what you assumed to be a Mandalorian next to a creature that radiated the force. Your brows lifted in amazement. How could such a tiny creature, and as you could see, still so weak with the force, have reached you and Luke all the way across the galaxy.

“Are you Jedis?” The Mandalorian’s modulated voice questions.

“We are.” Luke states before spotting the child and extending his hand out to him. “Come, little one.”

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” The Mandalorian snaps.

“He wants your permission. He is strong with the Force - but talent without training is nothing.” your husband calmly explains.

“We will give our lives to protect the Child.” you assure the man in beskar “But he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”

The Child coos at The Mandalorian who turns in his direction, cradling him into his arms.

“Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. Their the same as your kind. I’ll see you again. I promise.” the child makes a small sound, before reaching for The Mandalorian’s helmet with his tiny hands and, as if understanding his request, the man lifts his own helmet off his head.

His eyes were wet and tears slid down his cheeks. You knew it wasn’t common for those of his clan to take of their helmets and you understood this to be a private moment. Unlike Luke, who was just staring at them, eagerly waiting for the man to hand over the child to your care. 

“Did you girls do that to the stromtroopers back there?” you ask the women standing at the back of the room, trying to avert the attention away from the moment unfolding next to you.

“Unmh... yeah?!” the one with red hair answers.

“Nice!” you smile at them.

“Y/N.” Luke scolds you, always trying to be the professional one. But you were having too much fun.

“It’s true.” you exclaim, eyeing him “Ah, come on, admit they kicked some ass.”

“You girls did well.” he agrees, nodding in a cordial way in their direction.

“Nah ah, not enough hype.” you scold him, whisking your finger in his direction.

“Y/N-”

“Say it.” 

“You girls...” he trails off looking at you in a I can’t believe you’re making me do this way “kicked some ass.”

They both smile at you in a flattered but quiet thanks as they did not want to disrupt the moment unfolding in front of you between The Mandalorian and the little kid that was about to join you.

The man finally lets the child down and he wobbles his way across to you, and you crouch down picking up the adorable creature that was doing uppy-arms at you.

“May the Force be with you.”  Luke bows, before turning and walking away towards the elevator, you following behind with the child in your arms, who was looking back and waving at the protector he just left.

After the doors close, a smirk finds its way to your lips, a normal reminder of how you loved to tease your husband.

“They really did kick ass.”

“You’re not gonna let this die, are you?”

“Nope.”

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known Chapter 14

A/N:  FINAL TIME SKIP. Also we are reaching the point now where there are only maybe 3 chapters left in this series but res assured I will be doing asks and will be writing small side shots to this series. Because I did leave a bunch of detail to the imagination. Also PLEASE INTERACT IT GIVES ME LIFE. Like seriously hearing active feedback on chapters really helps motivate writers like me to write. 

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either.

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. 

WORDS : 3,113

SUMMARY: Months turn into years and now the twins are six years old. Unexpected visitors arrive and things take an unexpected turn. 

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

Sunlight danced through the crack in the sheer curtains in your shared bedroom and glinted off of the ring on your finger. 

Wanda couldn’t help but stare at you, appreciating every detail of your face, the way your nose twitches occasionally, the sound of soft breathing coming from you, and the rise and fall of your chest as you simply existed in this moment. She thanked every star she could that you existed. You changed her life for the better and she dreads to think of what life would have been like without you and the two beautiful children you gave birth to six years ago. 

You kept her grounded, you and the kids made her feel loved like she hadn’t felt since Pietro was taken from her. 

Wanda would be damned if she let anything take her family away from her again. 

Wanda still had her nightmares, the scars left behind from Vision and from Pietro, her parents, and Agatha were still there. But thanks to you those scars became simply that, scars. Scars that were faded but would forever remain there. 

However, as her old fears started to fade, new fears came to light. 

Some nights she dreams that Agatha had been right, that Wanda only brought chaos and death. She dreams that you and the kids died horrifically like everyone else she had ever loved. 

Other nights she dreams that she is the one who killed you. On those nights you spend hours combing your fingers through her hair and rubbing those familiar comforting circles on her back. Bringing her back to where she was now, that you and the kids were still alive. 

Then there were those special nights when her dreams were sweet and full of love. Sometimes she’s reliving a happy memory with her family before the bombing, sometimes she dreams of Vision and sometimes it’s with two boys that she doesn’t recognize but she knows she loves. However, if she’s really lucky, she dreams of you. Wanda dreams of sitting on the porch with you, sipping steaming tea with honey, grey and white in your hair, but your eyes are as youthful and as full of love as ever. Wanda dreams that her hair is peppered in grey and white as well, wrinkles of time written on her face, and that in the end she had never been what Agatha claimed she was. the Scarlet Witch, the Harbinger of Chaos, the Destroyer of the World. She dreams that all of that was just myth and that in the end all Wanda was, was Wanda Maximoff. 

Your wife. 

Wanda feels the corners of her lips curl upward as she remembers proposing to you. She did it at home, she hid it in the popcorn and you nearly choked on the damn thing. After spitting the ring out Wanda had the worst case of butterflies she ever felt. Wanda knew that marriage was an off subject for you and you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it and Wanda respected that greatly. However, she wanted to let you know that if you ever change your mind, Wanda would gladly marry you whenever you wanted, be it fifty years or an hour. So long as she got to be with you in the end. 

Wanda’s patience with you and the respect that she held for you and vice versa. You didn’t know you could fall even more in love with her. 

You and Wanda had been happily married for three years now and it was safe to say this was the happiest either of you had ever been. 

“Staring’s rude babe.” You muttered under your breath as your lashes fluttered before you fully opened your eyes. Taking in a brand new day in the same old world. 

“Stop being so beautiful in the morning then I’ll stop.” 

“Am I not beautiful any other time in the day?” You teased her. 

“No,” Wanda said before starting to litter your face in soft kisses. 

“You’re gorgeous in the afternoon,” Wanda whispered as she kissed your neck, nipping it slightly causing you to giggle. “You’re exquisite in the evening,” Wanda’s lips trails up your throat, her talented hands wandering as she did, “and you’re downright divine at midnight when the moonlight peaks through our curtains and bathes you in this silvery light.” Wanda’s lips are at the corner of your mouth now, your breathing now becoming hitched as Wanda’s lips are so far yet so close to your lips, “It’s at that time of day that I stare at you the longest.” Finally Wanda’s lips place a gentle but loving kiss on your lips. Her lips on yours never failed to make your heart flutter like it was the first time, fireworks and electricity running through you like wildfire. 

Just as you were about to deepen the kiss you heard the door to your shared room slam open, tearing your lips from Wanda’s to see two small figures rush and jump on your and Wanda’s bed. 

“Good Morning Mama and Mommy!” You heard the excited voices of your twins say. You and Wanda scooted aside to make room for the two already rambunctious twins in between you. 

Steve immediately went to cuddle by your side while Scarlet went to Wanda. Even when the twins were infants they had a preferred parent that they naturally drifted to. For Scarlet it had been Wanda and for Steve it was you. 

You looked at Wanda who looked at Scarlet like she was the world, in fairness she looked like that at Steve and you as well. And instead of scaring you, it felt nice. It warmed your heart to know that Wanda felt the same way, that the people in that room right there were your entire world.

Once the twins settled in between you, you and Wanda kissed the tops of their heads to which Steve giggled as you kissed raspberries on his cheeks.

“What’s on the agenda today little ones?” Wanda asked, Wanda often missed out on most of the day due to training with Strange. She’s gotten very proficient over the years at controlling her powers, Wanda’s learned more about herself and what she could do over the past six years and the more she learned the more frightened and amazed she was. 

“We’re going to go pick raspberries to make jam and pies!” Scarlet said excitedly. 

“Don’t forget,” You chimed in, booping your daughter's nose lightly with your index finger, causing her to giggle her bell like laughter, “that’s only after we finished our classwork today.” 

Steve let out a groan while Scarlet seemed to buzz with excitement. Scarlet loved learning, and Steve did too although not as much as his sister.

You had been homeschooling them, for fear of the worst. You knew that they were young and the likeliness of their powers showing themselves when they were really young were slim. However, you knew that their existence alone would cause a tsunami of reporters and agents ready to probe them. You knew there was a chance that their powers may never come, however until you were certain you and Wanda thought it best to homeschool them. 

It wasn’t bad, you took them to the park for them to play with kids their own age. After all, Nat did teach you the best way of hiding was in plain sight and acting naturally. 

---

You and the kids had just got done with school work for the day when you grabbed three baskets and headed to the raspberry bushes in the garden. Wanda had cast a spell on the bushes to make them grow raspberries anytime in the year. 

You laughed and watched lovingly as the kids ran around the yard playing tag. You counted your blessings that they got along with each other, maybe all the Sokovian whispers to your belly had done something after all. 

You gathered the three baskets of raspberries and brought them back inside. You washed the raspberries at the sink and occasionally checked outside the kitchen window to make sure that they were alright. 

After cleaning the raspberries you fixed them with a snack of apple slices and celery. You went on the porch to call them in when a vision of red, white and blue caught your eye. 

the Shield. 

It brings you back to Steve, his baby blues and his smiles and Tony’s funeral. 

You had heard what happened in New York with the Flagsmashers all those years ago and you would have gotten involved had you not been heavily pregnant at the time. 

You're brought back to the present when the Star Spangled Man with a Plan (now upgraded with wings) asks your twins where their mom was. 

“Sam...” You say, the tall man turned to you and it was then you see that he wasn’t alone. You don’t know how you could have missed the roaring of the motorcycle in the yard and the other tall man. “Bucky....”

The men walked toward you while the twins ran. 

“Mommy! Mommy! There are people here to see you.” They say at the same time, it wasn’t very often that you had company, much less unexpected company. 

“I see that,” You said evenly, keeping your face straight as the two men in front of you widened their eyes in realization. You tear your eyes away from them and to the two children in front of you and you knelt down to their height. “Why don’t you two go inside and play while Mommy talks to these gentlemen for a second.”

“Do you know who they are?” Lettie asked curiously, her eyes scanning the men. 

“Do we get to meet them?” Steve asked excitedly, looking amazed at Bucky’s metal arm. 

“I’ll let you know that in a second, but for right now go inside and play.” You said firmly, the twins waved goodbye to the men before heading inside. You waited until you heard the door close behind them to walk toward the men in front of you. 

“Boys,” You greeted motioning the porch chairs on the other side, “take a seat.”

Sam and Bucky listened and sat down. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, arms crossed. 

“Got anything strong?” Bucky asked. His eyes are not meeting yours. 

“It’s Scotland and I am a mom to twins,” You pointed out, “of course I do.” 

“I’ll take that then.” Bucky said, you looked at Sam who simply shook his head. You went in and grabbed the only bottle of Whiskey and a glass. 

By the time you gave Bucky the whiskey they seemed to have processed what they just saw. Sam looked at you with pity and concern, meanwhile Bucky looked off in the distance, anger radiated off of him in waves. 

“Are they Steve’s?” Sam asked. You simply nodded. 

“I only found out a month or so after the funeral,” You revealed, “I didn’t even know I was going to go through with the pregnancy until the events of Westview happened.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“The less people that know the safer they are,” You explained, “I wanted to tell you.”

“But you didn’t” Bucky chimed in, his voice was shaky and his grip on the glass tightened. 

“They’re the children of the former Captain America and Sargent Steel,” You said, “I have to keep the people who know about them tight and few.”

“Who all knows?” Sam asked. 

“Director Fury, Director Rambaue, Pepper, Strange, Wong-”

“Does your husband know?” Bucky interrupted. Sam looked confused before he noticed the subtle wedding ring on your left hand. 

“Holy shit you got married.” Sam said, astonished. 

“Yes I am,” You confirmed feeling slightly awkward since it only took you this long to realize that you never officially came out to them. 

“My wife knows.” You said vaguely, you see both of the men's eyes widen in shock. Sam recovered faster than Bucky who took another drink from his whiskey. 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Sam asked.

“That would be me.” 

You all turn your heads to your wife, still clad in her Scarlet Witch form. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had company you know your lips would be all over her by now. 

She winks your way and you flush. Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know exactly what you were thinking. 

“Hold up,” Sam said, “You married her?!” 

“Yup.” You confirmed as her form sat down next to you and grasped your hand. 

“How long has this been a thing?” Bucky spoke for the first time in a while. 

“Why do you need to know?” Wanda asked, her hand firmly holding yours. Bucky held his hands up in surrender before taking one last swig from his glass. 

“The bottom line is, only Wanda and the rest know, and I guess now you two do as well.” You said. There was a long pause of silence, before Sam spoke. 

“I won’t say anything.” Sam said finally, before nudging Bucky out of his staring spell. 

“Boys,” You call out as you see that they’re about to leave. 

“I truly am sorry you had to find out this way, but I was only doing what I thought would keep them safe, and now that you know you’re free to visit them anytime.... It would be good for them to finally meet their fathers old friends.” You said. You see Sam and Bucky nod, you reach out for a handshake only to be pulled into a firm hug by Sam. 

“I understand Sarg, you only did what you thought was best.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you returned the hug. Bucky still couldn’t look at you. 

You knew that you had broken his trust and you would work on getting it back. You just hoped that whatever grudges he had against you wouldn’t stop him from forming a bond with the kids. 

After Sam lets you go Bucky surprises you with a hug as well, his beefy arms encasing you firmly. 

“We’ll be visiting again soon.” Bucky promises as he lets you go and shakes goes to shake Wanda’s hand. 

“Wait,” You say as Bucky already is making his way to his motorcycle and Sam prepares for flight. 

“Yeah?” Sam replies. 

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” you said, “what brought you guys here?”

Sam paused for a second before replying. 

“I was just flying overhead, Bucky and I got word that there might’ve been an abandoned HYDRA base here but, turned out to be a faulty tip.” Sam said before saying his final goodbyes as he lifts off into the air and Bucky peels out of the driveway. 

“He was lying.” Wanda says, her eyes giving off a faint red glow. 

“I know.” You say, Sam’s pulse jumped when he spoke about the abandoned HYDRA base. You softly grab her hand and bring it to your lips, planting a small peck to the back of it. 

Wordlessly you walked hand in hand with Wanda through the front doors and continued with the regular evening schedule. 

You and Wanda made dinner as the kids helped set the table and talked about the day. The kids asked questions about who the men were and you and Wanda answered as best as you could without giving them the full truth. Which was surprisingly more difficult. Eventually dinner ended and while Wanda got the kids ready for bed it was your turn for dishes. After dishes were washed and rinsed you let them air dry in the rack and went to tuck in the twins with Wanda. 

Wanda and you kissed their heads goodnight and then proceeded to the couch.

Just as you made your way to the couch you noticed Wanda standing still. 

“Wands, what's wrong?” You asked, reaching out to her. 

“Nothing it’s just,” Wanda started as she played with her hands, “I have a bad feeling, like something is about to happen.”

“Come sit on the couch and talk me through it.” You say as you lead her to the well loved couch. You and Wanda sit and immediately fall into the position you always do, her leaning into you and your arm swung around her shoulders. Wanda had long since transformed out of her Scarlet Witch form but she still looked magical to you. Her fiery locks cascading down her dainty shoulders and just a hint of sparkle on her cheeks remained. You felt Wanda give a deep sigh before speaking. 

“I don’t know what it is, it’s not anything deadly but it fills me with dread just the same.” Wanda said with her green hues giving off a faraway look, “something is about to happen and I don’t know what it is.” 

“Whatever happens,” you say, maneuvering her so that way she faces you, “we’ll face it like we’ve done most things. Together.” You press your forehead to hers and let your eyelids flutter shut and Wanda follows suit. 

“Together.” Wanda whispers back as she finally closes the gap between you in a promise like kiss. 

---

---

---

“Buck don’t do this,” Sam tried to stop the centurion. Over the course of six years the two men had grown close and eventually Sam had earned the privilege of calling the taller man Buck. 

“He has the right to know.” Bucky responded, icy eyes focused solely on the communicator that their mutual friend gave them for ‘universe level threat emergencies only’ 

“We promised her we wouldn’t tell anyone Buck.” 

“No,” the Brooklyn man gruffed, “you promised her you wouldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t promise shit. So don’t worry your pretty little head about breaking your promises.” 

“First off thank you for finally admitting that I’m pretty,” Sam said before attempting to snatch the communicator and failing. “Second off, we should’ve told her the truth from the start. Instead of leaving puzzle pieces to put together.” 

“She had plenty of puzzle pieces. It's not our fault she didn’t put them together.” Bucky said not looking the man in the eye, “He left her a message on the phone and a message in the personal notebook. It’s not ou-” 

“If you’re going to say not our fault again I’m going to slap you.” Sam interrupted. “You know damn well that (Y/n) was as strong as steel, but Nat and Tony’s deaths wore her down, but HE was the breaking point. HE fucked up man, HE has to live with that and THAT’S NOT our job to help him make up for that.” 

Just when Bucky starts to reconsider, the communicator beeped. 

MESSAGE SENT - - - MESSAGE RECEIVED  - - - MESSAGE INBOX (1) 

- ON MY WAY_CSGR

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Margaret Lockwood (The Wicked Lady, The Lady Vanishes)— Gorgeous feisty funny talented and the sexiest stubborn face ever committed to film. And if people haven't seen the original Wicked Lady they need to be introduced to a glorious poly highway romp of a film. When a woman outsneers James Mason you know she has sex appeal!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Margaret Lockwood:

Barbara Stanwyck:

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads. [link]"

[breathings-of-the-heart]

hiiii, can i please request some levi ackerman headcannons where he has a badass girlfriend? she is shorter than him but she is literally so badass,, i see alot of stories with levi and a s/o who is really sweet and caring but never with someone who is cool, caring, badass, and can take care of herself,, thank you!!

Being Levi’s Badass Girlfriend would Include...

Growing up with Levi in the underground, both of you taking care of each other for as long as you can remember

Being a few years younger than Levi, running into him after desparately looking for somewhere to hide from the men you stole bread from

Finding him nearly starved and deciding to sharing your food, becoming inseperable ever since

Levi squeezing your hand when you’re nervous

You singing to him when he’s stressed but too prideful to admit it

Learning knife skills from Kenny when he took the two of you under his wing, and getting frustrated that you seemed to lack the Ackerman natural talent 

You compensating for it with your charming and, when you wanted, manipulative nature

Typically being underestimated for your smaller stature, but taking that as insentive to work twice as hard to prove people wrong

Reminding him that he wasn’t alone after Kenny abandoned you two

"We're going to get through this, Levi. We'll be okay, I promise."

"Stupid, I know that already."

Being one of the only people who could make Levi smile

Getting mugged quite often when you walked anywhere alone, to the point where Levi wouldn’t let you out at night without him

Becoming annoyed at this treatment and deciding to take up martial arts more seriously

Fighting people more than twice your size when needed, and coming out victoriously nearly every time

Living together, and having to follow Levi’s meticulous cleaning rules in whatever living space the two of you occupied 

Always being less closed off to others than Levi, despite being calloused by your hardships all the same

Your teen years going by barely scraping enough money to survive, 

You always trying to stay positive regardless 

Taking over jobs and caring for Levi on the rare occassion he got injured or sick, with him doing the same for you

Occassionally finding yourself blushing when you first realized he had started gaining muscle 

An overwhelming urge to scold him if he’s gone for too long, especially after taking on an extra dangerous gig 

Realistically, just being worried for Levi’s safety or being afraid that he had left you

Being proven over and over again the latter was never an option 

Him buying you small things on special occassions, like hair accessories or trinkets 

Chastising him for wasting money when he did

"I told you! There’s no point to having this kind of stuff. You should've used the money for something we need."

"Do you like it?"

"...yes."

"Then shut up. Happy birthday, (Y/N)."

Smiling and treasuring each gift with your whole heart

Building a reputation alongside Levi as a notorious power duo, with people just assuming you two were together

You handling the connections and networking aspects of business deals with your superior social skills

Levi insisting on taking you with him when me moved in with Farlan, making excuses that you’d probably be all dirty and unorganized by yourself 

"It's okay to just say you'd miss me, you know."

Being happy to add another person to your small family, and becoming fast friends with the dirty blonde

Laughing that Levi finally had someone else to pick on about their “unsatisfactory” cleaning habits

Being the one to negotiate for ODM gear, and learning how to use them suprisingly quickly

Sometimes flirting with men to get what you wanted, having learned how to use your feminity to your advantage as the years passed

That not always ending well

Having to save each others’ lives on multiple counts, some instances with you two just barely escaping

Holding Levi close on nights you nearly lost each other

Him wanting desperately to give you a better life

Viewing Isabel as the little sister you never had once you met, teaching her everything you’d come to know living in the underground as a fellow, smaller woman

Suprisingly, finding yourself having brief moments of contentment, despite the tough days

You being in on the deal to join the Survey Corps kill Erwin Smith in order to secure citizenship on the surface

Becoming emotional at the opportunity to go above ground, never thinking it was possible 

Grabbing Levi’s hand excitedly after breathing fresh air for the first time, missing the way he smiled softly as you pointed at the hundreds of things you’d never seen before

"Look, Levi!! Real clouds! And is that how tall trees are supposed to be?"

The happiness not lasting long

You trying to stay strong for Levi after the death of Isabel and Farlan, knowing he believed it was all his fault  

Still crying on days where no one was watching 

Getting through the loss together, just like everything else

Staying in the military and silently vowing to always be there for Levi, knowing you’d go wherever he did

Taking a while to adjust without your friends

Trying to be thankful that life had less hungry nights and unsafe circumstances

You and Levi becoming squad leaders fairly quickly, having proven your skill and loyalty tenfold

Having a titan kill count that rivalled his (which you’d nonchallantly remind him of, once or twice)

Quickly gaining the respect of your team

Your fellow comrades realizing that your pretty face and short height yet kickass persona were the epitome of how “looks can be deceiving”

Not being afraid to put recruits with egos in their place

Levi keeping an extra eye on you during missions whenever he could, even though he knew you could hold your own

Sneaking into his room when the nightmares became too much

"Just... wipe your feet before coming in, (Y/N)."

Late nights in his office ensuing where he listens to you reminisce about the past

And it hitting you suddenly, a few years later, that you were in love with Levi Ackerman

The affection being triggered by the simplest of things: him brushing those raven bangs out of his eyes mid-conversation 

Realizing you always felt this way, and you might have even realized it sooner if you both weren’t so busy trying to survive

Wondering for weeks if you should say something

Deciding he most likely didn’t feel the same way and pushing your feelings aside, falling back into the regular dynamic

You daydreaming about what a possible future together would look like

Levi kissing you for the first time before an expedition outside the walls, 

Him wanting you to know how he felt in case it was your last night together

Confessing that you’ve loved him your whole life, and telling him you think it was always meant to be that way

Fiercely taking on each task the Titans threw at you, empowered by the fact that you had something to live for

Him becoming more protective than ever, which although frustrating at times, you found endearing 

Drinking tea together on your breaks and stealing kisses across his desk

Levi Squad teasing their captain about his fondness for you, on days where they feel extra cheeky

Both of you planning to get married after the war

Just allowing yourself to be fully happy for the first time, basking in the fact that you get to spend the rest of your life with the man you adore

"I love you, Levi."

"I've only ever loved you."

[bbnibini]

Oh, Brother! (Lucifer ft. Baby Beel)

Summary:  Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. (based on a headcanon request on our old AO3 request box)

Accompanying HC for this fic can be read here. This was originally a request. The old version is poorly formatted so I decided to repost this now that I am sliiiightly better at using tumblr. Anyway, enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances. You may also say that it is my inclination to exhibit such behaviour because of my personality. But while I make long-winded introductions that segues even further from the point I was making, let me, as my brothers say, "cut to the chase":

I have no idea what in Devildom is going on. Sets of eyes looked at me expectantly, and I did as I usually do when I am dragooned into unforeseen…problems. 

"I see." I don't. But a white lie is what is required to quell the squall of chaos right now: debris of what looked like Leviathan's furnishings were strewn on the wet floor. Looking up from the living room where remnants of the ceiling were barely keeping itself intact, Henry freefell into my arms, a timely catch away from his imminent death. I turned to my pale brother, asking "Lotan?" in the calmest tone I can muster, and was only answered in more silence. I offered him Henry, which he took still looking down, and turned to problem #2. 

"MC, may I have him?" 

"I…" 

I stopped and talked over them. "I'm not angry. Let me hold Beel."

"It's all my fault!" 

Sigh. Why do they always do this? A surge of pain was felt on my temples, but I pretended not to feel it. "Why don't you help Levi clean up his room? Do you even know how to take care of a non-human child?" 

"No, but!" they argued again. I listened. "You're not going to punish Mammon, aren't you?" 

Punish is such a heavy word. I noticed how protective they were of my brother, almost to an extent where I feel like they perceive me in an unfavourable light. They were more carefree with them, but all yes and no's with me in comparison. I wouldn't say I'm envious. Rather, I'm baffled. Occasional pranks became the highlight (read: tragedy) of my day, often while I was poring over documents and settling political disputes on behalf of Diavolo. Partnered with Mammon and Satan, they were a force to be reckoned with; one I remembered being visibly annoyed by for interfering with my work. No one shall ever know that I might…have looked forward to those times. It was a puzzle to be pieced, an idle form of entertainment to guess which kind of tomfoolery they would attempt at me that they were foolish enough to think they would succeed in. Unfortunately, any victory they may have celebrated in the past were my fabrications that only the likes of someone as observant as Satan would notice. 

"Procure a change of clothing and go while I'm still being merciful." I saw them share the same pallour as Leviathan, dragging him along while mouthing complaints under their breath. A curse perhaps, not bound by magic but of something else, directed at me, their usual villain. Such childishness that I let slide, as I was accustomed to being an enemy, especially when I know I was right. 

Beel is finally in my arms, a docile child as cherubic as the little Beel in my memories. The pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together as I look around. 

"Belphegor, wake up this instant! You're sleeping on a wet floor." You'll catch a cold, I almost felt myself saying but was able to hold myself back. "Unless you would rather be carried like the old days? I don't mind." 

"Fine, fine. I'm up." They stretched out their arms to retrieve their twin and I shook my head. "I wouldn't leave such a delicate child to someone who couldn't even coordinate themselves properly. Go to sleep, Belphegor.

.

.

.

...and Satan, if you have the time for hexes, you would also have the time to clean up this mess."

"Tsk."

"I would see all of you in my office once this is all fixed.

. 

.

.

.

Not a spot should be left unattended. Understood?" 

"Yes, Lucifer."

I don't have time for this. So many documents are left unsigned on my desk. A meeting with the Chancellor, a hearing from the House of Commons, a response to Michael's ridiculous letter…

"Wuchy, angy?"

Beelzebub's upturned eyes looked at me adorably.

"Wuchy…" I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw most of them are either absent or pre-occupied. Clearing my throat, I noticed my voice was shriller than usual. "Wuchy…" I repeated and sat Beel on the plush sofa. "Wuchy is NOT angy…"

"Bee hangu" he pulled at my sleeve, turning my attention to his rumbling stomach. "Wuchy…Bee hangu."

I nodded. "I see. Does Bee want to eat?" 

"Peas!" 

"You want to eat peas?" 

"No! Bee Hangu! Peas!" 

"Ah, " I nodded again as I finally understood. "I apologise, Bee. You're trying to say please?" 

I couldn't help but smile back when he did so in reply. 

To my disappointment however, even the kitchen was destroyed, to the point that MC didn't want me to enter. It was admirable, I suppose that they were able to explain the situation to me while everything was still in a state of chaos. 

It all started with a hexes assignment that failed miserably, turning Beel into an inconsolable toddler that caused Levi's room to be absolutely destroyed. Since nobody was capable of understanding Beel's speech, his childish tantrums got worse and caused the House of Lamentation to be in its current state. The only reason the situation subsided a bit was because of Belphie's interference. Where was Belphie in the first place? Was my question, and MC's shrug affirmed that he ignored my warning about sleeping in on the weekend. Again. I sighed. 

"Sorry, Lucifer. Why don't you eat out with Beel for a while?" 

"Bee hangu! Now!" 

"....Bee, that's my glove."

"Bee?" (MC) 

!!!!

"Beelzebub." I cleared my throat. "I shall heed your advice before Beel throws a bigger tantrum."

"Wuchy, hangu!" 

"Yes, yes. Wuchy…heard you. MC, take care of the house while we're gone."

There was a ghost of a smile on their face, one they must have tried to hide from me earlier. "Yes," They snorted, and I silently warned them to open their mouth again.  "Wuchy."

Ah. They still have the audacity to mock me. Me. Who was trying to turn a blind eye? Giving them a chance to fix their mess before anyone else finds out? I smirked back. 

"If the house falls down…or if it gets destroyed any further…prepare to face your punishment . Alone."

Their silence was enough of a penitence…for now. Beel's stomach growled louder and louder each passing second, and my gloves are currently soiled with bite marks everywhere. 

I bent down to meet Beel at eye level and pried my hands away from his nibbling. "What do you want to eat?" 

His eyes sparkled at the question, and he started chanting something in gibberish that I pretended to understand. "Wook wook! Bee fawwit!" 

Wook? 

He...never said that before. Or did he? I decided to carry him in my arms once I noticed he was having difficulty keeping up with my strides. He shook his head several times as we passed every food stall and kiosk in the shopping district, contenting himself with chewing on the gloves I thought I had confiscated already. 

It had been so long that I almost forgot that Beel was once a picky eater when he was little. Michael marveled on his "refined palate", telling me I should cherish my brother's talent (and consider giving Beel to him once he got older to train under his tutelage) but I vehemently refused. I was busy enough as a high-ranking angel and barely had the time to see my siblings, and the last thing I ever wanted was to part from them. I understood the difficulties of having an absent parent all too well, and I did not wish for my brothers to experience the same longing I had when I was the same age as them. 

Beel was as docile and as sweet as I remembered him long ago, smiling and laughing in my arms, calling me Wuchy over and over, and seeking for his twin in adorable babbles of "Bewphie" and "Bwanky", which I responded in my usual way:

"Bewphie, sleep." 

"Seepu?" 

"Yes." I answered, prying away my damaged gloves from his mouth. "Bewphie told me you should eat so you won't wake him up." I pointed at his rumbling stomach, and little Beel automatically held it and felt the rumbling coming from it. 

"Bee…wouwd (loud)?"

"Mhm. Bewphie can't sleep unless you eat something."

He must not have been able to distinguish his twin because of his current form, seeking perhaps a smaller counterpart of his brother just like the old days. After some more meandering around stalls, feeling full over the meals that Beel refused to eat, I racked my brain to figuring out the meaning behind his childish babble:

What on earth does wook mean? 

I have never heard him say it before even in the Celestial Realm, nor did I ever recall teaching him the words. 

"Wook! Wook!" Beel said excitedly again, grabbing my hair in his elation to turn to a man flipping Bat Wing pancakes in a stall. The line was atrocious, barely moving, arid and noisy. 

"Does Bee want to eat that?" 

I sighed in relief when he shook his head. "Wuchy, Wook! Wook Bee fawwit!" 

Wait a moment. Does wook mean…

"Do you want me to look?" But look at what? At the elderly demon flipping pancakes? Beel shook his head again, seemingly lost at how to translate his thoughts and feelings into his limited toddler vocabulary. 

"Wook...wook fuu fo Bee…" he squinted his googly eyes at me and made exaggerated hand gestures. "Wuchy….wook fuu fo Bee! Bee fawwit!" 

The proverbial cogs in my brain started to turn as I came across an epiphany. Before I knew it, I was already holding my DDD. 

It pains me to do this, but I cannot let Diavolo know. 

"Hello, Simeon?" 

Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. It was evident with Simeon's jovial expressions as he opened the door. 

"It really is a baby! Can I hold him?" 

Simeon's smile never disappeared, rather, his eyes narrowed as he turned to me to speak. "Luke is good with kids. He volunteers taking care of cherubs in Heaven."

"Mhm! I have Raphael's seal of approval!" 

Sighing, I surrendered my brother to Luke, my traitorous brother who did not even cry or protest when a complete…stranger is now holding him in his arms. 

"Meemwon!" 

"Oh! I haven't heard that in ages! This sure brings back memories!~" Simeon planted a kiss on Beel's cheek and I couldn't help but frown. "Hello, Bee! It's big bro Meemwon!" Beel giggled in reply as Simeon planted smaller kisses at him, clearly enjoying the attention. 

"You're getting into this, way too much don't you think so?"

"He's adorable!" Simeon reasoned. "But, isn't his stomach growling?" 

"That's why we're here." I tried to maintain an aura of composure. "I need to borrow your kitchen. Is Solomon around?" 

Simeon's eyes widened for a bit in understanding…then I heard manic laughter. Is this really how he should conduct himself in front of the children? I kept that opinion to myself and didn't say a word. "No, he isn't. Don't worry." He looked at me again and smiled reassuringly. "Feel free to use the kitchen. We'll take care of Beel~" 

"Solomon--"

"...won't feed Beel anything even if he does come back. Just go before he throws another tantrum!" Simeon shooed me away from the living room, pushing my back to Purgatory Hall's fully furnished kitchen. It certainly had better equipment compared to Lamentation, which I can only attribute to Michael's influence. 

Cooking was one thing, but feeding Beel another. He continued rejecting meal after meal after meal of my best dishes. His stomach only growled louder, and his mood became irritable even with Simeon's and Luke's aid. The ingredients I have purchased were almost gone, left only with a half-used bag of flour, milk and eggs. 

"The best I can do with these are pancakes…

. 

. 

. 

. 

Pancakes?" 

A memory flashed in my mind, taking me back to the Celestial Realm and our former residence there. Assuring the house help that I wanted to try cooking for my brothers for a change, I begrudgingly followed the recipe book Michael had given me and started with its easiest dish. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

I attributed my failed attempts to Michael's unique, archaic wordings in his cook book and tried again. And again. And again. Numerous ruined frying pans and ingredients later, I was left with a shabby excuse of a pancake---charred at the sides, eggshells at the other. I waved my white flag in surrender and called for a food delivery instead, deflated. Some Morning Star I was. It was an hour before dinner and my siblings were peeking at the kitchen with their blinking, doe eyes.

"Wuchy...huwt?" Lilith looked up to me, looking like she was about to cry and I took her in my arms to comfort her. 

"Lucy…" I corrected myself. "Wuchy isn't hurt. Just tired."

"Seepu?" Belphegor offered me his cow pillow and I shook my head. "Later after we eat."

"Fuu?!" I managed to catch Beelzebub with my free hand before he faceplanted on the floor as he rushed to me in excitement. 

"I'm sorry, Bee. As you can see, Wuchy doesn't have anything edible he can feed you." I carried him in my free arm and showed him my culinary failures. 

"Wuchy…fuu." Beel pouted at me. "Wuchy, whie. Fuu deww! (Lucy lied. There's food over there!)" He tugged my hair and glared. "Bee, eat!" 

"Eat!" Lilith mimicked. 

"Bewphie, eat?" Belphegor followed. 

"No, children. As you can see-- Mammon, wash your hands first!--" 

I couldn't believe my eyes. 

Everyone was gathered at the table, eating my failures with smiles on their faces. Beel, who had been sitting next to me this whole time tugged me on the sleeve to ask for seconds. "Dis...Bee fawitt! Cwunch!"

"It must be the eggshells."

"Mhm! Wuv it! Wuchy?" 

I felt him wrap his arms around my side. With a wide grin, he said. "I wuv you!" 

Only to be followed by a barrage of hugs from the others, talking over each other as they gathered around me with their syrup-stained faces.

"Asmo wuvs Wuchy disssss much!" 

"Bewphie...wuv!"

"Wiwi, wuv Wuchy moww! (Lilith loves Lucy more!)" 

"I guess you're okay…but the Great Me is better!" 

"...Levi l-loves Lucy too…"

I couldn't remember much of what happened afterwards, but I do recall telling the delivery man that he can have my order for himself. After that, I strived to become better at cooking so I can serve my siblings better meals.

.

.

. 

Anyone would strive to try harder if they are ever subjected to that much smothering, I suppose. Still, I do think that after that, Beel began to eat everything happily, much to Michael's dismay.

"This looks horrifying." The plating of the pancake itself was one or two burns shy of Solomon's best attempts at cooking…I could not believe that out of every dish there is in this world, this horrible disaster is my brother's favourite food. I never really asked him about it. Perhaps I have forgotten and he happily ate everything I cooked because he had no choice. Still, it was no time to mull over such nonsense, especially if Beel's stomach is now resembling Cerberus' growls. 

"Wook!" Beel's eyes sparkled as I placed the cooled pancakes down at the table, munching on the sweet treat happily despite the…eggshells. I tried my best to emulate my failed attempts from before, and judging from the elated look on Beel's face, I must have gotten his approval. 

"Is that--" (Simeon) 

"Don't ask." I shut him up before he could even speak a word. "And please don't ever say this to Michael. I wouldn't hear the end of it."

Simeon smiled impishly in reply. "Would you cook here again--" 

"No.

.

.

.

.

.

But I suppose I owe you some hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies for letting me use your kitchen."

"Anytime~" 

"I was talking to the chihuahua, not you."

"I'm not a chihuahua!" 

Beel was sleeping peacefully in my arms on the way home. While still baffled at a startling discovery about Beelzebub, I hadn't much time to think about it as I was covered in confetti the moment I opened the door. 

"Happy birthday, Lucifer!" (MC) 

"Simeon took too much time! The ice cream's meltin'!" 

"Lolololol I told you he forgot his own birthday! Beel was the perfect distraction!" 

What. On. Earth. Is going on? 

"Sorry, Lucifer!" MC bowed her head and looked up to me, looking apologetic. "We were trying to throw you a surprise party but…things got…well...wrong. But, everything's okay now!" They pulled me inside and showed me the feast they have prepared for me. 

It was a smorgasbord of my favourites. From the appetisers to the desserts and wines, I recalled some of these dishes as my specialties. Satan's familiar handwriting was drawn over a buttercream cake with my name on it, along with a small drawing of me in a party hat along with everyone else. Everyone else was seated at the dining table including Diavolo and Barbatos, both of which I was trying to avoid the entire day. 

Were they involved in this ridiculous plan as well? 

MC seemed to read my mind and nodded at me shyly. "I did mess up with my homework, that much is true, but Solomon helped in undoing the spell! He was the one who suggested to turn Beel back into a toddler so we have enough time to prepare for everything!" 

Solomon waved a hand at me and smiled. "They still didn't let me cook anything though☆"

"So all of the chaos…"

"...is us cleaning up our first attempts of party preparations." Satan begrudgingly replied. "Until of course, you came back earlier than expected."

"Now, now~" Asmo interjected. "What's important is that he's here and Beel's spell is about to wear off!♡ Now, Lucifer dear, why don't you join us and blow your candles?" 

I have completely forgotten about my birthday.

I didn't see the point of celebrating it anymore, I suppose. Thousands of years of repetitions can bring ennui upon you. However, things have changed. 

The House of Lamentation had a warmer atmosphere thanks to MC, and everyone was closer than ever before. The loss of a family and an inclusion of a new one opened up our hearts enough to heal and perhaps forgive ourselves a little for the years we have ignored its value. 

Who knew such a fleeting human could be the catalyst of such unimaginable developments? 

"Oh! Beel's back!" 

"Yay~! Your seat's over there, Beel!" 

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances.

However…nothing can ever prepare me for this moment. 

"Lucifer?" 

I turned to Beelzebub, now back to his normal form and he offered me a smile. "The pancake you cooked was really good. Can you make it again for me next time?" 

I smiled back. 

"With or without the eggshells?" 

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always Part 6: Honor Among Thieves

Are Charles Vane and Margaret Teach learning to talk to each other about their shared past?

Word Count: 3193

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and profanity; discussion of miscarriage

The Adventure floats free of drydock and all is right in Charles Vane’s world. The morning is brilliantly cold, and he’s aboard a fast eight-gun sloop with Margaret at the helm, barking instructions at the crews towing her to a proper slip.

Back ashore, Margaret disembarks first. Vane is about to walk down the gangway after her when a familiar foppish figure stops in front of Margaret. He feels his fists clench at the sound of Ballard’s voice, pompous and a touch too posh. 

“Mrs. Sullivan, I’ve asked around about you.”

Margaret is noncommittal. “That can’t have been very interesting.”

“I learned that you married your father’s quartermaster. And that you used to be, ah, close with Charles Vane, but you and he had a rather public falling out.” Ballard smiles conspiratorially. “I’m sure you’ve heard that there’s a price on his head.”

“I’m aware.”

“Repairing that ship of yours will take some capital. I’m sure that even half that reward would be of use to you.” Ballard’s smile turns downright unctuous, a word Vane learned from Jack.

“You think I’d be willing to hunt Vane down and turn him in for the reward?” Margaret sounds mildly amused.

“Would you not?”

“No.” Margaret starts to take her leave, but turns back at Ballard’s next words.

“Seems to me he must have had some assistance making his escape.” Ballard’s voice is pointed. “And one thing I heard about you is that you’re an excellent shot.”

“Why the fuck would I assist someone with whom I had a public falling-out?” Margaret sounds incredulous. 

“I also noticed that your ship took the kind of damage one would expect from cannon fire. And there are reports that a similar sloop was spotted in the vicinity of Nassau around the time Vane got away, sailing with ships known to be involved in high seas piracy.”

“Then, Mr. Ballard, you’ll also be aware that my father and his crew all took the King’s pardon several years back and retired from the account. And so there is nothing you can hold over my head, or my husband’s.”

“Ah yes, your husband. At first I thought he was your hired help, but he seemed rather too devoted to you for that. Tell me, Mrs. Sullivan, why has he been prize-fighting using the name Thatch if indeed he has nothing to hide?”

“The top black marketeer in New York, talking about things to hide. Surely the irony is not lost on you, Mr. Ballard.”

Ballard attempts to stare her down, but he’s the first to look away. “Are there any little Sullivans?”

Had he not known her so well, Vane wouldn’t have noticed the tightening around her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw ever so slightly: Ballard hit a nerve.

“No, Mr. Ballard. There are no little Sullivans.”

Vane makes his way down the gangplank to loom at Ballard over Margaret’s shoulder. Ballard’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Sullivan. Good day, Mrs. Sullivan.” Ballard finally hurries off.

“So much for honor among thieves, then,” Margaret deadpans to Vane with a wry tilt to her mouth. He puts his hand on her arm, and feels his chest loosen when she doesn’t flinch.

She’s been standoffish since they reunited, and he can hardly blame her. But when he’d gone to comfort her while she wept last night, when he put his arms around her, she rested her head on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, he felt all the tension go out of her strong back. She still fits there perfectly, as though the years and miles never elapsed. The soft crush of her breasts against the muscles of his chest, the way her ribs expanded and contracted as she gulped big lungfuls of air, the bolt of desire that shot through him...she extricated herself from his embrace before he was in a position to either hide that or make it known. He feels safe with her. He’s always felt safe with her. He never felt safe with Eleanor. In the beginning he thought it was exciting, but eventually, Eleanor abused his trust too much, kept him on edge, made him feel caged. He should have told Margaret how he felt, he thinks for the thousandth time. He never should have let her get in that boat and leave, not before he said his peace to her. She can rot in a hole, Charles. I just hope you don’t end up rotting with her. Margaret with her dark hair and her flashing eyes and her fiery temper and her kind heart. She’d knife a man quick as you please, then feel sorry for a seagull with a broken wing. All throughout the intervening years, the comparison would spring unbidden to his mind. 

“Why did you get Captain Teach to take me with you?”

“You needed to be free.” As simple as that. Leaving him there, injured and enslaved, never crossed her mind. He can pinpoint it: that was the moment he started to love her, before desire ever figured into it at all. Though in time, of course, it did. 

The Revenge crew had just come ashore with a prize and were looking to celebrate. The men were heading into Nassau town, pockets bulging with coin. Sully, newly elected quartermaster after Teach shot Hands, turned back at the brothel door.

“Aren't you coming in with us, Sully?”

“Nah,” said one of the newer crewmen whose name Vane can’t recall, Simon or something similar, “he and Vane are having a race to see which one of them gets to be the first to taste Margaret’s tight little cunt. He probably thinks tonight’s his chance.”

The rest of the men fell silent; Sully and Vane were the only among them who’d ever been capable of fighting Teach to a draw. Too full of rum to see this as a warning, Simon continued. “Shame, really, that Teach keeps her on such a short chain. Imagine being the first to stick your cock inside of her.”

Sully shoved his way through the crowd toward him, all of his usual good nature gone from his face, but Vane reached him first. “What the fuck,” he snarled as he lifted the man off his feet by his throat, “did you just say?”

More interested in saving face than saving himself, Simon went for his belt knife, but Sully grabbed his arm and in one swift motion, broke Simon's wrist. Simon tried to kick. This time it was Vane’s turn. He dropped the man to the ground, lashing out with his boot heel and taking satisfaction as Simon’s jaw crunched beneath his foot. 

Having fetched some supplies for the ship, they reboard. The salon of the Adventure is as he remembers it, spartan but cozy. A chart table that doubles as a desk, a bench under the window, the bunk that had been Margaret and Sully’s marriage bed. A cradle, intricately carved, currently being used to store firewood for the galley; he’d recognize Sully’s whittling anywhere. 

Margaret’s eyes flicker from Vane’s face to the cradle and back. “Thought I already burned that.”

“Margaret. Margaret, I didn’t know.”

She sits on the bench and draws her knees to her chest. “You’ve no reason to. I never became a mum.” She looks far away. “It’s just as well. I’d be shit at it.” 

The truth, he sees, is far more complicated, so he sits beside her. “You wouldn’t be shit at it.”

“The first time I was with child, I thought I was seasick. I’d never been seasick a day in my life. And we were so careful. Then Sully asked me when was the last time I bled and I realized I was late.” She frowns. Sully’s own mother was a midwife and she’d sent him into the world with a wealth of information which he shared with his shipmates. “I know it makes no fucking sense — I didn’t want to be a mother, didn’t want a domestic life, but when I found out, I wanted our baby, his and mine, because it was ours. He swore we’d make it work. Swore if it was a girl, he’d never make her feel like she was lesser.” Vane hears her unspoken words loud and clear: unlike how her father treated her. She swallows hard, and continues. “I didn’t go over the side, didn’t drink, and then a few weeks later, I started bleeding anyway.” She shrugs. “Tried a few more times, but it never stuck.”

It should hurt, hearing her talking about the life she built with another man, the family she tried to start, and it does, but mostly Vane finds himself hurting for her, hurting because she hurt.

He covers one of her hands with his. “Sully was a good man. The best I’ve ever known.”

She nods, her face carefully blank. “He was.”

He braces himself as if preparing to hit the water. “I knew he’d be good to you. So I tried to find my way to being happy for you both.” This time, will she understand what he’s telling her? It was excruciating when she chose Sully over him. Why hadn’t he been enough for her? That bastard Ballard was right: he’s devoted to Margaret. Only fell into Eleanor’s schemes because he didn’t want to be alone, he was flattered that she pursued him so hard while Margaret was spending more and more time with Sully. Perhaps this time, Margaret will recognize his devotion. Perhaps this time, it will be enough.

Margaret’s laughter carried on the breeze from where she was sitting by the campfire. Sully was combing out her hair; with her arm in a sling, she couldn’t have easily plaited it herself. Even so, it was such an intimate act, and they both looked so full of joy in each other’s company, that he might as well have discovered them fucking. Margaret noticed him and waved him over with her good arm, but he turned away from her smile and strode away, ignored her calling after him, off the beach and into Nassau Town, his stomach in knots and his heart clenched tight. He’d taken floggings at the hands of the overseer that were easier to bear. And so when that rich little blond girl made a beeline for him, he put up no resistance. For someone who had no skill at physically fighting, Eleanor certainly had a talent for ambushing him at his most vulnerable.

Margaret blinks and looks stricken. “If there was any chance Eleanor would have been good to you, I’d have tried to be happy for you, too.” 

Is she saying what he thinks she is? She goes on. “When Sully asked me to marry him, he said he wanted to face the future with me.” Her big eyes meet his, a challenge in them. “You didn’t marry her.”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Oh, I heard the rumors, tales of your exploits, talk of how Charles Vane is not the marrying kind, but I wondered if she wouldn’t have you because that would have meant she couldn’t keep tossing you out then reeling you back in.” Yes, Deadeye Magpie hit the mark. As usual.

He scowls from beneath his brow. “I never asked her.” Minutes pass. He relents with a sigh. “I always knew there wasn’t a future to face with Eleanor.” There, he admitted it to her. She doesn’t gloat, she doesn’t say she told him so; it’s not even written on her features. She looks...she looks pensive. Pensive and a little sad. He realizes his hand is still on hers. Ever since he first fell out with Blackbeard and then with Margaret, he felt as though he was living on borrowed time. He never considered the future beyond hunting down the next prize, maintaining his captaincy. He couldn’t consider more of a future than that -- there was something painful there, and he was loath to poke at it to see how deep that wound was. When he hit the wharves of New York, all he could think of was how to scrape by, make his way. And then Margaret came to his aid once more, and though he tells himself that it’s foolish, that it’s a mistake, that she deserves better than anything he can currently offer her, he can’t ignore the small spark of hope she ignited, that’s been growing since they reunited.

The clock in Trinity Church chimes the hour, and Vane realizes the shadows are growing long out on the docks. He’s almost due at work at Mr. Fraunces’s tavern; that’s where he’d learned of his recent opportunity for highway robbery.

“You don’t have to, Charles. We’ll be back at sea soon enough.”

“I won’t be kept by you, Margaret.”

The melancholy returns to her eyes before she hides it with a flash of anger. He cuts her off before she can lash out with her words. “I’ll contribute my fair share. I won’t be a burden to you.” He needs her to understand this. Does she?

As fast as her anger arrived, it left. “Charles. You’re not a burden.” Together they leave the Adventure and head down the quayside, to the corner where they part ways. Vane finds himself reluctant, though it’s only for a few hours. They stand there, facing each other, uncertain, neither wanting to leave. And there’s that gentle smile, the one she used to reserve for him alone, well, him and Sully, anyway.

“I missed that look, Maggie-Pie.”

“If you call me Maggie-Pie, I’m going to call you Charlie-Boy.” Has she edged incrementally closer?

Vane smirks, raises the eyebrow she scarred when they were still children. “If you call me Charlie-boy,” he purrs, “I’m going to answer to it.”

“Charlie-boy!” she calls after him. He turns. “Just checking,” she tells him with a wicked little grin. Then she walks back toward the garret, that straight-backed, hip-swinging stride that he can’t take his eyes off until she goes out of sight.

                              ~*~

The sea is rolling this evening, but she sits on the bed, hands steady as she combs Sully’s hair. A habit they fell into well before they wedded, combing and plaiting one another’s hair. It’s comforting, this small ritual of tenderness in a life that is so often anything but.

Why are the long, honey-colored strands sticky? 

“You made a promise, Margaret.” Some of the most serious conversations in their relationship took place during these quiet moments.

“What…”

“You promised you’d find a way to be happy again, Margaret. You promised me.” His tone is accusatory. Sully turns his head to look over his shoulder at her, and Margaret sees the bullet hole in his temple, the gore coating his face, his neck, his hair. His skin is pale beneath its tan, as pale as it was when he was buried at sea, slipping loose from his hammock just as he hit the water, face waxen and brown eyes staring at nothing. Some of the men held her back just then, fearing she was going to throw herself into the sea after him…

Suddenly they’re on deck together, beside each other. Margaret hears the pistol shot, feels the wet warmth of Sully’s blood splatter the side of her face, sees the startled look cross his fine-boned features as he drops.

“No,” she hears herself pleading. “Don’t go.”

Sully’s voice drifts across the waves, even as he slips beneath them.“You made a promise, Margaret.”

“Wait, don’t go!” She hears the ragged desperation in her voice.

“Margaret. Margaret!” Vane’s raspy voice. His hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “Margaret, love, you’re having a nightmare.” 

She squints up at him, disoriented. Where did he come from? She pushes herself into a seated position, and then Vane is steadying her, holding her as though he’s trying to put himself bodily between her and all the world’s pain. 

“Is this going to be a routine?” she grumbles into his broad chest. What must he think of what she’s become, a weepy woman with nightmares.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs in assent, the rumble of it causing her to burrow herself into him a little bit closer. “And would that be so bad?” 

“What, me making a habit of crying on you and having nightmares?”

Vane grunts in frustration and Margaret feels his pulse speed beneath her palm, but his voice, when he finally speaks, is as soft as she’s ever heard it. “You were the first person to show me any kindness, Magpie. One of the few who ever has.” She lifts her head and risks a look at his face, and as she does so, one of his big hands comes to rest at her cheek, thumb caressing her cheekbone. 

“I promised my father I’d try to keep you alive.” She wants to open up to him, she does. The garret is freezing and Vane’s body is so warm against hers. Why can’t she open up to him?

“And you’ve more than kept that promise.” Vane’s blue eyes are gentle as a calm sea, his gruff voice going nearly inaudible in the small distance between them. “You’re free of me, if you wish to be.”

“I wish no such thing,” she snaps. Damnation, how hard-headed is this man? Did he just...did he just sag slightly in relief that she doesn’t want to be rid of him? 

His arm tightens ‘round her shoulders, holding her even closer, and she works an arm around his waist in return, to steady herself. “Crew should be arriving in the next few days. We can get the hell out of here before winter fully sets in and we end up icebound ‘til Spring.”

Vane looks bemused. He thinks she’s dodging him, and she is, a bit, she knows this. 

“You’re telling me this now, Magpie, because?”

“Because that was too near a miss today with Ballard. I thought he might have guessed who you are, and I’m not sure I fully convinced him you’re not Charles Vane.”

“You don’t want to cash in the price on my head?” He’s joking, but she jerks back anyway.

“Never!” The adamance in her voice startles even her. Vane is peering at her by the light of the lantern he’d brought in -- he must have been having one of his late nights of brooding -- and he nods slightly to himself, as if he’s decided something. Those thin, chapped lips press against her forehead and she bites back a gasp. Yes, she’s been lonely since Sully died, and what of it? She feels herself starting to melt, the realization causing her to stiffen. Vane retracts his body from hers, slowly, as though forcing himself to give her space.

“Get some rest, Maggie-Pie. You don’t sleep enough.”

He stands, walks to the door to the main room. 

“You’re one to talk, Charlie-Boy.” He looks over his shoulder at her, his face softening into one of his all-too-rare boyish smiles.

She hears him sit heavily on his cot. As she gradually drifts back to sleep, she vaguely thinks she might be able to keep her promise to Sully after all.

Taglist: @whenimaunicorn @n3rdybird

[meiusoo-twistedtwst]

[Twisted Wonderland Theory] Rook's Poem, the Science Club, Marry Poppins, and What That Has to Do With Overblot

(Picture from the Twisted Wonderland Wiki Fandom page. Please don't sue me.)

I'm not talking about the one he recites to the ghost guard, I'm talking about the first poem he recites in his event card's personal story. He says:

June's flowers teach you love

June's rain hides your tears

But in July you disappear

And in July I stand

You are a free bird

Flying with soft wings

I am a foolish perch

Swaying the twigs in the warmth that remains

O' Heaven, please don't let out the sun!

Don't ever let the cute birds stop staying under me

I am not an expert at poetry, but Rook's saying that he enjoys taking care of his loved ones (Kind of like Jade I guess). He notices the way they usually want to hide their feelings and struggles, he wants to be a person they can trust. He doesn't want his little bird to fly away and leave him because his love isn't useful anymore. (That's quite deep)

Rook's tuxedo also looks similar to the outfit Mary Poppins wears in ''Marry Poppins Returns.'' With Mary Poppins, Michael and Jane learn to appreciate the little things in life. Rook sees beauty in everything and appreciates anything and everything, he could have Mary Poppins as a sub base, since the film was produced by Walt Disney, according to Google.

Another thing I find interesting is that Trey and Rook are both science club members. They are both very observant people. What if they are hiding something from us? Something that could be related to overblot because the people that overblot don't see the good things in life.

Riddle has a tiger mother, he has the right to overblot. But his mother still cares for him by feeding him and giving him the things he wants, but only if it benefits him to become the ''ideal child." (Still not okay with her though)

Leona also has a pretty solid reason for overbloting, but he's still loved by Cheka, his brother, he's admired by Jack, and Ruggie is literally like his personal servant. He can still call the palace or wherever the royals of Afterglow Savanah live at his home.

Azul of course as the right to overblot. But he doesn't appreciate his own talents and only focuses on what others have that he doesn't. He forgot about the praise and love (friendship/ family kind of way) that the Leech twins and his family give him.

Jamil has a pretty solid reason for overbloting, but he has a master like Kalim. Of course, parties almost every day would be very tiring, but Kalim was willing to give Jamil a break and he appreciates all the things he's done.

Vil has a solid reason for overbloting, like Azul, Vil seems to struggle seeing his own worth and compares himself to Neige too much. He's tried of being called the ''bad guy'' by others. But he doesn't think deeply about the things Rook says to him. Rook has been trying to make Vil realize people do love and appreciate his beauty and talents.

Thanks to ラッコRakko for translating his personal story and special thanks to Regina Coeli, a random person on YT who was the one who enlightened people like me who at first, didn't understand Rook's beautiful poem.

Rook is still eccentric, but also someone you could admire. Next post will probably be posted tomorrow, after I do some research on colors.