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lovebugism · 1 month

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hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t.

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of.

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own.

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface.

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You.

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway.

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer.

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth.

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look.

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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camilieroart · 1 month

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TMNT COLORCODED CHARACTER LINEUP COMPLETED !

After MONTHS of work, here is finally the lineup of all

61 CHARACTERS

That will be relevant at one point or another in Colorcoded season 1 :) More non-spoilery informations about them below !

Harry the Pickpocket gets beaten up pretty often. People like to hate what is ugly, and Harry wasn't the prettiest homeless guy around. Then again, most of the time he got beat up because he was caught stealing, but that's irrelevant. He had to do what he had to do to survive, and in New York, if you don't steal what you need, well people won't give it to you. More often than not, New Yorkers liked to step over him and a few sometimes walked on him, while still ignoring him. Harry was used to being hated, being beaten, being ugly and undeserving. What he was definitely NOT used to, was being saved by a group of reptilian people that, despite the fact that he stole from them, did not beat him up, talked to him nicely, and even built him a safe shelter. The Purple one even got him running water ! Now that he could drink and shower and look presentable, he might even be able to get a job, all thanks to these kids ! Harry didn't care that they were green and had a tough back. They were nice to him, and it was only fair Harry shared whatever scraps of infos he got to help them during missions. Especially when they brought some of these tasty pizzas…

Angel had always been called a bit naive, a bit stupid, a bit too good. She was always accommodating, always saying yes and her trust could easily be abused. But that wasn't true. Angel wasn't stupid. She knew what she was giving, and she knew that sometimes it was a bit too much. But she wanted to believe in the good of people, and in their good intentions, because it's always nice to be believed in ! So, what if she felt horribly ostracized by her only friends Casey and April, always out of the loop and pushed aside, ditched out of nowhere for them to run off with poor excuses ? They surely had a great reason ! Plus, she also kept secrets from them. You see, Angel had a part time job in the local Dimmart. She didn't really need it, it was just a good way to store away cash. And the fact that she didn't NEED it, made her able to freely walk out or shrug off if she gets fired. That definitely came in handy the night she caught a giant rat man and 4 turtles stealing from the store. So maybe she let them get away and purposefully covers for them everytime she can, but what else was she supposed to do ? She knows that people who steal, are usually people that don't have choice. Some nights, maybe the cameras have some strange malfunctions.

Steve Spiegel was a failed artist. At least that what his mom said. No matter how much work he put in his comics, nobody seemed to care. Maybe he just wasn't good at coming up with nice stories... But if there's one thing he's good at, it's listening to other people's stories, and giving advice. Now that's his thing ! Maybe he doesn't enjoy it as much as making his own stories, but at least, it pays the bills ! Plus there's that new client, Casey Jones, that had been telling him the craziest stories. Of course, Steve knew realistically, that this kid was either having a laugh at his expense, or in a serious situation that he struggled at expressing and tries to explain through silly stories instead. Either way, Steve listened like it was real, gave advice like it was true, and everytime the kid seemed happy and satisfied. And professional confidentiality be damned, these stories were too good to not be turned into a nice comic…

Vernon Fenwick was what you can call an asshole. After he failed to work in any of the TV channels the city had to offer, he made his own show called the Earth Protection News, courtesy of his roommate Ulysses S. Grant, that might have passed away soon after giving him the right to his show and all of it's audience. Vernon's show didn't work well at first. In this stupidly 'woke' world, having an openly racist, and misogynist and transphobic show seemed to have a certain impact on how it performed. It wasn't until the apparition of the monsters (that the arrogant and blind-sided left calls 'mutants' to hide their horrific nature) that Vernon truly started to shine. Each new footage or even pictures was dissected in his show and explained. People listened ! Finally the world knew he was right. These reptilians had grown tired of waiting, and decided to finally start to take over, but humans won't let them ! we'll fight back, starve them, torture them, kill them ! His show was bought by Channel 3, and millions hung to his every word ! And if Vernon hid some footage that proved these mutants weren't as dangerous as he thought, then who would know ? It was only a matter of time anyway. He could see it, when they mess up and the entire world is at stake because of them, oh he would be right. He would have won. And when it happens, Vernon would be there.

Akira is the Shredder’s right hand. When Shredder rose to power, he went against her, and was thrown into a prison pit to rot. But Shredder knew the man had talent and skill, and she didn’t want it to go to waste. She broke his mind, and took his eyes, and Akira is now completely obedient to his master.

Tanner G. Rollins is the failure of the family. His family moved to New York to make it, 2 generations ago, and were very successful. Tanner chose not to take over the family business and become a doctor. They were kicked out and banished because of it. He struggled really badly to become a dentist, and even then, clients were rare and barely enough to survive. Thanks to Splinter’s kindness, they decided to devote his life to helping mutants. He became a pro-mutant activist and takes care of mutant patients without ever compromising their safety. Also they’re a big rabbit fan. They’re just neat. He’s very blunt and honest, and heavily depressed.

Avril and xer twin Amaro Knox work in their grandma's (Anet Knox) Calm Corner Comics shop, and often scare of assholes that try to bother. They are both pro-mutants. Both are Tanako no Ichi fan. Avril is very chill and cool (xey/xer). Amaro is a party guy and always poppin'.

Anet Knox might be a small woman, but she is strong-willed and is a person to respect. She rules her comic shop with an iron fist, and is ready to beat the hell out of anyone disrespectful, despite her grandchildren being there to do so. She’s loudly pro-mutant, and is very happy to see Leo and Donnie whenever they come over for the new Tanako no Ichi manga or some Lynthia’s Legends.

André Murakami is a blind japanese chef, owner of the small but delicious restaurant "Fuyuuran". He was blind from one eye when he was born and fucked up his other eye by running around with a knife as a kid. He's very sweet and pro-mutant.

Renet Tilley is Casey's and April's history teacher, as well as their reference teacher. She is pretty awkward and shy around other adults and tend to relax around teens and younger. Her classes are always interesting and she strives to help her student as best as she can.

Shinigami and Yumiko live together. Shinigami was Karai's nanny and basically raised her. After Saki's death, she talked to Karai calling her sweetheart as she always have and got gutted and thrown out. Thankfully she was saved by one of the clan's cooks, Yumiko. They both ran away from the Foot and they assume they're dead. Since the Foot had always provided for them, they live in extreme poverty, and Yumiko works 5 jobs to try to save up to buy a proper wheelchair for Shinigami.

Baxter Stockman found, one day, a lot of canisters clogging his lab’s water tunnels, and after a few experiments, saw the potential in the mutagene. He sold it to scientists all around the world, and kept some to himself to experiment with. Ethicality and morality didn’t have it’s place in Stockman Entreprises, and it was in the way of progress. However, Baxter knew it was dangerous, and thus took it really badly when he noticed one day the Foot Clan spying on him, and decided to teach them a lesson. Baxter’s main drive is learning and discovering, advancing technology and driving humanity forward, no matter the cost. With global warming and world leaders playing with atomic bombs, time is limited, and Baxter will be the one to save the human race.

Don Vizioso is the nicest guy alive, he's known as the philantropist Vizioso. He would help you pay off your debt, take you under his wing if you're struggling, pay an ice cream to a little kid, shoot a guy that betrayed him 35 times in the head, pay for your college tuition, help fix the fucked up streets, or even give you access to his free hospital he set up in Manhattan ! His employees are helping out everywhere in the city, even if their influence is mainly in Manhattan. Recently, they have been bravely battling the group of thugs named the Purple Dragons, that keep aggressing people and destroying properties. Of course, Vizioso always helps with the reparations, sometimes coming down himself to fix up a wall or entertain the kids. For some reason, people keep coming after him with wild accusations, and these thugs often end up being recruited by the Purple Dragons. Plus, after the city announcement about the existence of monsters in New York, he's taken a stance on protecting New York, and has been bravely fighting back the creatures that keep trashing the city ! What a hero.

(This is the version that Vizioso believes about himself as well as the propaganda)

Don Vizioso is a mafia boss, despite being known by the mass as "the philantropist Vizioso". He would help you pay off your debt, but in return you're indebted in him. He'd take you under his wing, then shove you into a life of crime you can't escape. He would pay an ice cream to a little kid, because that way the shooter on the roof can't get to him. He would shoot a corpse until it's disfigured, and then go after his family. He would pay for your college tuition, and then ask you to kill the dean. He would fix the fucked up streets, and ask a tax from the people to pay for it. He made a free hospital, that actually records everything about you, and steals money every month without you noticing. His goons are looming over the entire city, but Manhattan is what is truly under his control, including the information. A group of resistant was created, called the Purple Dragons, but they are constantly discredited and Vizioso's crimes are pinned on them. Vizioso helps this idea that he's innocent by helping rebuild buildings he destroyed, but not the families he killed. When people realize they've been dupped, and lost everything after trusting Don Vizioso, they go after him, and then join the resistance. The mutants are a menace for his organization, and they won't destroy what took him so long to build. Plus, if he could capture them and sell them, he could make a good buck out of it.

The Purple Dragons are angry people, most of which have been wronged by Don Vizioso, that let their anger known. They are demonized by Don Vizioso and the city, and cast aside. Hun is their leader, driven mostly by anger and resentment. He always feels as if everything is being stolen from him and reacts impulsively and violently, which has often has negative effects in his life. He tries to aim that anger directly onto Vizioso and his energy into taking him down. During the raids to places that would weaken Vizioso, Hun goes wild and is often the reason for the bigger property damage. After hurting his loved ones when he was little however, he is always careful to not hurt people unless they ask/agree to it (like for a spar or he asks people if they want to fight. If they refuse he insists but doesn’t lunge for it anyway), or to defend himself or the people he wants to protect. Only when it’s directly and immediately. The few crimes they do commit in order to fight Vizioso is often the justification for the other, bigger crimes Vizioso commits and pins on them. Hun knows that getting mad at that and being violent back would only make their reputation worse, but he refuses to stay idle or passive in the face of the mafia boss. Hun, Koios Streight (the voice of reason), Nermin (tries to better the reputation of the Purple Dragons and deal with the damage. She's the n°1 reason Hun reigns himself in property damage). Also Koios and Nermin are dating. it's like irrelevant to anything ever. All the purple dragon things they wear is merch from Lynthia's legends (donnie's fav books) because it's about dragons and the color theme is purple.

Miss Chow, Malo and Arune are a little recomposed family. Miss Chow owns a food stall called "Chow's food and drink" in Manhattan. Arune and Miss Chow are married, and each handle a different job for the stall. Miss Chow is the main face and makes the food and such. Arune is usually working on paperwork and taking care of the finances and going to pick up Malo from school… Malo is from Miss Chow's previous marriage. She loves her moms but she's very very shy. She’s also partially deaf, but is able to hear pretty well with her hearing aid. Miss Chow is battling cancer, and thanks to Arune’s incredible talent in handling finances and worming through admnistrative, they’re able to stay afloat and have most of her treatment covered. Arune had a congenital malformation, and due to the fact she spent her entire life disabled and surviving America’s legal system, she really knows her way around their traps.

8-ball needs to feel like she has control over her life, and herself. After 18, her parents pushed her out for her to become independent, but 8-ball struggled and failed to get a job. Desperate and unable to seek refuge at her parents’, she was extremely grateful when a kind man took her in. What she thought was kindness turned out to be abuse, as he used her fragile mental state to control her. His constant pressure to be more beautiful and thinner, and her need to feel like she still belonged to herself led her to the dangerous path of controlling her food. It started small, not allowing any snaks after 2PM, then it became not eating more than once a day, then that one meal became smaller and smaller. It felt good, to be able to control that, to see the changes on her body that at last SHE was making happen. One day, as he hit her, one of her bone broke, due to malnutrition. He realized that his puppet would no longer work, and he left. 8-ball was right back where she started, in a much worse condition. Her control over her life kept slipping away, even with him gone, and it only amplified her need to control her food intake. Then, an evening she looked in the mirror after showering and it hit her like a truck. She was not okay and she needed help. But with no job and barely surviving, she couldn’t afford the help. She had no support group, nothing. So she made one, with other girls that like her were struggling and needed help but couldn’t get any professional one.

She is slowly relearning to eat without the swirl of guilt and horror to appear, but it’s very hard, and set backs happen often. But she’s going to survive it, she’s determined to make it. She wears wigs to hide her falling hair, and contacts because she likes it. Her favorites are the 8 balls ones.

The Turks were originally just a support group for disabled girls to talk about their problem, but it quickly turned into a way for them to expel their anger and sadness at being abandoned by society. It was founded and is being lead by 8-ball (favourite weapon baseball bat), along her two right arms, Aïda (spiky punchy things) who has down syndrome and is tired of being pushed aside, and Ruth (knife hidden in cane), an old black lady that seems fragile but will tear you apart, earning her the nickname “ruthless”. The gang often trashes the city and beat up people that make comments on their appearances. They tag a lot of walls about the city’s abandonment of disabled people and the lack of help and care for them if they do not fit hyper-specific criterias. As well as they are constantly judged due to their disability, leading to an impossibility to get jobs and sometimes even housing. They are led by 8-ball, that cannot fight due to her fragile physical state, but is the voice of their group. As the group gets known, they are being joined by other women, that while not disabled, are victims of societal or domestic abuse, and wishes for things to change. Of course all of this nuance and why the group was created is being pushed aside by medias and they are being labelled as a violent mob gang that only wishes to create anarchy. All their messages through tags are not relayed by the media, and some of them even present 8-ball and her right arms as big strong men (because how else could they have trashed the street ?). They are regularly being stopped by the turtles for hurting people, whenever it goes too far. However the mutants have never stopped them from writing their messages, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone. For a while, the girls abided to the rules, but they are getting tired of their messages disappearing in the wind. They need to do something big. To finally be listened to. Also this women only club does accept trans women, who goes through the same selection as everyone else.

it was originally a support group for women to reunite and talk about their problems and such. now, sure they trash the place but technically that's still the case. It's a support group for women about women discrimination, which includes all women, but it's a support group for women. Like that's just it. It turned into a gang which isn't great, but yeah. Plus it's not like a windmill. There's like questions they ask you before you join and stuff. It's a group that includes everyone that has experiences woman discrimination, and so includes trans women and Ft anything. Of course regardless of gender or build or whatever if you start being an ass you get kicked out

General Blanque is loyal to his country, and after that the world. He will defend it from any threats, and after New York City’s mayor gets attacked by monsters, and the mayor gets convinced to stay inactive, General Blanque decides to act in the shadows, helped by his assistant Lonae. It would take him a while, but he would get rid of these pests, before they fester and grow. He has a plan for a special squad of trained criminals, as he could not use soldiers without being noticed, and he’d grant them immunity if they succeed... Lonae is a model secretary and assistant. Always proper and straight, remembering all the meetings and accommodating her general whenever she can. Dutiful and loyal to a fault, especially to her clan’s leader, Shredder. She’s a wonderful spy, not once suspected by the General. Shredder stays aware of all the political movement happening in New York, without ever giving away her precious asset.

Libby and Harold Lilja own the store “Friendly neighbourhood store”, in the end of Brooklyn, towards Staten Island. Originally both graduate of a science PhD, their paths led them to each other, and in the end, to this little store that is their pride and joy. They met Splinter and the turtles when they were still little, as Splinter was trying to steal for food. The Lilja were the first ones to welcome the mutants with open arms and help them out. They are considered precious allies, despite not being in each others life all that often (not visiting each others houses or anything). Both of them are very outspoken pro-mutants, despite Harold being generally very quiet, and Libby avoiding political discussions.

Oxymary's maker, nicknamed "Ox" by fans. They're a bit fan of non-human creatures, going as far to inspire their main guiding character from a non-human, and then always dressing up as them when they go out. Which is ironic, when you know how anti-mutant they are.

Ox, making the game : "ommmmmg so like monster characters are soooo cool, so mysterious and interesting, and different ! i love how different from us monters are :D" Ox, as soon as they learn about mutants "oh ewwww what the hell is that kill it with fire"

The mayor is sooo important. He's so important you know. A big important man, that needs to be respected. And taken care of because he works soooo hard for this city. A good business man. A big boy. He can yell reaaal loud if you don't listen to him ! So brave ! So imposing ! He's doing soooo well, his mama sure thinks so. She supports him when he goes after the big bad monsters that harmed her baby boy ! Like a superhero.

James Bond is just a guy. He likes animals, and he’s a trans man who had Bond as his last name and just ran with it. He’s the only pro-mutant vetenarian in an anti-mutant clinic, so he keeps a low profile but he helps the turtles when he can. Nothing fancy or big, just a guy doing his part.

#colorcoded #colorcoded au #tmnt #tmnt colorcoded #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt au #tmnt iteration #camilieroart

253 notes · View notes

dannyricsmirrorball · 8 months

Text

1989 • dr3 ੈ✩‧₊˚

ੈ✩‧₊˚ pairing || daniel ricciardo x singer!reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ genre || social media au

ੈ✩‧₊˚ summary || y/n is releasing a new album!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n || daniel is in the red bull 2023 seat in this btw! ahhh this was so fun, i’m so excited for 1989 tv and obsessed w daniel x 1989 edits so i had to make this.

liked by danielricciardo, scottyjames31, and 420,781 others

yourusername welcome to new york

tagged danielricciardo

username1 daniel.jpg in action

danielricciardo it’s been waiting for u 😉

username2 best couple back at it

username3 WE NEED NEW MUSIC

charles_leclerc that is so unsafe y/n!

⤷ yourusername ok grandpa lame

⤷ danielricciardo yeah grandpa

⤷ charles_leclerc look who’s talking 🤨

carmenmmundt pretty girl 😍

dianasilverss new york loves u

⤷ yourusername i love u

username19 patiently waiting for more music

georgerussell63 rogue australian w a camera

⤷ yourusername do u know him? he won’t stop following me!

liked by jackdoohan, jensonbutton, and 1,161,630 others

danielricciardo you can hear it in the silence

tagged yourusername

username23 y/n and danny in new york supremacy

scottyjames31 lookin fresh DR

⤷ danielricciardo just for u 😘

⤷ yourusername yeah ok.

yourusername you can hear it on the way home

⤷ danielricciardo can u see it w the lights out?

⤷ username41 um… are these… lyrics?!

username56 in love w their love

username43 smth bout danny is that he will ALWAYS be repping his own merch

marcusmumford sexy man

⤷ yourusername very 😮‍💨

⤷ danielricciardo i’m blushing 😘

liked by aarondessner, sukiwaterhouse, and 192,428 others

yourusername the best people in life are free

username11 guys i think we are entering a new era

username12 i’m calling it. new album coming.

lilymhe i miss u. come see me.

⤷ yourusername come see me!!!!

⤷ lilymhe nyc girls night out?? 👯‍♀️

⤷yourusername alex_albon make it happen

⤷ alex_albon booking flights 😐

username13 guys do we think that this is a lyric…

⤷ username14 we’re so starved

francisca.cgomes 🌟 girl

⤷ yourusername loml 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

⤷ danielricciardo 🤨

⤷ pierregasly 🤨

gracieabrams in love w you

⤷ yourusername in love w YOU

username42 LIVING for ny y/n

liked by landonorris, wearephoenix, and 342,093 others

yourusername kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats

tagged danielricciardo, landonorris, lilymhe, alex_albon, georgerussell63, charles_leclerc

username34 obsessed w her being friends w the grid

landonorris cute danielricciardo

⤷ yourusername lay off my bf 🙄

username83 y/n’s obsession w new york lately has to mean smth

⤷ username45 RIGHT like even danny is posting so much of new york

⤷ username83 and the weird captions… like lyrics??

⤷ username72 or they’re just enjoying being in new york during the off season?

⤷ username83 ur no fun 🙄

lilymhe u + me 4eva 🤭

⤷ yourusername umm yes? 🤭🤭

⤷ danielricciardo ??

⤷ lilymhe what abt it?

⤷ alex_albon ??

⤷ yourusername square up albono

⤷ alex_albon it’s ok i’ll just shake it off

⤷ yourusername 😳

charles_leclerc i don’t remember what we were looking at

⤷ georgerussell63 🎤🎤

⤷ charles_leclerc ohhhhh yes!!

⤷ alex_albon i’m sure she admires ur subtlety george

⤷ yourusername yeah thanks guys 😐

⤷ username62 UMMMM GUYS?? MUSIC???

liked by mickschumacher, enchante, and 183,801 others

daniel3.jpg been getting down to this sick beat 🎧

tagged yourusername

username87 WHAT SICK BEAT DANIEL?!

yourusername 👏👏👏

⤷ daniel3.jpg ❌🙋‍♂️🎁👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨💁‍♀️😱

⤷ username53 um ok…

username72 eating up any scraps of hints to new music

username91 obsessed bf talented gf peak

lando.jpg tell y/n to let me play 🥁 on the album

⤷ yourusername what album??

⤷ lando.jpg oh yk just like whatever one comes next yk like lollollol

⤷ daniel.jpg not looking likely mate

⤷ username57 uhhhh album???!??!!

username82 she’s so girl boss

username73 their matching ugly shoes 🥹🥹

⤷ username88 LMFAO they make it work

liked by sam_fender, chloestroll, and 980,284 others

yourusername tangled up with you all night 🪩

username56 OMFG SHES IN THE STUDIO

username98 NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

username92 WE WERE RIGHT ODNFHRUEJ

username24 NEW FUCKING MUSIC LFG

landonorris OMGOMGOMG

⤷ yourusername 😐

⤷ landonorris 🤷‍♀️

isahernaez that skirt 😍😍

⤷ yourusername omg complimented by the fashion god 🤭

username3 another lyric caption fs

scottyjames31 does he go anywhere without that damn camera

⤷ yourusername no.

⤷ danielricciardo photography is my passion 😍

liked by landonorris, chloestroll, and 342,510 others

daniel3.jpg high tide came and brought you in 🌊

username56 ok now the captions are just obviously lyrics

username92 he’s so obsessed 🙄 i love them 🥹

landonorris enough of the y/n dedicated jpg posts. mine next??

⤷ yourusername in your wildest dreams

⤷ daniel.jpg ofc 😚

⤷ yourusername oh.

⤷ daniel.jpg oh… 😳

⤷ landonorris AHAHHAA owneddddd yourusername

username72 the way he captures her. they’re so perfect.

username46 the seagulls on the beach??? like y/n’s post as well… this means smth

⤷ username81 someone’s getting delirious

liked by danielricciardo, gracieabrams, and 2,309,451 others

yourusername new album out 01/03/23 🌟

tagged jackantonoff

username63 OH MY FUCKING GOD

landonorris LFG

username12 WHAT WHAT WHAT

username23 IM NOT READY. MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED.

carlossainz55 ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

username46 she used the pics danny took of her. im so fragile rn 🥹

lilymhe THE MUSIC INDUSTRY EVERYBODY

⤷ yourusername i love u w my whole heart

georgerussell63 mega mate!!

francisca.cgomes so excited lovey!!! 💖💖

⤷ yourusername ily kika baby 💘

pierregasly let’s goooo

charles_leclerc congrats y/n 👏👏 can’t wait for evryone to see!

⤷ yourusername 🤍🤍 thanku for ur help charlie 😉

⤷ username16 no way…

⤷ username5 are we getting y/n ft charles OMFG WE ARE SO BACK

username3 AHHH SO EXCITED but also why’s it called 1989?

⤷ username78 this is just a guess but im 99% sure it’s bc that’s the year danny was born

⤷ username3 omg a y/n album named after/dedicated to danny, my heart can’t take this

username63 why is no one else talking abt the fact that the release date is daniel’s bday?!

⤷ username3 OH MY GOD IT IS

maxverstappen1 congrats y/n/n 💙

jackantonoff let’s goooo

⤷ yourusername absolute legend

danielricciardo so proud of u baby ❤️

⤷ yourusername i love u forever

lewishamilton 💜

gracieabrams proud asf

f1 ready for 1989 era

danielricciardo random release date 🤔

liked by arthurleclerc, gangofyouths, and 390,647 others

yourusername nice dresses, sunsets

username12 ugh i need to raid her closet

danielricciardo more of this 😍

lilymhe my girl 🤤😍😘💖💘

⤷ danielricciardo i’m sure u meant MY girl

⤷ lilymhe get ur own girl

⤷ danielricciardo i HAVE my own girl

⤷ alex_albon and SO DO U

⤷ yourusername calm down ladies, there’s enough of me to go around for the both of u 😘

⤷ username23 alex is lily’s bitch confirmed

jackantonoff red lips and rosy cheeks?

liked by danielricciardo, enchante, and 5,609,183 others

yourinstagram celebrating my person today! danny, thanku for being my rock, my heart, my everything. happy birthday my love, i am yours forever and always.

my new album 1989 is now yours! i am so proud of this album, thank you to everyone involved in creating my newest baby. most importantly, thank you to my most special muse. this album is about life, love, friendship, and everything in between.

daniel this one is for you 🤍

enchante x

tagged danielricciardo

danielricciardo the best present i could ask for ❤️

⤷ username41 nobody speak to me

danielricciardo so so proud of u, forever my girl

⤷ yourinstagram forever ❤️

landonorris hbd lover 😍😍 oh yeah and congrats y/n 🙄 so extremely proud 🧡

⤷ yourinstagram stop tryna bust the moves on my boyfriend - thankuu landini 🩷

jackantonoff PROUDEST

⤷ yourinstagram my partner in musical crime 🤍

maxvertsappen1 WOOOH LETS GO Y/N!!! happy birthday daniel 😘

⤷ yourusername thanku maxxie 🩷

⤷ danielricciardo love ya maxxie

lilymhe ALBUM OF THE YEAR IS OUT

lilymhe THATS MY BEST FRIEND!!!

⤷ yourinstagram I LOVE U

alex_albon absolute LEGEND

⤷ yourinstagram so sweet albono

username42 THIS ALBUM IS ACTUAL POP PERFECTION

username43 WE WERE RIGHT, MOST OF THE CAPTIONS WERE LYRICS

christianhorner congrats y/n 👏👏 happy birthday daniel 😊😊

francisca.cgomes so proud of u my talented sweet amazing girl 💘💘 (happy birthday danny!)

⤷ yourinstagram 🥹 love u sm kika

username63 THEY NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE!

ausgp it’s y/n and danny’s world, we’re just living in it 👏🥰

username13 how u get the girl??? floored by her genius

charles_leclerc congrats mate!! proud 🖤 happy birthday daniel 😘

⤷ danielricciardo thanku charlie 🥰🥰

⤷ username16 um ig we were wrong abt the charles x y/n song

⤷ yourusername 🤔

⤷ username16 oh?

oliviarodrigo masterclass in pop perfection 😍

⤷ yourinstagram 🥹

marcusmumford two absolute legends!!

joshallenqb hbd danny 🤤 congrats y/n!

scottyjames31 YES MATE! love ya y/n so proud ❤️ happy birthday danny boy 😘

⤷ yourusername thanku scotty 💘

⤷ danielricciardo see ya soon mate love ya

oscarpiastri congratulations y/n!

⤷ yourusername thanku oscar 🤍🤍

redbullracing happy birthday to our honey badger ❤️ and congrats y/n!

liked by yourusername, jackdoohan, and 1,927,038 others

f1 you’re looking at your australian gp pole sitter 🔥 for the first time in formula 1, the honey badger takes pole position at his home race.

tagged danielricciardo, redbullracing

username63 LFGGGGGG

username82 back where he belongs 👏👏

username9 he went back home and got that shine back

yourusername let’s gooo baby

redbullracing back on top 📣

ausgp 🍯🦡 is back baby

username47 i just know he was listening 1989 in those fuck ass beats the entire lead up to quali

aussiegrit 👏👏

scottyjames31 bring it home danny boyyy

username52 he was defs singing shake it off to zak beige in his head

username13 love to see it 🇦🇺🦘

liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl, and 1,209,839 others

yourusername it’s our home gp. it’s race day. danny’s on pole. 1989 deluxe is out.

after all the love for the album, i’m so excited for you guys to hear these three new tracks; wonderland, you are in love, and new romantics.

big love to my big bro jackantonoff for your inspiring dedication to your craft and being a masterclass act.

a huge thanks to my favourite pianist charles_leclerc for playing piano for the most special track - you are in love.

i hope you guys love it 🤍 big ups dannyric today everybody! 🇦🇺🇦🇺

username92 the best wag ever

username02 her releasing the album on his birthday and then the deluxe version on his home gp, she’s so in love.

danielricciardo i am in love, with you, forever and ever and always. thanku baby, my best good luck charm.

⤷ yourusername 🥹

redbullracing on repeat in the garage y/n!!

⤷ mercedesamgf1 same

⤷ scuderiaferrari same

⤷ alpinef1team same

⤷ alphataurif1 same

⤷ astonmartinf1 same

⤷ williamsracing same

⤷ haasf1team same

⤷ alfaromeostake same

⤷ mclaren same

⤷ username3 who invited them 😒

username13 AND YOU UNDERSTAND NOW WHY THEY LOST THEIR MINDS AND FOUGHT THE WARS AND WHY I’VE SPENT MY WHOLE LIFE TRYNA PUT IT INTO WORDS

⤷ username3 YOU’RE IN LOVE TRUE LOVE

⤷ username85 their love is one of a kind

⤷ username93 a forever kind of love

⤷ username2 her pen goes fucking crazy but it goes even crazier when it’s abt daniel

charles_leclerc it’s finally out! so grateful to work with you y/n/n, thanku for trusting me w this special special song. so proud to be even a small part of this brilliant project. see u tonight!

⤷ yourusername charlie 🥹 thanku thanku thanku! i couldn’t think of anyone more perfect to collaborate with for such a special song. good luck out there today!!

⤷ username16 i’m so not okay

lilymhe daniel is so lucky (don’t tell him yail is actually abt me)

⤷ yourusername 🤫🤫

⤷ danielricciardo i wanna be mad but im too happy rn

landonorris BABY WE’RE THE NEW ROMANTICS COME ON COME ALONG WITH ME HEART BREAK IS THE NATIONAL ANTHEM WE SING IT PROUDLY WE ARE TOO BUSY DANCING TO GET KNOCKED OFF OUR FEET BABY WE’RE THE NEW ROMANTICS THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE ARE FREE

⤷ yourusername i’m glad u liked it lan 😭

⤷ mclaren he’s blasting it in the garage

⤷ oscarpiastri can confirm (not complaining)

⤷ username81 he’s just like me fr

liked by christianhorner, yourusername, and 9,025,727 others

f1 DANIEL RICCIARDO WINS THE 2023 AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 🇦🇺

for the first time in his career, home hero, daniel ricciardo wins the australian gp!

for the first time in formula 1 history, an australian driver stands on the podium at the australian gp!

for the first time in formula 1 history, an australian driver wins on home soil, at the australian gp!

big congrats to the honey badger as well as red bull for their legendary 1-2 at this years australian grand prix.

tagged danielricciardo, redbullracing

username82 say australian gp one more time

username92 LETS GO DR

username2 DANNY RIC IS BACKKKKK

yourusername LETS GOOOOOOO

yourusername BIG UPS BIG RIC

yourusername HISTORY MAKER

yourusername OHHHH DANIEL RICCIARDO OHHHH DANIEL RICCIARDO

yourusername LOML

yourusername HE NEVER LEFT BITCHES

username94 y/n going feral in the comments is so me coded. she’s down so bad for that man.

redbullracing the honey badger is back baby

jackdoohan yeah brotherrrr 🇦🇺🇦🇺🇦🇺

ausgp YES WOOHOO DR3

scottyjames31 LFG DR! BIG MOVES BROTHER ❤️

christianhorner that’s our driver! congrats daniel, big moves 👏👏

landonorris ricky bobby is back

georgerussell63 yesss dannyric 👏👏

daxshepard let’s go danielllll

jensonbutton good job danny 👏

aussiegrit brought it home 🇦🇺🇦🇺

liked by danielricciardo, f1, and 14,092,283 others

yourusername race winner. history maker. legend. my boy. he won’t apologise. prouder than imaginable.

tagged danielricciardo

danielricciardo no one id rather do it w by my side ❤️

danielricciardo the best people in life are free 😉

comments on this post are limited

hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #taylor swift #1989taylorswift #charles leclerc #formula 1 #lando norris #alex albon #george russell #dr3 #max verstappen

927 notes · View notes

oceansssblue · 18 days

Note

might i request: with either tech or echo, the choice is yours

jedi f!reader- she gets fatally injured on a mission in order to protect the rest of the bad batch and dies in his arms

after her death, she appears to him as a force ghost while he is grieving, provides comfort

thanks!!!

Angsty one with Echo coming right up! Can life throw anything else to this poor man? 🥹💔

At least he got some healing&comfort at the end. Hope you like it!

Xx,

Sky.

"THE GHOST OF YOU"

ECHO/GHOST!F READER 📩💔(💖)

WARNINGS: DEATH OF MAIN CHARACTER (AKA YOU) AND APPEARING AS A FORCE GHOST, SADNESS, CRYING, HEARTACHE, MENTIONS OF WAR AND BEING TIRED AS IN BEING TIRED OF FIGHTING&LIFE, DEEP CONVERSATION, COMFORT.

Echo stared at the dried blood staining his hand. He could feel his emotions swirling restlessly inside of him; threatening to spill and destroy everything in its way in just a matter of seconds or minutes. He was alone in the barracks of Clone Force 99; Hunter reporting their disastrous mission to the Jedi while the rest swallowed their pain down and tried to let it drain in the shower.

Echo had done his best not to crumble in battle either. When his general had been on his arms back on the Marauder on their way back to Kamino, though, he's voice had being pannicked and desperate; he literally begged you not to leave him, to "please, please, stay with me". You had answered with a pained tired smile and fluttering eyes; a broken whisper of a "I'll always be with you, my Echo" the last words that left your lips.

You hadn't. You hadn't stayed; you had died on that next moment, your eyes shutting closed and your body growing limp, and all Echo could do was hold what was left of you in his trembling arms, his heart shattering in a million pieces while he fought not to let an ugly loud sob out, needing to be in private before he allowed himself to break down.

Tears blurred his vision again, his own body slumping down on the floor this time; and the tide of his emotions finally ripped his soul, body shaking uncontrollably with his broken cries and sobs. He closed his eyes shut, bending down on himself until his forehead pressed against the cold floor; trying to hold himself together through the heartache and pain.

Tears wet his cheeks. Flashes of his moments with you runned through his mind. Some happy, some soft and vulnerable, some sad and angry. All of his lost oportunities were relived too; all of his regrets of not having persued anything further with you. All of his childish hopes, dreams and desires washed away by the emptiness of your abscence.

His cries turned to small quiet whimpers and sounds when he pressed his jaw shut. He was so tired. He was so tired of fighting one time after another, of loved ones being taken away from him, of him always pushing through under the worst conditions only to be forced to live through this constant heartache. He just...

"Don't wanna do this anymore" he whinned to himself, shaking against the floor, eyes still closed. "Please..."

He didn't know who he was begging to; but he did know for what. He wanted the pain to go away. Wanted his loved ones to come back. Wanted to...

"Echo" a soft, gentle voice whispered at his side.

Recognising said voice, Echo quickly rightened himself to a sitting position, prosthetic knees scrapping against the floor; eyes shooting upwards.

"C-cyare?" his voice could barely be heard in the quietness of the room.

His breath hitched when you nodded and sadly smiled. It was you; the shape of your body and features perfectly recognisable even in this blue, translucent, wavering tone. Echo quickly understood; you were a Force ghost. He had heard it before.

"Cyare..." he called you, voice trembling, before breaking down into another cry again.

Echo felt your presence by his shoulder; almost as if you were touching him, even if he knew that that couldn't be possible like this.

"I'm sorry, Echo" you whispered, softly. "But I'm glad you're all okay".

Echo wanted to snap at you. Wanted to shout that they hadn't needed your help, that the Batch could defend themselves; but the truth was that they would have died without your sacrifice, and it wasn't fair to put it on you. Echo always knew of your devotion to helping others; he knew you would do it all over again.

He took a deep breath in and tried to calm himself. He stared at your Force ghost.

"You know I loved you, right?" He told you, voice unwavering, feelings vulnerable and completely exposed to you.

The raw emotions in his eyes and face would have made your heart ache if you could still feel one. You slowly sat down in front of him.

"I know" you smiled, a tiny fond thing.

Echo felt relieved upon hearing the answer; and confused as well. You could almost hear his question. Then why didn't you do anything about it?

"I had made an oath to the Order" you gently, patiently explained. "No attachments. You always made my promise start to crumble. Now... I wish I had forgotten about it and used my time better".

Echo closed his eyes and saved those words in his soul.

He opened then again and looked at you. He looked like a lost child, your beautiful Echo.

"I don't know how to carry on" he whispered, broken.

You tried to send a wave of the Force to comfort him.

"You have good brothers that will help you to move on" you soothed him, gentle.

Echo sighed and glanced down at the floor.

"I'm tired of this war".

You couldn't tell him much else.

"I know".

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Echo looked back at you.

"Have you... Fives?" He temptitavely asked, hope in his resignment.

You smiled.

"There's a process to become a Force ghost" you explained. "It's easier for the Jedi to complete. But I've felt his esence. He's here. I'll try to help him reach that state".

Echo nodded, smiling sadly.

"Good. Good" he mumbled, exhausted.

Sleep was tugging at the corners of his mind; his emotions draining the last of his energy. He didn't think he'd have strength to even move to the hammock on the other side of the room.

"Will you stay a bit longer?" He asked, blinking slowly, body dropping to one side.

You nodded softly.

"I can't stay permanently, but I'll stay now. And I'll be here in the future if you need me as well. I'll always keep an eye on you, Echo".

You caressed his cheek even if you couldn't feel the warmth of his skin like that.

Echo sighed pleasantly. He did feel a tingling sensation on his cheek. He wasn't totally alone. Never would be.

"Thank you" he whispered, eyes finally closing, body growing lax against the floor.

You smile and keep on comforting him.

"Just find strength in your new family, love. Fives and I will wait for you. You'll help me keep his Force ghost from terrorising shinnies" you joke, quietly.

Echo hums; the thought pulling a soft smile on his lips before sleep finally takes him away.

You stay until you hear the Batch's tired steps making his way back to their barracks, and you know they'll take care of him.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

*Cries*

Back to main masterlist here:

62 notes · View notes

thecrownestt · 8 months

Text

Clutter

Is this too much? Slob talk? Ancillary slob talk? Let's be playful and say it's cool.

Imagine being a docile, go with the flow type of feedee. Willing to be cute and pampered, and eager to look nice for a feeder. A classic, heartfelt tale of two love birds doing what they desire because their partner desires it. Eating because she likes how it makes her feel, and feeding her because he likes how it makes him feel. Win win. The stuff that makes any relationship easy. If I do what makes me happy, it makes you equally happy. How great.

And he's so so good at being a feeder. Always knows when she is due for a snack or a craving. Attentive to the ambiance that someone needs if they are gaining. Takes care of the odds and ends, like laundry, dishes, cleaning. It's easy to be comfortable with a changing, growing body when all the other constants are met.

So what happens if he strategically slacks one week? A week's worth of empty containers and pizza boxes sit in the corner of the bedroom. Sure, nothing with actual spoiling food scraps are in them, but they are still there. A lingering reminder of ugly corporate logos and generic packaging in the midst of an otherwise cozy room fitted with good, modern decor.

It isn't like she is ever going to ~dream~ about dealing with the trash on her own. That hasn't been her job for years. It's unbecoming of a proper lady to tend to strain herself to do busy work. He would always shush her back towards a seat or the bed if she tried. Those worries aren't meant for someone so delicate and soft, certainly not when they could be easing off a big meal.

And the problem is ignored.

For a while.

The weight trickles onto her frame. They don't check the scale often, who needs to when the carnal look in his eyes let her know that she isn't just being wishful about a few extra inches on her waist.

The pile of boxes and bags in the corner grows in tandem. What was a job for one trash bag now starts to become a point of fixation on its own. Pizza boxes in a stack going up to his knees. A disorganized mound of Styrofoam containers that he tosses a new addition on top of.

She mentions the pile. It's getting a bit unwieldy? He brushes her off. She's being far too uptight. It's nothing. It's a tomorrow problem. Does it sound any bit as good as eating a slice of cheesecake for dessert? It never seems to.

The new routine becomes accepted. Normal. Weeks go by. Clothes get tighter. The first stack of pizza boxes reach the ceiling. How many does that even take? How much of that added to the new stretch marks working their way up her stomach? Is it that direct?

More weeks. More months. More clutter. More space being commandeered by a couple with no guardrails.

Yes, dear, there's always more.

Please, darling, bring me more.

Let me help you up.

I need you to make this easier and grab my hand.

How many of the prettiest girls have someone to be so practical about assistance in the shower?

Her belly grows. Her torso thickens. Chest in the way. Legs and ass wobbling beyond sight. She has gotten bigger.

So has the trash.

Her absent minded hand traces the edge of her love handle. She's lucid. Some of her window is being covered by the trash. When he comes into the room, he navigates a small path amidst the heap. If she wanted to roll to the one side of the bed, she'd see that the boxes and wrappers have begun to pile up against the bed. Under the frame.

Is this how much a person eats in a year? Is this what they needed to be reminded of... how visibly shocking the price of growing into 4x's in a single year requires?

A single year. How about two?

Moving isn't easy anymore. He brings most everything to her. He tends to her needs, and he never allows any negativity.

The room is dark. Although the bed is quite sizeable, there's a stray bottle of soda or crumpled fast food bag that tips onto the bed. It's beginning to become unsafe for her to be on her feet for very long. Heavy, wobbling steps are no match for an uneven surface of cardboard and garbage strewn about on the floor. The window allows a few stray beams of light to reach her bloated, unmoving body.

Did he know they would view the trash with such disregard? So as to look at her new rolls, listen to her deep huffs and puffs, and think "don't you forget where this came from, it's literally closing you in."

It's claustrophobic. Overwhelming. A world closing in. Her own body consuming the space around her. The evidence of what it takes.

The last time she could see out the window, her belly didn't fully touch the bed when she was on all fours. The floor covered entirely in about the time it took her to grow a cute fat roll on her arm. An artwork of desire. How much do you give up to pursue this life? How much do you gain? What does it take? The reminder is panic inducing, but also resignation. Fat slobs do not become this way magically. It happens slowly, gradually creeping onto someone. Discreet. Looking the problem in the face and denying it's ever going to be as concerning as giving up on the blind desire between two lovers.

#female weight gain #get fatter #feedist #obese #looking for a feedee #gaining kink #ssbbw feedee #slob kink

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fortune-fool02 · 1 year

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A Flash in the Pan

Luis Serra x Plaga female reader

Summary: The infection within [Name] rears its ugly head, and Luis has to help bring her back to sanity.

Warnings: Light spoilers for RE 4, light angst, blood, violence, fluff.

I blame Demon Slayer for this idea. Please reblog and comment as it really helps and is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Please enjoy.

A deep rumble ahead of them promised more rain to come, soaking the already drenched trio. Leon only groaned in annoyance while [Name] sighed. Luis wasn’t too bothered by it anymore, though he did wish he packed an umbrella. The village scrap had left them all struggling for ammo and saving every bullet they could.

Luis had made a comment some ways back that they were lucky he kept hold of his “trusty lance” while proudly holding up the metal rod like it was a sword. [Name] chuckled at it, recalling how Luis had pulled the metal rod up and swung it at one of the infected’s head, throwing it off balance and giving a moment to shoot a well-aimed bullet at its head, putting it down for good. Sometimes, there were moments where this all felt.... normal.

Like they weren’t risking their lives to rescue the President’s daughter from a cult. That they were just bonding with one another, spending time together to gather themselves and catch their breath. A sigh left [Name]’s lips as she rubbed her eyes, a faint aching pulse behind them gnawing away at her. Little headaches like these were common, save for the larger, head-splitting ones she, Leon and Ashley were unfortunate enough to endure thanks to the damned parasite squirming about inside them. She prayed that they would be able to reach Luis’ laboratory in time, before there was nothing left of them to save.

Leon and [Name] had both made a silent agreement, that if one of them turns, if one of them becomes enslaved by Saddler’s will and command, the other would kill them. They tried to view it as a mercy-killing, to save them the torment of becoming the very monsters they fight so hard against. It was painful, for the both of them, even if Leon tried not to show it. The both of them had worked together for a long time now and there wasn’t anyone in the world they would trade one another for. That was why they both were chosen for this mission, trusted for it.

[Name] shook her head a little, pulling herself from those thoughts as she took a breath. They weren’t going to fail this mission. They couldn’t.

Luis gave her a small smile, gently patting her shoulder, “Eh, you okay, [Name]?” He asked, his smoke grey eyes lightly twinkling in the low light that the candle offered them. All three took shelter from the approaching storm in one of the houses in by the lake. [Name] sat by the window, watching the rain hit the large lake.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m okay. Just a headache.” She told him, giving her eyes another rub before resting her head against her propped up arm. They had been walking for most of the day and she was exhausted. Luis only smiled at her before grabbing a chair and plopping himself beside her,

“C’mon, talk to me. Something’s up, I know it.” He turned to her, his full attention on her and her alone. It was no secret that Luis had a soft spot for ladies but he had a softer spot for [Name]. The man’s eyes lit up whenever he saw her or her name was mentioned, and he was never too far away from her. With him, she felt something more, something different than with Leon.

“Well, I keep getting these... pains around my jaw. They’re not too bad but they keep bothering me sometimes.” As she spoke, Luis leaned in close, gently taking her face into his hands as he examined her jawline for any injuries or anything amiss. A look of concentration crossed his face, an expression she hadn’t seen on him before.

“Hm, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Though it could be the parasite’s work.” He hummed in thought. His thumb very gently caressing the bottom of her cheek, a comforting motion which was returned by her leaning into his warm touch a little, a small smile lifting the corner of her lips. Both remained like that for a moment, savouring it for every second they could. A sudden crash outside caught their attention, ruining their peaceful moment as the angered chanting of the infected villagers could be heard.

“Shit, we need to move, now.” Leon cursed, gathering his weapons before they tried to head out the back door, hoping to avoid the crowd. Keeping their heads low, they moved along a small dirt path, ducking below the height of the wheat, using it as a cover. [Name] trailed at the back, her eyes keep glancing around to see if she was clear to move or not. She took one step into a gap in the grass and heard a cursing from one of the villagers, followed by a bottle smashing in front of her, erupting into flames.

“[Name]!” Luis’ voice called out, worry dripping off his voice as he turned around. [Name] shook her head,

“No, keep going! I’ll catch up to you!” The infected moved in, forcing [Name] to turn and run, promising to catch up to them again soon. She knew the path they were taking and would search for an alternative to meet up back outside the Church grounds. She would just have to meet them there.

The heavy rain rendered the ground slippery, thick with mud, adding yet another obstacle for [Name] as she fled, trying to lose the infected that gave chase to her. Her legs burned as she ran, her muscles protesting as exhaustion was seeping in, coiling around her bones to weigh them down. Adrenaline coursing through her, pounding her heart harder as its rhythm gripped the sides of her head and squeezed, pulling a groan from the woman as she held her head, still pushing herself to run.

She couldn’t stop now.

A gnawing ache writhed in her chest, curling around her lungs, slowly pushing its ragged claws into the soft muscle. There was a light, metallic taste in the back of her throat that she tried not to think about too much until she was safe. The shouting grew distant, fading away behind her before it finally fell silent. Another crash of thunder being the only other sound heard as from the pelting rain and her pounding heart.

Pushing herself forward, [Name] leaned against the wall of a house, her lungs burning as her legs did, catching her breath seeming impossible at this point. Small, short gasps and wheezes were all she could manage, threads around her lungs like wire tightened with each deep breath.

A series of coughs racked her body, her hand covering her mouth as blood splattered on her palm. Dread dropped in her stomach and all she wanted to do was cry and curse and scream her heart out. But that would get her nowhere. Her vision began to swim more, her head feeling heavier than it should be. Something in her head told her this wasn’t right, that something was amiss. A low growling sound caught her attention.

Vibrant crimson eyes glowed from inside the bushes around her, low snarls filled the air as three large, black dogs emerged. The parasite’s effects riddling their bodies, drool dripping from their wide jaws, hungered snarls made as they started to circle her. Panic pulsed throughout [Name]’s body as she tried to pull out her knife when the first dog pounced, slamming its weight into her, knocking the knife from her hand and crashing her into the ground. Another lunged, latching its jaws around her leg, tugging and tearing at her limb, ripping pained screams from her as she tried to kick it off.

She couldn’t die here. Not like this. They had to finish the mission, she had to get back to the others, to Luis. She had to survive. Survival was all that mattered, by any means. Blackness spilled through her veins as her vision turned red.

***

Sharp pants left Luis’ lips as he leaned against the wall, his hands on the wood as his head dripped down a bit, gulping down oxygen as he tried to steady his rapid heartbeat. They had lost the villager’s some ways back now, but they didn’t stop until they were certain. Worry chewed away at Luis, [Name] could take care of herself, he didn’t deny that, but the idea of being separated from her made his heart ache. They had to find her.

“I think we’re close to the Church, I hope she made it.” He heard Leon say, sparking a glimmer of hope inside the Spaniard. Pushing himself off the wall, he turned on his heel and followed Leon up the dirt trail that led up the side of the Church. Pained howls and whimpers made both men stop in their tracks, listening closer to the sound of flesh and bone breaking, a heavy thudding sound following along. Drawing their guns, they moved slowly, wary of the threat that was possibly awaiting them.

Luis peeked from behind the metal gate, trying to get a look at the creature and felt his blood run cold. [Name]’s back faced him but he could see her slamming her foot down repeatedly into the already mangled corpse of one of the infected dogs. Two more laid around, their bones and flesh a disgusting mix with their heads being a mess of gore. The animals dead but that did not seem to stop her. Without thinking, Luis pushed the gate open and walked over, his grey eyes filled with concern.

“[Name]! Cálmate, they’re already dead!” At the sound of his voice, she turned her head slowly towards him. Black veins spidered all along her face, crawling up her neck against her sickly coloured skin. Her crimson eyes appearing to glow even brighter as a result. There was no sense of familiarity in them nor anything close to humanity. No, no, they couldn’t be too late.

“[Name]... No.”

Leon moved beside Luis, pulling his handgun force, but there was a light tremble in the man’s grip. “[Name]! Don’t make me do this!”

Luis turned, grabbing the barrel of the handgun and forcing it towards the ground, glaring at Leon for even raising the gun to her.

“Don’t! We can still help her, we can’t-” Luis’ words were cut off as [Name] charged at them, slamming into Leon and tackling the man to the ground, her hands latching onto his throat. Almost feral-sounding growls and yells were made from her as Leon struggled against her, trying to pry her hands away from his throat, his lungs burning at this.

[Name]’s mouth opened, a little too widely than before, and she moved her head down, aiming for Leon’s throat. A look of surprise flashes her face as a thick, metal rode was forced into her mouth, Luis holding both ends securely as he tried to pull her off of Leon, fighting against her strength as she thrashed about wildly in an attempt to get him off her.

“[Name], listen! You can fight this! I know you’re scared, mi amor, but you can do it!” Luis wrapped his legs around her waist, using it to anchor himself onto her as she pushed back from Leon, crashing both him and herself into the stone wall, but his grip remained tight. He was not going to let go of her. He saw the wound on her leg, those dogs had a truly vicious bite. The thought of her in pain, alone and afraid, it was no wonder the parasite took its chance to strike.

Pain bloomed in his back though he couldn’t care at that moment in time. Luis’ only concern at the moment was [Name]. Letting go of one end of the rod, he covered her eyes the best he could and leaned forward, his lips beside her ear as he pleaded almost.

“[Name], please. Por favor regrese, come back to me.” Her body suddenly arched up, a pained cry ripping from her before her body went limp, falling to the ground. Luis climbed off her, pulling the rod from her mouth and setting it aside, watching the black veins slowly reduce down to a faint mark. Relief flooding through him as he took her into his arms, holding her close as he gently prepped her head in soft kisses, whispering comfort to her unconscious form.

That was far too close. They were running out of time.

#luis sera #luis serra #luis sera x reader #luis serra x reader #luis serra navarro #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil x reader #re 4 #re4 remake #re4 luis #luis resident evil #resident evil luis

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neverchecking · 9 months

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A fall from Grace

Okay, so, i have made more friends. They have, in fact, influenced this. So here's a list of people to blame.

@angry-trashcan

@cloudninetonine

@desires-of-chain

@fanfic-fairy-fountain (you get to be included)

@wayfayrr (so do you <3)

Can be seen as a continuation of this, but I did not write it with that in mind. Happy accident. I can't promise a lot of writing bc Uni is just starting so I'm busy with that, but hopefully this feeds yall

Yellow was an ugly color.

Hideous in the way it fell in stands around a porcelain face, caging eyes of pure sapphire with bands of white. White was meant to be a color of purity. A color to signify the untainted innocence of an unsullied soul. Touched by what was once believed to be pure divinity in and of itself, now revealed to be something much more sinister.

Something with a gnarled grin, pinched by indented dimples and pearly whites revealed by pulled back lips painted a pretty pink. With eyes that shined in the sunlight like it was the great star’s only purpose to highlight those saccharine irises only to shadow over in the dark of night, hidden beneath the cloak of the twinkling stars, free to do as she pleased. Although, that was the humor in it all. It didn’t matter whether the dark of night was hiding her actions, repainting a saint over the real image of a sinner chained to their fall from grace, because the heavens sang her praises in a choir so loud it had deafened them all. Angels had preached her hymns to the point their ears rang with her acclaims and the skies thundered their applause for her. It seemed everything was built for her to toss or cherish as she so pleased.

It made his stomach roll in a putrid anger that destroyed his senses, leaving him to act irrationally. He had been so blind. Content to follow like a blind puppy would follow the first person to drop them a scrap of leftover rubbish.

But no longer would he be the one to write the very prophecies that proclaimed her a savior. A goddess fallen from whatever holy land she was born from to grace her people with her very presence. No longer would he be chained to sing the praises of an angel who plucked the feathers that lined her wings from the ones she damned to fall.

He had been saved.

Hands that knew nothing but boundless humility and grace had cupped his cheeks in an effort to shield him from the wrongdoings of the world around him. Skin that had not been blemished by a drop of bloodshed sheened in sweat underneath of him, imprinting their own unique mark on his own skin. Layer the scars that once laid there in new lines of red and white. Badges of honor bestowed upon him by a phoenix bred from the ashes of the damned fallen before them. Like an icarus who had heed the warning and rose to the heavens the way intended for them. Who held their wings of wax with bleeding palms until flesh and muscle did it for them. Until a halo of light was dipped into the golden rivers of luster and bestowed unto them on a velvet pillow proclaiming their ethereal welcoming into the place only murmured about in ancient texts.

They had held him dearly while freeing the blindfold from it’s place cemented by a generation far older than him. Wound the satin curtains of crimson hooked around his face like blinders around a stake and watched glorious flames lick up the edges in a show of reds, yellows and blues, letting it burn in name of their glorious title.

Sky had fallen before. He had fallen from Skyloft and it had freed him in a way that was unexplainable until far later into his journey. He had originally believed that fall to be the one to shatter the shackles around his wrists and allow him to fully experience everything his world had to offer. Looking back, that was not the fall he had needed to truly free himself. No, that wouldn’t come until much later. Until he had met his sword brothers. Until he had met you. Until he had let your aura engulf his being and lull his busy soul to a steady slumber.

He hadn’t known true peace until meeting you. Not until you gifted it to him, cupped in gentle hands and shielded by your radiant smile. One that didn’t need the heavens to enhance it as it was already pure perfection. One that was only amplified by echoing bells of your laughter that spelled out your joy for all those around you.

He wasn’t convinced you quite knew what you had done to him. How you had positively eradicated any hope he had of going back to normal after this was all said and done, because there was no normal without you. There was no way he could go back to that fraud clad in robes meant for your frame alone. There was no way he could hold back the rage that would boil his insides and ignite a fury filled inferno so powerful it would leave the rest of Skyloft balking at the devastation left behind.

Because he was nothing without you. He was a loyal follower devoted to your significance. Nothing else. He wouldn’t let himself be disgraced in such a way ever again.

Because yellow was an ugly color.

But gold? Gold was something rich and divine, elegant. Something that, when graced upon your figure lit up the room like you were doused in holy light yourself. Something that when laid upon your collarbone in fine chain links curved perfectly into the dip of the bone.

Something that, when wrapped around your finger in a pretty little ring of gold, reminded him that he was nothing more than a worshiper of your gospel.

#yandere linked universe #linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #loz #yandere lu sky x reader #yandere lu sky #lu sky x reader #skyword sword link x reader #ss link x reader #ss link #skyword sword link #cinder writes

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vhstown · 8 months

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pavitr prabhakar ★ general headcanons

content/warnings: implied/mentions of death (his parents+uncle), mentions of bullying, gayatri x pavitr, written by a coconut who is not indian PLS CORRECT ME!!

a/n: the sunny boy himself... (ugly crying) I LOVE HIM. loosely based off of the scraps of canon that i could find. maybe a little projection... (i am desi) atsv version pavitr! written at midnight and not very edited 💀

For some background, Pavitr was born in Southern India (likely Tamil Nadu or Kerala) so one of his first languages was Tamil! A village / small town boy at heart.

After his parents passed at a young age he moved to Mumbattan with his Aunt Maya and Uncle Bihm (of course) and it is very very different!!!

Obviously Pavitr has to learn Hindi and Marathi properly in order to fit in AND English my boy has to be multi-lingual from the start...

Even from early on Pavitr was bullied because he didn't fit in with the city kids. Gets called pagal Prabhakar (crazy Prabhakar — a bit like puny Parker?) and a slew of other names because of his accent, how he mixes up the languages, and the fact that he lives with his aunt and uncle rather than his parents.

Eventually by the time he's in his early teens he "assimilates" in terms of the language and culture but he's a scrawny kid so he still gets bullied... kids are ruthless bro don't you got the JEE to study for 💀

God forbid if anyone found out about his emo phase at that time... Pavitr's just getting onto social media and when he sees the emo subculture he just takes it and runs. (He stops out of embarassment when his Aunt Maya finds out why he's stealing her kajal... There are photos out there somewhere.)

Also meets Gayatri during his lil emo phase. Definitely a chill popular girl and definitely sticks up for him (it's giving Indian Forest Gump... does anyone know about that adaptation 😭)

He's a bit hesitant about Gayatri at first since the popular kids kind of dogpile on him all the time but eventually they become a little duo and he crushes HARD

Enter hopeless romantic Pavitr he is the embodiment of the song "Love Spell" by Param Pannu (Spotify link it's a BOP)

Plus you know he's in love when he admits he had an emo phase to you... in the middle of his emo phase. (Gayatri has all those pictures saved by the way.)

Then comes Mumbattan Visions Academy!! (according to the wiki that's where he goes.)

Of course we know that Pavitr is quite naturally smart so the entrance exam is no problem (RAFFLE BOY like Miles 😊😊😊)

But he is so super concerned about getting in with Gayatri so a few weeks before the exams they're studying together (doing anything but study)

My girl Gayatri is trying to help him out and he has no idea what she's saying and she's so smart and literally knows twice the amount of info you need to know so my boy Pavitr is sweating BULLETS the day before (exam is so easy he thinks he's sitting the wrong one LMAO)

Pavitr does NOT want to stay at the dorms he'll defo miss his auntie and uncle too much (and his auntie's cooking) but he begrudgingly goes anyway...

Enter NADEESH (his universe's Ned counterpart I totally just made up...)

They're roomies and Nadeesh is from Bengal and they actually bond quite easily considering they're not from Mumbattan he's a STEM boy and has a love/hate relationship with it (super smart though maybe just not at school... gadget stuff 😱)

Pavitr doesn't know a LICK of Bangla but Nadeesh teaches him some perhaps to rizz up Gayatri... (they're all vulgar or swear words or words Pavitr picked up from hearing Nadeesh's mum speak on the phone 💀)

SPEAKING OF GAYATRI yeah she's slaying school and also has a lil modelling thing going on too. STEM girlie and fashion girlie and knows multiple languages (her father knows a couple considering he's an officer)

Pavitr is a hopeless romantic but he's just hopeless when he asks her out in Bangla trying to be cool and doesn't realise he called her a whore... (he's so going to kill Nadeesh.)

She finds it HILARIOUS though and they start dating and everyone lived happily ever after and NO ANCIENT YOGI TIME MY BOY IS SPIDER-MAN NOW 🤯🤯🤯🤯

I think Pavitr's initial approach to being Spider-Man is very... impractical. Given he's just gotten his powers and gotten his naturally buff abilities and always amazing hair (yes that is part of his powers) (yes he asked the yogi for it), he's very spontaneous and disorganised. He probably has the stupidest most impractical suit and sweats like HELL in it (kind of like the one in the comics?) My boy's grades kind of take a hit and so does his little freshman year relationship with Gayatri.

My guy Nadeesh is chill though he knows instantly like Pavitr isn't subtle about it... (they're both night owls and Nadeesh is like cramming asf and Pavitr swings in without thinking and he's just like... "okay dude I have a physics exam tomorrow idgaf 😭 wait but that so cool though can I help—")

Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a— Okay his Uncle Bihm dies. You know how it goes.

Gayatri breaks up with him (it's exam season and she wants to "take a break".) His uncle is dead. He's flunking school (for real this time) Emo phase 2? Maybe not...

Pavitr ends up spending a lot more time with Maya and while he's a little irrationally spiteful he learns the importance of taking care of the little family he has left. Pavitr doesn't have the privilege of that multi-generational village household he had back when he was young, or parents like the rest of his classmates. It's just him and his aunt in that little apartment, a speck in the whole of Mumbattan, the place he has to protect and call home now.

Okay that got sad real fast but HE CHERISHES HIS AUNT hence why he always makes time to have chai with her, no matter how busy he is or how emo he's feeling.

His uncle Bihm had a couple traditional pieces of clothing and Maya makes him try them on. He feels a bit silly especially since he's gotten used to pushing away his culture and mainly speaking English at his new school but then his aunt starts tearing up and he starts tearing up and "you look just like your chacha" and UGH

After a while Pavitr gets himself together and decides to design himself a new suit. He takes inspiration from a couple of his uncle's fancier pieces and also Gayatri's first advert feature (my girl is going places!!!) so his outfit has a lot of meaning to him.

We gotta go BACK for the yo-yo though y'all. I'm so certain that Gayatri had a yo-yo when they were younger and he learnt it just to impress her... SO HE HAS A YO-YO AS PART OF HIS GEAR 😱😱😱

Of course these little signs add up and Gayatri is like half-sure he's Spider-Man (but not entirely cause when she's saved in the film she's a bit taken aback when he hugs her... my girl is smart but you always got a lil uncertainty!!! Maybe she figures it out after that though...)

Obviously he flunked those exams considering he was NOT studying while he was grieving and when Gayatri checks up on him he's of course not doing the greatest despite his little comeback. However...

"I can help you review if you want?" she asks him. Pavitr's smile comes back that day.

But my boy STILL CANNOT CATCH A BREAK because Gayatri's father gets promoted to Police Captain and is suddenly very protective of his daughter

There's a lot of awkward moments where Pavitr has to play off his association with Gayatri (puts the hopeless in hopeless romantic yet again.) No, she never told him they were dating before (and those pictures are in a SAFE trust) though they're not exactly dating now.

Gayatri is pretty indifferent about it all, to be fair. She doesn't exactly care if her father finds out (and hopefully she can tell him soon) but she also doesn't want her dad to be disappointed in her considering she looks up to him a lot.

A BIT OF GAYATRI HEADCANON but I feel like she's very academically gifted but doesn't exactly want to go into STEM? Fashion is her thing and she eventually might want to go into acting (like this girl in her classes called Meera Jain... OUUU rivalry but not really they're besties I fear)

Gayatri definitely gossips and gushes to Meera Jain about Pavitr like how he gossips and gushes to Nadeesh. They both give the other contrasting advice (they're still not together... SITUATIONSHIP 💀💀💀)

It's not as bad as when Pavitr called Gayatri a whore by accident but getting together again is definitely awkward when they go to get lassi at that very overpriced store that opened up that Pavitr most definitely cannot afford (smiles and fights to pay while a part of him dies inside)

Though their relationship is stronger this time! Pavitr does still have his secret as Spider-Man, but things are looking up! Especially when he finds out that he's not the only Spider-Man (ENTER ATSV CANON STORYLINE 😱😱😱)

Endless high school antics I love this dude and his lil friends

That's it for now I think THANK YOU FOR READING!! I so wish there was more content on him but I had to take matters into my own hands...

🕸️💫🪀

y'all better stop sleeping on pavitr now... HES SO AHHHH I LOVE HIM YOU DONF UNDERSTAND HES THE DUDE EVER

don't talk about my other wips. or why im uploading this at midnight.

ALSO if you are desi (particularly indian) please correct me OR FEEL FREE TO ADD ON i am so whitewashed and my boy needs to be done justice

reblogs so super appreciated! if you wanna read the rest of my atsv stuff click here :p

#pavitr prabhakar #atsv pavitr #pavitr x gayatri #spiderman india #pavitr prabhakar headcanons #pavitr my beloved #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv headcanons #vhstown

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anonymousj3ster · 3 months

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Dolly and Darling

Everyday that passes by, she looks for a door she'll never find. I follow the jester as she speedwalks down another hallway, opening a door, scowling, and slamming it shut again.

"Doncha get tired of this Chuckles?" Jax quips from behind me. I shoot him a pleading look, trying to get him to stop. Pomni turns and scowls at him.

"I mean, you just don't get it do you?" He continues, smirk widening. "You just really can't get it through that head of yours." He strolls up to her. "There. Is. No. Exit." Pomni glares up at him.

"There is. I kno-" She retorts, cut off by the tall rabbit. "Yeah, sure, there was an exit door. But it wasn't an actual exit, was it? No. It was fake." An ugly, cruel edge works it's way into his voice. "Something Caine made because he's too dense to understand what we actually want. But, if you want to waste your life running up and down these halls, thats fine by me." He strolls off, whistling cheerfully, leaving the little fool standing there, glaring after him. I watch her in concern as water leaks out of those firey eyes, gritting her teeth.

"Pomni?"

She turns to me, wiping her eyes with her glove. "I'm f-f-" She stutters. "F-f..." She stops, shoulders slumping taking a wary step towards me. I open my arms for a hug, even though I knew the jester didn't li-

She crashes into my embrace, arms locking around me as she sobs into my dress. I freeze, caught off guard by the normally touch-averse girls hug, before wrapping my arms around her. "You'll be ok." I whisper into her hat. "We'll all be." She sobs something unintelligible as I pat her back. "It's getting late. We should....try to sleep." I say after a few minutes that felt like short eternities. "You'll feel better after some rest." Pomni glances up at me, searching my eyes.

"I...don't want to be alone right now." She admits quietly, testing the waters. "You can sleep in my room if you want." I offer. She eyes me as I feel her relax a little more. "I...think I'd like that...if you don't mind, I mean." She added in a rush.

"Not at all sweetie."

Her pinwheel pupils widen for a moment at the nickname, and I wish and could take them back afraid I'd gone too far. But she just smiles a little, blinking away the last of her tears as she untangles herself from me and makes her down to my room, stopping outside the door with a hint of hesitance on her face. I smile reassuringly at her and open it, holding it open for her to come in. She returns my smile with a shaky one of her own. I sit on my bed, patting the cover in invitation. She trails over, sitting next to me. I scoot over a little making room for her and lie down, pulling the blanket of myself. I shift to the end of the bed, giving her plenty of room. Her face flushes for a moment, before lying down next to me and pulling the blanket up almost over her head, curling into a ball. I turn to face away from her, to make this less awkward. My face flushes as I feel the curve of her back press gently against mine. We lie in comfortable silence listening to each other's breathing slow as the world fades away around us, except the few inches of our backs that had contact, a soothing warmth. My thoughts slow, then fade into breezelike scraps of sentences, too abstract to fully grab onto.

I love you like I want to but it's killing me inside...

Wait.

I slowly wake the next morning, rubbing my eyes. I stiffen as I feel something pressed up against my back, before remembering who was in the bed with me. I move slowly, so not to wake the jester up, sitting up and gazing at her. She was almost completely tangled in the blanket, seemingly in a fetal position. I watch the blanket rise and fall with each breath she takes, until the blanket shifts. Pomni slowly drags the blanket off her head, blinking blearily at me. I blush, getting lost in her vibrant eyes.

"Good morning." I manage to croak out.

"Mor'in." She slurs, rubbing her eyes. The crimson, gold and indigo of her jester suit shines a little in the light, the colors filling my mind. I chew my lip as she stretchs, the bells on her hat jingling, making my heart swell with a new emotion, racing so hard I though it might stop. I was her dolly, her my darling, the perfect digital romance... if she'll give me the chance. I smile at her, at the way she made my heart thump in my chest, the way she made me swoon. This hallucination, new sensation, almost enough to drive me to abstraction. She smiles back, swinging her legs out of bed, still partialy tangled in the blanket and falling to the ground. I get to my feet, reaching down to help her up. "Are you ok?" I ask hurriedly. She just gives me a thumbs up, staying facedown for a moment before slowly grabbing the edge of the bed and pulling herself up. I watch her for a moment to make sure she was really ok before saying anything.

"Should we go eat breakfast?" I ask. She nods and we start our trek to the main circus area. Every day was just the same, and while it didn't bother me anymore, it drove her crazy, knocking on my door every day with more problems that lead her astray.

"Do you want to help me find the exit?"

"Do you have any idea where it might be?"

"Why does Caine not seem to understand he's traumatizing us?"

"Can you help me with this?"

"How do you deal with Jax?"

"Can...I just hang out with you for a bit?"

Honestly it's kinda weird, how she's troubled but my dear would dim the lights and spend the night being sweet. She actually cared about me, treated me like more than a ragdoll, maybe even more than a friend-

"Ragatha?" The jester asks. I snap out of my daydreams, focusing on reality. "You were zoning out." She said a bit shyly. I give her a small smile.

"Sorry."

"No, it's ok. You looked c-" She breaks off abruptly. I blush, but don't say anything.

Neither of us do.

We lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. We talked about everything and nothing, about the adventures, about what we thought our real lives might have been like, about Jax's pranks and the meltdowns we've both had. Our long conversation lulls into silence. I glance over at her. It was one of the rare moments where she actually looked...relaxed. She had one arm behind her head, the over thrown over her stomach, a small smile of of genuine contentment. Her pinwheel eyes were large and entrancing, an enticing pit of blue and red I wanted to get lost in forever. The silence stretches on as I lose touch with reality, just gazing at the beauty lying next to me. I blink a few times as I imagine a tear sliding down her face, then another. It takes me a moment to realize I wasn't imagining it.

"Ragatha?"

"Hm?"

"What if we never find an exit?"

"We will." I lie without skipping a beat.

"What if..." She trails off. "The door's I've seen....sometimes they start to vanish. What if...what if your not with me when I find one? What if I have to choose between you and freedom?" She blurts, hiccuping a bit with sobs. I rise onto an elbow, cupping her face with my other hand.

"Hey." I murmur softly, wiping away a tear with my thumb. "Then you'll wait for me, my darling." She turns her head away, opening her mouth to voice more worries. "Look into my eye." Pinwheel eyes dart to mine, glassy from tears.

"I know it's kinda scary but I trust you'll be alright. My own problems get harder, but when I hear your laughter..." I lean a bit closer, lowering my voice slightly. "They all melt away." I move even closer, not taking my eyes off hers. The fools eyes shrink slightly as I hear her breathing speed up, before dilating again. My heart pounds. It feels like I'm going insane with how much I think of her everyday. The attraction was taking over, pulling me closer and closer to this girl who kind of awkward with her words and her ways, making butterflys stir in my stomach with words and actions sweeter than sugarcane. I want to tell her how I feel so bad it hurts. Whys it so hard to say? I wanted her to just pull it out of me, even if it makes me break at the seams, because she makes me go crazy.

"Pomni..."

"Y-yeah?"

"Do you..." I clear my throat, feeling a bit like I might vomit up the butterflies in my stomach. "We...we could be together. L-like, more than friends...? Since we might end up stuck here forever...I wouldn't mind spending forever...with you." The jesters pupils widen. I stare into them, a deer in headlights, before abruptly sitting up. "Sorry. Th-that was dumb..." I laugh nervously.

I feel her hand on my arm, and before I can move she sits up, staring into my eye, before moving her face closer and closer to me, until...

Her lips brush mine. I close my eyes I lean into the kiss, not minding an eternity in hell if my darling stayed by my side.

#ragapom #pomni #tadc #the amazing digital circus #fanfic #songfic #pomni x ragatha

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Note

okay! So my idea was that after the incident with the monkey bomb and after she was adopted by silco, powder felt alone and sometimes she just walked trough zaun by herself. And one day she found reader rummaging through the trash for fabrics (because she likes to do her own clothes let's say) and she reminded powder of herself, so after seeing her some more times after that powder decided to talk to her and then they become inseparable and IDK it's like some chaotic teenage romance where they do dumb stuff together like sneak into piltover or get themselves into jail accidentally, whatever you can think of

This was definitely longer than I thought, feel free to change anything you want!

(hello! So sorry this sucks but I had a major headache and felt like writing! Anyways, the idea for the booth/carnival came from @spice-bunny0-0 ! Enjoy!)

Never Again...Maybe

So, this is what boring feels like.

Powder almost huffed, well, Jinx, did. Powder was getting used to the name Jinx for now, but mainly went by Powder.

It was just how it was at this moment.

She trudged along the streets of the Undercity, looking around for anything, anything at all, to do.

But there was nothing.

Before the…incident, Powder never felt truly bored.

There was always something to do, bug Mylo, hang out with Vi, bug Mylo with Claggor, or hang out with Ekko.

But…they weren't around, so she couldn't do any of that.

She didn't like the goons Silco hired that much, sure they were nice to her, but they had to be.

Unless they wanted the "big boss" to cut off a hand.

One of the perks of being taken in as a daughter by the Eye of Zaun.

Just as she was about to go back to the Last Drop, she stopped walking abruptly as a piece of metal hit her boot.

Powder tilted her head, curiously picking the scrap metal off the ground and examining it in her hand.

It was a piece to the others of the bombs she home-made, one she has been looking for.

With a small smile, she tucked it into her holster pocket before hearing more metal clicking and…shuffling?

It was coming from the alleyway, so as curious as she was, she followed the sound.

To her surprise, she found a kid around her age.

You were leaning over the dumpster, so much that your only body part visibly was your legs as you leaned down and tossed whatever you apparently didn't need out of the way.

"Come on…come on…aha!" Powder tilted her head confused, not moving as you exclaimed and quickly leaned back over onto your feet.

You held a spool of…fabric?

It wasn't ugly or in terrible condition, so much that even Jinx would take and use it for her clothes.

But now, Powder was in control. And Powder was curious.

You smiled, turning around quickly to leave with your treasure before jumping as you saw Powder standing almost right behind you.

"Oh! Hello…?" You asked, tilting your head as you held your find to your chest.

"What are you doing?" Powder cut quickly, not meaning to be rude but it came out like that.

"Oh, just finding fabric." You shrugged, like it was the most simple thing in the world.

"Why?" Powder asked, walking in unison with you as you left the alley.

"I make use of them for my clothes! I like making them." You smiled in pride, Powder now taking the time to look you up and down.

Your outfit was actually quite pretty, or more grand than you would find in the Undercity.

It was good for a home-made outfit.

"Those aren't from down here?" Powder asked, touching more fancy parts on your shirt.

"Yeah, they're not. I went Topside to get them." You smiled in pride, proud of the fact that you had gotten them in the first place.

"You did?!" Powder asked, her curiosity at an all time high at your almost bravery to sneak past enforcers up there.

Not that they scared her much anymore.

"Uh-huh! Now, I gotta go-" You broke the news, almost sad that you had to leave your almost new friend behind.

But you were cut off as Powder was suddenly In Front of you with a smile holding your wrist carefully but with a grip hard enough to keep you in place.

"I like you." Powder revealed, you raised a brow but laughed at her bluntness.

"I like you too." You shrugged, matching her smile as you adjusted your grip on your fabric.

"That's good." Powder nodded happily, before it faded ever so slightly.

"Because you don't have a choice."

From the way she said it, it almost looked innocent, in fact, it did.

You were so surprised you thought you heard it wrong.

"Huh- woah!" You were tugged harshly by Powder, the girl suddenly having the energy to run and avoid bumping into others on the Undercity streets.

Powder was almost giddy, you reminded her of herself.

And with that, came an opportunity for a new friend for herself.

And she would not let it slip away.

The days with Jinx turned into months, which turned into years.

You and her were inseparable, you didn't live with her. But to your surprise, Silco liked you, or tolerated you.

You kept Jinx happy. And a happy Jinx was always good.

You and Jinx grew up together practically, never leaving one side from the other.

When one walked by the other was soon to follow, jumping over each other and making a giggling, pink and blue mess wherever you guys went.

But Jinx's favorite thing to do was sneak around.

Sneaking around Topside, in fact.

So that's how you ended up here now, in a flee from the Enforcers Topside with a giggling Jinx practically being carried on your back.

"You sure this is a good idea, J.J?" You asked, laughing at her "disguise".

She was hard not to spot though, wherever Jinx went was a firecracker waiting to happen.

Her hair along with her outfit was always noticeable in a room.

But now, she had a coat so big that it almost covered her entire body, her hair pinned up with a hat on while wearing sunglasses.

It's not that she couldn't go Topside wearing "normal" clothes, but Jinx is Jinx. She did things the way she wanted.

"Of course it is! You got the balloons?" Jinx asked, tipping her sunglasses as you almost laughed once again before nodding.

"Perfect! Let's go!"

"You sure Silco will bail us out?"

"...Yeah, sure!"

You and Jinx were in the middle of a carnival, being pushed around by Topsiders as you both looked through shops' windows and booths for what you needed.

Jinx had run out of crayons, oil crayons and paint for her doodles, so she needed more.

But she hated the ones down below, they broke easily or were flat out ugly ass colors.

So she resorted to having Sevika getting them imported, but Sevika was on some away mission and Jinx didn't care enough to have others do it.

Sevika got the right colors, and only Sevika, she may be an ass but she's good at picking out crayons for kids.

"What about those?" You asked, pointing out some oil crayons to Jinx.

She picked them up, humming occasionally before she nodded.

She stuffed her hand into her pocket, trying to grab enough money for the price but turns out, yal spent it when buying else and your fabrics.

"Shit." Jinx cursed under her breath, she had to pay, you said so yourself.

You didn't want to be thrown into a jail cell on Monday, so she resorted to paying.

She didn't want to upset you and you be mad at her, no, no.

But, there was no choice in this. Especially since this was practically the only booth with her paints and crayons she actually needed.

"Hey, (Name)? We're out." Jinx broke bluntly, her giggle almost escaping once she saw you grimace.

"Really? Again?" You asked, feeling the oncoming headache and preparing yourself from what is about to happen.

"Yup. Sorry, you're up." Jinx smirked, you couldn't get another word in before she slipped away to get her paints.

"Really?! Ugh, fine." You sighed, preparing yourself and putting on your best fake smile before you walked over to the booth owner.

"Hello! Could you tell me about these crayons? They're…fascinating…?" You questioned, almost giving yourself away but the booth owner didn't notice.

"I would love too! You see these one's…" The booth owner's voice drowned out as you absent mindedly nodded, glancing back at Jinx as she stuffed her jacket pockets.

This went on for almost three minutes, the booth owner finally following your eyes to Jinx just as she stuffed another box in her pockets.

"Hey!" The booth owner yelled, alerting enforcers and people standing by.

"Put those back!" The enraged man yelled, going to stomp over but stopped as you pulled him back.

"Sorry for this." You winced, the man confused before you popped a balloon of paint onto his head.

You quickly ran to Jinx as the girl was giggling madly, grabbing her hand and yanking her just as enforcers made it to the booth.

The mad booth owner wiped paint from his face, yelling and pointing to you two as you booked it, running into citizens but pushing them out the way.

Enforcers yelled for you to stop, but you couldn't with Jinx on your back and the promise of not going to jail today.

"We're not doing this again!"

"That's what you think! This is fun!"

197 notes · View notes

youngyoo-apologist · 2 months

Text

Background information:

Choi Han’s mother: Shin Haneul

Choi Han’s father: Choi Sujin

Some scrapped scenes with the Choi family that I couldn’t include in the main fic(at least not yet)

She remembered the day a bundle of joy was placed into her arms very well. Despite Shin Haneul’s awful memory, she could never forget her little boy,

Choi Sujin sat outside the hospital room, shaking his leg out of nervousness.

“Hyung, don’t worry so much, Haneul-noona will be fine.”

Choi Sujin turned to look at his little brother, who had come straight to the hospital after studying to meet his nephew. Choi Jung-gun was way than himself, but he was much more composed at this moment than Choi Sujin was.

“I-I’m not nervous, Jung-gun!”

Choi Jung-gun looked at his brother with a blank, clearly unimpressed expression. It seemed like Choi Jung-gun had taken it upon himself to be more responsible than normal today.

Normally, it would be Jung-gun getting anxious, but looking at his older brother who was nervously waiting to hear the news about his wife and son made him feel like for one day he needed to be the calm one.

He reached into his pocket, and tapped his brother’s shoulder. “Hyung, do you want candy?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Choi Sujin took the candy from his brother, and opened the package. It was a coffee flavored candy, one that Jung-gun didn’t like, but he knew their mom did.

Today was Choi Jung-gun’s birthday, and it would also become this kid’s birthday as well. Choi Jung-gun didn’t mind sharing, especially if it was with his nephew.

He was an uncle at twelve years old, that wasn’t something that happened everyday! If anything, his nephew being born today felt a little bit like a gift for himself too, as much as it was a gift for his brother, Shin Haneul, and the baby.

The two brothers sat outside the hospital room. At Shin Haneul’s request, it would only be them, her parents, and their parents to see the baby when he was born. The hospital staff had said that it was ideal for the health of both the baby, and the mother as well.

“Sir, everything went alright.” The nurse stepped out of the hospital room, and Choi Sujin stood up fast enough that he would have stumbled if not for Jung-gun’s hand on his arm to catch him. “…I understand you wish to see your wife and child, but please be careful to not injure yourself.”

“Yeah, Hyung. You need to calm yourself down, don’t trouble Haneul-noona.” Choi Jung-gun let go of his brother, who nodded and sighed.

“Thank you, nurse. Is it alright if my brother and I go in to see my wife or do we have to wait longer?”

“No, now would be the perfect time to see her. We’ve already done everything needed for now.”

At the nurse’s words, Choi Sujin’s face lit up and he went inside the hospital room with Choi Jung-gun following behind him.

“Haneul-noona, are you okay?”

Shin Haneul’s smiled wide, and ruffled Choi Jung-gun’s hair. “Better than ever, lil’ bro!”

Currently, the baby who had yet to be named was being held in his father’s arms. The father in question would have been crying louder than a baby ever would if not for the fact that it would startle the child.

“Haneul… he’s so cute….he looks just like you!” Choi Sujin said, voice shaking with emotion.

Choi Jung-gun looked over his brother’s shoulders and frowned slightly. Now, he wasn’t going to be mean to a baby. This baby had just been born and he was his nephew, but new born babies were a little….ugly.

“He’s going to look even more like you when he grows up.” Choi Jung-gun smiled as he said this, instead of voicing his inner thoughts. It was clear that Shin Haneul already knew what he was thinking based on the amused expression on her face.

“It’s okay, Jung-gun, he just looks funny cause he's like one hour old.” Shin Haneul said, and Choi Jung-gun angled away his face so she could not see his embarrassed expression.

“Have you picked a name yet, Haneul?” Choi Sujin asked, handing the baby back to his wife, who nodded.

“Yeah, I was thinking of Han.”

“Han?” Choi Sujin looked at Choi Jung-gun who nodded in agreement,

“”It’s perfect.””

Shin Haneul smiled, and looked down at the baby in her arms, who from this day forward, would be named Choi Han.

“What do you think, Han? Do you like it?”

As if responding to her words, Choi Han began to cry and Haneul laughed. He had just been born and yet he was so lively.

That was good, because Shin Haneul wanted nothing more than for her son to live well.

“Han, can you say uncle?” Choi Jung-gun sat in front of Choi Han, who blatantly ignored him in favor of swinging his toy sword at the toy monsters in front of him. “Hannnn, please! I’ll buy you candy forever if you say uncle.”

Shin Haneul watched her brother in law try and coax the ten month old Choi Han into saying ‘uncle’ as his first word. Of course, she wouldn’t let that happen so easily.

“Han, it’s me, mom!” Shin Haneul picked Choi Han up, and placed her on her lap. “Mom.”

She pointed at herself.

“Mom’s brother in law.”

She pointed at Choi Jung-gun, who grumbled. “Not fair, noona!”

Shin Haneul stuck her tongue out at the boy, who did the same in return. At their childish actions, Choi Sujin could only sigh.

“C’mon you two, don’t argue in front of the baby.”

“He’s not even sentient yet!” Choi Jung-gun argued back, which made Choi Sujin poke his cheek.

“So what? What if you guys subconsciously influence him to be as ridiculous as you both are.”

“Wow, is that any way to speak to your dear, kind, beautiful, lovely, amazing, strong, incredibly intelligent, cunning, fantastic, wife?” Shin Haneul looked down at Choi Han, “Han, can you believe this! Yell at your father for me, he deserves it.”

Logically, there was no way Choi Han completely understood her, but he looked at his father with his big, round innocent baby eyes, and seemed to glare at him. Babbling baby like nonsense while waving his fist in Choi Sujin’s direction.

Choi Sujin put a hand to his heart, and pretended to fall to the floor like he had been struck by a sword. “My son, you’re so cruel!”

Choi Han, the mischievous little boy, laughed at him alongside his equally mischievous mother.

Shin Haneul pointed at Choi Sujin, “Han, you see this man? This man is mom’s husband.”

“Don’t sabotage us, Haneul! C’mon, Han. Can’t you call me dad? Please!” Choi Sujin crawled over so he was in front of Choi Han, but the baby looked at him with expressionless eyes.

“Bleh.” Choi Han stuck his tongue out, and both Shin Haneul and Choi Jung-gun began to cackle.

“Uncle.”

Choi Jung-gun paused, and looked away from his homework. For the time being, Shin Haneul and Choi Sujin had left Choi Han with him to take care of while they made a quick grocery run.

“Han, can you say that again, please?” Choi Jung-gun pointed at himself, “Who am I?”

Choi Han puffed his cheeks, and with a slightly frustrated tone he exclaimed, “Uncle! Un-cle. Uncle.”

He repeated the word over and over, like he was getting used to the ability of speech. The more Choi Han spoke, the wider Choi Jung-gun’s smile became.

Gently, he scooped Choi Han up and placed him in his lap. “Yeah! I’m your uncle.”

This was Choi Han’s first word. Choi Jung-gun had never actually thought samchon would be his first word. Sure, he did want it to be the case, but he’d be happy no matter what Choi Han’s first word was.

Although, Choi Jung-gun couldn’t help but think of his Shin Haneul, and his older brother who had really wanted mom or dad to be his first word.

“Hm… Han, you love your mom and dad a lot, right?”

Choi Han nodded slowly, and looked at Choi Jung-gun with curious eyes.

“Let’s keep this a secret from your mom and dad, kay’? Next time you see your mom, try and say ‘mom’ instead.”

Choi Jung-gun wasn’t sure if Choi Han would listen to him, but with how much attention he was paying to Choi Jung-gun’s words he figured it was worth a shot.

“Mo-m.” Choi Han sounded out, and Choi Jung-gun nodded.

“That’s it, Han! If you say that, your mom and dad will smile real wide.” Choi Jung-gun pat Choi Han’s head, and carried him in his arms as he walked downstairs. Shin Haneul and Choi Sujin should be home by now.

As expected, Shin Haneul and Choi Sujin stood in the kitchen with the grocery bags on the table.

“Ah, there’s my sweet baby and silly little brother!” Shin Haneul exclaimed, whisking Choi Han away from Choi Jung-gun’s arms and pointing at the grocery bags. “I got some chocolate for you, Jung-gun. Don’t tell your father.”

Choi Jung-gun cheered and threw his arms up in the air, digging into the grocery bag enthusiastically until he found the chocolate,

Choi Sujin smiled, and went to the stove to make the pancakes he had promised the family earlier today.

“Han, did you miss mom and dad while we were away?” Shin Haneul kissed the top of Choi Han’s head, who giggled. “I’m sure you were good for your uncle.”

“Mom!”

Choi Sujin almost dropped the pan he held in his hands, and Choi Jung-gun gaped at Choi Han in shock. Man, maybe it was just Choi Han, but babies were straight to the point!

“Han! D-did you say mom? Is this your first word?!” Shin Haneul looked around, as if there was anyone else who would be called mom by Choi Han.

Choi Jung-gun walked over to the stove to cook the pancakes Choi Sujin had been making, but abandoned it in favor of running over to his son and wife.

While Choi Sujin and Shin Haneul fussed over Choi Han, Choi Jung-gun gave Choi Han a very discreet thumbs up when the baby was staring at him with his wide black eyes.

Sometimes, when Choi Jung-gun looked into his nephew’s eyes, it felt like there was a whole universe of stars growing inside of them.

Shin Haneul sat up in her bed, looking around the room as to where the sound of crying could be coming from.

She had been a light sleeper ever since Choi Han was born, not because he caused a lot of trouble, but sometimes she couldn’t get rid of the overwhelming dread that took over her at night.

Shin Haneul had no idea where this feeling came from. She had always been overjoyed at being with her son, in fact, she couldn’t be happier! But there were days when it felt like Choi Han would disappear if she didn’t pay enough attention, like he’d be gone before she even knew it.

She had spoken about it to her own mother before, asking if it was a normal feeling. Mother nodded, looking at her own daughter with sad eyes.

“I was scared I would lose you too. You were a very active child, and sometimes I’d get scared that if I looked away you’d injure yourself. Thankfully, when I was busy your father was always there so you were always safe.”

Shin Haneul sighed in relief, thank god it was just a normal thing and not some weird premonition of the future.

She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if that was the case.

Even with the reassurance she got from her mother, Shin Haneul couldn’t help the unease that was in her mind at night. Choi Sujin was fast asleep, like he was a Victorian child who was suffering from the plague, so it could not be her husband who was crying.

The only other option was Choi Han, who she found sobbing into his pillow.

Shin Haneul felt her eyebrows twist, and she put a hand on Choi Han’s head, wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes.

“Oh, my star, what’s wrong?”

Choi Han did not respond, could not respond, for his mind was overtaken by the terrors of the night.

Shin Haneul laid back down, and pulled Choi Han closer to her. While he was still crying, he had stopped shaking.

She wondered just what kind of things had happened for a five year old boy to be crying so much.

Had Choi Han remembered Jung-gun, who had gone missing two years earlier?

…Ah, perhaps that was where her fear came from.

Ever since Choi Jung-gun went missing, Shin Haneul had never gotten a full night's sleep. The only times she could sleep were the short naps she took in the morning.

Choi Jung-gun had gone missing just like that, no warning, no nothing.

It was like a god had taken him to another world, with no trace of him left to be found at his home where everyone cried out for him.

Shin Haneul didn’t let herself cry, because to her it felt like if she cried it would be admitting Choi Jung-gun had died.

She knew that boy wasn’t dead, he had to be alive, no matter what. One day he would come home, and they would all be there to welcome him again.

Shin Haneul looked down at her son, who was still crying, and kissed his hair. She caressed the top of his head, and began to hum a lullaby her own mother had sung for her when she was young.

The terrors of the night were strong, but against a mother’s love, even they would fall as well.

Slowly, Choi Han’s sobs died out, the only other sound left in the quiet night being that of Shin Haneul’s comforting hums, and the gentle sounds of her husband and son’s breathing.

Choi Sujin watched Choi Han hold up a cat plush to the baby in front of him.

Choi Jungsoo, the baby, had been born two months ago, but this was Choi Han’s first time seeing him. Despite only being six years old, Choi Han was technically an uncle, and Choi Sujin was a grand uncle.

“Jungsoo, call me hyung!”

“Han, he’s only two months old, so he can’t really talk yet.” Choi Sujin said, sitting down next to his son who continued gave the cat plush to Choi Jungsoo.

“Oh, was I like that too?”

“Mhm, you were just as small as he was too.”

Choi Sujin smiled at his son’s shocked expression, like he couldn’t even fathom being as small as Choi Jungsoo was.

“But I don’t remember that!”

“You don’t remember, but mom and dad remember.” Choi Sujin picked Choi Jungsoo up, and held him in his arms. “I can show you the photos.”

Choi Jung-gun would have said he remembered too, if he was here. Jung-gun had loved taking photos, especially of Choi Han since he was his favorite nephew.

The photo album they had consisted of many photos, but a good chunk of the later half of the album was filled with photos Choi Jung-gun had taken. Choi Jung-gun took photos and notes of almost everything he liked.

In the album, there were photos of the family, and Choi Jung-gun’s notes about them under it. Choi Han was no exception, and had multiple pictures of himself from when he was zero to three years old.

“I wanna see!”

Choi Han stood up, and followed his father upstairs who still carried Choi Jungsoo in his arms. After looking through a shelf, Choi Sujin found the album, and handed it to Choi Han.

He wasn’t worried about Choi Han damaging the album, because Choi Han had always handled books and albums with a lot of care. It seemed that even though he couldn’t remember most things, he still cherished the memories that he held in his hands.

Choi Han opened the album, and flipped through each page. Pointing out the people he recognized, and asking if he didn’t recognize someone. He flipped through the pages until he found a page labeled ‘November Eighth’.

They had dedicated an entire page to that day, because three people had been born on that day. Choi Jung-gun, Choi Han, and now, Choi Jungsoo.

“It’s me!” Choi Han pointed at the picture of him from when he was a baby. The hat he wore had rabbit ears on it, something Shin Haneul had found absolutely adorable when she saw it at the store.

Underneath the picture was a note, no name on it, and Choi Han did not recognize the handwriting, but he read it anyway.

‘On November Eighth, Han was born! He was a little ugly, but he’s cute now. He looks a lot like Haneul-noona, but his eyes are the same as hyung’s. He pulls my hair a lot, and he’s stupid strong for a baby. Maybe I’ll cut my hair so he has nothing to grab on when I carry him.’

“I’m not ugly! Whoever wrote this is the king of ugly.” Choi Han grumbled when he saw the second sentence.

Choi Sujin laughed, “But didn’t they call you cute after?”

“Hm… well, they’re still wrong! Mom says I’ve been cute forever, and mom is never wrong.” Choi Jungsoo yelled in agreement, and Choi Han nodded. “That’s right, Jungsoo! Moms are never wrong so you should always listen. And you should listen to your dad too, and my dad. My dad is cool too!”

Choi Sujin smiled proudly, “I’m the coolest, aren’t I?”

Choi Jungsoo only looked at him with such unimpressed eyes that Choi Sujin felt like his ego was being stabbed directly in the heart.

#saebom means younger unmarried brother of father #at least I think so please tell me and correct me if I’m wrong!#I love the Choi family #they make me so sad #we know very little abt Junggun especially him when he was younger so I just kinda made stuff up abt his personality #and we know next to nothing abt Choi Han’s parents so they’re basically ocs 😭😭#Choi Han #Choi Jungsoo #choi jung gun #tcf fanfic #lcf fanfic #tcf #lcf #sorry if this isn’t TCF lore accurate I heard someone say that CJG is their ancestor #but on the wiki it says he’s Choi Han’s uncle #so I just went w/ what the wiki says #lout of the count’s family #trash of the count's family

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seramilla · 1 month

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I think Clara would blames herself for Odette getting hurt. I mean Clara was the original target after all and the only reason Clara isn’t in Odette’s place or worse was because Odette was there that day. Clara feeling guilty that Odette got hurt because Odette had to save her and feeling like it’s her fault. Clara probably tries to just push those feelings down, hide how she feels but clara was never good with hiding her feelings from people she cares about

(For the attempted murder angst request)

It's been months since Odette's "accident." She's more than recovered enough to go back to work, with some lifting restrictions, according to Belphegor. She's fully capable of doing the rest of her job without assistance. But even so, Clara rarely leaves her side when she's in the office. It's starting to impede on Clara's own role, which is testing the designs that Odette makes. Never has she been babysat by her little sister before. She knows Clara means well, but it's starting to grate on her nerves just a little.

Clara holds doors open for her. Makes sure she's wearing her protective equipment before welding or soldering. Keeps bringing her water, even when Odette says she's not thirsty anymore. Stands guard whenever they make their way to the cafeteria for lunch. Odette loves her sister. Really, she does. But she's seen more of her in the last few months than she has in the last several years. It's starting to get ridiculous. The final straw comes when Clara demands to walk Odette home. Every night. For the foreseeable future. This time, the older sibling has had it.

"Clara, would you just stop?!" Odette cries out, turning on a dime to face her sister. Clara's arms are full, because she'd also insisted on carrying their things home by herself. "I'm fine! Look! See!" She pulls her lab coat and shirt up, exposing the fading stitches on her abdomen and hip. The marks from angelic weapons are still there. They will not fade with time like a regular injury, but they are more than healed enough for Odette's liking.

Clara jolts, surprised by her sister's outburst. Odette has rarely yelled at her before. Not since they were kids. Especially not for something like this. She falls back, cowering at her sister's demonic features starting to show through. Odette sees the uncertainty in her eyes, and pulls herself back together quickly.

"Clar, I'm sorry," Odette says, reaching out her hand for her sister's shoulder, but Clara flinches. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I know you're just trying to help. But you've got to let me have some breathing room, okay? This is bordering on obsession."

Clara is crying now. Openly and unabashed. Shit, Odette thinks. What have I done?

"I know, 'Dette," Clara says, starting to sob. "But I can't stop thinking how it should have been me in that hospital bed, not you! You've always protected me, our entire lives. And the one time I could have protected you, taken the hit for you, I failed! What kind of sister am I?"

Clara collapses onto the sidewalk. All the items in her arms fall out of her hands, splayed haphazardly across soiled concrete. Odette doesn't care; immediately her older sibling instincts kick in. She's at Clara's side in the blink of an eye, holding her around the shoulder, letting the younger woman sob into the pristine fabric of her lab coat.

"Clara, look at me," Odette implores, lifting her sister's chin to meet her gaze. Hot tears stream down her sister's face, and Odette wipes them away. "None of this is your fault, sweetie. I just...I didn't even think. I saw you in danger, and I acted on it. My instincts kicked in, and it all happened so fast. That's what family does. You've pulled me out of a lot of scraps before, remember? You've kicked so much angel ass out on the battlefield."

Clara sniffles, wiping the ugly snot away from her nose. She really is still her baby sister, Odette realizes. "I know, 'Dette!" Clara exclaims. "But the one time it really mattered, I couldn't protect you. I wasn't strong enough!"

"Hey," Odette says, putting her forehead to Clara's. Clara's eyelashes brush the skin of her face, and it's a small comfort. "You're always strong enough. You're so strong; way stronger than me. You acted fast, and got me to Mom and Bel. I'm only still here because of you, Clar...you saved me."

With that, Clara buries her face into her sister's coat, soaking the coarse fabric with her tears. Odette thinks her coat is really going to be ruined this time, but she doesn't care. It's the furthest thing form her mind. She holds Clara there on the open street for several minutes. She'll do it for as long as it takes. Clara saved her life, after all. She owes her little sister that; she owes her everything, and so much more.

#hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #ask #anon #fan theories #belphegor hazbin hotel #attempted murder angst au

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revelisms · 6 months

Text

There's something she will not admit—not in the heartbeat of his steps, the vulture-silhouette shark-teethed smoke-rotted shadow, the humor that gristles dry as bone and bites at any mind not sharp enough to follow—that stands as something of a reminder, of a memory, of a man she loved and loathes.

Their father, soot-greased and weary, clapping his lunchpail upon the table with enough force to rattle the screws.

Their father, with a voice that would twist the shadows to gripes of expectation, of need, of weakness—

Lettie?

—haunting her worse than Powder's murmurings of Mom? and their mother's gentle chidings of Violet—help us with dinner, now—

And they're all gone, all of them—

(Nearly.)

All except him, who glowers from a head above her, with eyes that don't match: a bastardization of Vander's accented vowels on his tongue; a mockery of Vander's music on the turnstile; a restripped, restructured other of Vander's bar beneath his hands.

Temper like hellfire and patience thin enough to match. (Like Dad.)

Ambition all-encompassing as a cosmic portal, fueled by a narcissistic self-reliance that glowed like a pyre. (Like Dad.)

An awkward kindness hidden beneath the layers: a gentleness in the scar-scrapped roughness in his hands: a tenderness in the slow lay of his palm, like touching a cracked, shivering thing sooner to break. (Like Dad.)

A ruthless determination in the ways the cogs of the world could be smelted and reshaped: in the power of number, of sheer demand, of purpose. (Not like Dad, at all.)

And Vi can't wrestle with it, the way she sometimes sees shadows of him in a face that doesn't fit. In the way the ugly, scar-crooked lines of his mouth would lift, just so, at a joke that landed well enough. In the way he stood tall in a reign of smog, regal as a king, greatcoat flaring, pistol at his side, stepping without a thought before her and her sister.

She hated him.

But he made dinner for her.

Toiled over that little stove in the ground floor kitchen, a towel tossed over his shoulder and a cigarette behind his ear, reports piled a mountain high on the dining table, but time still being found for this—with Vi's bloodied fists fresh-cleaned and thumbing through the first pages of his accounts, and him chopping herbs with a dangerous ease of the knife, in a way that is both her mother, both Vander, and neither of them, at all.

"You're drifting," he snipes to her.

Vi startles. Scans the page quickly again, to pick up where she left off.

"Seinith," he reminds her. His knife scrapes the herbs into a fragrant pan simmering with smuggled goods—chicken and leafy greens and potatoes and more spices than she can count. "Do you want to learn this business, or stay a scrapper for the rest of your days?"

Her mouth twists.

Scrapper; Scraps. The terms he'd chosen to christen her with, as a bland reminder of where her strengths laid; where she'd come from.

She flicks the page. "He's an upcoming heir to the refineries on the North Bank. Word is he's already behind the helm—probably has been, for years."

"Always was," he grouses.

"But never in the public eye."

A shift in his tone. "Correct."

And he's not Dad. Not Vander. Not whatever it is her sister sees in him, past the scaled, blood-stained exterior, the hellishness Vi can't ignore, the inhumanity caked into his very resolve.

But he brings her dinner on a clean plate, tacked lightly to the table before her, and hesitates—as though in another moment, another lifetime, as another man, he may have planted his palm upon her hair and tussled it.

He doesn't.

But he swipes the towel from his shoulder, cleans idly at his hands, and muddles at her: "Eat. Take some time."

Vi flicks her fork between her fingers: mock-solute.

He doesn't smile.

(Nearly.)

vi, on silco / shadows

#the dad silco daughter vi feelings have me in a chokehold tonight #*shakes fist*#arcane #silco #vi #prose #writing #arcane ficlet

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highlifeboat · 11 months

Text

Putting Mia in Ethan's place: The Lord's Meeting.

For fun. Because I can.

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

“That place is full of nothing but blood and death!”

Mia let out a huff of air as she made the walk across the castle’s drawbridge into the dim stone entryway. The words played over in her head, stuck along with the look the village girl, Elena, had given her when she’d brought up the castle. But then again, what other choice was there? The Village she’d spent the last hour wandering was virtually a ghost town, inhabited by nothing but wolfmen, one of which had taken two of her fingers, and seemingly one senile old witch. Anyone else was clearly gone, or dead, and the castle was the only thing she had gotten access to. She had to try it.

She came up to the next door covered by a metal gate. She went to pull the lever covered in yellow tape, only to pause when she heard the sound of footsteps.

“Well, well…” A male voice called. “I didn’t think anyone was left.” Mia turned on her heel to see the man dressed in a large trench coat and ratted fedora, wielding an oversized hammer. “You must be pretty tough, huh?” He tossed the butt of a cigar to the ground and crushed it out with his foot.

“Who the hell are you?” Mia barked, already reaching for the gun tucked in the back of her pants.

He looked at her for a moment, until realization crossed his face. “Oh, you’re not local!” He grinned. “Even better.” He mused at her, the ground around his feet seemingly vibrating.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are but–” Before she had the chance to aim, the pistol was yanked from her hand by an unseen forced. “What the fu–” Without a moment to fully register what happened, a large metal pipe collided with her back. Mia stumbled, no time to recover as another piece of metal slammed against her side. Pipes, nails, and various scrap debris seemed to kick up in a sudden storm, whirling around her like a tornado. She tried to move, but found herself stuck in place. The metal slammed into her as if she were a magnet and the most she could do was cover her face until the scrap around her feet gave out and she fell onto her back.

The man stood over her with an amused look on his face. “Mother Miranda’s gonna love you.” He mocked.

One last sheet slammed over her eyes, and Mia found herself drowning in the dark. The scrap shell stayed uncomfortably tight for far longer than she would have liked. Her breathing picked up and it was hard to tell if the shell was air tight, or if the metal pressing on her chest was simply making it harder to breathe. There was a long moment where she thought he might have left her there to suffocate, until she felt a shift. She was moving.

He was dragging her across the floor.

“Fuck.” She grit her teeth. It seemed she didn’t have a whole lot of choice but to let him, unless she wanted to be ripped apart.

After what felt like forever, the weight on her body began to lighten. The metal cocoon sloughed off in chunks and Mia found herself able to breathe again. In a half conscious state she took a large inhale through her nose, squinting at the sudden light just to see the trench coat man, as she suspected, dragging her across the dirty floor.

“Ah, quit your whining,” He glanced back, adjusting the chain on his shoulder. “we’re almost there!”

A part of Mia really wanted to curse this man out, demand to know where he was taking her, but she couldn’t seem to work up the strength to try, and passed out against the floor.

“The woman is of no real use to anyone else. And my daughters do so love… entertaining foreigners...”

Mia groaned as she came too, trying to come to her senses with the sudden onslaught of noise. A high pitched, curious sound was right in her ear, accompanied with a low set of chuckles, and somewhere in the background actual conversation was happening. “Furthermore, I can assure you… mortal to House…” When Mia finally opened her eyes, she was met with the face of some… creature almost nose to nose with her.

“Out of the way, ugly!” The high pitched voice came. “I wanna see!” A small doll pushed the other creature away, getting just as close. In a moment of clarity, Mia jolted up, though found herself chained to the floor, stuck in a sitting position. The doll started to giggle.

“You mean–”

“She’s awa-aake!” The doll announced, accompanied by another fit of giggles from both it and the other creature.

“You mean–Both of you shut the fuck up!” The man from earlier shouted, which seemed to silence the other two. With some disappointed sounds the pair finally gave Mia space, allowing her to fully take in the scene. “You mean you’ll screw around with her in private! Now where’s the fun in that?”

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was, but it seemed like some sort of decrepit church. The man that had dragged her here was sitting on the far right, the other creature that had previously been in her face sidling up to his left, next to the person at the top of the stairs. A woman covered in a feather dress, attention trained on the man as he spoke. To the left the doll settled in the lap of another person clad in black. Mia found it hard to tell whether they were a woman or a man, but if they were going to kill her perhaps it didn’t matter. Finally, on the far left, sat another woman. A very tall, regal looking woman, who hadn’t even spared a glance at her yet.

“What the fuck….” Mia muttered.

“Give her to me….” The man continued. “And I’ll put on a show that everybody can enjoy.”

The tall woman scoffed. “So gouache.” She tapped her cigarette holder. “What do we care for blood and circuses? The woman’s suffering is assured, regardless.”

“Yack, yack, ‘and if a woman’s tits are cut off in the castle’, blah blah.” The man chuckled, and the creature laughed with him.

Mia tensed a little at the statement. “Hey!” She finally shouted, catching everyone’s attention for a moment. “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?! Where is my daughter?! What did you freaks–”

“I’ve heard all your arguments.” The woman at the head stated, cutting Mia off entirely. “Some of you were less persuasive than others, but… I’ve made my decision.” There was a moment of silence as she looked between them all, and in that moment Mia couldn’t help the nagging feeling that she knew that voice from somewhere. “Heisenberg!” She declared, pointing to the man in the trench coat. “The woman’s fate is in your hands.”

“Mother Miranda I must protest!” The other woman stood. “Heisenberg is but a child, and his devotion to you is questionable!” Mia realized just how tall she was as she began to stride towards her. If she had to take a guess, she would have said almost ten feet. “Give the mortal to me, and I will ensure she is ready.”

“Shut your damn hole! And don’t be a sore loser–!”

“Miranda….” Mia echoed the name, the argument between the two fading into the background while she tried to think. She knew that name, she was sure of it. Where the hell did she know that name?

“SILENCE!” Miranda demanded, the feathered part of her dress outstretching to eight large wings, as if to make herself seem bigger. The hall fell quiet, all attention turned to her. “My decision is final.” She stated boldly, eyeing the other woman. “There will be no argument. Remember from whence you came.”

“Thank you…” Heisenberg bowed slightly. Begrudgingly, the tall woman moved back to her chair, standing behind it. “Lycans, and gentlemen!” Heisenberg spun once, the tip of his hammer coming a little too close to Mia’s face for liking. It wasn’t until then she realized the wolfmen coming out of the woodwork, snarling down at her. “We thank you for waiting. And now, let the games begin!” He face her fully, momentarily taking a knee to be at her level. “Let’s see what you’re made of, Mia Winters….”

Mia went wide eyes as he stood, lifting the hammer over his head.

“Get ready!”

“No, wait–!” Mia jerked back as the hammer came down just in front of her, breaking the chain free from the stone floor.

“Ten! Nine! Eight–!”

The woman scrambled to her feet as Lycans jumped from the rafters, pushing her back into a corner with a large hole in the floor. She glanced back at the monsters advancing, then down into the hole again.

“Four! Three!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck this!” Mia yelled, taking her chances as she jumped into the hole, getting met with a long tunnel.

“Showtime!” Came Heisenberg’s voice from above.

She could hear the lycans snarling as she ran through the tunnel, but refused to look back to check if they were actually chasing her. The tunnel led into a large cave, where she was stopped dead in her tracks by the deafening howl of a creature that was even taller than the woman she'd seen earlier. It jumped down from a ledge, and when it landed it shook the entire caver. With no time to react it swung it’s giant hammer at her and slammed it into the side of her head. Everything reeled and blurred as she found herself slipping past it and sliding down another long stretch of tunnel.

She tried to slow herself with her feet, eventually getting spat out the other end and hitting the ground hard. More lycans howled from behind a dungeon cell, and if it wasn’t for the adrenaline she probably wouldn’t have gotten back up. It wasn’t until she noticed the ceiling spikes, however, that she really started to run.

“This is bullshit, holy fuck, this is insane!” She yelled to herself, kicking out a board to enter yet another passage. The spikes began to lower, and Mia kept her head down and she bolted through, cursing all the while.

She found herself in a final room, the door straight ahead. When she made a run towards it, however, a giant grinder dropped from the ceiling. Her passage back was blocked, but in her frantic look for some sort of help she found a dug out. A small part of the room that was the perfect size to hide. She squeezed herself against the wall, holding her hands up to her face.

“Nothing like fresh American ground beef!” Came Heisenberg’s voice over the loudspeaker.

Mia screamed, eyes squeezed shut, as the blades spun in front of her, far too close for comfort. When they eventually came to a halt, the silence was deafening. She opened her eyes to see her restraints in pieces on the floor, though not without giving her wrists a few burns from the heat. Quickly, Mia got on her stomach and crawled out from under the grinder, wasting no time in bum rushing the door before something else horrible came for her.

After stumbling through another set of doors she found herself back at the entryway to the castle, and took a moment to take some long, deep breaths.

“What the fuck!” She cursed between huffs. “What the fuck was that!”

Eventually she stood straight again, pulling the lever and pushing through the final door that would lead her to the pathway towards the castle.

From the vineyard she stared up at it. The building towreed over everything else in the Village, if Rose was anywhere, it had to be there.

“Nothing but blood and death, huh…?” She hummed, remembering Elena’s warning. “Can’t be any worse than running that fucking gauntlet again…”

#putting the silly through it #have considered writing a fic where i just switch mia and ethan's roles ngl #mia winters #writing #my stuff #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #mother miranda

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thewhitefluffyhat · 1 year

Text

Ianthe’s Makeover Through a Femme!Harrow Lens

“This seems like a good week to post about how I relate to Harrow as a fellow androgynous-femme,” I say, taking cover behind an industrial strength blast shield. (Joking, joking.)

But in all seriousness, this post has been in my drafts for a while. I’d seen the makeover scene in HtN described as “confusing” when it comes to Harrow’s gender, and I honestly thought it was too on first read.

So I wanted to take a closer look!

Spoilers: I don’t think it’s as simple as Harrow being uncomfortable with wearing dresses in the abstract.

Rather, the main aspect that stood out to me as making Harrow curl up like a shivering wet cat is the loss of control and the sexual haze permeating the whole affair. And I really do want to underline the latter aspect, because even before Dios apate Minor enters the picture, Ianthe herself repeatedly frames what she’s doing in terms of making Harrow more sexually desirable. More fuckable, if you will:

"God, what's this? That's a bit risqué-" You grew desperate. "Let me pick." Harrow the Ninth, p264

"Not even one of the Emperor's fists and gestures could give Harrowhark Nonagesimus a sexy makeover. Sometimes I think you look like a twig's funeral. In the right light, though-" Harrow the Ninth, p264

"You look just good enough that I'm proud of my handiwork, but not so good that I'll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl," she said. "I walked a fine line, and I walked it admirably." Harrow the Ninth, p266

But Ianthe also emphasizes: not too fuckable, Harrow shouldn’t misunderstand and become confident in her body, because Harrow is such a pitiful charity case that the only beauty she can ever hope to attain will be scraps distributed at Ianthe’s mercy. She’s… she’s literally doing the High School Mean Girl schtick of “I’ll help you look pretty as a favor, but don’t you dare challenge my place in the pretty pecking order.”

Which, to be honest, probably says a lot more more about Ianthe and Coronabeth and their issues than anything about Harrow! Like, tell me more, Ianthe, how do you feel about constantly being described as the lesser twin to your face? I’m sure that’s never hurt you and you’re not projecting here at all, haha.

But regardless of its effectiveness, to me this strategy reads as an attempt at a very femme-vs-femme power play. You want to talk about gatekeeping femme identity? Surprise surprise, so does Ms. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss!

As a result, Harrow, being a delightfully contrarian and passive-aggressive little shit even in the depths of having her agency denied, protests this in whatever small ways she can still find:

As an act of meaningless rebellion, you applied the sacramental skull of the Priestess Crushed Beneath the New-Laid Rock, the least beautiful skull in the canon. Harrow the Ninth, p266

“Fuck you and fuck trying to win your rigged game I didn’t even want to play,” essentially.

But note that Harrow doesn't wear a masculine-coded skull to protest Ianthe’s dress. (Are there gendered skulls in the canon? Muir could easily have made one up here, or had Harrow wear a pattern normally used by her father, Crux, or Ortus.) It’s not being seen as feminine or femme that she’s objecting to. Instead, Harrow goes for the ugliest skull, the “I don’t want to be perceived as desirable from any perspective” option.

And this actually reads very true to my own experiences! I’m somewhere between an androgynous and a non-mainstream feminine presentation myself, and I’ve had basically this exact same fight over what to wear at a social event. Right down to finding subtle ways to make myself less attractive to subvert the other person's attempt to control my appearance. Better something ugly that I chose myself than something playing by the rules that femme = signing up to be judged on the fuckability scale.

(Not, to be clear, that there’s anything wrong with pursuing or enjoying sexual attractiveness! Just that being forced into it feels really awful.)

Now, the topic of what does and doesn’t count as femme is… fraught and basically impossible to definitively nail down. But presenting as femme and/or feminine as part of one’s queerness often involves being in dialogue with other forms of femininity, picking and choosing which aspects to keep and which to reject. I’ve seen lipstick lesbians talk about their over the top makeup as a way to mark themselves as different from the heterosexual “natural look” norm. I myself love the gothic lolita look, because I like the idea of being seen as “feminine” in a transgressive way, but also potentially in a way that strikes other people as less sexual. (Though the nuances of lolita fashion could be a whole other discussion…)

Harrow’s presentation preferences aren’t quite the same as mine (she does not enjoy being seen as smaller or more childish), but she seems to share the desire for her unusual femme aesthetic to implicitly deflect from sexual interest rather than attracting it. She’s using her religion as a socially acceptable shield against Ianthe’s advances. Because given Ianthe’s reactions to the subject, flirting with a nun seems to be at least a little as taboo in TLT as it does in our world:

You simply said, “I have always slept alone.” “You don’t say.” You heard the primness in your voice when you said, “I am betrothed to the Locked Tomb, Tridentarius. I slept on a cot in my cell.” “I always forget you were an honest-to-God nun...” Harrow the Ninth, p260

Ianthe is an asshole who ignores Do Not Touch signals, but I think Harrow’s desperate clinging to her nun robes is, in part, another assertion of this implicit boundary. So I read the makeover scene as Harrow having an allergic reaction to being sexualized and objectified against her will (and to the entire idea that correctly performing as femme requires one to aspire to such), rather than disliking being perceived as femme or even feminine in general.

A second layer to this scene is the slimy cultural aspect to what Ianthe does. If the paint and full-body coverings are the Ninth's version of proper female attire, then Ianthe is forcing Harrow to perform to a very Third ideal instead:

“Will you take off that grotesque skeleton corset?” “No.” “What about your face paint?” “No.” “I do not know why I ask these questions,” she said. Harrow the Ninth, p265

I'm always wary of assuming modern racial dynamics apply to TLT’s universe, but y'all... this scene is a white woman forcing a brown woman from a stigmatized, minority religion to perform a normalized Western standard of femininity. Up to a rebuffed attempt to remove her face/hair coverings. Regardless of how much this dynamic applies in-universe, the real life parallels are not exactly subtle! Harrow could be the most feminine femme to ever gender within her culture, and what Ianthe does would still be extremely gross and coercive.

It’s also another direct callback to GtN - Ianthe forcing Harrow into fashionable Third norms is an inversion of the scene of Harrow forcing Gideon into Ninth facepaint. The same way that Harrow’s demeaning “Griddle” gets a dark reprise in Ianthe’s “Harry” and several other echoes in HtN of Harrow having to endure similar treatment from Ianthe as she once abused Gideon.

Ianthe is insisting that in order for Harrow to meet the dinner party’s standards, she must compromise her own culture’s standards. That Harrow’s own ceremonial robes aren’t expensive or nice enough to pass in a formal setting. She can be a well-dressed femme, or she can be a Ninth nun, but not both. Again, I don’t see Harrow’s objections to this treatment as being in conflict with Harrow having a femme-leaning identity, so much as Harrow being made wretchedly helpless and humiliated by having her Ninth heritage erased to fit Ianthe’s Third tastes.

Still not convinced? Finally, let’s contrast Ianthe’s makeover with the scene of Harrow getting ready for Abigail and Magnus’s anniversary in GtN:

She put on her best and most senescent Ninth robes, and became a skinny black stick swallowed by night-coloured layers of Locked Tomb lace. She fiddled with long earrings of bone in front of the mirror and repainted her face twice. Gideon the Ninth, p168

In any case, both she and Harrowhark turned up, gorgeously gowned in their Locked Tomb vestments, painted like living skulls, looking like douchebags. Harrow clinked when she walked with the sheer multiplicity of bonely accoutrement. Gideon the Ninth, p169

Here, Harrow is dressing purely according to her own decisions, and she actually doubles down on the more stereotypically feminine lace and jewelry rather than aiming for something wholly androgynous. She also does her best to appear neat and presentable here despite being a scruffly gremlin most of the time. Perfectionist that she is, Harrow is still nervous about her ability to perform it, but she’s confident in the specific femme aesthetic that she’s aspiring toward.

(Side note: You know who else wears an excessive amount of jewelry at Canaan House? Coronabeth. Was Harrow trying to look more like Corona, and if so, why? More crunchy gender food for thought…)

Ultimately. if your takeaway from the Ianthe makeover scene was "ah, Harrow would have been more comfortable if Ianthe gave her a suit" …I wouldn’t say that’s unreasonable. You could certainly do an alternative read of the scene as Ianthe force-feminizing a butch or nonbinary-leaning Harrow. (And if someone writes that essay I would love to read it!) But I don’t think that’s the only valid interpretation, and my personal read of the scene is that Ianthe is trying to coerce Harrow into a sexualized and gatekept definition of femme that Harrow strongly rejects.

It’s the pain and powerlessness of being told you’re doing your own gender wrong. Then having someone “helpfully” show you how to perform it right …only to look in the mirror afterwards and recognize yourself even less. And at that point, starting to miserably wonder if you’re even allowed to be your gender at all. Does that make sense?

Well, even if it doesn’t, thanks for reading to the end! 🖤 💀 🖤

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #tlt analysis #my tlt stuff #my ramblings #read more #note: edited a few bits 1.10.23 for further clarity of terms #anyway this seemed like a good segue #from last week’s ianthe-themed queue #into the harrow&ianthe art queue I'm planning to do next

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