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weeb-polls-with-pip · 4 months

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Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 5

Propaganda:

Ame -

"Typical autistic childhood – doesn't want to go to school, doesn't talk a lot, his plans for the future are just to go to live as a wolf in the forest… He's basically a werewolf and I think werewolves are often autistic coded. Actually his whole family is autistic coded."

Floyd -

"Has no emotional regulation skills and will make it everyone's problem. Prone to mood swings and can get angry at the drop of a hat, but can also be so goofy, silly, and lovely. Sways side to side for that good good stim, and loves to squeeze others (with violent intent and affectionate intent). Who doesn't love a good pressure stim? His interest in things can be fleeting, and his motivation to do things can change as quickly as his mood. Spontaneous and feral extraordinaire."

Hibiki -

"he is canonically diagnosed with hyperacusis <3 my fav sensory issues guy (he's so relatable). also canonically pulled a bad bitch (uta) by being autistic."

Akira -

"He has a heartbreaking relationship with road racing and the memory of his dead mother, and while he is a major antagonist, he is given a lot of interesting looks into his internal logics that I personally find relatable as an autistic person. I also like how he expresses himself in unpleasant ways, but isn't always treated with disgust, its kind of refreshing."

Sang Woo -

"literally the first results on google is "sangwoo semantic error autistic." he loves routine + is extremely distressed by change in routine (contrasts w his ADHD-coded bf). very blunt/cannot read social clues which leads to some misunderstandings throughout the manhwa. he's very relatable to me as an autistic person but also as a queer man, and it's refreshing to see autistic characters being open with their sexuality/sexual life bc we're often displayed as asexual robots incapable of love (bad for lots of reasons haha). he's super cute generally and really grew on me throughout the series. definitely the best part of semantic error."

Douglas -

"Many other characters try to read into what he does and says, looking for deeper or different meanings but it's always revealed that he means exactly what he says every single time and the butt of the jokes is always the other characters for being dramatic and presumptuous, not Doug for being autistic. Also he's the mean autistic representation we deserve."

Scott -

"look at him. failboy autism. even more so than any previous version!"

Shinra -

"he's just like me forreal."

Soi -

"I mean come on, it’s Purson. He thinks he’s really good at talking to people but most of his conversations (at least at the start) are completely one sided. He just blurts out whatever he’s thinking and completely dominates the conversation (if you can call it that). I love him so much for it, I have a really hard time figuring out when I should just stop talking and let someone else have a turn and only tend to realize after he fact that I didn’t really let anyone else get a word in and feel really bad. But the way Purson communicates is never shown to be a bad thing it’s a bit awkward at times but that just how he is and the rest of the misfit class live him for it. I think I could go on all day about how wonderfully inclusive Iruma-Kun is it’s such a good series, also in my brain Balam, Kalego, Clara and Opera are on the 4 outer points of an x-y graph that represents the autism spectrum. Everyone else fills the blanks in between. His bloodline magic is ‘detection warding’ and for the first several arcs of the manga the rest of the class didn’t even know he was there."

Makoto -

"In one sentence: Katai considers the titular Komi-san a communication master. Katai looks like a brutal thug, but he's actually extremely shy. Shy enough that after missing a couple weeks of class, it takes him months to build up the confidence to go to school. Katai tries to make friends once he does go to school, but he can't hold a conversation and doesn't realize that his mumbled half-sentences and resting bastard face make it look like he's threatening people. He's also pretty bad at reading the room, which is why he interprets Komi's behavior as a communication master trying to guide him from afar rather than a kindred spirit also struggling to hold a conversation."

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

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How to Mend What’s Broken

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you."

Warnings: Angst; Breakup, Jealous Nat.

This is the first of many ghost posts, I’m queuing up my requested blurbs/fics as I finish them, but I won’t really be here.

She'd thought you were bluffing, that this year long mission would be like any of the others, and that when she came home with flowers and chocolates that you'd just happily embrace her. That wasn't the case though, she came back to find you'd not only moved out of your shared apartment, but that you apparently moved on. Hearing it through her family, the one you now shared after half a decade together was hard, but actually seeing it was truly devastating.

—————-

"Nat, if you go on the mission, then I'm gone.," the words replay in her fractured mind, on a continuous loop as she's forced to watch you dancing with another at Tony's New Year's party—it wasn't right, she felt nauseous seeing the way her hands sat on your hips, pulling you in for a kiss, and the worst part being the way you beamed back at her, pushing her fallen hair behind her ear, the same way you did hers.

Natasha could feel the bile rising up her throat, she couldn't stomach the sight of you two so happy together. Shifting on her feet she faced the bar again, chasing the obnoxious burning in her throat down with a different kind. She could hear you giggle from across the room, and in turn the next shot was thrown back. Every time she saw her hands on you flash in her mind another shot was taken, her high tolerance aside, the woman smelled like a distillery, and truly needed to be stopped.

"Sestra, slow down.," Yelena hissed, yanking the shot glass from her sister's hand, sending her a warning glare as she tried to grab it back., "Natasha, you made your choice, live with it.," The redheads shoulders deflated instantly at her words, because they were the ugly truth.

Months—you gave her so many of them to get it together, to finally put you first for once, but she continuously failed to do so, leaving you behind for those fleeting rushes of adrenaline, but that high she so desperately craved wasn't the same when she didn't have your arms to crash into after she finally returned home.

No, instead of welcome home cuddles, and whispers of 'I love you' between steamy kisses she's met with cold sheets, and nightmares. The kind that shows her how bleak her future is going to be without the love you two had fostered, she shakes her head as the aforementioned images began to flood her inebriated mind again., "It wasn't worth it."

Yelena clapped her sister on the shoulder, a smile riddled with pity sent her way., "Da, tupitsa, nakonets ty ponyal, teper' ispravlyay.," the redhead glared at her unbothered sister., "Good luck Natasha, you better succeed. I want my future sister in law back like yesterday."

(Yes dumbass, finally you understand, now fix it.)

Natasha didn't know how, or when, but she knew she'd get you back, because in the grand scheme of it all, you're definitely her soulmate. Part of her wondered if tonight might be the time, since she could feel your intense stare from a mile away, her heart even fluttered a bit at the premature hope it was filling up with.

It wasn't fair to your girlfriend, Clara, but you couldn't remove your gaze from your first love. The clueless girl was clinging to you, her head laying over your chest, and you hoped she didn't hear the skip in your heartbeat every time you got to see the other woman's face.

Natasha looked stunning in the black dress that clung to her every curve, the swell of her breasts visible to the naked eye due to the surprisingly low cut of the fabric. Part of you wondered if she did it on purpose, she had to have known you'd RSVP'd to the party, and as exciting as it is to know it might've been for you, you know she's no longer yours to gawk at.

Still, your eyes managed to linger on her all throughout the night, wandering her body in its entirety. Eventually catching the necklace that you got her for your second anniversary. Your fingers ghosted over the imprint of yours through your dress, causing your heart to ache, and for you to run off the dance floor as if you were Cinderella herself and the dreaded clock was about to strike midnight—which it was.

Natasha watched you run off the floor and onto the balcony, your hand clutching at your chest, and the other covering your mouth. To most you looked like you were going to be sick, but she knew you were trying to hold back the tears to keep your tough front up. She wasted no time running after you either, the door had barely shut before she was bursting through it, and catching the way your body shook with sobs, an ache consumed her as she watched all the pain she'd caused you come flooding right on out of you. It was painfully humbling...

"Natasha...," you went to tell her to leave, even if that's the opposite of what you wanted, you knew you needed her to go, because just one smile would be enough for you to crumble, and you didn't want that again. To be putty in her deceitful little hands, the ones that loved you so well on the sparingly good days, and left you craving so much more on the bulk of the rest., "I need you to...," the redhead however had other plans, ignoring you, and desperately blurting out a truth of her very own.

"I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you.," her voice was not but a whisper as she moved to cage your trembling body in between hers, and the balconies metal rail., "I love you so much Y/N—my precious little dove."

"Natasha, please.," your hands gripped the rail even tighter as you pleaded for her to stop, to walk away like she always does; to let you go., "Tell me to stop, to go," she pressed her lips to the nape of your neck., "I- I can't.," a tear left your eye as you shamefully crumbled at the simplest of affections. How could you not? Natasha's touch had the power to set your body alight with need, no one else could compare, and deep down you were content with that.

Without giving you room to slip away she was able to turn you to face her, a soft smile on her face., "But God, Nat, I desperately want to.," you shakily admitted, causing her face to fall., "because I deserve so much better.," though your voice cracked, the conviction in your eyes was strong, and a ghost of a smirk befell her face as she filled with pride at seeing you fight for yourself so very well., "I'll do better!"

She could see you already registered her words as empty., "Fuck, detka please, I'll do anything you want or need if it means you'll just be mine again.," your brows furrowed at the sight of her being so vulnerable, it wasn't foreign for her to be like this with you, but this public display of it by her surely was. It honestly made you more willing to listen, and maybe take her seriously.

"I-I can't sleep another night without you Y/N, that damn apartment could never be a home without your laughter filling it, and my heart.," she paused, frantically grabbing at your hand so that you could feel the organ's steady thumping beneath your fingertips., "It will never be whole again without yours beating beside it, do you feel that? How hard it's beating against my ribcage? That's all you. Without you it's forever been out of sync."

Silence followed up the Russian's monologue. It consumed the air around the both of you, but it wasn't suffocating, the party was thankfully silenced by the compound's thick panes of glass, and the streets below were just quiet. The world continued to fade away as you stared into her gorgeous, viridescent eyes, and felt her heart beating in sync with your very own. If not for Natasha leaning in you're certain you could've been lost in her gaze for an eternity.

Natasha bit back a sob as the hand on her chest lightly pushed her back, fear of your incoming rejection rising steadily, but then she watched you smile as your hand slid over to the charm. A golden chain with her trademark spider dangling from it, your initials engraved in the bottom of the piece, and the color of your eyes matched the color of the jewel adorning it., "You kept it?," she frowned immediately., "I'd never dream of taking it off, it's a part of me as much as you are Y/N; a testament to our love."

To prove her point she gently tugged on your own chain, pulling the nearly identical charm from where it was hidden beneath your clothes. She smirked at your nervous fiddling while also admiring the piece that mirrored hers, the gem was an emerald, and her thumb ran over the markings that were her own on the bottom., “You kept it?,” she teasingly threw your words back at you causing you to pout., “Well yeah, it was really expensive.,” you groaned playfully, but she saw the way you clutched onto it as she dropped it, safely returning it to beneath your clothing., “Plus, it was all I had left of you.”

“Y/N, you have all of me.,” her thumb lovingly stroked over the apple of your cheek, you melted into the affection with so much ease that the former assassin nearly broke down. You’ve always put your unwavering faith in her, and that’s one of the many reasons she fell for you—hard and fast. The Avengers title, and culmination of her past meant nothing to you. To you she was Natty, with the strong arms, hot smirk, with horrible cooking abilities, and to her you were the definition of everything. Your soft voice pulled her out of her reverie., “Are your sure Nat? Because I can’t go back to being your second choice, I won’t do it.”

“You never were Y/N/N.,” she quietly admits, and before she could try to kiss you again you moved to whisper in her ear., “I’m no cheat Natalia, give me a few minutes, maybe let the Winter chill calm the ants in your pants, hm?,” she rolled her eyes, then smirked as you stared back at her skeptically., “Ants aren’t all I have in these pants by the way.,” she winked, then cackled as you subtly flipped her off before venturing off to find your unfortunate date.

Natasha watched over the city of New York, every second you were gone a spike of panic shot through her. What if the woman isn’t all that understanding? What if she hurts you? Before her mind could make her travel to rescue you the door slid open, she turned on instinct, but also she was feeling a bit hopeful., “Catch me!,” you squealed, running full force at the slightly sobered redhead, she mirrors your excitement as she spins you around though, then she tries to kiss you again in the thrill of the moment, but your finger slips in between your lips and she groans., “What is it now?”

“The countdown.,” you huffed, and she listened closely to hear all the shouting from indoors., “10,9,8…,” she tapped your dangling legs, and you got the message to wrap them around her., “3,2,1… Happy New Year!!!,” your cheers were abruptly brought to a close as Natasha’s lips met yours in a needy way, but you certainly weren’t going to complain, especially not when your ability to have done so was sullied by the tongue that was pretty much down your throat.

The kiss was messy, it’d been 387 days since she’d last been able to kiss you like this, and if you were aware at all you’d better be preparing for a long night, her roaming hands a sign that she isn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. Not that you’d want her to, your body was a squirming mess beneath hers as she’d laid you on a lounging chair, then quickly mounted you. Her lungs burned, but it wasn’t until you had tapped at her shoulder that she retracted with a displeased growl, reluctantly allowing you to breathe while she admired the dishevelment.

“To new beginnings.,” she whispered against your lips with a smirk as you panted wildly. Your eyes squinted as her bright phone screen was brought up to your face, the words slowly coming together as your cognition returned with each gasp of oxygen you inhaled., “Nat?,” your lip wobbled as you read it, and she leaned down to kiss you again, but far more tenderly like your quivering voice told her you needed., “Effective immediately detka; I’m all yours.,”

“No more missions?,” you sought out clarity with a bright smile and nervous stomach, and your beautiful woman beamed down to you, nodding her head while cupping your cheeks. The soft look she gave you warmed your heart, but you were a bit more focused on the way your entire body warmed at her great news., “Please, take me home Natasha.,” her eyes widened when your breathy plea came out, surveying your eyes she could see the lust at the forefront, so she scooped you up, and ran., “Whatever my detka wants, she fucking gets.”

——————————

2,264 Words.

❤️🤖

(Image source)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff pov #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasharomanoffpov #gxg #black widow #black widow angst #black widow fluff

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icescrabblerjerky · 17 days

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Absolutely fucking ADORED season three of Victoriocity but am in awe of/annoyed by the fanfic bait they are laying like OH MY GOD.

Stuffed into a phone booth up close and personal for an entire phone call

Given a plot device that could LITERALLY be interpreted in that they had to take off all their clothes or be pursued (I KNOW WHY THEY DIDN'T DO THAT BUT OH MY GOD)

CLARA LITERALLY THROWS A RING AT FLEET

FLEET THEN OFFERS TO BUY HER A NEW ONE???

THEY are MAYBE going on a DATE???

This is CIS BAITING akin to The X-Files lol.

#victoriocity #clara/fleet #look they're cute as heck and they should kiss #victoriocity spoilers

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musicallisto · 2 years

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Hi, Clara!! I am so glad you're taking prompts, because your writing is superior!! May I please request ❛ i’m here for you. don’t forget that. ❜ with Benedict Bridgerton?

Thanks in advance, and I hope you have an amazing day/night! Hope you're doing well!! 🖤🖤🖤

: ̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 (benedict bridgerton x f!reader)

a/n: raven dear, do you read my mind? how did you know tooth-rotting fluff with benedict was exactly what I hoped someone would request? features: mentions of illness, fluff!!!!!!! wc: 1.3k

˚ ༘✶ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST || TAG LIST ˚ ༘✶

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 admit that this impromptu dinner out under the stars was not a good idea.

Yet, on paper, it had seemed so: one night of pure bliss, alone with your beloved husband in the ink-green meadow, far from the vicissitudes of the mundane city and the bustle of the household staff - your only company the stars, delightful celestial candles, the daring deer enticed by the scent of your red berries and hams, and, of course, your husband's tireless joviality.

But both you and he too often forget that the countryside surrounding your estate is not the stifling cauldron that is the heart of London, and that your shawl, no matter how refined, can do little against the night breeze. Nor can the warm scent of wine, or Benedict vigorously rubbing your shoulders to warm you up.

One of you has caught a cold. And the other is enjoying it immensely.

“Come now, Benedict, I am not at death's door, I am perfectly capable of walking alone…”

“Is that so? I would have thought otherwise, up there on the hill.”

“As if you had seen that root! You are merely lucky I sacrificed my ankle so you would not trip yourself…”

The world teeters over his shoulder, but you can make out the forest encircling your domain, like rocks around a secret cove, and the lights of the village far in the distance, flicking out one by one, little ships on the ocean of fields. A cold draft licks your neck, and you shiver; Benedict firms his grip on your neck, and the warmth of his torso quietens your fever for a moment.

“Do you intend to carry me much longer?”

“To the ends of the earth, if it were up to me, but I reckon our room should suffice.”

With that he steps through the back door of your manor, you the shivering angel rescued from the floods in his arms… and your dangling feet hit the narrow frame of the door.

“Ben!” you admonish him with a chuckle that tinkles in his ears.

“A thousand apologies, my lady. Surely the architects of this place could have foreseen such an occurrence…”

His chest purrs against your ear with barely contained laughter, sending warm waves down your spine. He effortlessly pivots, and you prance sideways into the wide, darkened dining room, giggling senselessly like two newlyweds drunk on euphoria.

“Shh,” he chides in a mirthful breath, “we would hate to wake up the whole household…”

"Then set me down on the floor! You will knock over all the silverware before you reach the stairs.”

“Pardon me, my dear, but in this hypothesis, it would be you who would overturn our furniture. I am but the fair hand that carries you.”

Benedict yields, however, and sets you down at the foot of the dining table, where white wisps of dust dance in the moonlight. You hardly have time to miss his warmth; he wraps an arm around your shoulder and draws you into the hollow of his shoulder, brushing your temple with a gentle kiss. Then, in one fell swoop, exhausted but delighted, you both make your way through the dormant house, like teenagers trudging home after a covert night of love.

Never does he let go of your trembling body or your frozen hands, not even when your voice, all of the sudden exhausted, calls out in the stairwell.

“I am terribly sorry.”

“Why so?”

“We had planned a most perfect night, and I had to spoil it by taking ill...”

“Nonsense.” (More kisses, fleeting and burning, on your cheek, in the hollow of your neck.) “We will have all the time in the world to make up for this evening. But as lovely as you look in that dress, I would prefer you cover up more, next time. I would be remiss if I let that lovely face go cold again.”

“Are you not disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed?” he murmurs with sincere disbelief. “Another night of pampering the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

Hallucinatory footsteps lead you to the conjugal chamber, the creaking of the door a pounding just beneath your skull; but Benedict continues to whisper, surely saying nothing, and his tender voice lulls you into forgetting the blizzard in your body. Before you know it, you're curled up under the covers in your softest nightgown, and snow-clear eyes lovingly survey you.

“Is there anything I can get you to help? All but warm milk, please. Daphne refuses to explain to me how that machine of the devil works.”

A slight smile crosses your face, and Benedict's grin somehow becomes even more affectionate. The world outside takes on purple hues, just like his paintings hanging in the foyer. As always, however, you wouldn't dream of being anywhere but in his arms - not even in his celestial landscapes.

“Nothing, thank you. I could bear all the sorrows of the world simply by having you by my side.”

“You could bear all the sorrows of the world long before you knew me. That is one of the dozens of reasons why I love you.”

Is it the cozy feathers of the pillow that fill your body with a pleasant warmth, like a glass of amber cider, or Benedict's lovely eyes filled with sparkling tenderness, and his hand on your forehead? Perhaps it is inconsequential to know. Perhaps it would be losing the enchanting feeling to try to decipher it.

“You will be better tomorrow. But until then, I am here for you, for anything you may need. Don’t forget that.”

All too soon, he withdraws his hand, and only the icy shadow of his soft touch remains on your skin. With a voice you mean to be small, because timid or frazzled, you call out to him before he can turn around.

“Perhaps you could read me something? I would certainly fall into a better sleep...”

An amused, infinite love flutters all over his face as he raises an eyebrow and leans into your teasing figure.

“Naughty blackmail you are exhibiting there, Mrs. Bridgerton. I accept.”

As if in a delicious dream, he browses the shelves of the bed chamber, crosses the room with that sybilline grace of his, as if he were walking between storm clouds; then he sits on the edge of the bed, right up against your curled-up body, a book in his lap.

“I daresay Ivanhoe will suit you.”

Your little laugh rattles the bedclothes and makes the candlelight dance. The wind drinks in your every word behind the window.

“I've read it dozens of times.”

“Good thing that you needn't focus on the story, then.”

He begins, and soon enough his words rapture you from your blankets, from the cloudy English countryside and the wind's icy scratches against the glass; adventure, history, chivalrous romance coat you like a halo of gentle flames. On top and underneath it all, Benedict's voice hums, deep and unchanging, like a ship braving the winter storm, nursing the wrath of your fever. He reads, softly, ardently, like one who tells a legend, and each word takes you a little further away from this dimly lit world - your hand in his the last anchor before the void.

Then, like an angel embracing you, sleep takes you away. You don't hear Benedict's voice waning as the candles dim and the stars waltz by, like a sunset laid at the foot of your bed. Nor do you feel the caress of his hand on your cheek, the delicate energy of his lingering kiss on your lips, the poem he whispers into your skin.

Finally, he blows out the candle. The night, thick now, lies down all over the placid room.

tagging; @softeninglooks @alexxavicry @maybanksslut (all my writing) @retvenkos @noesapphic (bridgerton)

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fluff #mywriting #lol if you can guess what song gave me the title i would find that very funny #˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ dolly

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aegis-of-corin · 2 years

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i'm not sure if this is a popular opinion or an unpopular opinion, but i'm not really a big fan of the doctor and yaz. not that i don't want to love them because i do. i really want there to be a good female doctor x female companion relationship and i'm ecstatic that it's canon that yaz and the doctor love each other... but i just don't feel yaz and the doctor's connection.

and this isn't because of the acting. the few real moments we did get, jodie and mandip acted the shit out of. those lingering glances, the hologram scene, the scene where dan tells the doctor that yaz has feelings for her? *chef's kiss*

BUT

the writing for all three of thirteen's seasons has not done the characters or the relationship justice.

(SLIGHT SPOILER FOR "LEGEND OF THE SEA DEVILS")

it blew my mind in this episode when the doctor said that yaz was the most incredible person she'd ever met including her wife (which is most likely referring to river song.) i couldn't believe it - because we haven't seen that.

sadly yaz has been a fairly average companion because we honestly haven't gotten to see that much of who yaz is or what she's really like or capable of. what has she done that makes her so incredible?

for example:

rose tyler became the bad wolf and incinerated an entire dalek fleet.

martha jones walked the earth and saved the world from the master in the year that never was.

donna noble was the first time lord/human metacrisis.

amy pond was the girl who waited, who fought the silence - who brought back the doctor when he was erased.

river song was a human time lord who was a badass time-traveling archeologist.

clara oswald survived going into the doctor's time stream and lived hundred of lives saving the doctor.

bill potts saved the doctor when she sacrificed herself to the monks and once as a freaking cyberman.

so what have we honestly seen yaz do?

we saw bill do more in one season than yaz has done in three, so comparing her to river song - who is unarguably one of doctor who's more complex, interesting characters is quite laughable. (and this is coming from someone who was a big tenrose shipper.)

we had three seasons and three additional episodes to fall in love with the doctor and river song's relationship - which also spanned three doctors - while chibnall is trying to cram this big "incredible" relationship between the doctor and yaz as the tiniest of subplots in the six episodes of series 13 and the current specials while also attempting to convince us that the doctor cares about yaz as much or possibly more than river?

i just don't buy it and maybe it's just me.

i just wish that chibnall had actually taken the time through his three seasons to properly flesh out their relationship so we could get the proper lgbtq+ representation we wanted. hopefully we'll get an actually well-written wlw couple next series with russell t davies returning to doctor who

(who, let's not forget, gave us iconic couples like madam vastra/jenny and jack/ianto.)

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yutoldme · 14 days

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One Piece x Shichibukai Valac Clara pt.1

Valac Clara from [Mairimashita! Iruma-kun/ Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun]

< Official fic will be posted on AO3 eventually... >

well first off, how she became one of the 7 warlords? it's definitely on accident.

One time the Marines has a meeting, Clara just popped in from the window yelling in excitement all the way and just started bouncing off the walls after that.

The only one who thought this was funny was of course Doflamingo, but then again, he thinks most things are funny.

This kind of continued as everyone just observed her as she spawned junk food from her pockets (even a whole cotton candy maker which the only person who appreciated it was Garp)

Everyone was baffled at the casual display of 'power' and Sengoku actually started thinking Clara was doing this to get into the ranks.

When he asked if she wanted to, she said no. XD

Well to be fair, she was just flying around when she saw a group of people in a meeting and wanted to join in.

And after having her fun and deeming her job to be completed Clara was about to leave when Sengoku gave a proposal in exchange for her to join the Warlords.

At first she wasn't interested because the proposal was more political that what she desired. (she's lonely, she wants friends)

but then Kuma asked what she wanted, and without any hesitation, she blurted out friends and fun.

Most- if not all- were kinda just blown away from her innocence or something along the lines of that.

Like they kind of expected it because of how she looks and portrays herself but...

Kuma then just asked if Sengoku could provide that from the Marines and the Fleet Admiral said yes.

I mean if Garp could count as one cuz he probably would treat her as one.

So from then on, Clara was known as one of the Warlords (even though she didn't even have a bounty) because of her accidental show of power to spawn anything from her inter-no-dimensional pocket.

#one piece #valac clara #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #crossover fic #one piece x mairimashita! iruma-kun crossover #7 warlords of the sea #shichibukai #one piece marines #one piece shichibukai #one piece warlords #donquixote doflamingo #bartholomew kuma #sengoku one piece #yutoldme :]

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seekerofeden · 15 days

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Secrets Of The Craft - Eden.

Afternoon of May 23, 1952.

Friday. Approaching the weekend brought a sense of anticipation, and despite the absence of external destinations, it still held significance for all of those confined to Eden. It seemed as though everyone endeavored to maintain a semblance of outside normalcy. Yet, within these walls, both staff and working girls remained tirelessly at their duties, often without respite. If anything, weekends heralded an increase in workload, as many patrons frequented this time, departing on Sunday evenings.

This particular weekend, however, offered Seraphina a chance to evade her usual responsibilities.

Accompanied by her escort, she emerged from her room and traversed the outdoor corridor, her fingertips delicately tracing the purple bruises adorning her neck. Three days to recuperate, it wasn't an ample duration, but she appreciated any lull granted to her. Frequently, she felt gratitude towards the more assertive patrons; whenever possible, she sought to exploit her injuries, amplifying their gravity to her advantage.

Such were tricks of the trade.

Her footsteps glided lightly as she trailed alongside the grunt, yet her eyes remained attentive, scanning the surroundings. She needed to keep her senses sharp; otherwise, she might inadvertently miss him. All she desired was one fleeting glance. Just one glimpse of those drowsy blue eyes and the chestnut-colored hair so reminiscent of her own. Just one sight of that mischievous little smirk he often bestowed upon her. Anticipation sparked a flutter of excitement within her chest as she entertained the possibility of encountering him. However, she maintained her composure in the presence of her deliverer.

Now was not the time. It rarely ever was.

As the lackey graciously held open the weighty chestnut door for her, a crescendo of noise and chatter filled the air, more than the usual din. She spared a brief glance up at the flaxen-haired man before proceeding into the room, her focus set on finding the one person she truly wished to converse with.

Sapphire orbs glanced at a pair of unfamiliar faces before settling on him and his proximity to Echo. Her feet abruptly halted as her stomach churned with anxiety. "That woman," she muttered bitterly as she observed them. Quickly averting her gaze, she bit her inner cheek to quell any rising jealousy, determined not to betray her awareness of their presence.

Despite her attempts to conceal it, discomfort sat evident across her features. She brushed her wavy hair to one side as she made her way towards the rear of the room, close to the windows where she and Clara usually convened. Her mind replayed the events of the previous week, particularly the honey sweet words Theo had uttered to her when he climbed into her bed. Were they all lies? Echo had only been in the Eden for a few months. She hadn't invested the same time and effort with him as she and Clara had. What made that woman so deserving of his attention anyway?

It couldn't possibly be his doing. No. He had meant every word he said. There was no chance he would be interested in her, or anyone else for that matter. He was simply carrying out his duties, just as he had assured her numerous times before. Yet, despite knowing this, she couldn't resist stealing one last glance in their direction before exhaling a final sigh of frustration. She crossed her arms and leaned her head back against the glass, longing for the arrival of her raven-haired companion. If anyone could understand what she was feeling, it would be her. x - BriZ Interested in joining the RP? Must be 18+ DM me!

#fanfiction hogwarts #hogwarts rp #roleplay #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theo nott #slytherin #theo nott x y/n

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chaashni · 2 years

Text

Perfect

Where a breakup doesn't go easy on you but maybe, it was meant to lead you both back together.

Dancer!reader x Makeup Artist!Bucky.

Warnings: First time writing angst! Feels. Some career oriented people. Some bitterness. Hopeful ending. Bucky wears eyeliner in this, beware.

Divider by @

He always reminded you of the moon. Gnashed piece by piece, suture by suture of imperfections all crumbling in beautiful entropy and coalescing together to form something so beautiful, you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

"Pretty, isn't he?"

One of your fellow dancers swooned and gigglednas her eyes wolfishly follow the curve of Bucky's back, his brown hair toppling to the front of his face as he laughs at something one of the cameramen says. You turned to look at your friend, cringing when you found she was already in her practice outfit- those tights and heels adding to her a definition which your loose cardigan and jeans lacked.

You had to change. Clara also needed to shut up about Bucky and his arms, because you were not having any of it.

You didn't want to hear about him. Specifically, you didn't want to hear people talk about how much they wanted him.

"Rehearsals in ten," you murmured, intercepting her speech about how much she wished Bucky would bend her over some equipment stacked away in your crew trucks, maybe some music box or stage prop- and have his way with her.

The fuck he will.

Bucky's the gentleman. The perfect partner anybody could wish for, who respected you and propelled you forward and played your body like a fine-tuned instrument behind closed doors. He was everything you could dream of and more.

So why were you here then?

Broken up, scarred from the scandalizing truth that love isn't enough. You thought about it when your body ran out of adrenaline, broken pieces of the glass of denial pricking your feet, a sheen of tears glossing over your eyes at how empty you felt without him.

You marched up to your trailer, swinging the door open and climbing in. The tinted windows hid what happened inside from the eyes outside, but from the translucent screen, you could see him.

He was just as pretty. Eyeliner slightly smudged from his waterline to the perfect array of lashes, and to the very last bone, he looked exquisite. And he was looking straight at you.

You blinked, sighing as his face remained trained in the direction of your bus, your clothes crumpled over your travel bag. Rory, the makeup artist who had to quit midway through the shows because of a legal mishap back at home, was talking to him. You gave him one fleeting look before pulling your eyes away from him, a haunting burn in your chest as you moved to the other side, ready to change.

Two years. Two complete revolutions of the earth around the sun, more than seven hundred days. If you had to keep a track of all the places you had been to, all the people you had met and of things you had tried, you would mess up at least once. You travelled, danced, and had fun. You had explored, learnt new stuff, had new experiences, made and broke relations. You had experienced growth first hand, you tasted happiness.

So why were you swaying to this tumultuous onslaught of emotions the moment Bucky was back?

You pulled away your cardigan, replacing it with the crop top and tights. You checked a map of the stadium you were supposed to perform in today, the winter fest which would be attracting a crowd of eighty thousand or so and you had to make sure you didn't mess anything up. Nothing could be more important than this, dancing and performing was your priority. Everyone else could go fuck themselves.

Rehearsals and stage balancing faded into a blurry bokeh of people, heels and flashy clothes, your mind infiltrated by a daunting presence in the form of a man whose soft hands and baby blues comprised your world at some point in time, a man you had lost to both of your professions and careers.

With a million butterflies squirming in your stomach, you sulked your way to the dresssing room, a frown etched on your face and fingers threading through your hair over and over again. You tried to replay tonight's choreography in your head, wishing for once your crew was the background for some musician and not the solo performers. Your emotions were all over the place today and you weren't sure of what you would deliver.

The three makeup artists you had with the crew were all bunched up over your friends, all concentrated on whatever they had to do to make you shine. The only difference today was that in place of Rory, we had Bucky, which meant six feet four of pure muscle in place of a petite young lady. It was surprising watching him work sometimes, the most delicate of brushes and the lightest of strokes of the eyeliner delivered from such huge, veiny hands. It messed with your mind back in those days, invoking corrupted images of what those hands could do.

Much to your chagarin, that was something which hadn't changed over the last two years.

Now that you were here, perched at the edge of a stool, legs crossed and fingers knitted together, an overexcited Clara chattering away next to you, you took your time to analyse Bucky. He hadn't changed much either, except for the line of the lighter shade of brown that hung from his temple and caressed the side of his cheek, falling over his eyes occasionally. He looked fit, maybe a tidbit beefier than the last time you had seen him. Somehow even now, his mere presence was enough to lull the distant cacophony of your brain into a comforting silence.

The snap of fingers in front of your face jolted you out of your little dreamscape, Clara's amused face filling up most of your vision.

"Your turn, babe. Got a call to make."

And with that you were rising up, almost robotically, moving towards the one person you had avoided, much like a deer straying from the rustling of leaves. You take your time walking over to the two people, nodding a hello to the others before you look at Bucky.

He's smiling at you. Softly. You don't dare read more into his expression, a familiar warmth bubbling in your chest. It outshines the pit in your stomach, the warm smile his lips lift into prompting yours into curling upwards. You take a deep breath and settle in the chair, trying very hard to ignore your heart beating out of your chest, your face embarrassingly hot and as your ex bends down to put eyeshadow over your eyes, tracing them out with the eyeliner as Josh works on your hair.

There was a time when those rose pink lips would map your face. Now you just had his hands, working on what he did best, prepping you up for your performance. When it was done you mumbled a 'thank you' at the hair and makeup guys, your throat going dry as you caught the look your ex lover was giving you. It was the same look you had given him when he first arrived in the morning.

A look which could only be described as reverence, like he couldn't believe you were real. Just the way you had felt. Like he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that you were there, present, in front of him. Just what you had struggled with all damn day. The corners of Bucky's eyes were also dusted with a vague despair, like it hurt him to be so close to you, but not hold you. Just the way you had been feeling all day and beating yourself up for it.

You had broken up, years back. It was a mutual agreement, but an initiative taken by Bucky. You had promised to remain in touch, but you had deleted him from every aspect of your life the moment you stepped out. Focusing on your career like that was all you ever cared about. Which was partially true but it was aggravated to forget about him. So why did your brain and body feel the need to melt against him, pour out everything and strip yourself bare again for him to love?

“Butterfly,” The soft call of a nickname you hadn’t heard in the last two years, the same voice you loved- love- so much stirred you out of the little stagelight musing you had entrance yourself into. You were backstage, the heavy curtains keeping you from the brain of the lights and the uproar of an excited crowd, your dance group being one of the internet popular groups that pulled in audiences from all around the country.

You had your leg raised on a stool, your six inch pumps lined with straps of pasteable lights, glittery stockings covering up the expanse of your legs. If you didn’t feel like a tumultuous wayward storm of emotions, you would have clicked a few pics and admired how hot you looked. You couldn’t do it today, not when Bucky was here, and he wasn’t yours, and it all felt like a fresh punch in the gut, all over again.

If he kept looking at you like that there was a good chance you would bolt. You had run away from him for so long, tried to hate him and forget about him for so long that you had forgotten about the comfort he exuded, the warmth he radiated. A part of you wanted to run again, just like you had been doing it, because you wouldn’t be able to deal with an imminent realization that you could never stop loving him.

*Don't call me that." Your voice was hoarse, heavier than the times you would yell the lyrics to a song and spin and saunter about the room trying to get moves right.

"Please," you didn't like the vein of desperation journeying under his fragile words, you didn't like how soft his eyes looked under the backstage lights.

"You're on in 10."

And just like that, you pried every fibre of your attention from him to the performance you would be presenting in seconds, to the art he had asked you to pursue over living happily with him.

You marched onstage, the ringing of the crowd and the honeyed twinkle crowning his pupil the only processible information in your brain as you swayed your hips and shoulders, body gliding into forms and heels clicking on the stage in the symphony, and for that once moment you could ignore everything else.

The performance was terrific. The effects, the fires, the jumps. The screams turned to roars as the formations built up, outfits shed and front liners swapped till it was etched forever in the forms of blurry reds and electric blues, your heart still beating out of your chest and ears ringing as you finally exit from the stairs to the side.

Maybe you guys had performed a little too well. Some choreographer turned businessman turned producer reached out to your crew and invited all of you to his rooftop bar for 'a night of fun'. Which meant you were out of your stage ensembles and sliding into another equally restraining one, one pair of heels traded for another. Your feet hurt and there was only so much for fake smiling, so you found yourself dug in a dark corner of the place, your eyes hurting a little from all the flashing lights, body dead tired.

Thank fuck you didn't have any more back-to-back performances and for the next two you were just going to be background dancers.

The drink in your hand blurred as your eyes drooped again, the need for a good night sleep overpowering your friends who were a little too energetic. You hated being the grinch, but sometimes you deserve your time to sulk.

You tossed back the contents of your glass, ordering for another. Maybe that would work to keep you awake for a moment, maybe you would pass out right here after the second drink. Either worked for you.

Wow. Weren't you being a damsel in distress? You didn't know the repercussions of a heartbreak from a lifetime ago struck so hard, but you couldn't be sure. Love and heartbreak just wasn't your craft.

For the moment, the alcohol prompted you to stagger to your feet, directing you towards the dance floor, despite your legs feeling like they had waltzed over a thorn bush. You made your way up, the last beats of some bass track fading against the grinding bodies before it mellowed down. Like some main character moment, the lights changed, the saturation dimming and the beats changed. The opening melodies of some piano track rolled out, your hair moving behind as you bared your neck, your hips moving in a honeyed curve as half of the people on the floor left, the others slipping into some form of couple dancing.

And you were dancing to a lover's track, all alone.

Till you were not.

The tips of Bucky's fingers hovered over your back, his other hand catching yours as he slid in front of you. Your eyes widened but your body melted like butter under his touch, a sense of familiarity washing over you in a way you hadn't felt in a very long time.

Fuck.

"What are you doing here, Bucky?"

He sighed, the shadows of his lashes falling prettily over his cheeks. He had changed out of his too-tight tee shirt to a formal shirt, reminding you of some disney prince as he swayed with you to the tunes of perfect.

"Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms." His deep voice had your heart fluttering, and you wanted to slap him for eliciting such a reaction from you.

"You think that is really going to work?" You asked tiredly, already done with this evening and craving a good night sleep.

"I don't. But I want to try."

"Why?"

"Because two years back was a mistake. Everyday without you was a mistake."

"Took you two years to figure it out?" You seethed, eyes flaring in annoyance at this guy for whom you weren't able to tear your love into shreds.

"You blocked me. Everywhere. You left your job, your apartment, were traveling god knows where. Steve wouldn't open his mouth even if I threatened to knock his teeth in."

"He's a good guy." You glared at him. "And why would you be threatening to knock his teeth in? You were the one to call things off."

"And I have been regretting that every single day ever since. I was scared. Terrified even. I thought the relationship wouldn't go anywhere. Not when we never saw each other."

"We could have figured out a schedule." You pointed out, stepping between his legs as the bridge of the song played.

"And sabotage our careers? Leave the chance to do something we had been dreaming of all our lives?"

He was right. You would have resented him everyday if that relationship had overshadowed your career. You knew this. He knew it too. You had taken up your chance the moment you had gotten out. So why the hell were you having this conversation? Why was Bucky regretting it? Why were you regretting it?

"And then what happened to you?" You asked, somehow gravitating closer to him.

"Got deals. Met people. Worked in pageants and fashion shows."

"I read up on you. You've made quite a name."

"So have you."

He twirled you around, pulling you right back into his arms. The sudden movement made you painfully aware of your heels cutting into your skin, and you winced.

"And now that you are stable, are you thinking we have a way to go back? Cause, fuck. No. We've changed. I don't want you."

Bucky frowned, slowly slithering to a halt before lowering his head till his forehead was hovering over yours.

"You still hate martinis. You still use your left hand to strap your heels in and you still prefer coloured chapstick over lipstick. You sure about it?"

"Don't go all classic rom com on me."

"You still hate rom coms too. And right now you would be cursing the life outta me because we are still dancing. Don't your feet hurt?"

"Why are you dancing with me then?" You looked away from him, not sure if you could carry on this conversation anymore.

"I'm hoping you would allow me to give you a massage. Take care of you."

You seethed. The blood in your veins burned. The entitlement had you tipping your head back in pure ire.

"James Buchanan Barnes you think you can fucking waltz back into my life and I'll let you into my room?" You panted, almost ripping yourself off of him but the arm wound around your waist held you to his chest. "With a half assed explanation for breaking my fucking heart?

"Shhh" Bucky cooed, his eyes sad and still so beautiful. You found yours welling up at the sincere lines of pain and anguish tearing through his irises, wondering if all of this was worth it.

He broke your heart.

"Not like that, Butterfly." You swallowed a lump at the nickname, scoffing halfhearted. "I want to take care of you. Make up for all the shit I have put you through"

"It doesn't happen that way."

"Let me try, then. Please."

And you found yourself giving in. Like sweetened butter, you melted and coursed right down his arms, just the way he wanted you too. If you weren't so tired you'd take a moment to marvel at the ease with which he could convince you, the power he held over you. You found yourself not giving a shit about it. Bucky leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, one which had you purring.

"Thank you."

"Don't get any hopes up," you snapped, the tone meant to deliver a sharp blow but the cracks at the edge of it had your resolve and patience crumpling, the night taking its toll on you. Your instinctive response to melt into Bucky's arms had a part of your brain screaming foul profanities at you, the bandaged, cracked shards of your heart screeching under the forceful binds you had assembled them into.

"You're not going to get to anything. Not that easily." You whispered against his chest, the familiar rumble of his chest thrumming through your head. "I'm not that doe eyed girl anymore. Now get a cab before I cry and look like a mess."

His eyes were beautiful as his tilted your cheek upwards, his lips pressing on yours in a feather light kiss, one leaving you charged and flared at the tips, reaching out for more. He just held your waist, deciding on keeping you close to his chest and you were grateful, the heels too much for you to handle.

"You look perfect tonight."

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