#posting this so I have no excuse to get their sizes/colors wrong

[octoooo]

Decided to make a height chart for Sabibun & Catyuu

& I’ll use Giyuu as reference for how big Sabibun is (he’s very small <3)

ALSO color palettes for both, and a lil frame of sabibun’s backside because he has a heart shaped fur patch

[mybworlds]

Chapter 4: Be different

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 2.5k

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV but the first time, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink, personal use of an unspecified sex toy. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Masterlist

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Taglist @harriedandharassed

You laid in your bed for almost an hour, but you can't get to sleep, remorse preventing you from sleeping.

Patrick felt you tense all evening and tried to relax you by preparing a warm bath first, a massage later, and finally holding you close to him until he falls asleep. You try to close your eyes, but the image of Joel clinging to you, his crooked smile before kissing you or have sex with you haunts you all night long. When it's almost six o'clock, you text Daisy telling her you have important things to tell her, you're sure that given the hour she's still asleep, it's Monday, and you doubt she's out clubbing with some of her pilates friends.

"Honey, are you awake yet?" Patrick asks with his voice still slurred from sleep turning in bed toward you, you barely turn your torso toward him and mumble an excuse.

You are a liar.

"What's your schedule today?" he asks clutching you even tighter resting his head on your shoulder and encircling you with his arm.

"Nothing for today, in fact I was thinking of staying home," you answer him by settling on your pillow, but staying with your eyes open staring into the dark "What about you?"

"I'm going out around 10. I have to go to a company only." he replies giving you a kiss between your shoulder and neck, "Baby, I was thinking. . . what if we invited some friends over for a barbecue on Friday night?" he asks you "If you have plans, we could postpone." he adds giving you another kiss in the same spot.

You shrug caught by a shiver, "Patrick. . ." you mutter turning to him, you would like to tell him the thruth, but you know you will hurt him so much, but you have never been someone who lies, someone who keeps quiet about things of such gravity. You feel like a monster.

The guilt is eating you alive.

Patrick's lips are soft and immediately seek yours, which very shyly open, welcoming his tongue. You kiss him, but your eyes fill with tears.

How do the others betray and go on living as if nothing is wrong?

"Why are you crying?" he asks you turning on the bedside light and turning back to you worriedly, he gives you a kiss on the shoulder "You can talk to me, you know. I'm listening," he adds again.

"I know," you say bending your head toward him.

Part of you says talk to him, the other part that deep down it's true you betrayed him, but it won't happen again so why destroy a ten plus years relationship?

He wraps an arm around your waist and looks at you with sweetness and a little concern, "Love."

"Patrick, it must be that damn pill I take for my period!" you exclaim as more tears wet the pillow "Maybe among the side effects there's mood swings." you add almost sobbing and pulling up with your nose.

He holds you tightly to him, "It's okay, relax." with one arm you see him close the light and then return to wrap you in his arms "Sssh, it's okay, I'm here."

You love Patrick, but sex with Joel Miller was great.

"You had sex with the best man?!" Daisy exclaims with a smile and squinting eyes "And? Did he make you come?" she adds, almost shouting, as you shush her by looking around and hoping you haven't attracted anyone's attention, "So?" the meddler urges.

"Yes."

"Uh huh!" she exclaims taking a sip of her nonalcoholic drink "I want some sinful details, please let me dream. Jordan can only do it missionary style now! He's good for goodness sake, but I'd also like something new!" she complains, rolling her eyes.

"Don't make the same mistake I did," you comment sipping your fruity cocktail.

"Honey, between you and me there is a difference. Jordan and I are still fine, you and Patrick are in crisis even though you keep denying it." you sigh heavily "If this shake-up serves to clear your head welcome, in fact I suggest you find him again and have another greeeeat session."

"Daisy! Stop it." you exclaim, lowering your head "It mustn't happen again, in fact I hope I never see him again."

"But why? Honey, you could have had a guy who banged you on the bed to seek only his own pleasure and take the edge off, this Joel on the other hand, yes he fucked you, but he fucked you good."

"What do you know about that?" you ask her.

"You have a different light in your eyes, even if you think it's guilt." she comments, staying silent for a minute "So how many times did he make you cum?" she asks you mischievously.

"More than once."

"Oh wow, that's wonderful." she comments dreamily "He used his fingers?" she asks again.

"No."

She whistles in approval, "I want to meet him,"

"Daisy!" you scold her, squinting.

"I only want to tell him to have more meetings with you." you laugh nervously "And in what position?"

"Um. . . missionary, but he made me feel. . ." you search for words, but those words make you shudder because you don't want to feel that way and yet you do.

"Alive? Wanted?"

"Wanted." you answer.

"Will you look for him again?"

"As far as I know his first and last name could be made up, as could everything he told me about himself. After all, I did it first, I mean. . . yes I told him I was engaged, but after I had sex with him," you answer a little uneasily.

"What about him?"

"Nothing. Daisy, but he can't say anything, we're two strangers and it's normal that there's no implication other than physical between us." you reply, shrugging your shoulders. You continue to chat some more now about Joel, now about your jobs, now about some memories, finally you remember Patrick's proposal to you about the barbecue and you invite her and Jordan for Friday night, she enthusiastically accepts.

Patrick planned big things, he bought pounds of meat, potatoes, sandwiches to stuff, several bottles of beer and some wine, liquor, in short he buys anything so that your guests can leave and think they ate their fill and had a good time. You and Patrick invite many friends, those who are married, those close to marriage, those who like you are cohabiting, only a few are still single.

You devote yourself to setting up the garden by inserting among the branches of the saplings you have many small lights, you then put in just before your guests arrive even the outside speakers for some soft music to accompany you. It's perfect, it looks like a fairy tale garden.

Patrick observes as you the garden waiting for your guests by hugging you from behind, "You did a great job, my love," he says kissing you in your hair. You lean back against his chest "We did a great job" you correct him smiling.

The first guests arrive and Patrick gets to work, you meanwhile pour them drinks exchanging small talk with the two wives of your partner's friends, you show them around the house, in short you act like a perfect housewife. You bring the speakers outside and put on the playlist of soft music as you already planned, when you turn around you see yet other couples, some you know, some you don't, and then you see Daisy running up to hugging you glad to be there, Daisy is joined shortly afterwards by her boyfriend who greets you with a big hug too and a warm smile, then Jordan excuses himself and walks over to Patrick leaving you and Daisy to your chatter. Everything is going very well, Patrick cooked everything divinely, your guests are intent on drinking, eating, laughing, chatting, in short it's a very successful evening ber. You and Daisy are on one of the little white chairs in the garden and she's telling you a silly joke, when you turn to your guests and see a face you never, ever thought you'd see there: Joel Miller, assuming that's his name.

"Oh, shit!" you exclaim, suddenly giving your back to your guests as you turn fully toward your friend who looks at you puzzled, "What's going on?" she asks.

"He's here," you reply impatiently between your teeth.

"Um, he who?" she asks still puzzled.

"Him." you insist, Daisy assumes a surprised expression.

"Oh, and who is he?"

"I dunno." you reply full of fear "Why is he here?"

"Will you tell me who is among them? If you do that you draw even more attention, my friend." she says again "Oh, oh," she adds.

"And what are you doing here?" someone asks behind you.

You look with frightened eyes first at your friend and then turn toward the person who just spoke to you, when you do, you see Joel standing next to you staring at you with a frown, you turn for a moment toward Daisy, who raises her eyebrows and then says, "I'll see you later." then she stands up and after looking at Joel for a longer moment she reaches Jordan.

"What are you doing here?" he asks you again.

You get up from your chair, "I could ask you the same!" you exclaim.

"You made it!" Patrick exclaims behind you coming up behind you all smiling at Joel "My friend!" he exclaims again hugging Joel with a pat, Joel weakly returns the hug still amazed to have found you there probably "Have you two introduced yourselves yet?" Patrick continues loosening the hug "Joel, this is my better half and my love, this is my long time friend, Joel Miller." Patrick says.

You're not sure which one of you has the more surprised look on your face, the fact is you try to disguise as best you can your already prior acquaintance by shaking hands, but you immediately lower your gaze, fuck this isn't possible, this must be a nightmare.

"How are things going, Joel?" Patrick asks placing himself at your side and absentmindedly resting an arm on your shoulders.

"Not bad." he replies simply shrugging his shoulders.

"Sarah? Your little one now how old is she?" Patrick asks again.

You wander your gaze from him to Joel, Joel tries not to even dignify you with a glance "She's fine, she's fifteen and in the midst of rebellion, you know adolescence!"

The two of them give each other a small, complicit smile, "Honey, would you please go get Joel and me a beer?" you nod with a small smile at Patrick, while casting a puzzled glance at Joel.

It takes you longer than it should, you are in fact lost in thought that Joel himself has cheated on his partner, and what's more, he has a daughter! So, you should feel even less guilty. When you return to the two of them, you find them intent on laughing and shaking their heads about an incident happened in Joel's company, "Thank you, babe." Patrick says giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, a kiss you barely manage to return considering who is in front of you. "Thank you." replies Joel in a neutral tone to whom you somewhat brusquely hand his beer.

"Patrick!" Edward, another of your friends, calls him, "Come on, lazybones, there are still these sausages to roast!"

"Coming!" replies Patrick immediately, waving an arm "Love, will you entertain Joel some more while I'm gone?" he asks in a whisper.

"Why?" you ask hesitantly.

"Well, ever since his wife left with his daughter, he's always alone and I feel sorry for him." he replies causing a knot in your throat, you turn a glance toward Joel who sips his beer looking toward the small crowd "Can you do this for me?" you nod "Thanks, babe." he adds again placing a kiss on your forehead and pulling away.

You hesitate, sighing thoughtlessly. You lean closer to him, "So...you and Patrick are friends?"

"Yeah, and you and him are together." he says looking down at his beer turning the bottle over in his hands "Patrick has always been a lucky son of a bitch," he adds taking a sip of his beer "Always good grades, nice girls," he adds again "I had my good times too, uh. I don't envy Patrick, I never did." he clarifies and then finally looks into your eyes for a long moment "So, you are unhappy with Patrick, uh?"

You furrow your brow, "Don't judge me," you reply annoyed.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are, I recognize that look," you say still piqued.

"No, you don't. Me too, I thought everything was fine with my ex-wife, and look where I am now," he continues, taking the last sip of beer.

"What happened?" you ask him taking the bottle from his hands and walking to the kitchen inside to throw the bottle away.

"The most trivial thing in the world," he tells you as you walk into the kitchen "I was so focused on work, she wanted more attention and so one day she made me find the lawyer's letter." he concludes in a sigh leaning against the kitchen cabinet "She then moved to Michigan near her parents and took Sarah away."

"'m sorry," you say laying a hand on his forearm squeezing it just barely "How long ago did that happen?" you ask again.

"Six years ago." he replies raising his eyebrows at you with a sad look "Since then, the idea of tying myself down scares me." he confesses "I can't do it, it's like disappointment, defeat blocked me." he adds shaking his head "Since then I only have casual encounters." he says again looking at you, you lower your gaze "However, usually, they are all single women. I never had sex with a busy woman or a friend's girlfriend." he clarifies again "I'm not a homewrecker. In fact, sorry if I crossed the line last time and even made you feel uncomfortable, that was not my intention."

You shake your head, "We were wrong, Joel." you add, barely squeezing his shoulder "I'm sorry if I overreacted, I knew that. . . I mean, that it was just sex, but I've been a bit hysterical."

He gently strokes one cheek and then absentmindedly touches your lower lip with a fingertip, you observe first his lips and then his eyes "If you look at me like that, we could start again." he warns you with a half smile.

"The truth is. . . on the one hand I'm regretful, but on the other. . . I loved every single moment." you admit, looking him straight in the eye.

"So do I." he says, his gaze wandering from your eyes to your lips. The situation could escalate at any moment, when interrupting everything is Patrick himself "There you are!" he exclaims enthusiastically "What's going on?" he asks, Joel immediately withdrawing his hand from your face.

"Nothing." you reply, pulling your hand away from his shoulder "Joel was just telling me about the divorce."

You look Joel in the eye for a longer moment and then turn away from him and flank Patrick.

"Bad story." comments Patrick simply "Come on, come on over. The sausages are ready to be served and the boys want to try karaoke."

"Oh, yay." you comment unenthusiastically rolling your eyes, Joel smiles at your reaction.

You and Joel don't share any other moment alone and that's okay, you don't want any of your friends or Patrick's friends to notice this connection with Joel. You just met each other, or so you make believe!

You are alone in the garden, lying on a lawn chair staring at the sky; there are quite a few stars visible that evening. In another moment, you would have run for your camera to take pictures of that beautiful starry sky, but not tonight. In fact, you think about Joel. You think that no matter how hard you try to pretend that everything is fine and that what happened with Joel will never happen again, a part of you feels, however, that it won't. Joel is not just anyone, but a Patrick's friend, and knowing Patrick, it's likely that he will invite him again to your place.

[kathanglangit]

The Fifth Blade: Kampilan - Warrior Made

Down to the last three days before Gubat Banwa launches on Kickstarter! Moon-eating titans, sword-souls and bullet devils, giant flying crocodile mounts, sparks arcing off clashing blades like lightning- Gubat Banwa is an action-packed martial arts TTRPG where you play as warrior Kadungganan in a Southeast Asian-inspired fantasy world afire with wonder and violence in a thousand colors.

Counting down the days to the KS launch on October 10 comes with anxiety and anticipation in equal measure, and I thought maybe posting the weapons I've drawn for the game would help cut through it all. These were meant to be posted for Swordtember, but the game needed a bit more time to pick up speed. 5/7 blades done, let's start off the final three with the KAMPILAN

Yet another large weapon from south of Luzon, the kampilan is a long-bladed sword with a unique "trapezoidal" shape, sometimes sporting a small spike at the tip, often with a figural hilt. "Figural hilt" just means the hilt depicts a certain abstracted figure of something, usually a creature or a beast of some kind. The sharpened edge is on the long side of the blade. I repeat: The sharpened edge is on the long side of the blade. You would not believe how frequently people get that wrong. This useful diagram is one of the first things you see when you do a Google-search for "kampilan", so there is truly no excuse for anyone to be depicting it with the sharp side pointing the wrong way.

(Diagram by Lorenz Lasco) The most common examples of kampilan figural hilts depict the Bakunawa- a giant moon-eating serpent of legend- and are decorated with hair or with roots. The angled protrusion on the hilt usually points away from the sharpened edge, and may have been used for added leverage when maneuvering the blade.

(Photos from the collection of Ron Zambarrano) Other creatures commonly depicted in the hilts are crocodiles, cockatoos (what collectors call "kakatua" handles), or- in the case of this somewhat rare example- a horse.

(Photo from the collection of Richard Hudson) The kampilan is surrounded by a rather popular story: That it was the blade used by Lapu-Lapu himself to slay Fernando Magallanes on the shores of Mactan. One of Pigafetta's writings recounts how Magellan was wounded on the leg by a large blade, akin to a scimitar. Whether or not this was describing a kampilan is anyone's guess, and whether it was in the hands of the hero of Mactan is foggier still. While it is difficult to verify the authenticity of this claim, the legend of Lapu-Lapu quickly grew, taking the story with it- and it kind of just stuck.

(Photo from Lapu-Lapu City LGU) Most Philippine blades generally vary in size make depending on where they're from, but the distinctions are even more apparent for kampilan. The two-handed ones shown so far are often referred to as Moro kampilan. The Lumad peoples have kampilan of their own.

(Photo from Iniingatang Talim At Kaluban.; Taken by Ramon H. Bathan) I'm not an expert on identifying these blades, and this is by no means an exhaustive list (as the kampilan was used widely across Visayas and Mindanao), but I will try to show and identify a few select variants. Starting with this "NICE SHOT"

(Various Moro kampilan; Photo by Richard Hudson) Following up with some antique Bagobo kampilan. Notice the difference in size relative to the Moro variant. This seems to be built for one-handed use. You will also notice that the shape of the blade is different, without the spike, and with the sharp edge on the other side.

(Photos from Raymundo Lucero) A more useful comparison; These next three blades come from the same collector.

Bagobo kampilan

T'boli kampilan or kefilan

Moro kampilan (Photos from Dennis Andrew Golez) Sometimes these blades stray far from home. This next one is a T'boli kampilan inherited by a collector.

(Photos from Hege-Eileen Ottem Lund) Rather than hair or roots, the Lumad seem to prefer adorning their hilts with brass bells. When you see examples of these blades in museums for up for auction, the bells tend to be absent. I purposefully included examples with bells to show them off in their full ornate glory. "Lumad" is a collective term for indigenous peoples in the south of the Philippines. Another T'boli kampilan, with a closeup on the hilt to show the brasswork.

(Photos from JC Nolas) This one's a headscratcher for me- supposedly this unique find from the 1800s has a hilt made of whalebone. The blade looks to be of the Moro variant, but I could very easily be mistaken. It looks to have been adorned with bells as well.

(Photos from Ron Zambarrano) One more thing to note is that the kampilan is not a tool-turned-weapon, nor a multipurpose blade. They are made to be used as weapons. I won't fault anyone for subscribing to the belief that Philippine native blades were mostly farming implements, which just happened to be repurposed for combat sometimes. It is true for many blades which functioned essentially as multi-tools, and the languages sometimes don't help when they use the same word for any kind of blade- be it a tool or a sword. Dispel your myths. Our ancestors were not ALL farmers-turned-fighters. They faced our colonizers as warriors.

(Photo by Ramon H. Bathan) The veritable force of nature that is Sam'baha (the smug-looking badass in the art at the top of this post) stands as the face of Gubat Banwa, wielding a kampilan in one hand and a karambit in the other. Challenge her legacy! Be a part of all the tide-churning, sky-burning, world-rending action by supporting the game on Kickstarter!

The Gubat Banwa Kickstarter launches in 3 days! Check it out here:

Just three more days for this incredibly small team from the global south to get as many eyes on this project before it launches. We straight up cannot afford Proper Advertising on the scale this game deserves, so we're relying on folks like yourself to help us get the word out. Any help will do! Share it with your friends! Send it to people you think might be interested! Send it to people you know aren't interested! Dump it in that one channel in your friendgroup Discord server that no one has sent any messages to for weeks now! Reblog this even if you didn't read the post at all, we won't tell!

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

A Random Thursday

Inspired by this post that I made

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (Female)

Notes: All fluff. No use of Y/N. Female reader (Mentions of wearing a dress, being a bride, Mrs., etc.) My first time writing Matt! Also dubious research on marriage license and witness laws in New York (apologies if it's wrong). Also, invented a new priest character since Father Lanthom (spoiler) died.

WC: 1691

Warm afternoon sunlight pierced through the window panes onto the murky colored carpet on this particular afternoon in Hell’s Kitchen. Karen was fiddling with a pen while reviewing case files when the shrill, piercing sound of the front desk phone at Murdock, Nelson, and Page rang out.

“Nelson, Murdock, and Page, this is Karen speaking, how can I help you today?” Karen answered with her usually bright demeanor, breaking her focused gaze on the papers in her hands

“Hey Karen,” Matt’s baritone voice came through the speaker “Um, I need you and Foggy to head down to the church. Something urgent came up and I could really use the whole team here.”

“Okay…” Karen’s voice trailed off “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Just get here quick.” Matt replied and ended the call

Karen set the receiver back down, still confused, and called out through the small office.

“Foggy?”

“Yeah?” The blond man replied, peeking his head around the door of his office

“Matt just called. It was really weird. He wants us to meet him at Clinton Church. Said it was urgent. Did we have a client meeting I missed on the calendar?”

“No? But with Matt, who knows? Guess we should go see what this is all about.” he said, grabbing his blazer from the coat rack and guiding Karen through the front door.

It took Foggy and Karen fewer than 10 minutes to walk from the office to Clinton Church, where they found Matt pacing outside.

His best black suit clung closely to his muscular but lean frame. The white shirt he wore had been freshly pressed and his tie was neatly tied around his neck. His signature red glasses were perched on his nose and he fidgeted with his cane in his right hand.

“Matt!” Foggy called out to his friend ahead

“Hey! Glad you guys got here so fast!” Matt replied

“Is everything okay? Karen said you sounded really weird on the phone?”

“Yeah Foggy, everything’s fine.”

“So why are we here?” Karen asked

“Well, the State of New York requires two witnesses on a marriage license and since Sister Maggie can’t legally act as a witness as a nun, we needed both of you here. Plus, I know you’d kill me if I didn’t make you best man, and Karen, my bride really didn’t want to go without a Maid of Honor.” Matt replied

His tone was far too nonchalant for the Titanic-sized news he just sent crashing into his friends’ worlds.

“Excuse me, did you just say Best Man?” Foggy inquired

Before Matt could respond, you interrupted the conversation, rounding the corner from the side of the church.

“Hey! Glad you guys made it so fast!” You squeaked out excitedly, embracing the still confused duo

It was only when you pulled away from the hug that Foggy and Karen were able to take in your appearance - the sleek white mini dress, the short veil perched at the crown of your head, and the simple bouquet of white roses in your hands - did they fully process what was happening in that moment.

“Karen, I need you to grab a few pictures too!” You said, tossing a disposable camera into Karen’s grasp.

“Oh my god!” Foggy shouted “Wait, is this really happening?!”

“What the hell guys?!” Karen added

All you and Matt could do was grin and nod in response.

“When did this happen? I mean you guys aren’t even engaged yet?!” Karen asked

“Well actually, I proposed last night.” Matt replied as you lifted your left hand, showcasing the delicate ring he had placed there the previous evening

“And after I said yes, we were talking and we decided since Matt’s family is just you guys and Maggie, and my family isn’t really around, there’s no point in wasting time planning a big wedding when the only people that matter to us are right here.” You explained

“So we went to the courthouse this morning, got the license, and called you guys.” Matt finished your story

“Unreal. Only you, Murdock, would get married on a whim on a random Thursday.” Foggy shook his head.

“This is not a whim Foggy, we’ve been talking about getting married for a long time. We just didn’t really see a point in waiting any longer.” Matt replied

“Well no matter,” Karen responded as she pulled you into another hug “Yes, I will be your maid of honor. Yes, Foggy will be Matt’s best man, and we are thrilled that we are the two most special people in your lives that you want here for this.”

“Okay, so let’s do this thing!” Foggy excitedly shouted

“Thanks man.” Matt replied, clapping his best friend on the back

Sister Maggie, with all too perfect timing, poked her head out of the large red doors of the church.

“Oh good, they’re here!” She gestured to Foggy and Karen

“Father Davis is ready whenever you are.” she said, turning her attention to you and her son

You simply gave her a small nod in response, squeezing Matt’s hand at the same time. You could hear a brief hitch in his inhale beside you. You don’t have his enhanced senses, but you don’t need to have chemical-spill enhanced powers to predict he was feeling the same excitement and anticipation as was currently coursing through your system.

Sister Maggie pushed the door open further, ushering Foggy and Karen inside and you and Matt behind them. Her arms embraced the both of you as the door closed behind you.

“Matthew, I’m so proud.” She said, holding onto his arms and looking him up and down.

“Thank you” he whispered

Matt’s scrunched nose and reddening cheeks indicated there were more than a few tears already forming from behind his red glasses.

“Now you go take your place up with Father Davis, Karen and I will be right behind you.” She took Matt’s cane from his hands (as there was no point in pretending he needed it around present company) and shooed him away from you. His shoes clacked softly as he made his way up the stone aisle to the altar, with Karen not too far behind.

“Mr. Nelson, I believe our bride needs accompaniment.” Sister Maggie added with a nod as she followed Matt and Karen

Without hesitation, Foggy held out his arm and you enthusiastically took it. He gave it a brief squeeze, before slowly leading you down the aisle as well.

Your focus was now on the handsome man waiting for you at the end of it. Even though he couldn’t see you, he could smell the perfect blend of the perfume you usually wore mixed with the bouquet you carried. His ears honed in on the swishing of the crepe fabric of your dress as you approached him, the crinkle of your facial muscles tensing as you smiled and held back your own tears. Most importantly he could hear the steady, but slightly quickened, rhythm of your heart beat as it got closer and closer. If he could bottle this moment and how he felt in it, he’d get drunk on it every single day for the rest of his life.

Everything beyond the church doors faded into the background for you, your focus had narrowed to the only thing that mattered in that moment. Matt.

You finally reached your destination, slipping your arm from Foggy’s, passing your bouquet off to Karen, and finally taking Matt’s calloused hands into your own. You gave them three small squeezes - which became your silent way of saying I love you to each other through the years. He gave you three in return.

Father Davis kept the ceremony short and sweet, you and Matt both sniffled and shed tears throughout. While you didn’t take your eyes off Matt, you could hear the other three also sniffling and dabbing their tears, the sounds of their emotions echoing off the high ceilings of the church.

And all too quickly you were sharing your first kiss as husband and wife, joyously grinning at the feel of Matt’s soft lips on yours.

A few hours later the four of you were too many drinks in at Josie’s. Father Davis and Sister Maggie had joined you earlier on to celebrate and had already departed.

Drunkenness had consumed Foggy the most strongly out of the group. By now he had commandeered your veil and was wearing it in his messy hair. His shirt was unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest as he took another large gulp from his glass.

Karen’s cheeks were tinted pink as she sloppily shouted “Speech!”

“Alright, alright!” Foggy feigned humbleness at being goaded to make his now third speech of the evening

“I never thought I’d see the day Matt Murdock would settle down and get married, but god I couldn’t have picked a better girl for him!” Foggy roughly slapped Matt on the back

“In fairness Foggy, I can’t see the day now.” Matt quipped

“Ah c’mon Murdock you can’t crack blind jokes in the middle of my best man speech!” Foggy protested

“Wait Fogs, you can’t call him Murdock anymore because I am now also a Murdock and we won’t know who you’re talking to!” you interjected with a tipsy giggle

“Mrs. Murdock, I will have you know you are arguing with a lawyer and under New York law…”

The grin that spread across Matt’s face upon hearing Foggy call you ‘Mrs. Murdock’ was wide enough to reach both ends of the bar.

“Booooo! No lawyer speak in the best man speech!” Karen cut him off

“Fine! I am so happy for the two of you on this new adventure.”

“Awe, thanks Foggy.” you said, raising your glass in the air to toast

Matt scooted closer to you, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear “What do you say we get out of here and head home, Mrs. Murdock?”

The sound of your new name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sounds good to me, my husband.” you replied

“Mmm, Mrs. Murdock, my beautiful wife.” he said into your hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 11- Part 6

Well, it just so happens we’ve still got the Warehouse Key, so…

Alright, we have saved the elderly!

Now- I was going to do that quest anyways, yeah, but the true reason we had to do all of that was so we could go into this other warehouse here…

Yes indeed, the Warehouse Key works here too. And what do we find inside?

The Spoink! The one from Obsidia Slums! This is where it ran off to, and we had to rescue the Day-Care couple first before we could encounter it here! And now-

And now…and now I realize I never saved after that cutscene with the Day-Care couple, uh-oh-

Oh, nevermind, we’re not battling it right away- I thought that little text box at the start implied we were about to go into battle with the Spoink right away. 

Well, anyways, let’s just walk forward here (after actually saving) and…

It’s…not here? I mean- there’s an item there, which is nice, whatever it is.

Oh, that’s nice. But it’s not the Spoink…where is it? Surely, it’s here- it had dialogue! 

Hm- maybe I did things in slightly the wrong order, somehow? Maybe if I exit and reenter the warehouse, it’ll be here. But before I do that- time to rub up against all these boxes to see if there’s a hidden item or two!

HEY, THAT’S NOT A HIDDEN ITEM-

Okay- okay, I quite literally asked for this, I wanted this, uuuh…at least we saved a little bit beforehand?

Regardless, let’s do what we did earlier, lower its HP safely with Disarming Voice.

Okay, that’s a little too safe, and…Spoink’s attack did more than I’d like!

No matter, new plan- Sing it to sleep, then try Zen Headbutt to lower its HP more. What could possibly go wrong?

What are the odds of Zen Headbutt missing and then Spoink waking up on the first possible turn? I don’t think I want to know, but clearly Whiskers isn’t working here, so let’s switch in to Breeze to try…something.

Quick Attack ought to do better damage, and in the meantime we can heal Whiskers with a Potion to bring it back in while it keeps trying to use Psych Up-

And with another Sing…

…We should be ready for the catch!

After several inconveniences and such, Leap is now real! That’s another event down, and now we can move on to the next one!

And to get that next Pokémon, we have to return…here.

The first task is to survive the eye-bleeding floor tiles, but if you can manage that, go up to that one desk I ignored the first time we came here.

Also, I’ve come to notice- in these screenshots, the floor doesn’t look as bad. I think it’s because, when I put these screenshots in the program I use (so I can adjust the size/resolution) and otherwise prepare them for Tumblr posting, said program…changes the saturation, ever so slightly? Like, it desaturates the images, just a bit. 

I don’t know why that happens, but it does, and…I guess it’s a benefit to you readers, since you all don’t have to experience the full color power of the floor tiles. But I had to play through this without any desaturation, and I assure you- those colors do be bright.

Anyways, uh- back to that counter up top…

See, I chose not to do this at the time, but to get the next event Pokémon, you do have to play it.

Ah, a tile-based puzzle- sounds simple enough. Now, excuse me while I go remind myself which key I assigned to Ready Item-

Previous

Next

[lunam-flore]

After long deliberation and mental exhaustion, I have made the decision to remove the image that was previously here.  I’m sorry to anyone who had enjoyed this work of art but hope you can respect my wishes to let it rest, as well as find enjoyment in other works of mine.

I have spoken about this at length in various posts and discussions, but to sum up the history of this work:  it was essentially an older and sloppier version of my adaptive eevee headcanons (this new one’s link can be seen below.)  And it explored the idea of eevees adapting their fur and eye colors to mimic their trainers’ own pigments and hair textures.  Early in its life, it sparked some upset and controversy over one eevee with vitiligo.  It was also the only eevee with Type 4 hair, and the word I used to describe the texture was one that is not considered appropriate by the Black community at large.  Its vitiligo features were also easily missed at first (i.e. the gradient of its fur paled and there were pink spots on its nose and the inside of its ears.)  The reaction to this eevee was completely understandable, but those who had expressed such opinions were also very kind and understanding once we talked things out.  I apologized for the term, things were good.  But my anxiety over the artwork remained.

*To make this additional note brief and "woe is me” lite, I am also Black.  However the kind of environments and neighborhoods I grew up in almost always had a white majority, and I struggled to find acceptance from other Black kids mainly due to the fact that I wasn’t the ‘kind’ of Black kid they were probably used to sharing their time and space with (both my parents are Caribbean American immigrants.)  This meant that most of my friends growing up and most of the people surrounding me throughout my life were the color of untoasted bread and that undoubtedly distorted my understanding of what words were right or wrong to use when describing people like me.  This is not an excuse; I have only said it to hopefully provide some context.  I remain sorry for my uneducated wording.

I remain frustrated with myself for the blunder I made.  I remain disappointed in the fact that I combined a handful of features into an eevee whose trainer was not white, and every time this image has circulated again I am reminded of that initial panic, of that heartracing distress when I was called a racist by someone who assumed I had light skin, of the fact that I upset people when showing kindness to others is such an important value to me.  Every time people ignore my desperate notes and edits and posts in the comments to reblog the newer version instead, every time this old one gets reblogged, I live through that all over again and wonder with dread when the next discourse over it will begin.

Anyway, questions about the vitiligo eevee started popping up in the tags again.  So I figured it was finally time to take the image down.  In time, I may even end up deleting this post entirely so I can stop getting the notifications for it.  I’m just tired.  Please support the new version if you miss it; and while we’re on the subject of the updated version, please stop tag-asking for clarification on what this is supposed to mean for bald trainers (I’ve already answered an ask about this) or trainers who dye their hair ,(if you are confused, maybe read the ID) and no, my depiction of albinism is not intended to be a one size fits all, I know that people with albinism can have a range of eye colors.

Thank you for your understanding.

[highdio]

I got an ask about the model boat that DIO's building as he and Pucci hang out and talk about the stand ‘Survivor’ in Part 6. The scene deserves its own post because it's the basis for one of my least-favorite wrong takes: that Dio is re-living a trauma by re-creating a "shipwreck" scene. Also no dw anon I don't think you implied this. This take's been repeated so often and without reflection that it's wound up being treated as something canon, check out this TV tropes entry to see how reflexively it gets parroted:

Dio's building a model ship in the middle of a wreck??? Fanon takes can take on a life of their own and, in Dio's case, so many people know his character through the caricature constructed around and outside of the canon instead of through how Araki actually wrote and drew him. So I'm going to break down the actual Part 6 scene to examine how we wound up so far from the truth of what's actually going on in it.

1. The first thing we need to get clear is whether Dio's model even resembles the ship he killed Jonathan on in Part 1, and the short answer is no, it doesn't. For reference here's the model:

and here's the ship from Part 1:

Both are hybrid sail/steam (implied on the model by the paddle wheels even though there's no smokestacks) but the ill-fated ocean liner that took Jonathan and Erina 1/2 way across the Atlantic is a lot bigger and grander. The OVA adaptation's helpful because it’s spot-on faithful to the manga:

It's gigantic, you can see three full decks and two large smokestacks, along with elaborate baroque-looking detailing all over the stern end. Dio's model ship looks entirely different. It's simple by comparison and, were it scaled up to full size, it'd still be a lot smaller (check out the model rowboats and their oars around it for size reference).

So it's not clear that the model Dio's building is even a callback to Part 1 or some sort of easter egg on Araki's part (after looking at the two ships side-by-side my gut tells me it’s not). Keep that in mind as we step through how much the scene's gotten mangled in fanon.

Like I said, the model-building panels form the basis for an oft-repeated bad take you see a lot online, where people say it's a "shipwreck" scene (I guess because there's rowboats around it?) and, therefore, a re-enactment of trauma. Ofc that's bogus. The ship's fine, and rowboats are how crew come ashore whenever a tall ship drops anchor. There's even a lighthouse and the ship is resting in a tranquil harbor. The anime version of the scene shows these details clearly:

Hopefully it's easy to see the scene for what it is: Dio engaged in the most mundane hobby you can think of, while having a leisurely conversation with his BFF. As Pucci explains it, they're talking like children ranking their favorite action heroes by how strong they are. It's a very chill little scene, remarkable for how unremarkable it would be if this wasn't DIO and Pucci.

It's worth including the official digital color version here too because, apparently, they forgot DIO was a vampire and gave the scene a cheery sunlit mood by making the sky outside the windows as blue as day:

It's a mistake ofc but it also underscores the relaxed feel to the scene: out of context, the day-lit color choice feels natural because the scene's got such a comfy vibe.

So how do we get from a chill guy chilling (canon) to a guy re-living a trauma (fanon)? Answer is, ofc, projection.

It's a fandom thing to need a villain's evilness to be justified - explained (excused?) in a way - through past trauma, say, or a series of unavoidable circumstances (or maybe some valid ideology they hold). A villain's villainy is only legitimized, validated, or complex enough *if* they've earned it by having a "good enough" reason to act bad. In Dio's case, where 'bad' is a wild understatement, some fans simply need him to be hurt, traumatized, or otherwise sufficiently suffering in ways that Araki just never intended. And this need is so strong it can override what's in front of their own eyes, even where the author and the text suggest the exact opposite.

In this way the Survivor scene acts as a Rorschach test where some people see the traces of trauma where there are none - in fact, it's the one scene where DIO seems most at ease, relaxed and unguarded (and ofc without his "shadow"). As such the scene and its misreading encompasses a lot of that's wrong about how fanon can sometimes view Dio and a lot of what's right about how Araki wrote him.

_____________________________________________________

Thanks to the anime there's an additional coda to all this. The Survivor scene in the Stone Ocean anime is faithful to the manga, but there's a twist: DavidPro gives us a sort of 'easter egg in reverse.' Remember the grand multi-deck ship Jonathan and Erina left for their honeymoon on? Here's the anime version, from all the way back in Season 1:

It looks a lot like Dio's model.

So here we have something from the manga that's likely not originally a callback getting turned into part of a callback, but in reverse order since the callback gets shown four seasons prior.

Of course, none of that negates the fact that the Stone Ocean anime scene is remains one of safety and comfort. The model ship isn't wrecked and DIO and Pucci are at their most relaxed and conversational. The scene hasn't been reshaped into any indice of trauma. What you have then is a fun little callback for the observant, and with it a wicked re-contextualization of this panel:

Now it’s become Dio towering over a model of the ship he killed everyone on. And somehow this feels appropriate: Dio's got a gift for casually being a jackass when referring back to some of the worst things that he's done. Aside from the obvious comparing human lives to slices of bread, a good example is this panel where he refers to Zeppeli's horrific death in the most deliberately offhand way:

So, anime Dio leisurely building a model resembling the ship he accidently destroyed while killing and then desecrating the body of the only man to ever defeat him? It feels right in character: a subtle nod to one of the many calamities he's caused. Assuming the viewer's more Joestar-sympathetic than me, I feel like what Dio's doing here and, on a meta level, what DavidPro either intentionally or unintentionally is doing is having some fun at the viewer's expense.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

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

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink. 

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you.  Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

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

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

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

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing. 

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

[summercreolefanfictioner]

maya sakamaki fashion headcanons

So here's the thing, I thought this headcanon thing is talking abt Maya's freaking closet (turns out I am wrong 😭). But I still wanna add the wardrobe thingy 'cause I just don't want my writing to go to waste.

As I've mentioned in Maya's random facts post, her main outfits are her long-sleeved maid outfit and the Ryoutei Academy school uniform. However, during summer, she switches to her short-sleeved maid uniform to cater to the season

The reason behind this is that, her other outfits are solely dependent on who her master is.

So yeah, during her time at the Feinze mansion, she was always wearing kimono/yukata and pairs them with dark boots. She also ensures it has a blade underneath so ppl who decide to mess with her won't stand a chance.

But now that she's a Sakamaki doll, Maya has more freedom to express her personality with her clothing.

In fact, she actually likes her clothes now better than the kimono lolita dresses bcos it makes her look more like a teenager instead of a priestess child at a temple

She actually leans on modern pastel grunge + soft girl + dark academia aesthetic outfits with a spring/winter-cool color range to match her pale skin, red eyes, and long dark hair.

So yeah, it's no secret that all her clothes are given by Kanato. In fact, some of them were handmade by him (especially the dresses) and Kanato even takes his time to style her before going out.

And since they were all handmade or given by him, you would notice attention to detail factors like ruffles, ribbons, etc.

Kanato actually has a hard time styling Maya because she has a soft classic body style and slightly large breasts. This forces Kanato to make dresses of larger sizes and accommodate her bust.

And yes, Kanato knows if Maya doesn't like the outfit he makes her wear by observing her for a good minute and if she doesn't stand in front of the mirror for too long, that's when he knows

He'll just make up an excuse that her frowning face made the dress ugly so he would think he styles her really well this sore loser

And yes, Maya never wears a pencil or body-hugging skirts. Not because Kanato doesn't like her emphasizing her womanly assets, but because it will be hard for her to fight in them

In the fake human AU series, Maya's wardrobe definitely got a drastic change. Since she was hired by Shuu to work as his secretary, Maya donned office-friendly outfits to match her work position and make her look more like an adult.

Kanato even commented Maya looked like a different person in the secretary get-up

Most of them are dresses or outfits with skirts. Square pants are a big no since it only makes her look smaller, so she opted for skinny dress pants or jeans.

When it comes to shoes, most of Maya's shoes are Mary Jane's, platforms, black boots, sneakers, doll shoes, and sandals. (all of them have blades hidden underneath)

And she loves wearing socks and stockings; it's like she loves covering her legs most of the time hence why she still uses black stockings despite her maid outfit

Kanato always gives her socks with cute patterns to give her edgy outfits a soft hint

Fun fact: Maya has never worn heels (as per the fake human series fic) because Karlheinz and Gilbert Feinze thought she has no need for them. Plus you can't insert a blade in heels.

That's why most of Maya's shoes don't have heels in them. And if they do, they're still a bit flat with mininalist design, just like this:

So yeah, she had to practice walking in heels thanks to Shuu and Kanato's meddling since she was disguised in the fake human AU series as Shuu's secretary.

Maya is actually not big on accessories.

After all, she's a maid and she can end up ruining them while doing household chores, especially laundry

However, being Kanato's exclusive doll wife has made her wear them since Kanato believes that her outfit is incomplete without them.

But she's still on the minimalist side of things, like a good pair with earrings will do and a necklace or choker. Sometimes she'll add a bracelet.

And yes, she never forgets her wedding ring.

Should a situation arise where she has to remove her ring for protection (cooking, laundry, washing hands), she turns the ring into a pendant on her necklace.

Maya is also a fan of cute beaded necklaces and bracelets. Kanato even made her so many of them so she can pair them all with her outfits

Other accessories she dons are the ones for her hair. Maya is fascinated by cute hair clips and ties and she thinks putting them on her elevates her look. Of course, aside from anything with cherry designs, she likes those ones with cute animals and girly patterns.

A/N: I kind of enjoyed writing this content. Maybe I should do others like this in the future

[7official7moose7]

How I draw Bruno Madrigal: A tutorial!

Before you say it, yes, I know I draw him way too much. Maybe this’ll come in handy for someone here djhhfjgjg- (plus it’s an excuse to draw him for the millionth time today soooo)

Disclaimer: This post is NOT meant to bash ANYONE for how they draw. It’s just a tutorial on how I draw Bruno, everyone’s style is different!!

Step one: Face shape

I always make sure I have the right face shape down, or else it won’t really look like the character I’m tryna draw (in my eyes at least). Bruno’s face shape is somewhat almond/diamond shaped, just upside down. His cheekbones make little points at the sides 👀

Step two: Nose

I see a lot of people drawing Encanto characters with the wrong nose shape/size (don’t worry, I struggled with this for years lmao), so I tried to make it a bit more simple.

His nose is like an upside down kite shape, like his face except the points are a little lower/closer to the tip!

Step 3: Eyes

Bruno’s eyes are very round, and there isn’t a whole lot of space in between them; I see a lot of fan art with his eyes spaced pretty far apart, so try keeping them closer to the bridge of the nose (I also did this too at first, so don’t fret!!)

I come back to the circles under his eyes later 👁👁

Step 4: Mouth/teeth

Bruno has tooth gaps!! (Teeth gaps? Grammar no exist) the most noticeable one is right up front, but there’s also one round near the back jshsgdjhd

Step 5: Brows

Bruno’s eyebrows have that little crease at the top most of the time, unless his expression is relaxed. In case you can’t read my handwriting: they’re thicker at the beginning, curve up just a bit, and then they taper at the end.

Step 6: Hair

His hair is type 2c I believe (it might be 3a, there’s posts on here about that as well if I’m wrong!!) You can also either go on google or Pinterest to get reference pictures.

Bruno has these two distinct strands that hang into his eyes (I’ve colored them in to point them out) that I absolutely adore drawing! Fun fact: I have the exact same two strands (my hair is either 2b or 2c, I can’t quite remember hfhfhfhgh) that do the exact same thing!!

Step 7. Facial hair

Bruno’s beard (goatee?? It’s kinda both I think???) isn’t exactly a full beard, it’s basically just long stubble lmao

I have a bit of trouble with this for the sole reason that I’m just bad at facial hair hahahaa-

Step 8. Colors

The color palette in the second image is more accurate than the first! I color picked the skin tone to the best of my ability, along with the hair and other parts. For his eyes, I use the shade of purple on a multiply layer, along with the blush. His freckles are just the small light brown next to the white and green for his eyes (in the second image)

Bruno’s hair looks pretty brown right there as well, but thats only because of the highlights (I used a golden yellow, you’ll see in the next image) the colors I used for his hair are the two grays; the lighter one is used for the silver strands, and I always color the two front strands with it. For the rest, I just add random streaks into the darker shade.

With his ruana and undershirt, I kinda just eyeballed the colors (I color picked at first, but altered them just a bit afterwards)

Step 9: Shading/lighting (this is optional!)

This is the finished product! I tweaked the line art just a bit, fixed his nose since I forgot how physics work and forgot that the nose turns up with the smile oops hahaha

I changed the line color to a warm brown for a softer look, and I shaded his eyes with a darker/more saturated green on a multiply layer and then put neon yellow highlights at the bottom on an add layer. I used a dark maroon/brown on a multiply layer as well for the shading and a golden yellow-orange for the highlights on an add layer (I feel Ike I’ve typed “layer” so many times so I’mma just say this rq: I always put shading on multiply and highlights on add!!)

I also put a little shade for his lips since I forgot them too ahahaa,,,

ANYWAYS there you have it!! I’ll post some extras that could also be good examples soon (because sadly I’ve reached the image limit dammit)

Hope this helps!!

[sourholland]

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part Two

AN → You might all be wondering where I’ve been, I honestly just needed a bit of a break for my mental health! I’m sorry, I’ve missed taking to you all <3

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 2.0k

“Could one of you run off and find out if my son is planning on gracing us all with his attendance.” Nicola’s voice was assertive, dripping with irritation at the Prince’s tardiness.

A man holding a closed box with an assortment of rings stood off to the side of the drawing-room. He was stiff, awkward even, in the presence of not only the Queen, but the Princess and future Queen of England. His eyes were trained on the freshly polished floors, clutching the velvet.

Behind you stood your newly introduced ladies in waiting, there were three: Lady Eloise, Lady Charlotte, and Lady Andrea. They were very young, pretty, and had very clearly come from aristocratic backgrounds. Each of them held a title, meaning they’d soon enough marry. You’d planned on meeting them for tea, but Queen Nicola figured it would be better to bring them in before you chose an engagement ring.

“Apologies, mum,” Tom came through the double doors, his hair skewed and his shirt disheveled. He bowed, taking a spot beside his mother and averting his eyes from you.

“Thomas, wonderful of you to join us,” she drawled. “Do begin, sir,” she said, motioning towards the man.

He opened the box a bit shakily, dozens of diamonds gleaming. They ranged from color to carrots of gold, each holding a different and more interesting background. You couldn’t help but to reach out and pick up one with a deep sapphire.

“That was once worn by the late Queen Elizabeth l,” he droned on, continuing to tell you about the long history of where the ring had come from and what it signified.

“What do you think, Thomas,” Nicola asked. She was practically beaming at each ring you slid onto your finger. Like no matter which one you chose, none would be the wrong choice.

“It is not I that will have to wear the dreadful thing,” he replied shortly. “Therefore, I should not be the person deciding which one she chooses, though I wish you’d quicken the pace a bit.”

“Since you’ve made it clear that you have no intention on weighing in on the decision, I ask you kindly, Prince Tom, to please refrain from commenting,” you quipped. He took a step back irritably, pulling at the collar of his undershirt.

You reached into the box once more, pulling out a large European cut diamond ring. The several diamonds displayed at the golden band left you lifting your hand, staring at your ring finger absentmindedly. It was classic, yet had too many diamonds to be considered simple. A royal staple, much like the tiara you’d eventually choose to wear on your wedding day.

“This one,” you said. “This is the one.”

The Queen drifted towards you, biting back excitement as she assessed the ring. It was clearly too large and would need to be sized, yet still had the same effect. She held it up as you had done, clutching your hand and motioning towards your ladies to come and look.

“That’s absolutely darling,” Charlotte mused.

“It’s stunning,” Andrea agreed.

The Prince soon enough took his leave, slipping out of the room before Nicola could notice his absence. She looked disappointed when she looked over and was met with an empty space where he’d just stood.

“He’ll come around soon enough,” she said, this was less reassuring to you and seemed more comforting for herself.

-

“Do tell me about yourself, Andrea,” you murmured on, arm in arm as you both perused the large gardens.

“Well there’s not much to know, miss,” she replied swiftly.

“Please, I wish you’d call me Y/N in private company,” you laughed a bit. “I’ve never had much of a thing for titles.”

“Her Majesty would simply chastise me.”

There were blooming flowers and the grass was slowly becoming more and more green. The air was a bit brisk, the cloak draped along your shoulders thinner than you’d like. The soft breeze felt nice, though. Andrea was simple looking, pulled back brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She explained that she was one of three girls, the third daughter of an earl.

“I must admit, I do wish we’d have met under different circumstances,” you mused, plucking a lily from the shrubs.

“I’m not sure what you mean, miss,” she looked over at you a bit sideways.

“I just mean—well under the circumstance that I wasn’t being pawned off on the Prince.”

You fumbled at your skirts for a moment, pressing at the fabrics of your afternoon dress. It was ivory, beautiful, really. Though, much different from anything you’d have worn in France.

“I’m sure His Royal Highness will be as pleased as everyone else once you are both wed.”

“That’s hard to believe,” you chuckled. “He has hardly said a word to me since I arrived in London.”

She looked nervous, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Her cheeks flushed lightly, the glint in her eyes a bit brighter. Andrea just looked over to you and gave a soft smile, as if to say everything would be alright.

“Do you think that Prince Thomas is handsome?” You asked, curious of her opinion. You watched her cheeks redden, an awkward laugh escaping her lips.

“That is not for me to judge, miss,” she answered almost immediately.

“No—but, I just want your opinion, do you think he is handsome?” You asked once again.

She hesitated for a moment, “yes, I think the Prince is certainly very handsome.”

You thought for a moment, of his brown hair that had been swept back and so carelessly skewed about earlier in the morning. The way his freckles scattered lightly across his nose like a constellation, you’d only known this from when he’d pulled you in so closely the night before. He wore his signet ring proudly, this amongst what looked like another ring with a crest on it.

“Yes, I suppose he is quite handsome. Though, if I’ve learned anything, it is that looks count for almost nothing when you’re forced to spend everyday with a person.”

-

The quiet clattering of silverware sounded throughout the large room, beside you sat Prince Tom. Down the table were the two older princes, assuming the youngest, Prince Patrick, was still too young. At the head of the table was King Dominic, at his right was Queen Nicola. Occupying the rest of the table was an assortment of dukes and duchesses, earls and ladies.

It had been too late to join everyone for dinner the night before, so tonight was the first time you’d been in everyone’s company. The room was large, grand even, gold trim and deep royal red walls filled with paintings dating back centuries. Candles burned while you ate, attempting to steal a glance at the Prince while he spoke with his brother Harry.

It had taken you weeks studying the British monarchy to completely grasp their political and traditional protocol. You had to learn who to curtsy to and who not to, and then in what order, how to determine the sovereign and whether or not to address someone with a title or not to.

“Tell us, Y/N, how are you finding England?” The Queen chimed, staring at you from her seat across the table.

“Well, ma’am—I haven’t seen much of it, I do hope to see more. It is far different from France, though.”

A quiet murmur spread across the table, “I’ve always found the French quite curious,” a duchess, whom you could not recall the name of, said lowly.

“Curiously dreadful,” Tom laughed to himself in a whisper you were sure only you could hear.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards him, the sound of your cutlery against the plate louder than you’d liked. “I thought you said something, sir.”

The King looked up at you, the scornful way in which you looked at Tom, seething at his teasing words. You felt the heat in your face spread when you noticed an almost surprised look from a majority of the long and stretching table.

The rest of dinner you kept quiet, avoiding the looks from the prince at your side. He seemed quite bothered, you put your head down and braced yourself once the King stood. Once the King finished his meal, everyone else was finished as well. He stood soundly, the paleness of his skin off-putting, the deep purple crescents underneath his eyes prominent in the candlelight.

You stood with everyone else, retiring to your chambers in a fleeting moment once it was appropriate to get away. The long, narrow halls were ages older than you, the artwork clearly showing that. You recognized past monarchs, the kings and queens of the years earlier. The twists and turns reminded you of a labyrinth, easy to get lost in.

Once you reached the double doors to your chambers, you pulled at them quickly, shutting them behind you soundly and sinking against the wall. The room was still filled with burning candles, the servant at your vanity looking at you curiously.

She curtsied quickly, motioning you off of the floor in a maternal way. You said nothing, letting her help you slip out of the evening gown and undo the tight lacing of your corset. You breathed deeply as she slipped the white nightgown over your head and took down the silver pins from your hair.

“Are you alright, miss?” She asked, the look on her face a bit concerned.

“Yes, just tired,” you excused. “I can put myself to sleep, thank you.”

“Are you sure, miss? I really do not mind,” she trailed off as you waved her away laughing stiffly.

“I am sure, thank you, Anne.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, brushing through your hair as you sat. Anne had long left, the doors shut tightly and the guards posted at them for the night, however, you turned quickly at the sound of them creeping open.

“How thick in the head must you be?”

Prince Thomas.

“You should not be in here,” you warned. “It’s bad enough to be caught alone in the daytime without a chaperone, but at night—in my bedroom!” Your tone was sharp, your arms wrapping around yourself. His eyes scanned your bare ankles, the curve of your legs underneath the thin material.

“You need not be concerned about your virtue, not after what you decided to pull at dinner tonight, before mother and father! I mean seriously, it’s like you enjoy humiliating yourself in front of the whole family!”

His cheeks were flushed in anger, his eyes fixed on you. You hair was undone, your eyes stuck on him. The silence was deafening, the space between the both of you closing when you stood up and marched over to him.

“I have been here a day. A day! And you cannot allow me the luxury of my own chambers, parading in here like you were not the one who provoked me!” You rammed a finger into his chest, gaze not faltering as you looked up at him.

“I told mother, I told father. You are nothing but a child, a little girl with no clue what she’s getting herself into,” you flinched at his voice.

“I will be your wife—”

“You will be the Queen of England!” He shouted, “the way you acted tonight was not that of a queen, but an eighteen year old girl in way over her head.”

He grabbed the hand that had jabbed into his chest, skewing it to the side. “Do not forget yourself, Y/N. I can promise you this, if you cannot at least act like you have any idea what you’re doing, this engagement is off. I will not tarnish the name of my country, nor title or reputation for a French princess that I had no desire to wed in the first place.”

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r @jeyramarie @the-avengers-assembling @veryholland

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: I think The next post will be the last one for this series!

“Did you...have fun tonight?” The way Dick haltingly asks causes laughter to bubble out of your mouth

“I can say that was nothing like any family dinner I’ve ever seen-“

And if that isn’t the truth, for one - even though you’ve heard of all of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, you didn’t think there would be so many.

Dick’s the oldest, well officially anyway. Barbara Gordon, as in Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, was at dinner too. Apparently she and Dick had a brief stint where they dated. You’re guessing it was before Dick realized he likes boys - or maybe he likes both? You’ve never expressly asked him about using sexuality.

He’s got three little brothers, the youngest and the second oldest seem to have the highest predisposition towards violence, mostly to each other. And then the second youngest, Tim, he seems to be barely held together, mostly through caffeine and anxiety.

Cassandra from class was there too, as well as Stephanie, which was nice to see. They ducked out halfway through, which should have been your queue to duck out too.

Unfortunately you didn’t, which resulted in a rather poorly placed tomato soup stain at the edge of your dress’s hem.

“I like your brothers though” you say with a smile. You did like his brothers. The youngest, Damian, stared at you for seven very long minutes, before saying-

“How do you feel about animals?” When you told him you loved them he seemed pleased. Also, as a college student, you vibe with Tim. Though you do think someone should cut him off and have him switch to herbal tea. Jason seems cool enough, he just looked at you for a second before giving Dick a wolffish grin.

“Alfred was nice too, and it was fun seeing your- uh...Bruce again” You almost called Bruce his Dad. Bruce is nice, but he’s still a bigot. It was nice meeting Alfred, who showed you many pictures of a nine year old Dick Grayson, most of which were him doing acrobatics around the house. Honestly you thought it was adorable, but you put an end to it since Dick was blushing so fiercely that you thought he might combust.

It really was a lot of fun.

You shiver, the cold night air brushing against your bare arms. You’re standing in front of your building, saying your final goodbyes until you scamper off to your apartment, getting ready for another week of classes.

“Here, take my jacket-“ He’s already tugging it off. Before you can protest, it’s settled over your shoulders. The effect is almost instant, tendrils of warmth seeping into your shoulders and upper body.

It smells like him, you think.

Like- like his expensive cologne, with notes of amber and moss- but also like soap, like clean laundry, and something else, something sweet.

“Cotton Candy” You murmur to yourself. He probably eats it by the gallon sized bag , you think with a giggle.

“T-thank you-“ your eyes trail from the sleeve of his suit jacket to Dick, who’s got a pink tint fanning across his face, blue eyes flicking from the ground to your eyes.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, and being so kind and considerate and lovely” and then Dick does something completely unexpected, he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart leaps in your chest, his sickly sweet Cotten candy scent floods your senses.

You would just have to tilt you head up slightly to catch his lips in yours. He smells so sweet, it almost makes you dizzy. It’s like being drunk, you think.

You want to smell him more.

“Thank you for being so accepting.” His words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head. You feel like you’ve sobered right up.

“Of course, we’re friends aren’t we?” You offer Dick a smile, but you know it’s probably strained. You were so caught up in the moment, you forget he’s already in love with someone.

All of his feelings, all of his kisses, they’re reserved for Nightwing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow” You call out, before walking into your building, feeling Dick’s lingering

So you like Dick.

F*ck.

You’re on the balcony of your apartment, nursing a glass of hot tea in the late night- or would it be early hours of the morning? You can make out the sky beginning to lighten into a lighter blue. Great so you stayed up all night thinking about your feelings.

Your body is going to love you for this.

How did this even happen? Were you just so focused on not getting a crush on either of his sisters that you didn’t see this coming. Ugh why dick of all people? Yeah, sure he’s got those sparkly eyes, and that permanent rosy blush, not to mention that lopsided grin-

Okay so you know why you’re falling in love with him. But there’s no point in nursing these blooming feelings not when-

“Hey do you have any sugar?” The masked crusader asks from beside you. That dazzling smile that makes people everywhere swoon aimed at you.

No point in nursing feelings for Dick, when the object of his affections is standing next to you, drinking earl grey out of your pink “Namaste in bed” mug.

“Or not- no big deal, I love my hot leaf juice with or without sugar.” He adds hastily, taking a loud sip as if to show you how much he’s enjoying your hospitality. You must have let your annoyance get to your face. You sigh, it’s not his fault that Dick loves him.

You’re the outsider here.

“So what are you doing out so late?” You ask, just wanting to make some small talk. But Nightwing lights up like you just offered him a million dollars. He’s so friendly it’s almost annoying, not unlike another certain dark haired golden boy you know.

“I’m always up, fighting crime, patrolling the streets-“ you never realized but being a vigilante is kind of a lot of work huh? You wonder if Nightwing has a day job, he looks so young though- maybe he’s still in school.

“The real questions is why are you still up?” His question is punctuated with a slurp of his tea.

“Just thinking I guess” you shrug, taking a sip of your own tea. You’re not about to tell Nightwing you realized you have feelings for his boyfriend.

“Thinking about the person you love?” It feels like you were just struck by an arrow. Nightwing’s mouth stretches. “No way, I was right?” You can almost picture the sparkle in his eyes behind his domino mask. You wonder what color eyes Nightwing has.

Probably a boring brown.

“Well who’s the lucky individual?” Noting your hesitance, Dick starts to get a little nervous. It hurts a little to think you don’t return his feelings. But there’s something about the shy look on your face, the way your eyes avert to your cup of tea, that’s just hopelessly adorable. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him that way.

And then, a terrifying thought occurs to Dick.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” He’s got absolutely no chance if you’re into older men. No unless you’re willing to wait ten years or so.

Then the most amazing thing happens- your mouth opens and laughter spills out. He’s heard you laugh, but never like this. So loud, and almost desperate.

And then, you do something else he’s never seen before. Somewhere along the way those loud laughs transformed into equally loud sobs. Your mouth pinched tight as tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

A hand curls over your eyes in an attempt to cover your face. This is mortifying, you’re basically crying in front of your romantic rival, completely vulnerable.

You’re about to mutter out an excuse, how you’re not usually like this, that you must be close to your period or something. When you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulder, your face pressed against Nightwing’s chest.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” he murmurs reassuringly, his glove covered hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. And even though you were on the edge of recompsure, you’re thrust back into despair. Your sobs leaving you almost breathless as Nightwing continues to hold you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help” Dick whispers. Whatever it is, it must be serious. He’s never seen you cry, not when you were a hostage in that bank robbery, or held at gun point at that restaurant, not even when Damian was basically integrating you all night.

“I love someone, who’s never going to love me back” you manage between sobs, and Nightwing only shushes you. His hand traveling to your hair. Cradling your head against his chest.

He smells so good, like amber and moss, and something sickeningly sweet- like cotton candy.

He smells like Dick.

And that seems to soothe you a bit, along with Nightwing’s gentle warmth.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, I promise”

“Man, and I thought things were going really well between you guys” Stephanie says, her hand threading through her golden curls, head tilting back so it rests against the back of his couch.

“Yeah, me too” Dick admits with a sigh, he’s sitting with his knees propped up on the floor, his back against the wall.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, her eyes are trained on the coffee table, their masks collectively strewn across it.

“So what are you going to do?” Stephanie asks, and Dick sighs again.

“What can I do honestly, they love someone else” he shrugs, he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. But the thought of your with someone else... it makes his stomach hurt.

“Just because she loves someone else right now...doesn’t mean she will forever” Those are the first words Cass has uttered all night, and Dick and Stephanie are both looking at her with wide eyes.

Stephanie’s already hyping him up, saying there’s no way their Dick’s going to lose to some no-face-extra, like your love is some sort of competition to be won.

And Cassandra’s only encouraging her, with energetic nods and the occasional ‘exactly’

But all Dick can think about is the way you felt in his arms, and how small you seemed as sobs wracked through your entire body. How deep your sadness felt, like he might be sucked in any moment too, tears falling from beneath his domino mask.

He hates whoever it is that made you feel that way. If it was him- if you loved him instead, he’d make sure you were never sad, he’d give you everything he was and everything he had if it meant you might smile for him.

He doesn’t want to change your mind, your feelings don’t work like that. All he knows is that he loves you- and what you need right now, is a friend. Someone who-

“Just wants to see them happy” Dick mumbles.

Taglist: @adenspolaroids @libraryoffandomsuniverse @jeneeangella @chyume @masked-mushroom

[blackbat05]

Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader 

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days? 

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic. 

***

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in. 

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down. 

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress. 

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’ 

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter- 

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’ 

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand. 

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭  pào fàn (poached rice).’ 

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’ 

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’ 

‘I was born ready.’ 

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers. 

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’ 

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly. 

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos. 

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind. 

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’ 

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise. 

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle. 

‘Again! Again!’ 

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’  As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’ 

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’ 

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes. 

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’ 

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl. 

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’ 

‘Are you her boyfriend?’ 

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’ 

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’ 

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth. 

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him. 

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. 

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day. 

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far! 

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show! 

[starryeyedweeb]

Valentine’s Day with BNHA

A/N: I know it’s late for Valentine’s Day, but this is about the fifth time I’ve tried posting this because every other time it never got a single note even though all of my other stuff does pretty well??? So not to be that person, but if you see this I’m begging you to give it some love because it’s one of my favorites!

*DISCLAIMER*: As I’m over eighteen, I write all underaged characters aged up to be eighteen or older.

Contains: As always, sickly-sweet fluff; gender-neutral

Characters Included: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi/Todoroki Touya, Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day with...

Bakugou Katsuki

As expected, Bakugou thinks that Valentine’s Day is kind of ridiculous and isn’t too keen on celebrating

When his friends ask him what he’s planned for the holiday, it results in a bit of a rant

“Valentine’s is a shitty holiday for shitty partners to try and make up for being shitty. I take them on dates and spoil them all the time, so why should I make a big deal about a random day in February?”

But because he wasn’t a shitty partner, he knows he has to do something for you

“Oi, do you want to go hiking?” he asks shortly on Valentine’s morning, already dressed for the occasion. “We can go to that spot you’ve wanted see for a while.”

You agree- eagerly.

You honestly weren’t the biggest fan of hiking until you started dating Bakugou, who’s obsessed with it

It’s like meditation to him- one of the best ways for him to find a calm and clear mindset- and the two of you always have your best conversations when you’re out on a hike

Plus he looks amazing in his hiking clothes

The trail in question is further outside the city than most, and when you arrive, it’s pleasantly deserted

With backpacks swung over your shoulders, the two of you start down the rough path, which cuts through a thick forest

When you first started hiking, you could barely keep up with Bakugou, but you had gotten much better at it over time and are now able to comfortably keep pace with him, even holding his hand part of the time

The trail is mainly uphill, though, and periodically he will all but force a water bottle into your hands

“Get a drink. I don’t want you getting all dehydrated on me.”

When you reach the peak of the trail, which is a flat clearing overlooking the city below, Bakugou indicates for you to sit down and pulls out two bento boxes that he had packed prior to the event

Though there’s nothing heart-shaped nor unnaturally red or pink inside, the box is sweetly filled with all of your favorite bento foods

And of course, they all taste amazing

“Katsuki, this is so good!”

“I know.”

“Come on.” You playfully push his arm, feeling his muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Seriously, though, thank you. Life has been so crazy lately, and this little break was perfect.”

“So you’re not upset we didn’t do anything more, I don’t know...” he trails off, furrowing his brow and running a hand through his hair, “...on theme?”

“Of course not. Stuff like that is for shitty partners who use a holiday as an excuse to make up for being shitty. They’ll go right back to their behavior the moment the day is over.” You interlace your fingers in his and hold his arm with your free hand. “This was perfect.”

Bakugou can’t resist a smirk and short chuckle at your sentiment, realizing exactly why he’s with you

“Hey, what’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Kiss.”

You reach up and press your lips to his, and his arms wrap around your body, holding you close

When you pull away, you cast a glance out at the tranquil cityscape below and reluctantly check the time.

“Do you think we should head back down?” you ask.

“No. I want to stay here a little while longer.”

Todoroki Shoto

As one of the top heroes, Todoroki Shoto is a hard man to get alone, but you have high hopes for Valentine’s Day.

On the morning of February 14, the two of you check into the luxury hotel he had booked for a romantic staycation, awaiting an entire day of activities planned around the resort: lunch and dinner reservations, a couple’s massage, seeing the hotel’s nightly show...

Only for it to all be completely foiled before it even starts when Shoto gets an urgent call about a villain incident gone badly wrong, with as many heroes as possible desperately needed to help.

“Go ahead and do everything we had planned,” he urges as he’s leaving, rushing through a parting kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

But you know that it’s not going to be as simple as “I’ll be right back.”

The moment the door shuts behind him, you can’t help but turn on the TV and flip to the news, trying to find out just what Shoto had gotten himself into

The danger of the situation makes you sick with anxiety, and you have to turn it off almost immediately for the sake of your own sanity

Trying to follow his wishes, you go through the motions of the day you had planned, but instead of reaping the intended benefits of rest and relaxation, your brain is completely clouded with worry for Shoto’s safety

Which is only amplified when the hotel lobby has the news on with a crowd of people clumped together before it to see what’s going on, and the receptionist approaches you to ask if you’re alright

Dark falls with no sign of Shoto, but your heart leaps when you get the news notification that the battle is over

You turn the news back on for live coverage of the heroes that participated being interviewed about the events, but your stomach knots once again when you see no sign of Shoto

They haven’t mentioned any casualties, you wonder, but have they missed him or something?

When a knock echoes throughout the room, a cold feeling of dread washes over your body

You freeze and merely stare at the door, sure you’re about to receive the news that’s the worst nightmare of any partner of a hero

Until the door opens, and reveals Shoto holding a bouquet the size of his torso, looking a bit battered but otherwise alright

You launch yourself across the room, and he drops the flowers to engulf you in his arms

“God, Shoto,” you sob. “No matter how long I’ve been with you, waiting and worrying never gets any easier.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs back, stroking your hair. “But I’m here now. I’m fine. I ran here the moment I could get away.”

When you finally allow him to pull away, he hands you the flowers, and you call room service for a vase and a first-aid kit

You sit Shoto on the bed and tend to his minor wounds, then order some of your favorite comfort foods for a very late dinner

Shoto is never one to discuss his missions right after the fact, so instead you just talk about nonsense things, like the most recent episode of your favorite show to watch together, and where the two of you wanted to go on your next vacation

Afterward, the two of you lay in the dark, so tangled together that it’s nearly impossible to tell who’s whom

Neither of you are tired at all, realizing fully that the privilege of getting to hold each other like you are was almost taken away that day

You feel your eyes start to well up at just how much you love the man next to you, realizing how much you need him

Shoto seems to sense that you’re going to a dark place, so he traces his fingers lightly against your cheek and breaks the silence.

“I forgot to tell you. I extended our stay here so we can still celebrate like we were planning to. I’m sorry I had to go today.”

“Shoto, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cup his cheek back, a few tears spilling out of your eyes as they meet his. “I’m just so glad you’re safe and that you’re here with me.”

Yaoyorozu Momo

Recently, an adorable little paint-your-own-pottery studio had opened on yours and Momo’s route home

You two had always meant to go for a fun date, but never really had the time, so when a Valentine’s event is announced, you both leap at the opportunity and reserve your spots right away

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you and Momo show up half an hour early for the event, wearing coordinating shades of red and pink

Laughing at your accidental matching, the two of you kill the time until the event begins by taking a million photos together

When the doors to the shop open and you’re finally allowed in, Momo’s eyes nearly pop out of her head in excitement, and you just know it’s going to become a regular date spot for the two of you

The shop is decorated like a romantic tea shop straight out of a cheesy movie, with lace doilies marking work stations, faux roses as centerpieces, and red, white, and pink balloons covering the ceiling

The special event involves painting spindly teacups with handles shaped like hearts, the workstations supplied with punch and sweets, all colored and shaped for the holiday

“Look at these!” She exclaims, picking up the ceramic cup at her workstation. “What should we paint on them?”

“Why don’t we do a matching design?” you suggest. “That way we can remember this even better.”

“Yes, let’s do that!” she agrees. “What design should we do, then?”

You two decide to keep it simple: paint the mugs solid baby pink, stamp tiny red hearts all around, and then Momo would use her elegant handwriting and paint both of your initials in calligraphy on one of the faces.

You ready your stations and sit shoulder-to-shoulder as you work, chatting and giggling the entire time, occasionally nudging each other playfully with your legs

“Could you hold the cup at this angle for me while I do the calligraphy?” she requests, which gives you an excuse to sit even closer to her, the scent of her rosy perfume engulfing you

“I wish I had handwriting like that,” you whine, watching her paint the graceful swirls of your initials, followed by the date below.

“I can teach you,” she offers, coming to stand behind you. “Here.”

She puts her hand over yours, and guides it along in the shape of the letters, her free arm looping around the front of your shoulders in a casual hug

“See? You’ve done it!”

“It still doesn’t look nearly as good as yours.”

“Well, my heart stamps don’t look nearly as good as yours. I don’t think I applied enough pressure.” She returns to her own seat, stares at you for a few moments, then giggles. “Speaking of, you’ve got paint on your face. Come here.”

You lean forward so she can wipe off the paint with a gentle touch, and she places a kiss on the now-clean spot.

“There. All better.”

When the two of you finish painting the mugs, you turn them into the counter so they can be finished in the kiln, then sit by the window of the shop to enjoy your sweets while you wait

“I’m very excited about these cups,” Momo says, reaching out for your hand. “They’ll be a lovely little keepsake.”

“Me, too,” you agree, resting your head on her shoulder. “It’ll be nice to have tea in them every evening.”

“Exactly. And if there’s ever a time when we have to be separated, whether it be for hero work or some other reason, we can bring our cups with us to remember that the other is always there, waiting to come have tea together.”

Shigaraki Tomura:

Despite his villainous ideals, in romance, Shiggy is actually quite sweet, if not a little clumsy

When you first became close to him, his unhealthy lifestyle and lack of self-care worried you, so you made a habit of cooking for Shigaraki, and leaving a week’s worth of nutritious meals in the League’s fridge for him

He had never revealed this to you, but he appreciated it so much, and wanted to return the favor

When Toga mentioned something about Valentine’s Day, he knew that it was his perfect opportunity, and made his plans by ordering everyone of the League to get out and stay out for the night

He then did some research about something good to make you, wracking his brain to try and remember what you’ve mentioned liking, until he remembers a very important fact:

He can’t cook.

At all.

Has never even once tried.

Which poses an obvious problem.

He panicked for a few moments, until he landed on a new, and possibly better, idea

When you arrive for the date, dressed comfortably (because, as much as you love Shigaraki, you know that there’s no way you’ll be going out for Valentine’s Day), you’re a little bit surprised to find him standing in the kitchen

“Shiggy?” You approach the counter warily. “What are we doing tonight?”

“I can’t cook. I want to know how.”

“You want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Yes. I want to know how to make your favorite meal.”

“Okay. That’s simple enough.” You make to join him in the kitchen, but he blocks your path.

“No. I want to make this for you. Just sit down and...tell me what to do.”

That proves to be quite a bit more difficult, as you never truly understood just how hard it would be to explain cooking to someone that has never used more than a microwave before

The music you had put on in the background was quickly drowned out by his frustrated swears, and you can tell that there are times when he almost loses his temper, but holds it together for the sake of your Valentine’s gift

A couple of utensils do fall victim to his decay, though, and he subtly tries to sweep the remains away in embarrassment.

At one point, his poor knife technique leaves a decently sized cut on his finger, and you jump into action, running for a First-Aid kit

“I’m not a child,” he mutters as you clean the small wound, avoiding your eyes.

“I know,” you reply lightly, pressing a playful kiss to the bandage you had just secured.

As Shigaraki comes close to finishing the meal, you raid Kurogiri’s stores for your favorite bottle of wine, pouring two glasses and setting them out on the table.

“Does this look right?” Shigaraki asks once the final timer goes off, warily holding out his creation.

“You tell me,” you answer. “I’ve made this for you before. It looks the same to me.”

When the two of you sit down and portion out the meal, Shigarki neglects his own plate as he watches you take your first bite

You fight to keep your face neutral, because honestly, it’s god awful, even though you had been right there the whole time, telling him exactly what to do

But you really didn’t expect anything more from a first time-cook, and even though the flavor is completely wrong, you still enjoy it, because you can practically taste how much this prickly mass-murderer actually cares for you

And as twisted as your situation is, you wouldn’t change it for the world

“Is it good?” Shigaraki mumbles from across the table, pulling you from your thoughts.

You take a sip of your wine. “Thank you so much, Tomura. This was such a thoughtful gift. I really appreciate it.”

“I knew it. It’s shit.” He pushes his own plate away in frustration. “I just wanted to pay back a favor and I can’t even do that right.”

“Shig, what did I just say? I appreciate this so much.” You round the table to his seat, rubbing his shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Of course your first attempt doesn’t work. But that gives us something new to do together. For tonight, we’ll order some takeout, but starting tomorrow, I’ll give you another cooking lesson, and then another, and another, and another... as many as it takes until you can make a whole meal for me by yourself. Deal?”

He meets your gaze with a puppy-dog expression, placing his palms over where your hands rested on his chest.

“Deal.”

Dabi/Todoroki Touya:

Let’s just say that Dabi isn’t one to ignore traditions.

He’s one to very openly and dramatically oppose them.

You were anxious if not a little worried to see what he was going to have planned for Valentine’s Day- but, honestly, as his partner, you’re equally as unconventional in your own ideals

And he doesn’t disappoint, coming home with tickets to a ghost tour at the most haunted spot in town.

“Do they even do these on Valentine’s Day?”

“Obviously. That’s when I got the tickets for.” He shrugs. “Apparently it’s a thing that people do.”

“Hopefully not very many people. You know how we hate crowds.”

“And hopefully it’s not overtly themed for this asinine holiday.” He takes your waist and whispers the next words in your ear. “The idea of a dark room and an invisible audience is romantic enough.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I just made you more excited, didn’t I?”

“You’ll have to wait until the day to find out.”

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you dress for the occasion and meet Dabi at a glamorous hotel in an older part of town

Before the tour begins, the guide allows the guests to go to the bar for some drinks, and begin to tell the story of the hotel and the paranormal activity that had sparked the attraction

Dabi seems uninterested, taking in the architecture of the historic buidling and peering down random hallways

“I’m getting bored of this,” he mutters in your ear. “I’m ready to see something interesting.”

“Shh, Dabi, I’m trying to listen,” you whisper back.

He responds by pinching your ass. “So, are you in a naughty mood tonight? Noted.”

“Stop it,” you mutter, lightly pushing him away, but your flushed skin is a dead giveaway to how you truly feel about the situation.

When the tour actually starts, you and Dabi round out the end of the group as it descends into a long, dark hallway.

Eventually, you feel Dabi’s hand leave its spot around your waist, but you’re so distracted listening the tour guide tell stories at the front to even notice.

Until cold hands grab you from you behind and give you a violent shake, growling animalistically in your ear

You let out a terrified scream, but the laugh that comes after is all-too-familiar

“Dammit, Dabi!” you gasp, doubling over to your breath and quiet your heartbeat.

“Aha.” His hands trail down your sides and squeeze your waist. “Gotcha.”

You eventually reach the main event of the tour, which is an old storeroom that had been unused for years due to the intense paranormal activity

Dabi actually stood still next to you with his arm slung around your shoulders, interested for the first time that night as the guide used the ghost box and actually got answers from the spirits that occupied the room.

Though there are a few times when you have to stop him from pulling some prank to scare the other people taking the tour, trying to convince them that they’re actually in immediate danger of possession

When the event is over, however, and the guide is ushering people back down the hallway, Dabi pulls you into a closet, igniting a small flame on his palm and pressing a finger to his lips

When the noise of the crowd filing out is gone, he presses forward forcefully and starts to bury you in deep, passionate kisses

“Wait, wait.” You pull back once you realize what his idea is. “Isn’t this a little...scary?”

“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”

Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day happened to fall around one of Aizawa’s busiest times at UA, and he was so tied up and tired that you had barely seen one another lately.

So, when he remembers what’s coming up and drowsily asks you what you want to do for Valentine’s Day, you surprise him.

“I’ve already made plans for us,” you reveal, handing him a printed itinerary. “I booked us a spot at a day spa. Those are all the treatments we’ll be doing.”

“Why’d you choose this? I’m curious.”

“You need some time to relax, and I want to spend time with you when your mind is on something other than which one of your students is going to get broken next.”

“Fair enough.”

On the morning of, the two of you check into the spa, and are instructed to go change into the fluffy bathrobes they provided

“Do I really have to put this on?” he complains, holding it as one might hold a dirty diaper.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, already changed into yours.

“I don’t know how I feel about my chest being out on display like this.”

“Well, I’ll like it.” You snake your hand up his shirt and rake your nails down his skin. “C’mon. We’re going to be late for our couple’s massage.”

Once Aizawa has reluctantly changed, the two of you start off your day with massages and facials

You had arranged for him to get a special eye treatment, and the small sounds of relief from his table reveals that your gift is very much appreciated.

“Are you relaxed?” you inquire as you move on from the massage room to your next destination.

“More relaxed I’ve been since I stepped through the doors of UA for the first time.”

“Well, are you relaxed enough to get a hair treatment?”

“Honestly? Bring it on.”

When Aizawa is laying back in a chair, a towel wrapped around his head and a styling cape draped over his robe, you can’t help but snap photos of the slightly comical scene

“Are you taking pictures?” he grumbles.

“Do you mind that I am?”

“Just as long as my students never see it.”

“Noted,” you reply, adding the photo to an album of embarrassing pictures you planned to show them at the end of the term.

After finishing the hair treatment- Aizawa’s hair looking better than you could ever dream yours would- and moving on to a high-tech infrared light treatment, you finished out the day with a soak in the spa’s top-rate onsen, reserved for just the two of you

You sit in comfortable silence in the hot water, bodies pressed close to each other

Shota’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and you loosely held the hand that fell across your body

When you lay your ear on his chest, you notice that his heartbeat is the calmest you’ve ever heard it

“So, did the spa serve its purpose?” you ask, tilting your head up to gaze at him.

“It did. Though I think it was less the spa’s doing, and more the fact that I spent an entire day with you.”

You hum happily, reaching up and tapping his chin. “Nice and well rested now, are you? You sure look pretty.”

He chuckles lightly, running a hand through your hair. “So do you.”

“Well, there’s still about an hour left until our dinner reservation,” you observe, noticing the clock on the wall. “Is there anything you want to do to kill the time before then?”

“We’re both sitting in hot water, naked,” he replies matter-of-factly. “The answer should be obvious.”

[jadelynlace]

Ivar & Children Part II / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡ (both of them, even better!)

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. Ivar with kids. That’s it. That’s the whole warning. also, another prompt request from @quantumlocked310 “tugging on someone’s shirt”

requested prompt one: Ivar with kids ( read another edition here )

requested prompt two: “tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt.”

synopsis: it can never just be a quick trip to the store, can it?

✎

There’s a tug at the bottom of Ivar’s shirt, sending the fabric to stretch lightly and his first response was a word of mean natured curses but when his eyes fall on the unfamiliar child, they dissipate. 

“I can’t find my mommy,” The little boy says up to Ivar and he’s suddenly very confused as to why this random child pulled his shirt, out of all of the other patrons in the grocery store. “You have Capitan America’s shield on your shirt,” The child says and wipes his eyes again. Ivar bends down gently, leveling himself with the boy and smiles.

“Do you remember where you saw her last?” Ivar asks him and the little boy shakes his head.

“I was looking at the red spaw-get-ey,” He mumbles and Ivar’s brow furrows. “Where the big cow is,” He says and points to the wooden sculpture on the wall over the butcher’s counter.

“By the ground meats?” Ivar asks and the little boy nods quickly, sucking snot up through his nose. “Do you know what she’s wearing?”

“She has jeans on like you do.” He mutters.

“What’s your name?” Ivar asks.

“Jayden—what’s your name, Mister?”

“My name is Ivar, how about we go back to the butcher’s counter and see if she’s there?” Ivar asks and the little boy nods, taking Ivar’s hand without fail, without a second thought and Ivar leaves his spot, the few cans of Red Bull on the shelf as they walk. “What color is your mommy’s hair?” 

“It’s light, like mine,” Jayden answers. “You have drawings on your skin,” He then peeps. “My daddy has drawings on his skin too. What if we can’t find my mommy?” He whimpers suddenly and Ivar is still so shocked at how quickly young minds can float from one emotion to the next, one extreme to another and all of the times he’s seen Floki’s eldest have the same conniption, it still amazes him. 

“We’re going to find her Jayden, alright? I’ll stay with you until we do,” Ivar says, ruffling the blond waves on the kids head. 

You round the corner to the aisle and Ivar isn’t there anymore, and you’re about to pinch the bridge of your nose. One job, you gave him one simple task and he’s still missing from the spot and now you’re on the hunt for him through the entire store. You have a speech, a lashing prepared on your tongue if you so dare to find him wandering through the baby clothes again with the excuse for Floki’s youngest—when you know damn well he’s in the wrong size section. And Floki’s youngest son doesn’t wear dresses. And he knows damn well that excuse doesn’t work. Ivar has imaged the two of you having children together—having a daughter let alone, breaking the Ragnarsson curse (that everyone so lovingly calls it), of boy after boy after boy. Ivar was one of five. He has five nephews. Torvi’s pregnant with her and Ubbe’s third child and they don’t even bother to throw gender reveals anymore, because it’ll be a boy. And Ivar is god damn convinced when he has a child he’s going to pray, to beg every God about having a little girl. Because with him for her father, and you for her mother, and in the company of five—six boy cousins, no fucker will dare to touch a hair on her head. He’s still going to teach her how to throw a punch though.

You catch him in your sight at the butcher’s section, little boy latched onto his hand for dear life and you’re as confused as all hell. A blonde woman comes up to him quickly and the young boy dances happily as he jumps into his mother’s arms. You watch Ivar tell the woman about how her son found him, and said he couldn’t find his mom anymore.

“He has a Capitan America shirt on, Mommy. And drawing on his skin like Daddy does!”  The little boy said and Ivar only smiles as the woman thanks him time after time.

“He’s never in the same place, I turn my back for one second and he’s gone,” She sighs.

“Sounds like you, Ivar,” You say as you come up next to him.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” She says again.

“My pleasure,” Ivar smiles and they start back off. “What?” Ivar asks as he looks down at you.

“Nothing…” You sing and there’s a cocky grin on your face. “Thought maybe you tried to kidnap a child,”

“Oh—oh my fucking God,” Ivar groans, rolling his eyes and walking around you.

“Where are you going?” You call.

“To get my God Damn Red Bull,” Ivar calls back.

“Can we look at baby clothes after?” You ask as that man nearly trips over his own two feet per your request.

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