#the green twins with ur eyes

[godddamnbranman]

“doing drugs was just a war w/ boredom but it’s sure to get me, Lord forgive me”

[ferrarrigirl]

i beg for some lando x reader where he is a girl dad!!!!!!! love ur work 🫶

Full House

Pairing: dad!Lando x mom!reader

Summary: Lando and reader with their 4 daughters, there’s always drama in the Norris household. Slight angst, mostly fluff.

A/N: Im so sorry this took forever to write but I hope you like it xx

You had just retired to your room after finally finishing up the last of your emails for today. Trying to sneak in a quick nap before the rest of the family gets home. Maybe you should’ve checked the time because just as you got comfortable, the front door unlocks downstairs, followed by Layla’s loud voice, “You just always have to take everything I want. Couldn’t this be the one thing you left for me?”

You immediately jumped out of bed heading for the stairs. As your racing down the steps, you hear the younger of the twins, Ava, retaliate, “I didn’t mean to Lay, it’s not my fault.”

Both girls turn to face you seeing you’ve reached the bottom step. “What is going on girls?” You question, deeply concerned with the anger laced in both their voices.

Layla’s first to reply, “Ask her Mom, ask her why she had to go after the one guy I liked.”

“I didn’t go after him, I don’t chase anyone” Ava seethes through gritted teeth.

“Oh cut the shit, you love having every guy’s attention. You should’ve left Jake alone!”

“Layla, stop,” you scold, noticing Ava’s patience is growing thin. That never ended well. Similar to her dad, it took a lot for her to get angry, but if she did, it wasn’t pretty.

“No Mom let her say what she has to. She’s just mad no one wants her.”

“Ava! That is not how you speak to your sister,” you move to step between them. “Let’s take a break and talk about this when you’ve both calmed down,” you offer.

“Fine by me, I never want to speak to her again,” Layla glares at Ava, turns on her heel and heads up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door, hard. You move to step towards Ava, in attempts to comfort her but she slips under your arm. “Please don’t defend her mom,” Ava sighs and heads up to her room as well. It’ll be best to try and get through to them later you think, especially with Lan. They always seem to more receptive hearing it from him. You turn to your younger babies, the less of the trouble makers. “How was both of yours days? Better I hope?”

“Oh yea mum the best, but I wanna catch up on some reading before dinner, is that okay?” 11 year old Amelia pleads, looking up at you through her beautiful green eyes. How could you deny that. “Of course you can bub” you say, pulling your bookworm baby into a hug. “I’ll come get you when dinners ready,” she smiles, padding up the stairs to her room aswell.

“Now you, my sweets, come here.” You crouch down to your 7 year old, knowing she gets very anxious whenever her older sisters argue. As expected, immediately she’s in your arms, almost throwing you back with the impact. You pick Charlotte up and move upstairs, asking her about her day to try and distract her. You take her to Lando’s office and settle into his gaming chair with her on your lap. It was always your comfort room, something about the darkness mixed with the led lights soothed you. She fills you in on the few things she learned today, but mostly all the games they played, while she snuggles further into you. You hated that she got the anxiety trait from you, so anything you could do to help her out, you would. Lucky for you, your voice worked well to relax her so you spoke to her about your day and felt her ease up.

“I’m home,” you smile hearing the front door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps moving quickly up the stairs. Char jumps off your lap, running out and straight into Lando’s arms. “Daddyyyy” she exclaims, presssing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. Lando follows where she came from, leading him to you sitting in his gaming chair. He furrows his brows, notificing your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you okay babe?”

“Yea-“

“Lay and A had a big fight and they yelled and screamed at each other,” Char quickly spills.

“Oh sorry mummy,” she pouts seeing your gaze shift towards her. “Wanted to tell daddy so he can fix it.”

“That’s okay baby,” you stand, placing a kiss to her head. “Do you wanna go play with Amelia while me and daddy talk? We’ll grab to help cook dinner.”

Halfway through your sentence, she’s already jumping out of Lando’s arms and rushing out the door. “I’ll take that as a yes” you giggle while Lando engulfs you in his arms.

“Talk to me love” he mumbles against the skin of your neck, making sure to leave a few pecks. He stays like that, rocking you side to side as you unveil the events that led you here. It’s a lot to digest. And it’s never fun knowing your girls are fighting, especially if it’s over a boy, but you both know you need to get to the bottom of what happened.

“Hey” he pulls back and cups your face with a hand on each cheek. “They’re young, they’re siblings. They’re gonna fight. We can talk them both out of it.”

You were used to the twins fighting. They always bicker, but never like this. “I know Lan but you should’ve seen how they spoke to each other. Poor Char was frightened too.”

He pulls you back in for another hug, “Love, you know how sassy they can be. I’m sure once we speak to them, they’ll get over it just as quick.” he reassures rubbing you up and down your back.

“Fine but your talking to Layla,” you mumble into his chest.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter under your head. “Lucky me.” Pulling back he places a soft sweet kiss to your lips, grabs your hand pulling you in the direction of the twins rooms.

He goes first, knocking on Layla’s door. “Mom not now.”

“Not Mom, its Dad.”

Lando rolls his eyes hearing his eldest groan. He can imagine her dragging her feet towards the door. She opens the door the tiniest bit and rushes back into her bed, tucking herself into her multiple blankets. “I still don’t wanna talk. I’m only letting you in to know if you beat Uncle Los today.” Layla loved going to golf with her dad, the only one of the family that seemed to enjoy it, especially when her and Carlos would team up against Lando.

“Well I don’t want to talk about golf so I guess you won’t know.”

“Ughh stop being annoying dad,” she says, voice now muffled as she turns shoving her face into the pillow.

“Hey if you tell me, I’ll tell you.”

A moment of silence passes, he knows she wants to talk about it. Heck if with anyone it would be with him. She contemplates it, but shakes her head. “It’s embarrassing.”

‘Lay, there’s nothing you need to be embarrassed about with me. You can tell me anything.” Lando moves closer to sit by her, rubs her back up and down. “i won’t force you to talk, but I need you to know this is what me and your mom are here for. No judgement with us, ever.”

He stays like that, comforting Layla for a bit, and once he realizes she isn’t ready to talk yet, he moves to get up. But immediately she senses him leaving and turns back around. She looks up to her dad with tears flooding her eyes, “No one likes me dad.”

That’s all it took, and the tears started flowing. She moved into his arms and surely the silent cries turned into louder sobs. In the moment, Lando didn’t even know what to say. He felt like he did when the twins were younger and he’d always look to you to figure out why they were crying, but in this moment he knew it was all him. He began with hugging her back and reminding her she needs to stop crying or she won’t be able to breathe. She slowly pulled back and began explaining seeing the concerned look on her dad’s face.

“Jake is the only guy I’ve ever liked. And I thought he liked me back too.”

“Okay..” Lando swallows, not expecting her to be so blunt about boys, but he urges her to continue anyway.

“We got along really well, he was really nice and all of my friends even told me they knew he liked me. And then, today at school, infront of all us, he asked Ava out.”

“I see, what did Ava say?”

“She said no, obvs. But still. She gets every guy and she doesn’t even have to try. If Jake can’t even like me now, when we’ve been getting on for so much longer, then no one is ever going to like me.”

Lando’s starting to get it now. Being a twin in highschool surely can’t be easy. Especially when these years can have a great effect on your self esteem.

“Baby, you can not put your self worth into the hands of a boy. You are so beautiful inside and out, smart, and hilarious.” “And amazing at golf,” he emphasizes to bring a small smile to her face

“You are going to find someone that loves you for you, but that isn’t something you need to worry about yet. I know it’s hard seeing Ava have it different but it doesn’t make you any less better in any way.”

“It’s just not fair Dad.”

“I know bub, it might feel like that now but come next week, next month, you and no one else are going to remember this. And if that dumb boy can’t see everything amazing in my daughter, he isn’t someone I want for you and you shouldn’t want that for yourself either. I mean there will never be a boy good enough for my girls but this once isn’t even getting close.”

She lets out some more snotty giggles and reaches to hug Lando again. “Love you dad”

“ I love you more. Now, do you see how Ava is not at fault here?”

“Yeah I do. I guess in the heat of the moment it was easier to blame her.”

“I get that, but let’s try and have a breath before going at each other next time? You girls are lucky to have a built in best friend, never let a boy get in between you two.” Layla nods, feeling guilty about her behaviour earlier and realising she must’ve scared Charlotte, she asks “Is Char okay?”

“She is bub, don’t worry. Anything else you need?” Lando confirms, he didn’t want to impose and give her some alone time before dinner.

“No that’s it. Thank you Dad.”

“No problem sweets,” he reaches down placing a kiss to her head. “Go get up and shower, you’ve got snot everywhere,” he teases, moving to leave the room.

“Wait, so did you beat Los?”

“Nope, got absolutely destroyed.”

“Omg I have to text him,” she says breaking into a fit of laughter as Lando shakes his head and opens the door to head out. “Yeah yeah be down in 30 for dinner.”

He heads down the stairs, joining you in the kitchen. “How’d it go?” You inquire as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and rests his head on your shoulder. “Good, she was just feeling a little insecure.”

“Ava was the same,” you inform. “She was upset Layla thought she would do it to her on purpose, but I told her she knew it wasn’t but was acting in the heat of the moment.”

“Mhmm,” Lando mumbles, placing a few kisses to your neck, “just glad we got through to them.” You both settle into each others warmth when you hear giggles filling the house. All 4 girls come tumbling down the stairs heading straight for you. Amelia and Ava immediately cling to Lando having not seen him today. They pull him away, fillling him in on their day, while Layla comes to you holding Charlotte in her arms.

“I’m sorry mum,” she pouts. You can see the guilt eating away at her, she was always a softie at heart.

“That’s okay my love, how are you feeling now?” You wrap your arms around the 2 girls, trying to provide her some reassurance.

“Much better, i apologized to Ava too. But I’m really sorry for causing a ruckus at home.”

“I’m proud of you baby. Do not let anyone get in your head and make you forget how special you are, especially not a boy.” You press a big kiss to her cheek, “I love you sweets.”

Before Layla can reply, Char is jumping out of her arms and into yours, “Me tooo mummy.” You giggle, reaching to grab her and move to the couch to join the rest of your family. You all cuddle under a large blanket and decide pizza and movies is how you’ll spend the rest of the night.

[tyinghershoe]

hey hey :) i love ur writing sm!! i was just wondering if u could do a small blurb or fluff fic of what its like to wake up with izuku, like i can just imagine his bed head and how cute and soft it would be

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Wishful Dreaming

Waking up next to Izuku was as soft as his morning kisses.

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x reader

Genre: Fluff

check out my masterlist!

Izukus' blessing from the higher spirits came tangled in between blue-colored sheets. Everything he ever wanted was in the shape of a twin-sized mattress, and everything he ever needed slept on top of it. It was far too early in the morning, but still, the arms that intertwined with his own awakened him with nothing but patience and love. 

He knew that heaven existed between these four walls - that the only thing separating the boy from reality and divinity was the angel sleeping next to him. So he smiled as he kissed you good morning, something that is necessary when lying next to a beauty such as yourself. 

“Wake up.” He whispers as the softness he feels in his heart spilled in between every syllable. “We need to wake up.” 

Unfortunately for him, it was a Saturday, which meant that you’d do everything you can to stay under these covers for just a few more minutes. What’s the point of waking up and getting out of bed? You’d rather stay right here, wrapped up in him as he kissed you every 5 and a half minutes.

With a sigh, he slowly twists and turns so that he could see you at a better angle. If you’re going to be spending the rest of the morning in this nest, he should at least see you perfectly, this wasn’t hard to do though - you were perfect in every angle. 

After lounging around a moment - 11 minutes to be exact, or 2 kisses if you use that measurement -  you opened your eyes. Now it was you who felt lucky. 

A lazy little smile was the first thing you saw, then it was his eyes, then his dark green hair which was always a mystery to you. Green, untamed, and everywhere - That’s how he’d describe his bedhead. His curls stuck out in every which way, some darker than others as the sun made fun of his frizzy state. However, this was merely an illusion, your lover's hair was as soft as his touch (he thanks your strawberry-scented conditioner for that.) 

“Hi. Good morning y/n.” He blurbed lazily, words splattering into each other as his heart clenched at the sight in front of him. Dearest, he thought, You looked so beautiful. 

You replied with a simple hum, deciding that this moment would be better in your silence, his voice had the effect of putting you back to sleep anyways. He chuckled as he saw your eyelids slowly close and then jerk back open, it was clear that you were fighting the urge to get pulled back into your dreamlike state. He wouldn’t mind really, but he was feeling exceptionally selfish today, and he wanted to talk to his lover. 

“‘Zuku..” You began, “Please just 16 and a half more minutes.” - which means 3 more kisses, but he didn’t know about his unconscious habit that was kissing you in rhythm. 

Izuku sat still for a few seconds and then slowly pulled himself closer to you, thanking his twin-sized mattress for once again being the perfect size. “Only because you asked so nicely.” He sighed, and then he kissed your temple, starting the timer.

-

a/n. Hello, it's been a long time since I last visited this blog (half a year!). In all honesty, I didn't know time could move so fast, but I guess this blog is a reminder of that. Sorry everyone, things just caught up to me - but I'm writing again, so I hope to post frequently on this blog.

follow me on ao3! @tyinghershoe

[hqbaby]

four — not not serious

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.6k content. swearing, just a bunch of fluff

“I don’t get it,” Osamu says, face pulled into a frown. “Ya haven’t slept with ‘er yet?”

Atsumu kicks his brother in the stomach, eyes trained on the screen as he pulls the lead in Mario Kart. “Fuck yeah!” he cheers. “And, yeah, ya pig. Not everythin’s about sex y’know.”

“Ya fuckin’ cheated! That doesn’t count!”

“Yer just a sore loser.” It’s Atsumu’s turn to receive an elbow to the ribs. “Asshole!” he hisses, throwing the controller to the side when he still somehow finishes first. “Serves ya right.”

The twins both lean back into the couch, the adrenaline washing away. Atsumu adds another notch under his name on the tally they’ve been keeping of their wins and losses. The score so far is 3-12 in Osamu’s favor (but Atsumu swears he’ll beat him over the summer).

“Ya serious ‘bout the girl?”

Atsumu groans. His brother has been trying to know more about you for whatever nosy reason and he finds it nothing short of annoying. “What does it matter to ya, scrub?”

“Just wanna know if I’m gonna have t’make more food at Christmas, s’all,” Osamu says in faux innocence. “So? Is it serious?”

The golden-haired twin wrinkles his nose, the face he always makes when he’s in deep thought. “It’s not serious,” he says eventually, then adds, “But it’s not not serious.”

“Oh?”

“It’s… nice. She’s nice.”

Osamu snickers at the look on his brother’s face. He’s clearly more interested in this “nice” girl than he lets on. He already figured as much when his brother started being all quiet about it, because if there’s one thing he knows about Atsumu, it’s that he’s never quiet. So there’s bound to be something going on.

“When am I gonna get to meet her?”

“Fuck off."

“You look nice,” Kiyoko says, leaning against the door of your room. A smile plays on her lips as she watches you fix your hair in the mirror. “That dress in particular is really pretty. Where’d you get it?”

You give her a sheepish look, glancing down at the green ensemble that is definitely not yours. You wonder if she’s noticed the shoes yet. “All my clothes are dirty.”

She rolls her eyes fondly and makes her way over to her dresser. Opening a drawer, she produces a pair of earrings with a dainty flower motif and hands it to you. “Here,” she says. “It goes with the dress. And the shoes.”

You take the earrings and launch yourself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, thank you, I love you!”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” She chuckles. “Where’s your laundry? I can throw it in with mine.”

“I will marry you and have your children and serve you every day of my life.”

She ponders for a moment then says, “I’ll settle for cake.”

You nod earnestly, holding her hands in yours. “Whatever you say, my lord and savior.”

Your roommate helps you finish getting ready. She does your hair when you get stuck not knowing whether to put it up or down and tries to clear some of the mess you’ve made in your room. You swear she’s a saint. Why else would she be this great?

“What’s with all the date jitters?” she asks eventually as the two of you sort through the pile of clothes on her bed. At this point, you can barely tell who owns what.

“What do you mean?”

She gestures at you, drawing your attention to your appearance. “You never put this much effort into dates.”

Your mouth drops into an “O” as you shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “‘Tsumu said he had something fun planned and to dress a little fancy. So here we are.”

“‘Tsumu, huh?” Kiyoko gives you a teasing look. “That’s been going on for a while.”

“Just three weeks,” you say. “Not even a month yet.”

“Yeah, but that’s like a lifetime for you,” she points out. “When was the last time you dated someone for that long?”

You frown. “I’ve been with Rin for like a year now.”

“That’s different though, isn’t it?”

You never thought about it really. You never thought of Suna as anything like a boyfriend, but you knew he wasn’t exactly just a friend either. It wasn’t even that you fooled around with him. There was always something more there, something deeper. A genuine care for one another at the very least.

You wonder if he thinks that too.

“Text,” Kiyoko says, passing your phone to you when it buzzes.

tsumu: am outside :D 

“He’s here,” you tell her, putting your phone in your purse. You stand up and strike a ridiculous pose, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip, lips pouting. “How do I look?”

“So fuckable.”

“Thanks.” You grin, opening the door. “Love you! See you later!”

You find Atsumu at the entrance and he… looks nice. He’s ditched his usual clothes for a crisp white button-up and nice pants. Even his hair is styled a little better. Not that you ever thought that he looked bad, but he clearly made an effort today.

You realize you’ve been staring at him for so long that you haven’t even noticed that he’s been looking at you too. His eyes are wide as he gapes at your figure.

“Ya look…” He let out a little chuckle. “Yer beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look down at Kiyoko’s stolen shoes, unable to look him straight in the eye. Something inside you erupts. Well, that’s new, you think to yourself. What even is that?

“Thank you.” You smile at him. “You look great too, you know.”

Now it’s his turn to get all embarrassed. “Thanks.” He takes your hand in his and gently leads you closer to him. “Ready to go?”

You squeeze his hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you make your way through the courtyard. It’s a nice summer day and people are out and about, talk and laughter filling the air around you. Some students have gone home to visit their families so it isn’t as crowded as usual, but more than a few of you are still on campus for the summer semester. Everything is warm and bright and perfect, like it can stay this way forever.

Atsumu leads you past the benches and the trees, taking a turn before you reach the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” you ask, expecting him to lead you to his car like he usually does and wondering why you went the other way.

He turns to you with a grin. “It’s a surprise.”

You end up walking into one of the buildings near your residence hall, the science building. It’s empty save for a few members of the maintenance staff mopping the floors and airing out the rooms. They don’t even look your way as Atsumu leads you up the stairs, all the way to the top of the building on the third floor.

Your brows furrow as he lets go of your hand and goes to push the door to the rooftop open. It’s usually locked (you know this because you and Oikawa once tried to sneak up there when you were wasted), but this time, it opens and Atsumu nods his head for you to step outside.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with the vast concrete expanse of the rooftop. Except it isn’t as empty as you expected it to be. In the middle of it, there’s a screen and a projector and a blanket and a bunch of pillows. You notice a basket lying nearby beside a cooler that looks like it’s been through a lot.

“What is this?” you ask, eyes fixed on the scene before you.

Atsumu shrugs, that boyish charm of his seeping through. “I wanted to do something nice.”

You peel your gaze away from the little theater on the rooftop and turn to look at him. “Something nice?”

His eyes go big, panic taking over him. Is it too much? Do you not like it? This probably wasn’t what you expected at all. He should’ve just taken you to a nice restaurant. He didn’t have to do all of this.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya ‘bout it. If ya don’t like it, we can just—”

Before he even realizes it, your lips are on his. He’s still gawking when you kiss him softly, deeply. It takes him a moment, but soon he’s kissing you back, his hands going to your waist and yours wrapping around his neck.

You pull back and he finds you smiling at him, all toothy and giddy like a kid in a candy store.

“I love it,” you tell him, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”

He leans down and kisses you again. “Don’t even mention it.”

When you separate, you’re still clinging to his hand as he shows you the whole set-up. In the basket, he reveals pizza from the place you kept telling him about, some popcorn, and a bunch of sweets. There’s a few cans of your favorite soda in the cooler and a tiny tub of ice cream (he tells you that he was supposed to get wine but his brother blew through their allowance for the week). You sit down on the blankets while you pick which food to eat first while he goes to set up the movie: Pulp Fiction, because you once swore he had to see it.

He sits down beside you and you give him that smile again, curling into his side. You turn to watch the movie as the sun sets around you, and Atsumu finds he can’t look away from your face. He notices the curve of your nose, the shape of your lips, the way your hair falls just right. He decides he could look at you forever and he’d never get bored, he’d always find something new and beautiful about you.

It’s not serious, he tells himself. But it’s not not serious either.

notes. and so it begins ;)

[albaricomics]

seeing ur hc about anastacha and francis makes me wanna know now, whats ur hc for nacha and francis? or nacha and anastacha in general, bc theyre family is so cute (francis and nacha r still married in my head </3)

So cute you keep them as a married couple in your head haha 💖💖

For Nacha and Anastacha

Too much energy mom and zero to no energy daughter

Their love and care for each other is mutual, Nacha would do anything to protect her girl, and even tho sometimes Ann doesn't match her mom's vibes or isn't too cheerful about general stuff, she'll show care in different ways.

Besides of her mom, the rest of the world is very "whatever" to Anastacha.

Nacha will do Ann's pigtails for school every morning, she has done it since she was very little and hasn't figured how much she has grown already.

Unlike Ann and her dad, Nacha is OBSESSED with Elvis Presley and will blast his music every weekend.

They enjoy hanging out with the twins, Lois, Margarette, Gloria, Raftellyn and Mia. All women have a strong bond and trust each other for everything 💞 (tho Ann tries to stay away from those who pinch her cheeks bc of "how much she's grown")

For Francis and Nacha...

Currently is generally awkward, tho Francis doesn't care that much to this point, but Nacha will rush to her apartment if she sees him close.

They loved watching outdoor movies when they were together.

She's a chef so I believe they met at the restaurant she was working, while Francis was delivering milk, and his attention was brought to the lead chef that would make everyone move around, but when those big blue and green eyes made contact with him, he immediately knew he wanted to know everything about her.

She approached and asked him "do you need me to sign something?", and it took him 15 SECONDS to react.

He'd purposefuly say he forgot to bring something, again and again, to repeatedly visit Nacha during the day.

He wasn't shy at all, but took him fair enough to invite her out to dinner.

First kiss was on the dance floor, while "The Great Pretender" by The Platters was playing... Really bad song to listen to after the break up.

The doppels situation will inevitably make them talk to each other again, leading to slowly care for one another and help the neighbors... Together.

I'm sleepy, this is what I can think of rn lol

Loved thinking of it!!

[stealingyourbones]

I'm new to the dp x dc fandom and ur account has been a very satisfying brain exercise for me. Pls listen to my business proposal:  Danny and Damian twins but not really au!

Jason was cleaning a trafficker hideout, he was releasing the victims when one of them mentioned that there was a kid who was recently napped and locked in another room bc he's too feral. After "asking" some of the goons, he went looking. The kid was as feral as they mentioned in appearance, but what they didn't mention, was the freaking muzzle on his face.

He dearly wished he didn't let these bastards off dying so fast.

The kid was oddly calm, except for the unnerving stare with those toxic green eyes (where has he seen those eyes? meta?), for someone that looks like they have been through hell and back, their ragged shirt covered various injuries but mostly healed as far as he could tell. The more he observed the kid the more déjà vu he felt. Throwing away the horrible device on the poor kid's face the moment the buckle came loose, Jason looked at the teen before him.

"Demon brat???"

Meanwhile, Danny who got jumped by the GIW escaped to GZ, then went for the nearest exit he saw (not even checking if it's the right dimension) only to immediately turned human due to adrenaline crash and get snatched not even minutes after hiding in a random alley because it's Gotham and Fenton's luck. It's been a few days, stuck in human form Danny's brain kicked into survival mood: ghost edition until this giant guy in leather and a red helmet came in smelling like a full course meal.

Who the hell is Damian?

Ok I feel bad for not adding to this but I feel like I won’t be able to do this prompt justice. Anyone who wants to, please feel free to add on!

[lionmythflower]

evan rosier headcanons under the cut

Twins w pandora

He has a chinchilla (its name is dusty, barty helped name it)

He's rlly good friends w remus

In a book club w lily, remus,dorcas and regulus

He's Canadian

So he kinda had a very slight American accent

Sleeps and listens to music on long car rides

Knows Canadian French

Asexual

either gay or bi

Poc

has a tattoo of "bcjr" on his neck or shoulder (barty has a matching one of "Rosie")

Would love MARINA and Florence + the Machines

Was probably more of an ABBA fan then a queen fan

lily got him into music like ABBA and Remus got him into music like David Bowie

Would also love Arctic Monkey

Would love makeup

Has those star eyeliner stamps and he absolutely rocks them

Bigender (stole this hc from someone can't remember who at that moment)

probally goes by he/they pronouns

Pandora and Evan steal each other's clothes sm that they don't know who's is who's at this point

So ppl are like " wasn't pandora wearing that the other day?" and evan will be like "idk maybe?" And vise versa

Would love Greek mythology

Has heterochromia and his eyes are blue and green so he's is looking at u like 🔵_🟢 (O_O) (pandora also has eyes like that)

"you have heterophobia in ur eyes" "...you mean heterochromia?" "no" (barty and evan)

i feel like he would be able to play like 3 instruments and would love love love music sm

Has so. Many. Ear. Piercings.

Lace and fishnet gloves

RINGS

Evan, pandora, Dorcas, regulus, and Barty all wear rings and they all js like share rings

Would love fairy tale retellings

100% read song of Achilles and sobbed

His parents are like really that mean js very strict and they don't really give him enough privacy and it's suffocating

Has sensory overloads sometimes and he will just cling to Barty or Pandora bc they both make him feel safe when it's too much

Also has panic attacks

Says things like "I wanna kms" and ppl think he's joking but he's really not

Baggy clothes

layers his clothes a lot

had like three sweatshirts/sweaters that he LOVES

eating disorder (idk which one but he definitely has one)

Constantly has a headache

Is actually rlly su!sidal but he's only told like 2 ppl (probably Pandora and reg or barty)

Either never gets sick or gets sick every month (depends on the year)

Doesn't like talking abt his problems

Will not ask for help unless he has basically given up

Is rlly smart

He's like everything smart but doesn't really care abt math or science

That one kid who's reading and not paying attention the entire class and then gets an A on every test

He's parents don't really care about grades but he does and he gets really stressed abt grades

Would 100% be that person that you wouldn't think would be a feminist and then someone makes a rude comment abt women and he would go off on them

Very pretty

Always cold. Always

Would have loved all the movies that Millie Bobby Brown is in (Enola Holmes, and Damsel mainly)

Would love ppl doing his nails (even though he's good at doing it himself)

doc martins

Would have converse and would draw on them

Has so many books (both barty and evan rant to each other abt the books they read)

Would have adhd but more of the not able to focus side

He's nail polish is almost always chipped bc they pick at it w/o even realizing he's doing it

would have so many bracelets

Hates silence but hates loud noise even more

Had earbuds in 24/7

"Look at the moon! :0" no matter what phase the moon is in (does the same thing w the sky)

Would get sooo happy when ever he was in a place where u can clearly see the stars at night bc "omg look, you can see the stars! Their so pretty!!!"

They're so energetic but also so laid back

Pretty much all or nothing for everything (emotions, activities, relationship etc.)

Really good at drawing

normally types in all lowercase so he doesn't come off as intimating

Evan and pandora probably made fun of the pure blood stereotypes so much

(I've made by point abt this hc a lot but I'mma say it again) : Evan and regulus arguing over the pronouncing of different French words bc Evan is Canadian French and Regulus is European French lol

He's an introvert you can't tell me otherwise

Was almost put into ravenclaw bc he was arguing w the sorting hat and it was like "ok valid points, ur probably a ravenclaw" and then Evan told the hat to go fuck itself and it put him in Slytherin 💀

Definition of a keyboard smash idk how to explain it

Would have loved Pinterest

wow this is really long. I'mma make one of these for Peter later :)

[truly-a-snitch]

May i request headcanons with ranpo and dazai with a s/o who has heterochromia and is insecure about it? Could be hurt/comfort or just straight up fluff :)

-🧛

ofc ofc !!! ty for the request ^_^

WARNINGS: none :3 this is straight up fluff ! i do hc these two as nd (dazai is autistic, ranpo is audhd) !!

---

dazai and ranpo with an s/o who has heterochromia and is insecure about it

dazai

dazai to me has always seemed like the type to not really care about appearances if he's looking for an actual relationship

like i know he's always like "i want to die with a beautiful woman" but if he's planning to LIVE with/for someone, the thing that gets him is their brain, so having heterochromia doesn't matter to him

(however comma he actually thinks its really pretty and makes sure to tell you at EVERY possible moment even if ur not feeling too bad abt it at the moment)

he definitely does some sappy ass bullshit like staring into your eyes whenever he can

i hc him as autistic but like the type that makes way too much eye contact so he sees your eyes a LOT

once he finds out that youre insecure about it he amps up how often he compliments your eyes like. tenfold

like to the point you would think he's making fun of you if he wasn't so genuinely sincere about it

"the way the light catches your eyes is simply gorgeous, darling" or some bullshit like that. homeboy is so silly

if you two live together, he makes so many passing comments about how happy he is that your eyes are the first thing he sees when he wakes up

(look at you, seducing him into healthier sleeping patterns with your eyes)

at the end of the day, dazai doesnt care about your appearance (though the fact that he thinks you are the most graceful creature to ever walk this earth certainly helped when he asked you out)

he makes sure to remind you at every opportunity that the things you perceive as 'flaws'- your eyes, notably- are beautiful to him ^_^

a pretty solid experience all in all ! this man is such a hopeless romantic emphasis on hopeless he will bust out the sappy poetry to make u laugh and cheer u up

ranpo

again, a man who i don't think cares about appearance all that much if only because he can read everybody so easily that appearances sort of become obsolete

i hc him as the kind of audhd that hates eye contact with a burning passion so he isnt into the whole 'staring into your eyes' thing the way dazai is

however comma he likes to hold stuff up to your face and compare it to your eyes if its the same color

(if you have blue in your eyes he holds up his ramune marbles but he makes do regardless of color)

i also hc him as having heterochromia (one eye green one eye brown) so if u have complete heterochromia hes like omg we match !!

he isnt insecure about his appearance because he isnt big about appearances i mean he walks around with that tie that clashes with his ENTIRE outfit he truly does not care. no fucks given. we love u king. anyway the point is hanging out with him and dating him is going to lead to a confidence spike on ur part bc hes so casual abt his own heterochromia

if he notices youre having a bad day- which he will lets be honest- he makes a passing comment about how pretty your eyes look to cheer you up and then goes back to his psp. might let u beat him at whatever hes playing to make u feel better too

since appearances arent super important to him he doesnt really comment on it that much unless he knows ur feeling particularly upset about it

when u feel down abt it tho he is lowk ur BIGGEST hype man like "look how cool my s/o is u guys"

bro even shares his snacks with you if youre feeling insecure (about anything tbh but especially abt ur appearance bc ur literally so cool ??)

if you have sectoral heterochromia he says u and atsushi r twinning frfr (forget armed detective agency this is the fucking. heterochromia detective agency) and if u have central heterochromia hes like oh hell yea we collected the whole set

all in all id say since i hc him as having heterochromia its a solid experience !! vvv supportive

[tremendum]

twin suns ; your shadow at morning

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part three of the Twin Suns series  ;  prologue  ;  part i ; part ii

pairing: au (canon-divergent), western-inspired Din Djarin x fem!bounty!reader (afab, w use of woman, girl, etc) rating: eventually explicit in future chapters. slow slow burn. (18+. mdni.)  

warnings: canon-typical violence, themes of hunting/being hunted, fear, a brief mention of vomit twice, pretty bad injuries and descriptions of reader's blood/injury,, temporary blindness still, mean!Mando, lots of sand description like anakin would h8 this, slightly possessive themes

synopsis:  “the messenger nods, his expression revealing nothing. 'good. prepare yourselves. the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation.'” 

word count: 4.7k. 

notes: hii :) silly how i haven't posted in months??? sorry ive been away, just having a hard time rn. but here's part 3, it's still going a bit slow because i love a good slow burn but we're getting to some yummy parts in the next few chapters ;) lmk if ive missed ur tag, i lost my taglist.

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for what may be the first time in years, you don't wake up with a start.

this visit to consciousness is pulled rather slowly from a lone yearning sensation. you're not sure what it is - or if it's even real - a feeling deep in the corner of your brain that urges something along the lines of wake up! wake up! 

and when your brain finally starts to stir, it's with a heaving breath of pain from deep within you, as if someone had taken the spongy material and hurled it against the dartboard of a cantina.

your face twitches against something gritty. oh- there's kriffing sand in your teeth. on your tongue.

it feels heavy, dusty. wake up! 

your eyes open slowly as you let out an exhale into the rusty ground. 

they slide open like dry, grating sandpaper against your tired irises, but to your shock, you're met with nothing - nothing changes, besides a shift from black to mauve. 

in a moment of sheer panic, your head reels upwards from the sand and, despite the screams of protest within your throat, you twist your head around.

wait- wait! you can make out a bit of light. there's... two faint dots in your vision, faint and searing at the same time. 

twin suns. 

you resist the urge to scream or gasp in fear - yet the burning sensation from holding back both still evokes your body to twist slightly from your stomach to your side. it is mere seconds before you are expelling all the remnants of fear and confusion and rage from your stomach to splay across the small mountain ranges of eroded sand carved by wind. 

the ringing in your ears ebb when you can finally make out a squeal, a cry - something between the two - less out of pain or horror, but of concern.

green comes into your mind, for whatever reason - then shortly and likely consequently, the faint realization that you cannot fucking see a thing. 

oh. oh. 

the suns. the miserably lonely nights. stale wind whistling through empty valley corridors. a lonely girl in an abandoned apartment ripped open by the forces of galactic war years ago; blaster at your hip, blades on your thigh. 

unfriendly company. a vision of your own face plastered on a holo just to the side of a Neerok table. 

that strange metal hunter and his little green accomplice. a tickle of excitement in the shadow that followed you for weeks. a cat and mouse game. 

happy hunting, Mando. 

a lasso. the headscarf wrapped around a small baby. the carbonite chamber. 

maker's mother - Maracavanya. 

they'd shot you back down into Tattoine's dunes. 

oh Gods, you're wrecked, with the hunter, back on Tattoine. 

perhaps your eyes roll back into your head as you slump back - no way to know for sure - a gasp of pain from the left side of your skull. you weakly pull a hand to your brow and it's vaguely warm, wet, sticky when it pulls back. oh. 

you wince, your nostrils flaring as you pick up the thick smell of smoke and sharp jetfuel burning. 

kriff, those suns are searing behind your unseeing eyes, your legs are still pins and needles, you're- oh, your face is throbbing dully with the numbing agent. maybe carbonite wasn't the worst thing to happen to you in the last thirty minutes. 

your hands grasp at the ground, handfuls of sand which slip right through your dry fingers as you keel over again, expelling nothing but bile and then after a few moments nothing but choked, burning air that you fight to suck in and out of your lungs. your head doesn't feel right; be it the blindness or the crash? 

the bounty hunter calls your name from far away, as your ears buzz - but the grip you have with your right hand sends a shooting agony through your entire being and a yell of pain ripples through the air. 

crying, after that - the baby. you startled him with your roar of pain. fear strikes you - is he okay? he wasn't strapped in when you crashed, was he? you can't remember.

leathered hands wrap around your chest and for a split, childish moment, your arms twitch; almost as if you were about to grab him back. but it's not an embrace, you chastise your foolish, betraying mind.

the Mandalorian wraps something around you, a rope. around your waist again. 

it clicks in your head, fuzzy from the crash. how'd you even get out of the ship? 

"wh-" you croak, unable to form words as you grapple with your mind for something to ground yourself. "are we back on Tattoine?" you ask, voice much too meek; the blistering heat sure feels like Tattooine. silence, besides a grunt of his own pain from the man who tugs you up onto staggering legs, leading you up through what you imagine is the hull and past the thick burn of smoke that cause you to cough so deep your body starts to sway.  

his hands are sturdy and unforgiving on your upper arm until you're guided to what feels like a cot, a severe absence of light causing your mind to panic, heart beating wildly at the sudden loss of sensory cues. it's all black, now.  

"is..." you sound so unlike yourself it almost knocks you off your feet. "is the child okay?" you ask, throat burning. it's silent for a moment too long and fear strikes down on your heart, assuming the worst.

"yes." the Mandalorian finally confirms. you let out a shaky sight of relief, nodding as your body is then pushed until you sit on weak legs. "if you're going to pass out, try to stay upright." the voice says, unforgiving. 

his footsteps are heavy as he stalks away, your lips screaming silently for water.

a hesitation in the footsteps has your heart thundering in fear, your arms swallowing yourself until you're curled in on your chest. you're too weak to try and protect yourself from him.

the gaze you've come to know is burning though your unseeing eyes; you can almost see that glint of the helmet in your mind. he says nothing, just stares.

you wish he would just leave.

the quiet is so absorbent, it hurts your numb mind. the baritone breaks the silence, again. 

"-and if you're going to throw up again, do it on the durasteel." 

you're not sure how long you sleep for. 

when you wake, you're on your side, slumped against the side of the cot; your neck creaks as you slowly stir upwards, eyes cracking open slowly. 

a peek of light creaks in through the hull as you groan, eyebrows furrowing as far as they can. you're puffy, you can feel it. your brow and temple are swelled and likely bruised. looking down out of habit, you can tell that the aching, searing pain in your hand has only worsened - the numbness of the carbonite chamber wearing down too soon.

you're fucked when it's completely gone, realizing now that not only do you likely have a broken hand and several broken ribs, but that your brow bone is surely chipped, your brain bruised from knocking too much against your skull, and you're right and proper screwed. 

there's a gash on your thigh that has since stopped bleeding, but you're sure if it's not dressed and attended within forty eight hours, you'll succumb to the sand mites that infest the plains outside. you're too busy assessing your injuries to realize it; when you do, you let out a sharp screech, shaking your head as your hands fly up towards your cheeks. 

you can see again - sort of.

light sources peek out at you through a blanket of thick fog. 

it's as if you'd taken semi-translucent paint and slathered it over your retinas - especially in the low light, it's hard to catch anything besides a faint glint and the outline of metallic shapes in the hull. still, it fills you with some sort of giddy elation; perhaps spurred on by your head trauma and the sheer shock of the events, you huff a short laugh to yourself. your fingers on your good hand wiggle slightly, you can see the motion as you wave up at yourself. 

maybe this isn't a permanent blindness, then. 

but a twitch from your bad hand has you gasping in sheer pain, biting down on your lip to keep quiet in fear of stirring the Mandalorian from whatever corner of the ship he lurks in. your stomach flips at the fleeting thought that he could have been there, watching you this whole time in the darker shadows of your sight - and you'd have had no clue. 

your moment of joy is over when reality washes over your entire body: you're stuck with the Mandalorian with a severe disadvantage: sure, his ship is wrecked, but you have impairing injuries and little to no sight. 

he's likely injured, too, but not enough so that he's unable to use a hand - or his brain- like you.

you deftly get to work, your movements like a well oiled machine after months of repairing yourself on your own. you can't shake the creeping fear that the Mandalorian is watching you; you swear a movement from the corner of your limited sight moves and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

if he's there, he doesn't move a muscle as you slowly start to tear at the material of your tunic, ripping the bottom hem until there's one long strip. biting down on your lip, you apply pressure to the points in your hand that you're sure are broken, knowing the better wrapped it is, the better it will be for you.

the hardest thing you can find on the floor near you to bite down on is shoved between your teeth as you swiftly start to push your fingers back, aligning knuckles that'd been sprouting from your hand like gnarled tree branches. 

you groan out anyways - muffled, yes, but only by the long, cool, durable object between your teeth as your head falls against the wall in pain. 

fuck. 

as you assess your wounds in the dark, trying futilely to wipe the blind fog from your eyes, the thoughts swirl around your mind. 

doubt creeps into your head from the cracks in your resolve; because you're not a fool. there's no true way that you could warble your bottom lip a bit, blindly insisting that you were innocent, and the Mandalorian would just fold when faced with an entire ship of pirates who were willing to pay him his entire weight in credits for you. there's no way you were that good. 

so what was it that'd snapped in that emotionless helmet of his that prompted the escape attempt?

the money? the Maracavanya clan is not nearly as trustworthy as whoever casted a puck to the bounty guild for you; he has to feed himself and the child, maybe he really is strapped for cash. sure, the beskar goes for a very pretty pence or two nearly anywhere in the galaxy, but you're also fairly sure there's something very sacrilegious about a Mandalorian selling his own armor. 

so you're the means to an end - not the first time, and probably not the last, given that you somehow escape the Mandalorian's grasp alive.

there's no way, as a rational person, that you can realistically imagine beating the Mandalorian in combat in your current state. he'd throw you down to the sand within seconds; you can try to outsmart him, considering you've been evading him for weeks up until this point, but it will be much more difficult to do so in the middle of the desert plains with such injuries. 

you're fucked. 

and you realize, as you dap away at the wound on your head with a strip of cloth, that if it's the child's mouth you're indirectly feeding by being turned in, then that's an externality you aren't terribly furious about... but the Hunter, on the other hand...

you're feeling less dizzy as you finish doctoring yourself in the dark of your blindness, but the numbing agent is surely wearing off; aches and stings and gasps tear from you as the minutes wear on. you're too weak to stand. water and food would go miles for you right now- maker, if you could just- 

you shift accidentally and a searing pain rips a tearing yelp from your raw throat. the object you'd shoved between your teeth falls with a cland onto the durasteel floors.

your hand flies to stabilize yourself on the object you'd let fall - a vibroblade, the hilt wrapped in a sharply oiled leather and blade serrated; oh. 

at least you'd had the wherewithal to stick the hilt side of the blade between your teeth. thanking your lucky stars, you quickly move to sheath the blade in the waistband of your pants. you'd felt less than whole ever since the Mandalorian had taken your blades; you'd only ever carried a small blaster.

you wonder where he'd discarded them absently - clearly, he was not one to waste a weapon, had he taken yours and added them to his arsenal? a trophy, for one more notch on his ammo-belt? bitterness floods your mouth as your lips shape into a scowl - in a world full of blaster pistols and rifles, you'd preferred a more agile melee skillset when training. it wasn't well equipped for the rolling and harsh isolation of the sandy wilderness; arid and desolate just as the people you've met here. it was much more suited for where you grew up, and maybe you were too.  

nonetheless, this vibroblade feels like coming home and your heart cools as you feel the cold of the blade against your spine. 

"don't." 

you jump out of your skin in shock, hand instinctively flipping the blade until it's concealed up your forearm, the hilt upside down against your palm. 

you resist a growl of irritation at his slinkiness; when did the Mandalorian show up? you crane your neck upwards towards where you'd heard the word, your jaw tightening. "do you have any other words in your vocabulary?" you snap. you feel as though you've said this before.

"give me the blade."

he's not asking- he seems like the kind of man who's never had to ask for anything in his life. you roll your eyes out of habit, shaking your head. 

what are you going to do, anyways? swipe blindly towards a man covered head to toe in impenetrable metal? you have a decent grasp on up and down purely based on gravitational pull. in a moment, you consider spitting, like you were taught to do in the rumbling avalanches of the cold season back home to orient yourself, just to spite him - you bite your tongue in fear of losing a hand lest your spit graces the Mandalorian's sacred armor. 

a moment of panic sends you into a desperate lurch to plead with the Mandalorian. "I don't have a weapon," you insist, "if I could just-"

roughly, his gloved hand pries the blade from your grasp with a harsh tug. "what makes you assume you deserve a weapon? you're my prisoner. just because I didn't freeze you doesn't mean any different."  

his words are final; besides, you're reeling through pain on most surfaces of your body and many spots internally; there was no chance for you to put up a fight, so you drop it.

for a moment you expect him to whirl around and disappear from your faint field of vision - but there's a faint motion; a shine above your eyeline and then too soon, a click. 

kriff. 

you don't have to see to know the click of a safety when you hear one. 

"I'll only ask one more time." the Mandalorian's slow, cold voice crackles through the static of his modulator. "who else is after you?"

you can tell this is not turning out to be the bounty capture he'd anticipated - you feel half triumphant but half regretful. 

upon first instinct, your mouth creaks open to spew some half-planned lie, but knowing better, you just grit out, "why were you after me?" 

he's a statue of a shadow in your faint sight - body large enough to cover most of the cot's lights as he towers over you, staring down the barrel. "what else aren't you telling me?" he asks, voice crackling with danger and frustration. 

defiantly - as if you aren't incapacitated in his broken ship, barely able to breathe without yelping in pain - you sneer back at him. "why do you care?" 

"I'm trying to make sure I don't get shot out of orbit again." he snaps, hips moving as he shifts, blaster still pointed at your forehead. "there are far worse people in the galaxy that could have gotten to you."

who is he to tell you that? he tried to freeze you in carbonite. you can't help as your brows furrow in skepticism, "well, forgive me if I don't take your word for it." your voice drips in sarcasm. 

he shifts, starting to rustle with some blaster pistol on the side table, finally moving his weapon away from you. "you should've told me about the others. I could've prepared better."

a bitter, ironic laugh tumbles from your raw throat, "oh, and what? you would've graciously shared your bounty with me?" you mock, rolling your eyes. his grandiose attitude is grating deep into your nerves. 

the Mandalorian's voice is firm. "I protect my assets. it ensures you're alive to give me what I need." 

your veins light as you hiss, furious: "I'm not some object you can just take!" you snap. you're aching, furious.

you're sick of people in this galaxy stepping their boots over your spine and trading you around. 

"if you're so sure you're not, why do I have this?" he retorts, sarcasm slipping through his mask. 

he tosses a small object just to your side onto the cot and the mere shape of it makes your mouth sour. you don't need to see it to know what it is.

your puck. 

you exhale harshly, feeling angry, cold, in pain, and miserably alone in the universe. once again proved wrong in your short string of optimism of the good in people, you deflate.

"I'm not someone you can deceive. I took this job because it's my Creed, not for personal gain." he adds after your silence.

the tension in the room is palpable - you feel as though you could pass out in any moment, and Maracavanya, the Mandalorian, your old partner... a cell, guards with vibro-clubs,  galactic court - all of it beats down on you, striking freezing fear into your heart.

it is perhaps through this fleeting weakness that you allow yourself a small whisper to him, "you don't understand what's at stake for me." 

"you're right." he says.

he walks away silently, but you can tell he's gone. the words he doesn't say linger still, cold and lonely and harsh in his wake. you close your eyes, knowing only rest could help you heal now - but the unspoken words of the cold man haunt you waking and asleep. 

you're right, I don't understand - and I don't care.

he arrives just as quietly as he did the first time. 

your sight is coming in slowly - it's been hours, likely, of you lying still in the rock-hard cot, staring at the nothingness, willing the sparse bacta spray and ointments you'd kept saved on your person to kick in and relieve you. 

he says your name. 

it startles you. 

you don't dare respond, not nearly bothering to rise and welcome your captor into your (his, your mind reminds you) quarters. he comes in anyways, walking with a stiff, uncomfortable swoop. 

"we have a follower." he states, leaving you to pull up your brows, sitting slowly. your shock must be evident on your face. a sleeve falls over your shoulder as you sniff, "we?" you mock.

he doesn't take the bait, as always; turning on his heels, the man stalks out of the cot, down towards where rusty, hot wind blows sand over the dilapidated entrance to his ship. he must've just returned.

the entrance to the ship had taken just as bad a beating as you; more than once in your miserable moments of recovery you'd wished quite bitterly that the Mandalorian had considered upgrading his ship with the same precious metal shell he wrapped his nearly-unscathed self in.

you have to scramble to follow him, squinting as if it will help your impaired vision. a dark wall of metal moves just out of your field of vision, and you chase it. "where have you been?" you ask then, not nearly as concerned by his first sentence as you are with his sudden arrival. 

when you'd woken, you'd crept out of the small cot, feeling with your hands on the walls to keep you upright and trying to avoid your hips from encountering a spare corner. it was then, with feelings of both relief and anxiety, that you determined he wasn't anywhere on the ship, and neither was the Child. 

"in town." he sounds impatient, urgent. "w-" 

you're shocked. "-you left me alone?" you ask, incredulous as your brows raise. the shine of his beskar can just barely be made out through your blindness. you nearly laugh - at his stupidity, or of the irony that you had your chance to escape and slept through it. 

"the Crest locks from the inside." he retorts. your brows furrow, "what?" 

"when I tell it to, it locks it from the inside." it's clipped, his voiced laced with irritation and a hint of condescension. your blood boils, but he has no time for your mocking tone. 

"listen." he utters, voice closer than you expect - instinctively, you jerk back, widening the space between Mando's helmet and your face. "I was in town buying parts. a man followed me back here - about a click away. saw him in the cantina a while ago, and again at the market the other day. he's been following me, so I led him here. you are to stay on the ship." 

it's the most words you've ever heard from him - if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was doing this to protect you. bitter fear curls into you as your brows furrow under your scarf, twinging in a bit of pain from your healing injuries. he's not protecting you - he's protecting his assets. making sure he's the one to win the prize of your capture. 

and he doesn't seem like the kind of person who keeps as many friends as he does enemies.

it's like clockwork - a slamming noise shuts off whatever retort was building on your lips.

Mando whirls around, whipping his blaster out as he stalks towards the entrance to the broken ship. as quiet as possible, you slide down the rungs behind him, blatantly ignoring his orders; just then, a voice calls out. 

"Mandalorian?" a moment of hesitation in the hunter's shoulders. then, chillingly, you gasp as the voice calls out a second name. 

yours. 

from what your weak eyes can make out, the man standing outside the wreckage of the Razor Crest is a Rodian - his emerald skin contrasting sharply with the desert. you stare in shock from behind the Mandalorian's frame, hoping you're far enough away that the large, multifaceted eyes of the man can't detect you. 

he wears earth-toned robes that blend with the desert surroundings, a testament to his familiarity with the unforgiving terrain; peculiarly, his attire is practical, with layers of fabric offering protection from the twin suns' scorching rays and the harsh winds that sweep across the dunes, but upon his waist, a belt secures a small satchel - and, more bizarrely - and an emblem for the city of Mos Espa.

his movements are deliberate and measured - posture unwavering despite the blaster pointed towards him. a few feet down the ramp from you, the Mandalorian stands vigilant, his beskar armor glistening under the twin suns and reflecting into the sensitive layers of your eyes.

"who are you?" he asks, voice low and chilling. 

the desert winds howl, carrying whispers of the unforgiving sands across the barren dunes of Tatooine and your weak skin tingles against the particles. finally, the man speaks.

"I come on behalf of my master. he requires your presence at his palace."

palace? your bones chill; what palace in this miserable rock would have business with the Mandalorian? his helmeted gaze bores into the messenger, giving you a split moment to take a deep exhale.

"who is your master that he can't come find me himself?" Mando's voice is gravelly, edged with caution, though he lowers his gun with a hesitant recognition in his voice. 

the messenger's eyes flicker, betraying a trace of unease. "not just you. he requests both of you."

your stomach flips. oh, Maker. 

before you can stop yourself, you take a staggering few steps until you're next to the Mandalorian, who gives you a cold stare. 

with your eyes narrowed against the faint sights in front of you, the gears of your mind whir. "and if we refuse to go?" you ask, voice scratchy. fear pounds in your chest like a wild beast needing escape. 

the man folds his hands diplomatically. "the Daimyo has requested your presence at his palace, both of you. he does not extend such invitations lightly - he has his reasons, and you would do well to hear them from his own lips."

oh. oh, kriff. recognition floods through you - a combination of relief and utter fear. 

your brows lift, "the Diamyo?" 

an old friend, your mind whispers, sardonic and teasing. 

a tense silence hangs in the air, broken only by the distant cries of native creatures and a cooing at the Mandalorian's side. a breath of hope is breathed into your chest at the realization that the Diamyo's palace could be just what you need to escape this metal shadow; a shift in the breeze sends your hair around your face and you're soon filled to the brim with anticipation - you need to do this. no matter the danger it entails, what tricks may lie within the halls of the palace... 

it's your only hope. 

out of pure accident, your eyes land on Mando in what is a fleeting glance, a silent conversation that neither of you intended. it's as if both of you know that this meeting could change the course of both of your journeys, somehow - a threatening veil soon placates your mind, knowing the Mandalorian has surely already considered your plans for escape.

with a sigh heavier than the beskar he shrouds himself with, Mando nods. irritation is laced through his voice. "fine. we will go to the palace."

the messenger nods, his expression revealing nothing but a slight air of relief that notches a bit of anxiety into you. "good. prepare yourselves. the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation."

and with that, the messenger turns and retreats into the unforgiving expanse along with the dying suns, leaving you to face the remnants of Mando's ship and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

the man is long lost to the fading horizon of the desert when slowly, the hunter pulls a pair of cuffs from his belt; your stomach drops as you hang your head in frustration. 

"may I at least use the 'fresher, first?" you snark, sending the cold statue a false smile. you haven't bathed in days - your hair needs a cleanse desperately and you're sure there's more than enough blood, dirt, and grease caked into your skin. 

his grunt is angry as he slams shut the ramp, sealing you into complete blindness in the lack of bright lights. despite his anger, the Mandalorian pulls your incapacitated self into the fresher and slams the door shut. 

as you shower and relish the last moments of what little, bizarre freedom you had since being captured, you wonder if he's still right outside, waiting for you to step out. 

he is.

it's with a pit of misery at the bottom of your stomach that you sit in the corner of the cargo bay with your hands bound together and watch him clean and prepare every single weapon he can fit on his person.

whatever reason the Mandalorian has to listen to the request of the Diamyo, he doesn't tell you. he doesn't do much except run his gloved fingers slowly over the vibroblade you'd tried to steal - the glint of your harsh teeth marks barely detectable to your impaired vision. he sheathes the blade on his hip, to your surprise. a daunting reminder of his power over you.

and as much as you try, you can't ignore the feeling that the fate of your soul is about to rest in the hands of Boba Fett and the mysteries that await you within the walls of his palace. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

taglist (message to join). @silkiers @leithatnight @totallynotastanacc @afandomidiot @bbyanarchist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @notsosecretspy @djarins-cyare @satireclub @famefoxx @sunnywithachanceofjavi ​

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

[zofi-persson-quotes]

Hi! How are ur headcanons for red?

Ohhh, Red hc's! I don't have that many for him, but I thin that they're enough!

Red, as we have seen in the Rainstorm short, still goes to Monster School! His relationship with the other students is way better than the one they had at the start, and he's actually friends with many of the students (the fact that he helped save Minecraft played a part in this)

Red has some minor side effects from Herobrine’s possessions. There are two physical ones (his left eye is white from the first possession, and there are some white crack-like scars around it from the second one), but he can also see spirits and is very talented with magic. Plus, he's able now to read perfectly the Enchantment language.

The others sometimes ask him to help when they have to enchant something due to his knowledge regarding Enchantment language

He's extremely good at fighting in hand-to-hand combat, and knows the most technics out of the whole group. He can also use weapons, but he prefers to juat... deck someone in the face.

About weapons: he rarely uses them, but his favourites are a pair of brass knuckles and a giant claymore, which are both gifts from the others

Red sometimes sneaks in random websites to pet animals of any kind, both real or fantasy/mythical. There isn't a creature that doesn't enjoy his pets, not even the dangerous ones

He's vegetarian, but not vegan: this is due to his very active lifestyle, so he knows that he has to have a balanced diet to fight well enough. Still, he doesn't consume meat and dislike salmon (that is due to the fact that he was turned into one in the Witch episode)

He and Herobrine are on neutral terms now: they talked a lot about the whole "possession" things, and Red is a lot calmer around him, but sometimes he still have some minor anxiety attacks especially of he's alone with Herobrine

His team (Endie, Spider, and Skelly) all know about the first possession and greatly support him

He's the youngest of his twins (Yellow, Green and Blue), but never underestimate him

As I said once, he's extremely good at listening to any conversation around him and often goes around the Outernet to gather information for the others. After all, he looks like a young teen, and he sometimes acts like a dumb person to let others' guard down

Red was, surprisingly enough, one of the first ones that accepted Dark after they found out that he was basically possessed by his mission code. This is due to the fact that Red fully knows how it feels to be a spectator in your own mind while something else moves your body to do cruel deeds, and you're unable to do anything. Still, it obviously toom some time because of trauma

Aaand I think that I'm done! Hope you enjoy!

[notbecauseofvictories]

what's ur fave bldg in chicago? I went on an architecture boat tour and I'm obsessed with marina city

first of all, the architecture boat tour is great, and yes, people do look at me weird when I recommend it for residents and tourists alike---but I'm right and everyone who has taken the tour agrees with me.

anyway, I have many, many favorite buildings in Chicago (seriously, I have a list) but I'm going to talk about one of the less-discussed:

The Garfield Park Fieldhouse!

To set the scene: many Chicagoans (including architects, and social activists) had attended the World's Columbian Exposition of 1893, hosted on the south side of the city. Many had been inspired by Fredrick Law Olmsted's landscaping, and fervent belief that public green spaces were an important asset to any city. Driven by this belief, the existing park commissions (founded 1869) started getting more aggressive about translating the newfangled "city park" concept into reality. The group that oversaw the establishment of Garfield Park was the West Park Commission, and they were instrumental in fundraising for and then helping oversee the project. The architects were Michaelsen & Rognstad, who designed a number of eye-catching buildings in Chicago.

Initially, the building was intended to be the West Park Commission's headquarters, though it also had facilities for boating and skating on the nearby pond. However, it only lasted that way for a few years. Shortly after its completion in 1928, the various park commissions were folded into the brand new Chicago Park District, and the building was converted into a fieldhouse.

(The "fieldhouse" concept---large buildings anchoring public parks, and providing space for meetings or classes, as well as gymnasiums, locker rooms, and swimming pools---was loosely based on the settlement houses scattered throughout the city. By creating its public parks and fieldhouses, therefore, Chicago was twinning two great progressive movements---and establishing the landscape of the city that still exists today.)

Anyway, in a city that's largely built from behemoth skyscrapers and the clean lines of Classical architecture, the Garfield Park Fieldhouse stands apart. It is not clean. It is not smooth or glassy. It is a riot of Spanish Baroque Revival design and every possible crenelation, scallop, and twining vine pattern they could shove into the space. Given how large the building itself is, this is a lot:

Researching the Garfield Park Fieldhouse was the first time I ever read the word "Churrigueresque." (It means "baroque, but more".) Even better, this elaborately designed building is topped by a burnished metal dome, that incidentally looks like gold when the sun hits it:

Not to mention that this sense of elaborate decoration continues inside, though updated slightly for a more beaux-arts feel:

In short, it is a microcosm of turn of the century Chicago, its history and the history of Garfield Park is fascinating (I have a wild crush on Jens Jensen, fyi) and while the building itself might not be to your taste, you can't deny it's got buckets of style.

[moralesmilesanhour]

arachnophobia

genre: horror-ish pairings: none summary: playing with the idea of miles and miles g's fates being inextricably linked to each other. also spidey senses but make it a little weird wc: 2,072 warnings: spiders (like one spider), canon deaths, brief mention of blood...and translated Spanish for like two sentences (shout out to SpanishDict) A/N: ngl...this didn't turn out to be as scary as I originally envisioned it. but I still hope you enjoy it anyway! pls feel free to reblog and leave ur reactions in the tags/comments if you do <3

The floor. The floor was on the ceiling, though nothing was falling.

Miles blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom. It would’ve been pitch-black if not for the street lamps and traffic lights providing a dim light source.

With careful steps, he moved to where his bed seemed to hang just above him, and let himself fall back onto the mattress. Again.

The sleepwalking began a year ago.

 Miles had just come home from school, and entered the bathroom to wash his face. No sooner had he turned on the faucet, he looked into the mirror and saw that his right eye was a coppery green. Stranger still, when Miles felt himself furrow his brows in confusion, his reflection’s eyes widened in surprise instead. That’s when he felt it on his hand.

A gangly, medium-sized spider whose legs took up about the width of his palm. The thing bit him just before he could slap it, letting its body fall limply to the tiled bathroom floor.

When Miles looked up again, both of his eyes were brown.

Not long after, Aaron Davis was found dead by his brother in a dark alleyway. No one had been charged yet for the murder - at least, no one who could be charged. The news reports just seemed relieved that another “criminal” was off the streets. It made Miles’ blood boil.

After the funeral, he rushed to the bathroom to escape the litany of “I’m sorry”s and whispers of “Jefferson’s boy” so as to not lose his mind before the day’s end. His eyes were bloodshot, still stinging with tears that he had tried so hard to hold back in front of his parents. Uncle Aaron would’ve wanted him to tough it out, right?

Heaving in front of the dirty mirror, Miles blinked, and the sight before him made his blood run cold. His reflection’s right eye was green again, and this time, a pair of cornrows seemed to brush his shoulders, framing a tired and gaunt-looking face.

 His face. And he looked angry.

“What the fuck…?” Miles muttered to himself as he held his own gaze.

“I should be asking the same thing,” his reflection replied in a muted, raspy voice, making Miles jump.“You did this, didn’t you?”

“Did-did what? I didn’t–”

“You killed him. I can feel it. Everytime you get hurt, every time you cry, your fear, your guilt, all of it–I can fucking feel it!”

Miles said nothing as his not-a-reflection began to tear up. 

It was technically his fault, wasn’t it? He ran to Aaron’s apartment for help, like a coward. It all went to shit after the fact. He didn’t dare ask about the autopsy results; Miles already knew what they would say. 

He’d watched the bullet blow a hole in his uncle’s chest.

“Yeah, you look guilty as hell right now,” said the not-a-reflection, shakily. “You got bit by something, right?”

Miles slowly began to back away from the mirror.

“H-how did you–”

The other Miles chuckled mirthlessly. “Felt a prick on my hand.”

“Y’know, I wonder…” he mused, venom seeping into his voice, “if it works the other way around.”

Miles squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m dreaming. This is all a dream. You’re not real.”

His not-a-reflection smirked.

“We’ll see.”

After that day, Miles would begin to wander in the middle of the night, and end up standing in the hallway or in the kitchen. Sometimes he’d be woken up by his mother’s startled screaming, or realize that he’d gotten himself a glass of water. 

…And that was when his newfound twin was feeling nice.

One night, Miles woke up with his father’s strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him back from where he seemed to have been perched on the edge of the roof, like a bird ready to spring into action. Or a spider.

It was now the first week of sophomore year.

Miles could hardly stay upright as he rose to make his bed. Between the blaring of his alarm and all the bustling in the kitchen, his eardrums felt like someone was taking a baseball bat to them and hitting several home runs.

He squinted, and saw that the door was opening behind him.

“Mijo–oh, you’re up already?”

“Yup. I’ll be down in a couple minutes.”

“Alright, see you then. Don’t drag your feet.”

Once Rio gently shut the door, Miles realized that he wasn’t supposed to see things that were behind him.

School turned out to be even more of a nightmare; the swarm of students passing by in the hallways felt like a million invisible strings tugging each way. He finally reached his seat in homeroom, dizzy and irate, when one particular string seemed to tug at him. Violently.

His head snapped up.

“You got a twin brother, Morales?” A girl from his cohort last year whispered behind him, soundly oddly excited about the possibility.

“A new student will be joining us this week,” the teacher in charge of homeroom announced. As she read off of the attendance sheet, her brows furrowed. The woman even adjusted her glasses to do a double take. Miles knew exactly what for.

“That’s funny. We have another Miles Morales sitting right over there!”

The boy standing to her left was already staring across the room, directly at Miles. He felt his body temperature drop rapidly the longer he maintained eye contact with the other’s blank stare, so he looked away. 

Didn’t help much. Miles could still sense where he was going. He sensed a small shift in the light at the side of his head–not peripheral vision, but something more akin to the aura that surrounds your eyes when you get a migraine–moving to the back of the classroom.

This ‘twin’ started calling himself ‘Miles G.’ as the week went on, to preemptively avoid any inevitable confusion as his new teachers got to know him. There was never a point where he didn’t need to; the two Miles had all of their classes together, all except for fifth period. 

Miles G. tapped his pen on the desk impatiently as the professor explained the process of chemical bonding. He frowned when he noticed his leg bouncing on its own. It seemed that Miles was equally bored sitting in AP Literature.

That was where their similarities ended, though.

Friday afternoon, Miles was halfway through his daily school-issued PB&J when a painful jolt in his solar plexus nearly made him vomit it back up. The boy doubled over in his seat with a pained cry, and felt a warm liquid running from his nose. He looked down to discover that his uniform blazer was stained with little red dots.

“I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with it,” Miles explained frantically to the school counselor. 

The middle aged woman looked unconvinced, hands folded neatly on the desk in front of her.

“Then can you explain why both of your noses are bleeding?”

“He wasn’t there with me. I don’t jump people,” Miles G. chimed in, earning a glare from his counterpart sitting next to him. “What? I’m tryna help you.”

The counselor sighed. “Well, your teachers told me that they only saw one of you at the fight,” she turned to Miles. “So it seems like you’re off the hook. For now. You can go to class.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively as Miles shot up from his seat and stalked out of the small office and into the now-empty hallway. 

The encounter in the mirror at Uncle Aaron’s funeral suddenly came back to him:

“You killed him. I can feel it. Everytime you get hurt, every time you cry, your fear, your guilt, all of it–I can fucking feel it!”

Miles whipped around before the other could even say a word.

“Who the fuck are you?” he hissed.

Miles G. snorted. “You know who I am.”

“Why are you here, then? What’s your deal? Since you clearly exist.”

“You think it’s fair, Miles?”

Miles’ brows knit together in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking,” Miles G. took a step closer, “if you think it’s fair. That you get to sit up here comfortable while you have blood on your hands.”

The other boy looked away.

“...No.”

He nodded curtly, then brushed past Miles to go to class. “I’m here to make things fair.”

A pit began to form in Miles’ stomach as he let the words linger.

Miles G. was nowhere to be found amongst the sea of students spilling into the hallway when the final bell rang.

“Yo Miles, where’s your evil twin at?” asked Jason, current captain of the basketball team. “He’s supposed to hoop with us today.”

Miles shrugged. “I ain’t keepin’ tabs on him.”

The captain joked, “You’d better start. He could be outside framing you for murder right now!”

The group of boys surrounding him erupted into laughter as they all turned to leave. Miles couldn’t laugh; it was a little too close to the truth. 

“I’m here to make things fair.”

‘Fair’. ‘Fair’ meant leveling the playing field, evening out the score.

…Oh no.

With his heart in his throat, he threw on his jacket and bolted out of the building as fast as his long legs could carry him.

“I don’t know, Jeff, he’s just been…off, lately.”

Rio leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. She was hardly paying any attention to the news flashing across the television.

“More than usual?” Jefferson laughed, earning him a smack on the shoulder.

“I’m being serious. He looks dead in the eyes, like he’s not getting any sleep. I’m just worried after what happened in the summer. Scared me half to death, that boy.”

He nodded solemnly. 

“I still don’t know how he managed to even find the roof with his eyes closed.”

“You think we should still take him to the doctor’s, just in case?”

“Maybe,” Jefferson looked deep in thought. “Y’know, that reminds me: A week before school started, I was in the kitchen grabbing a mug from the cupboard. With my luck, of course it slipped right outta my hands–”

“It better not have been my good mug.”

“That’s besides the point, honey. Anyway, Miles is standing right next to me, and he catches it the moment I drop it!”

Rio’s eyes narrowed. “What’s special about that?”

“He wasn’t even looking in my direction.”

“Hm. Now that I think about it, sometimes he does this weird thing where he turns around and says ‘hi’ to me–”

“--Before you even enter the room!”

“Exactly! It creeps me out, sometimes. I thought I was going crazy.”

“At least he’ll never get robbed.”

The sound of the doorbell interrupted their conversation.

“Speak of the devil,” Rio said as she rose from the sofa. “I’ll get it.”

Her son stood in the door frame, his small suitcase trailing behind him as he waved and began to haul it up the steps.

She took it from him before pulling him into a warm hug. 

“Hola, Mami.”

Rio pulled back to get a good look at Miles’ face. She made a tsk sound at the newly-formed bags under his eyes. The pimples were another story.

“¿Qué tal te fue en la escuela? You look tired.”

“Teníamos un montón de tareas,” he sighed. “The usual.”

“And you’d better be doing all of it. Now get in here, your father’s waiting in the living room.”

Miles kicked off his sneakers at the entrance while his mother set his luggage against the wall.

“Dad…?”

“Miles, my man! How’s it–oof!”

Jefferson could hardly get a word in before Miles went in for a second hug. He gave his son a pat on the back.

“Missed you too, buddy.”

Miles quickly pulled away with an awkward smile, opting to plop down onto the couch instead.

“I thought you didn’t watch the news anymore,” Rio teased as she sat down with him. “All that ‘negativity’.”

He laughed, “I’ll make an exception for tonight.”

“You hear that, Rio? We’re cool enough for him to hang out with us again,” Jeff remarked.

Miles was soon sandwiched between both of his parents, but it hardly felt cramped. He wouldn’t have it any other way. A comfortable silence fell over the three as their faces were illuminated by the soft glow from the TV. It was Miles who broke it again:

“How’s Uncle Aaron doing?”

[tangyangie]

HI!!!! Ur writings r literally the cutest it makes me cry omg, could u write karma with a very versatile social chameleon fem! s/o who is highly feminine and intellectually and emotionally mature yet exudes an energy and a sense of humor deemed as more “guy like” (get it because women can’t be funny or autistic so I just can’t possibly be a woman) and though all of e class really understood each other, there was still ofc a mild difference in the social habits of not only groups but between genders bc gender norms and generalization yeah? But instead of having a specific group that they exclusively talk to because of similar social behaviors, she prefers to weave into the situations and actually project the manner of others- so like she’s very feminine presenting and witty yet also is like a dumb high school boy. Like she could be decked out in a whole gyaru look and- think of a disney channel movie bully moment- be approached by someone and clap back with the most precise and hilariously dumbfounding response, like it’s perfectly catered to the energy the person gives off in order to deliver a blow that actually gets across and hurts ! Basically a very unexpected obscure mixture of a person that isn’t afraid of getting a joke across, even if that means wearing a mustache made from mascara and a fishing shirt to truly stand for what our country stands for🇺🇸🦅make the green m&m sexy again america

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 🌀

desc. karma x fem!unexpected!reader!!

notes. i'm not gonna lie that was really hard to summarize but tysm for the compliment and req!!! this was so fun to write and i could tell as soon as i saw this request

also i assume this is headcanons so please tell me if that's not what you had in mind!!!

you are karma's favorite person ever.

you're smart and you're funny. it's like he's found his twin flame. except she's 100x more intense.

it's almost as if you adapt to the person you're talking to as well. he just thinks you're so interesting.

one second, you're making dirty jokes with rio—and the next, you're talking with nagisa calmly about ways to kill korosensei.

you're decked out in a long, flowy dress and screeching like an eagle, flapping your arms.

and don't get him started on how much he loves your reaction to class A.

one of them begins berating a classmates for being in class E? you're over there coming up with the most creative insults ever. combinations you didn't think were possible.

karma lives to see the look on their faces after you've delivered their personally catered insult. they're actually dumbfounded.

you're constantly the center of attention together. you're going on about why birds are actually government drones and karma's starting to throw birds into the room to try and kill korosensei.

you adapt to your surroundings. god knows how many different jokes you have with different people because of this.

you play fighting games on the whiteboard with the rest of your classmates. your character is an umbrella and you have a rain buff??

it's impossible to count how many times you've used an american country accent and gone on about how much you love women and fishing.

— "LONG LIVE BASS PRO SHOPS"

it's been at least a few months since you've been dating karma. he's still figuring you out.

you both are rubbing off on each other. now karma's calling people ingrown toenails, and you tease him because he stole that from you.

the big 5 of class A still never leave you guys alone.

teppei's pushing his tests in your guys' faces with a smug look. you push your glasses (imaginary or not) up your face and sniff, mocking him.

"actually," you sniffle. "according to my calculations, you've got as less rizz than an easy-bake oven. go get some girls and then we'll see how envious we are." you say, with a wink.

the rest of the class is laughing their asses off while teppei's got the most flabbergasted look on his face that's possible. wide eyes and eyebrows to the sky, he drops the paper and runs way crying.

you make a remark about how you love making america great again by making boys cry.

the rest of the class doesn't know how to label you. you fit in with everyone.

yet, you've also got a very distinct personality. you also make references to the weirdest things, like a specific game that got really popular in 2020, especially among middle school boys...

but, they love you nonetheless. even though sometimes, you make jokes that would send you to class ZZZ.

notes: assuming i understood what you meant correctly, i have like 10 friends like this. perhaps some of these are based of of them... (you know who you are 🩷)

[scaralvr]

if youre up for it can we PLEASE have some sibling snippets or crumbs🤞🏻 i literally cannot get over them everytime i read ur scara smau their dynamic is just so chaotic and funny

i just know whenever scara takes mona’s crystal ball and theyre fighting over it he throws it over to fischl and tells her to run but mona tells her to give it back and now she’s panicking over what todo😭😭

00. the siblings!! scaramouche x mona x fischl (sibling au) a/n: i think i went too far... AND I TOTALLY AGREE, FISCHL WOULD NEVER PICK A SIDE CAUSE SHE'S TOO NICE LIKE THAT BDJDS

the twins, mona and scaramouche, have a two-minute gap in terms of their birth. i personally think scaramouche was one to cry more than his sister. and boy, did they give ei a hard time with raising them.

"oh, it's the little ones' first birthday already? time flies by so fast." zhongli, a close companion of ei's commented as he gently pinched scaramouche's cheek. scaramouche whined and mona chomped on his other cheek.

in the meanwhile, venti was taken aback, "well, would you look at that. you've raised an animal-" he was cut off when ei slapped him in the back of the head.

venti jokingly exclaimed, "now that's no way to treat someone you went to college with!" zhongli only sighed. scaramouche began to wail, hugging his stuffed giraffe and mona grunted in disapproval, placing a hand on scaramouche's mouth. scaramouche paused before crying even louder.

ei picked him up from the crib, "zhongli, would you please take mona for me? i don't trust that neon green troglodyte with my children." in the background, venti loudly gasped.

as you would imagine, scaramouche and mona grew up around their godfather, zhongli, for a majority of the time since ei was occupied with her business label. and they gave zhongli a rough time too...

two-year-old scaramouche found himself in a problematic situation. "oopsies." he nonchalantly said, looking into the empty marshmallow bag that was supposed to be his sister's, but of course, scaramouche had gotten hungry by now.

he frowned and the tears began to well up in his eyes. "scara? what are you doing back here?" zhongli queried, peering behind the couch where scaramouche was sitting. without hesitation, he bursted into tears, crying so loud, zhongli swore the neighbors would scold him.

mona, hearing this, ran into the living room and jumped onto the couch where scaramouche was hiding so she could take a peek. she curiously glanced at her brother, whom zhongli picked up in his arms.

"baby brother cry?" she asked, her chubby little fingers touching her lips. scaramouche sniveled, burying his face into zhongli's shirt; he just couldn't bare to look at mona after eating what was supposed to be hers. zhongli nodded, "that's right, mona. why don't you cheer him up?"

mona looked at him and then scaramouche. "no. want more 'mallows."

and at the age of four, the twins were blessed with their wonderful baby sister, amy. ever since her birth, the two have been fighting to be her favourite sibling.

"i want to see her!"

"no, me first!"

the two argued in the nursery room and ei tutted, putting her hands on their shoulders. "shh... you're going to wake her." she softly said. "look, the both of you may see her." ei smiled, picking up scaramouche and mona.

they held onto their mother's shirt with balled up fists, peering into the crib. "waah, she has yellow hair!" mona exclaimed. scaramouche pouted, "that's blonde, dummy." he stuck out his tongue and mona grumbled.

ei tsked, "c'mon, you two. this is a chance to get along for once." mona gasped, "she's moving!" wide eyes filled with awe, they watched amy fuss about.

"hehehe, mama, look! she likes the fishies!" mona pointed out, giggling. amy was hugging one of the stuffed fishes in the crib out of the many plushes, sleeping peacefully. ei chuckled as scaramouche giggled as well, "her name should be fischl, like fish."

mona perked up, "the baby or the stuffed toy?"

scaramouche shrugged, "i don't like math."

there was definitely a time fischl got brutally bullied in elementary school for believing her life is like a fantasy from a storybook. once thirteen-year-olds scaramouche and mona found out about it, they weren't happy at all.

"say that again, i dare you." scaramouche threatened with a clenched jaw, eyes blown with anger. "wow, and so now you're silent? come back at our sister when you've grown a pair of balls, would you?" mona said, arms crossed. the boy stammered, "i-i-"

scaramouche held up his fist, "do you want this up your ass?" the boy panted and appeared puzzled, "h-huh?" mona elbowed scaramouche, "the hell did you just say?"

scaramouche blinked a few moments before gasping, "i-i mean, your fac- DO YOU WANT THIS IN YOUR FACE?" he quickly got back into character despite the little mess-up.

"heyyy, fischl!" mona greeted her when she entered the house. scaramouche tossed a marshmallow into his mouth, "how was school?" fischl instantly backed away.

"brother, sister... may i question you as to why you are acting odd?" she squinted, warily looking around like a killer clown would appear out of nowhere.

mona waved her hands around, "no reason, no reason at all!" scaramouche nodded, "i like these marshmallows." mona elbowed him again. fischl paused before grinning, "i had an excellent day, i thank you for asking! i made two allies as well; razor and bennett. though, i feel razor may be having a 'furry' phase..."

at least the boy never bothered fischl again, and along with it, came new friends.

extras!!

-scaramouche and mona have taken a strange liking to marshmallows since they were kids when venti fed it to them even though he wasn't supposed to.

-scaramouche has walked in one too many times on mona gossiping to fischl about the cute boys in her class.

-the three have shared one bedroom since they were born and it stays that way.

-when fischl got a pet bird named oz for her eighth birthday, scaramouche has been ranting to it for three years straight before realizing it's not a parrot.

-mona drags scaramouche to go shopping with her.

-mona is big on fashion and voluntarily buys clothes for her siblings to make them look presentable.

-fischl's preferable fashion is alt and/or dark academia.

-at one point, fischl begged scaramouche and mona to match halloween costumes with her. and that they did, for they went trick-or-treating as fischl portraying alice, mona portraying the queen of hearts and scaramouche portraying the mad hatter.

© scaralvr.

[iloveslllycatss]

runa ml idrk if u do this type thing so if not ignore this but what ab osamu w/ an s/o who's atsumus bsf i feel like that would be so cute

also im working on the rq u sent me a few decades ago rn. im done with my procrastination era

𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴

𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘶 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘢𝘯: 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘣𝘩

❂ you were atsumus best friend since last year (first year)

❂ you loved atsumu but ever since you layed your eyes onto his twin brother, it was love at first sight fr.

❂ he was ur EXACT type. not that loud? check. cute? check. not a blonde 😐? check. tall and athletic? check.

❂ he was a walking green flag istg

❂ when u told atsumu about this little crush of yours, he FREAKED THE FUCK OUT.

❂ I’m talking full on fake feinting.

❂ he was supportive but it doesn’t come without teasing.

❂ before osamu met u-met u, he thought u were okay. sure u were pretty but that’s about it

❂ until he actually met u-met u.

❂ you guys met when atsumu wasn’t home and you went over to his house and stayed there to wait for him

❂ you guys surprising had a really good time together, lots of things in common 

❂ he likes to cook, you like to bake / he likes to play volleyball, you like to watch volleyball etc etc

❂ after you two got together it was like chaos found a new definition.

❂ at first it was hard to balance your time for school, your boyfriend and your best friend

❂ u slowly got used to it tho

❂ atsumu still loved to be around you. but there was absolutely NO WAY he would EVER stay to b a third wheel when osamu was around

❂ like one time you and tsumu were watching a movie and making fun of the characters together until osamu got home

❂ “hey baby, hi idiot.” 

❂ “hi samu !!” 

❂ you got up to hug samu and give him a kiss until u heard tsumu groan

❂ “oh come on the movie JUST NOW finished… i’m heading out, can’t allow myself to b a third wheel.”

❂ “sthu dumbass u just mad that u can’t pull sb as pretty as y/n”

❂ “samu ur so cute. tsumu u just mad u single”

❂ atsumu doesn’t even sleep in the same ROOM as u two when y’all cuddle

❂ because apparently “i don’t want to b there when u guys fuck 😞”

❂ hes dramatic asl

❂ you still hang out with him plenty though

❂ he is your best friend after all

this was so rushed fr. not proofread or nothing 😞 

jisu u hope u like this 😢 

@/ilovesillycats

plz don’t copy my work 😞 

[monakisu]

Your art style is so satisfying! What do you take inspiration from?

ಇ( ˵ᐛ ˵)ಇ💜‼️ yippee thank you for this super fun ask!! hehe i love rambling about things i love and my art style is nothing but a frankenstein’s monster amalgamation of traits i shoplifted from things i love 😸😸😸

1. PANTY AND STOCKING!!! probably theeee biggest influence for my art style!! i religiously copied the complete disregard for realism, the white-pupil eyes, and sharp sharp everything! started in sixth grade and now we here 🩷💿🫧┗(^o^　)┓三

(panty is my favorite of the anarchy sisters heehee weak for blonde girls)

💕🧸🩷.

2. MANGA PANELS!!! i love that black n white + screentone dots look! it’s also an easy cop-out when i don’t wanna color (always) LOLLL also helps that i’ve been gazing adoringly at nothing but manga screenshots of light yagami for days now… he’s got that enchanting southern belle/femme fatale/pampered princess allure… (sorry this has nothing to do with ur question) (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)✧🧨🍎🍒

🧨♥️💥.

3. RETRO STUFF!!! like comics and 2000s cartoons :D for cartoons especially: monster high, powerpuff girls, winx club, totally spies… all thick lines, sharp angles, and POPPING COLORS!! i think this is also where i get my excessive love for shapes from (although i can’t draw a straight line to save my life) (ɷ ꒪ཀ꒪)ɷ🧡🎃✨

🎃🧡🍊.

4. PERSONA 5 UI!!! ik i’ve used this gif before in another ask but JUST LOOK AT IT!! GLORIOUSLY EYE-SEARING NEON GREEN!!! 💚 i love love love p5’s art style, particularly vanilla p5 (royal flaunts more shiny gold accents which also scratch that itch in my brain 😸) because lovely mismatched, cut-out typography! black n white characters contrasting strikingly against retina-piercing monochrome palettes!! all flair AND function!!! this game has it all!!!! (๑˃̶͈̀∇˂̶͈́)و⁾⁾˚*💚🍭💕

💚🎀🍡.

5. VEWN!!! their animations instill within me the special kind of depression only a preteen girl can feel… their style is wonderfully imperfect! sketchy lines and skewed perspectives—makes me happy to draw whatever i want without worrying about realism 😸 my favorite of theirs is “twins in paradise” and “floatland”! they evoke the same uncanniness as liminal spaces methinks 🩵🎐🪽

🫧🩵🎐.

yea… that’s it for now! i’d gush for days but there’s a stinkin 10-image limit on posts -_- but whatever u can always check out my constantly growing collection of treasures that tickle my brain on pinterest (i’ve linked it in my pinned)! gives u a pretty good idea of where i draw inspo from :3c 🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜