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burrow-ix · 11 months

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Sun-Kissed

Ted’s pool party turned out to be a lot more fun than you thought it would be…👀

Warnings: Joe looking like a beach babe, emphasize the BABE; smut; fingering if you squint; that freaking chain; etc.

Also this is like probs my first official time writing smut so hopefully it doesn’t bore you or make you cringe, if it does, I am so sorry :*)

Also, thanks to @balanceingrace for the encouragement❤️

Part Two is Here!

You and Joe arrive at Ted’s house for the pool party he was having for Memorial Day weekend. A lot of Joe’s teammates and their girlfriends and wives were going to be there as well, so you talked Joe into going so he could be social for once.

You sit down in-between Joe Bachie’s girlfriend, Holly and Sam’s girlfriend, Jess on the edge of the pool along with a couple of the other girls.

“That hair driving Joe nuts yet?” Holly asks and you giggle.

“Not yet anyway. He does mess with it constantly but I honestly think he likes it. We’ll see how he feels about it in July and August when its borderline 100 degrees during practice” you give her a smug look and she laughs.

“What do you think about it?” Jess smirks.

“I like it. It’s different. We were together for almost a year when he grew it out super long the first time and I didn’t mind it then but I’m curious to see what he’d look like with it now. That man has aged like fine wine so I’m excited to see some flow” you bite your lip and the girls giggle.

“You talkin’ shit?” Joe asks from behind you, standing over you.

“About you? Of course” you smile back at him and he just shakes his head as he hands you a cold bottle of water.

When you looks back at your man, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander.

Joe had come back from playing basketball with some of the guys, his button up shirt all the way unbuttoned, showing his tan, sweaty, toned chest and torso. His chest being your weakness. His hair that has gotten longer over the past couple months and you were becoming feral over this new style he was trying. His hair was more blonde than usual, all thanks to the sun. The dirty blonde becoming low lights while the blonde really shown through. His Cartier sunglasses sitting nicely on his nose and cheekbones along with his chain around his neck that glittered in the sun, the rays bring out the jewels perfectly. Good God, you thought, if he just bent me over right now-.

“Damn, when did you turn into a slut?” You dip down your sunglasses at him, trying to joke with him instead of pouncing on him like a freaking tiger.

“A long time ago. When I started dating you” he dips his sunglasses down, copying you and shooting you a wink, which just made you even more hot. He’s such a jerk.

“Jesus” you mutter under your breath. This was too much stimulation for you, and you was afraid that if you looked at him any longer that you would

1) do or say something that no one else around should experience in public or 2) melt; which you were already doing.

“Well you need to quit because all of your ‘girlies’ can’t handle all of this” you motions to the heavenly being that was him. You couldn’t even handle all of that.

“Oh this is just for you, pretty girl. No one else to impress but you” he looks smugly at you, that famous smirk making its way onto his perfect lips.

And…it was done. That did you in.

You turn back around, facing the pool. You look over at Holly who knew what you were thinking.

“I’ll cover for you, get ya some” she smirks and nods her head towards the house.

“Thank you” you whisper to her before climbing out of the pool and facing back towards Joe. He chuckles lowly and you place your hand on his lower back, turning him around and pushing him nonchalantly into the house.

“Something wrong?” Joe asks you sarcastically, knowing the effect he has on you. Knowing your weaknesses that easily make you all hot and bothered for him.

You push him down the hallway and into the guest room and shutting the door behind you, locking it without even looking, just watching your man stare at you with eyes that were once bright blue, now dark as the depths of the ocean. And you were about to go for a dive.

“You” you tell him plainly. You make your way toward him, your hands finding their way to his bare, broad chest and your eyes looking up at him through your lashes.

“You are what’s wrong…but so right” you whisper.

In seconds, his strong hands grab your cheeks and his lips are on yours. Hard, unyielding, but loving and passionate. He couldn’t get enough of you and that damn berry chapstick you wore all the time. Your lips have never tasted any different.

His hands slide into your hair, gripping onto your long locks, slightly tugging which makes you moan against his mouth, causing his lips to curve up into a small smile.

Joe wasn’t one for PDA, but you get him in a room by yourselves, he was on you in less than a minute. Believe it or not, the man was handsy. But you didn’t mind the feeling of his strong, veiny hands on you, touching you, holding you. It was ecstasy.

His hands grip your hips as yours slide up his chest, to his shoulders, around his neck and into his dirty blonde hair that was now longer, easier to pull. He moans against your lips, spinning you around and letting you fall against the mattress, him going to pull his shirt off but you stop him.

“No. You better leave that on or so help me god-“

“Okay then” he chuckles, “can I take my shorts off or do I have to leave those on too?”

“Off, smart ass” you roll your eyes as you reach for his shorts, unbuttoning them and shoving them down his legs.

“These too?” He asks smugly, snapping the band of his boxer briefs against this skin.

“Joseph, I swear to god-“

“Okay, I’m done” he laughs, leaning down to reattach his lips to yours.

He quickly rids himself of his underwear, also quickly pulling your shorts and your blue bikini bottoms down all in one go and throwing them on the floor. He reaches behind your neck, his fingers sending chills down your spine as he pulls one the strings to your top loose, causing the tie to come undone.

He kisses down your neck, latching onto the place under your ear that makes you weak. He’s careful to not leave a mark, knowing you’d have his ass for having to walk back out to his teammates and their girls with a bright purple and red mark on your neck.

He makes his way down the column of your neck, you becoming a moaning mess, wanting him to be inside you already. He eventually arrives to your chest where he grabs onto the cloth of your matching blue bikini top with his teeth and pulling it down to expose your “perfect” breasts; his words.

“I’m obsessed with you” he says lowly, looking up at you through those blonde lashes and instantly latches onto your right nipple.

“Mmm” you moan, holding onto the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as he swirls his incredible tongue around the bud.

He knew the other one was getting jealous so he moved over to your left breast, giving it the same amount of attention as the right. Joe was neither a boob or a butt guy; he was both. If he had to choose between your boobs or your butt, he would surely die.

Joe pulls away from your chest and looks into your eyes. He takes his index and middle finger and brings it to his mouth, licking them and bring them down to your core. You gasp as they brush your clit, him slowly circling it just to get you more worked up than you already were.

He drags them down to your entrance, teasing you as he feels the mess you’ve already made of yourself.

“Just wanted to make sure you were ready for me” he smirks.

“Always ready for you” you whine as he pulls his fingers away and brings them back up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them.

“I know” he smiles.

He spits into his hand and brings it down to his dick who was also always ready for you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around him, slowly pumping him.

“O-oh shit” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

You pick up the pace, a bead of precum appearing on his tip, he was starting to become a moaning mess. You take your thumb and slide it over his tip and let go of him to bring your thumb to your mouth. Slipping it into your mouth, you swirl around it, tasting him to which he watches you intently.

“I need to feel you, now” he says, his voice low and raspy. He lines himself up with your entrance before slowly, almost painfully pushing himself in.

“God” you moan out, your breath hitching in your throat as he hit your cervix. You’ll never get used to him, it’s always a pleasant surprise.

“You feel insane, baby” he groans, his head dipping down to your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. Your hands still in his hair, obsessed with gripping onto and pulling on his now longer blonde curls.

He pulls out and pushes all the way back in again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Joe starts to pick up the pace, the sound of skin smacking skin making the experience oh-so-much better and intense.

“Look at me” he breathes out, his face hovering over yours, that chain gently hitting your chin as he continues to thrust into you. Oh, that could make you come undone right then and there. God bless that freaking chain.

“You are so pretty, Jesus-“ he hisses, starting to fully pound into you, repeatedly hitting that soft spot inside of you, making your eyes roll back once again.

“Joe, I’m gonna-“ your eyes screwing shut as your hands go under the back of his shirt, gripping onto his muscular back.

“Let go, baby, let go” he grunts, his dick spasming against your walls as they clinch around him. He brings his lips back down to yours as you come undone, whimpering into his mouth as he continues to thrust into you, the oversensitivity starting to kick in.

With a couple more sporadic thrusts, moaning your name against your lips, he lets go, coating your walls.

He pulls out of you gently, both of you whimpering at the sensitive feeling. He lies down next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“So the unbuttoned shirt is officially approved?” Joe asks, looking over at you and you giggle.

“10 stamps of approval” you smile at him and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Cool” he smiles back at you before leaning over to you and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“We should probably go back out there before they start to get suspicious” Joe sits up and pulls his underwear and shorts up his long legs and sets your bikini bottoms and shorts on the bed next to you.

“Joe, they’re not stupid, they know damn well what we came in here to do” you scoff and he laughs.

“Well, I’m going to blame it on you if they ask” He helps you stand up.

“Go right ahead and see what happens, you jerk” you narrow your eyes at him as you tie your bikini top strings back.

“Go pee. You can threaten me later, pretty girl” he winks and gives your ass a healthy smack as you make your way to the bathroom.

“It’s not threatening, it’s promising, JB” you tell him, patting his chest.

“Also,” you stop in the doorway, “you should wear that all of the time”

You smirk at him as he smiles at you.

“Oh I will wear it everyday if I get the exact same reaction I did today” he nods.

“Good” you wink and shut the door behind you.

After getting yourself cleaned up and fixing your sex hair, you walk back outside to where Joe was already sitting with the guys, chatting away.

You walk over to Joe and sit yourself on his thick thighs, your favorite seat to sit on, other than his face. Joe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, once again, sending a chill down your back. You shoot him a loaded look over your shoulder and he smiles up at you, those blue eyes glistening behind his sunglasses.

“Love you” he mouths to you and you blush.

“Love you” you mouth back and turn your attention back to the guys.

One of these days, he will be the death you. But hey, that would be a great way to go out.

#joe burrow #smut #football smut #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #nfl #nfl football

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deoidesign · 9 months

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Hello I stumbled across your profile and I just say I love your art style! I've gotta ask, how'd your develop it? And do you have any advice for someone who can't decide what they want their art to look like?

Thank you so much!

To be entirely honest, I don't feel like I truly "developed" my style. I feel a lot more like I finally let myself draw it! But I am incredibly deliberate with my work, and I do have clear tendencies and preferences... So I'll do my best to explain how I got to where I am now as an artist.

It's important to remember that "style" is something of a nebulous concept. It changes with you as you grow as a person, and most artists can work in and emulate many art styles! Art really is a form of communication with yourself, and your "style" is a reflection of the tendencies and preferences you have. My art does not look how it looked 5 years ago, and my art will look different 5 years from now too. I've changed, and my art reflects that!

(2012, 2018, 2023; two pieces I remember being incredibly proud of and considered my best work up til that point, and then my most recent piece)

What you need to do, as everyone will tell you, is study the fundamentals (anatomy, perspective, form and structure, lighting and shadow, color, and composition) so you have the proper tools to make the most informed decisions possible about your art, and so you can deliberately break or follow rules as you please for your desired effect. I know it sounds silly to learn rules if you're not gonna be following them anyways, but they help you be much more consistent and intentional! More knowledge is NEVER a bad thing to have!

However, I know it's a bit demoralizing to just be told to study fundamentals. Everyone knows you're supposed to do that, but it takes YEARS to learn, and people want their art to feel how they want it to now (which is very very very normal to want!)

So on that front, I have 2 follow up suggestions that I personally find helpful (of course, everyone is different, so it's not like this is the only way to learn! But, if it resonates with you, it might mean it will work for you too.)

1: Separate study from application

I believe this is beneficial for a few reasons:

If the goal of every piece is learning, it can become frustrating, overwhelming, and boring

It's harder to self critique when there are multiple variables to investigate. I like to study one fundamental at a time

Study (usually) works best with a large quantity of output, whereas application of knowledge (finished pieces) is often more satisfying and effective when you get to take your time

Deliberate practical application of what you've learned in a finished piece helps cement the learning in your mind, and also lets you get satisfying finished pieces with noticeable improvement after a good study session!

I've found that keeping these things separate helps me improve faster and more deliberately, and it takes a lot of the pressure off of both aspects! I'm not worried about my studies looking beautiful, they're just to learn! And I don't feel pressured to critique my finished pieces, cause they're just for fun and to make something pretty. I personally find this helps me have a much healthier relationship with my art.

When studying, copy! Copy things as best as you can, all the time. It gives you something to compare to for self critique (and of course, if you're copying someone else's work and you share the study, ALWAYS give credit, share the original, and say it was for study.) In application, don't copy: reference. Make it yours!

2: Let yourself do the things that feel "easy" or like "cheating"

This one is simpler: nothing in art is easy.

If something feels easy to you, most of the time it's not because it's actually any easier... It's because it's part of your natural tendencies and preferences! This took me forever to realize, but as long as you're actually doing some study, then you're learning. You don't need to learn All The Time. When you're doing the "application" portion, you should let yourself do whatever is actually the most fun and feels easiest! This is where your style will start to come through, and where you get to learn about yourself. Take the pressure off, and have fun!!!

The only cheating in art is theft. If you're not stealing, then it's allowed!

My whole life (and yes, still!) I'd get regular criticism about both my style and my subject matter. You will too. You'll see a thousand different styles, and a hundred different things to admire in each. Your heart will ache that you don't draw like others do.

But art is a form of communication with yourself. It's like your voice, or your accent; just something that's a part of you! It can be fun to mimic others', but when you sit to have a conversation you speak naturally. (I know some people want to and do change their voice, but this is a metaphor and metaphors aren't perfect)

Don't stress so much about what you want your art to look like, especially if you're not sure. There's a lot of value to be had in constant experimentation, I think it'd be rather boring to only draw one style the rest of my life. What I draw is what I want to see, right now, for who I am now! It's a part of me and comes naturally, if I let it!

I hope this helps!

#justbrowsing1124 #asks #art tips #drawing advice #drawing tips #art advice #long post here sorry #long post #I could have gone on so so so so so so much more but this took me like 2 hours to write #and I've gotta go to bed! haha #so if you feel like something wasn't properly explained you can send a follow up ask and I'd be happy to elaborate #I love answering questions like this #sorry if it sounds a bit condescending I wrote the post for like... what would have helped me to hear when I was just starting out #so I wrote it basically for how I think would help I guess a kid #sorry about that. the content is still all what I think though #also I realize that i didn't really talk about like... my journey... at all here lol.#I guess if you wanna know my personal journey I'd love to get into it!#but i focused a lot more on the second part #cause yknow #that's kinda what my journey was internally anyways #but yknow no fun progress of my art with notes about what I was doing and why #but fuck that sounds fun if someone did wanna know about that LOL #I am VERY deliberate with my art I could legit analyze every piece #pretentious? maybe. do I care? not at all.#why make it if I dont have a reason?

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unknownanomoly · 4 months

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Every single Rainworld artist, new or old, please read!

So while this is on my mind, I just thought I would say something at the moment. I have seen so many, so many, artists copy or very closely copy a design from another persons since they really like their style and hope that if their style looks like this famous artists then they will get the same attention. This is slightly annoying to me, now drawing other peoples art or practicing design by using someone else's design then somehow in anyway making it super original is perfectly fine by me, it's really good to do that! But when you copy someone's design so closely that is looks like your trying to rip off their designs, that's not ok. another problem i see is people hating their designs cause they are not "detailed" or "pretty" or "different" enough from others. Now this post is gonna be about how you can make your own character with existing characters WITHOUT using someone else's design and not making the character "look boring" to you and others. Now no character is boring, everyone's different styles are amazing, this is not suppose to be a bad thing, this is just suppose to help other artists think better with making canon characters look original. Im gonna use Hunter as an example since I was drawing him when i thought of this. So hunter, let's take this step by step: Step 1: Do NOT look at a canon photo unless it's necessary for like a certain iconic scar or eye color or color or anything else like that, but completely IGNORE that canon design. Step 2: Break up what the canon character looks like into words. EX: Hunter is a slugcat with his color being on the red scale. He is being infected with the rot and is NSH's messenger. Now with this description a thousand different ideas can be made, I mean on the red scale could be red, pink, or all the way to a brown even! Then infected by rot? He could be fully infected by rot or he could be partly or be halfway, maybe he was cured from rot. And NSG's messenger? He could have a weird marking resembling that, or always have a green neuron with him, or have green eyes or green clothing or green markings, really anything! Now wasn't that easy ^w^ Step 3: Sketch/Doodle Do NOT instantly make a design choice unless you have one in mind right away, start doodling first, either digital or on paper and see how you like the design first, and if you like it then there you go! Now you ofc can change your design later on but it's better to have a main idea instead of posting something right away then regretting it since you don't like it. EX: For my Rivulet I first had him being a little more like the true rivulet design since the lore for my AU was different then, but when I was finally drawing him I didn't like his design and so I started messing around with it and finally I came up with my water bat design for him. Step 4: Finally, you have made it this far into the steps, you may now draw it completely, make a ref sheet or don't, join in on character group drawings and yada yada, you have your own design and you like it and that's all that matters! Step 5: Have fun, you are not limited by the canon design. Design however you like, give them any lore that probably isn't canon if you want to, make them aroace or gay or lesbian, change their gender, mess around, make them siblings with random people that shouldn't be their siblings, mess around with families and personalities, do what YOU want, no what others want or like ^w^ Hope this helped anyone who needed it!

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lilbitofmac · 1 year

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// question for you, dear mac, if you're up for it. i've been thinking about getting back into drawing. it's been *years*, and i was curious if you had any advice for wading back in, especially as it comes to warm up exercises and just getting started? i know that there's a degree of 'you just have to do it'; it's always what i tell writers. but i've been so stuck on how to do some of this on *easy mode* so i don't overwhelm myself. if you're up for sharing your thoughts with all of us! ^_^ love you bunches!

Oh man, I honestly might not be the best to ask for advice LMAO but I can certainly try to help!

More often than not what stirs me to draw is whatever is at the forefront of my attention span. Any hyperfixation I latch onto is the driving force behind not only my ability to draw, but my motivation to do so. So, genuinely, just draw what you’re most passionate about at any given time! It’s perfectly okay if you want to do studies with different aspects of art like anatomy, color theory, etc. but if you’re just dusting off the old drawing tools, I’d recommend centering it around something that gets your hand itching to create. Probably bad advice recommending skipping the basics, but it usually discourages me from creating art, so I hate recommending that as a first step.

Creating is a lot easier said than done when jumping back into drawing, though. So, seriously, I recommend finding some of your favorite art pieces and tracing over them to get back in the groove. People always always look down on tracing, but it’s seriously so helpful as an exercise as long as you’re not posting it and claiming it as your own. That’s what I did when I was a kid, and it helped me find my own style and art process. Tracing can also be beneficial in helping you find the specific look you want for your art. Try different pens, colors, shading to find what you’re comfortable with without having to worry about WHAT you’re creating. That’s where a lot of people get hung up on.

That advice is mostly targeted at digital art, so if you’re working with traditional media, start practicing finding ✨shapes✨ in those art pieces you love. If you need a visual for what I mean, just ask and I can either make something or find some links for you— I know that’s kind of vague =w=;; Anyway, pull the art up on your phone or computer and try and copy it down onto paper. Focus on visualizing the shapes that make up a piece to make it easier to mimic. I always fall back onto traditional art when I’m trying to adjust my style since digital art has its own pressures that get in the way for me.

After you get a bit more comfortable, start finding some references for ideas that are rattling around in your head! Start simple since you don’t want to burn yourself out too much. Do you like drawing character’s faces? Expressions? Environment? Clothing? Hands? Feet??? Little sus but who am I to judge… Tackle your favorites first and slowly start branching out into more complicated pieces! If things aren’t looking right to you, watch some speedpaints or tutorials for your specific hang ups. Also, START COLLECTING ART!!! My phone storage is 99% of art that makes me go “OH WOW.” Figure out WHY a specific art piece calls to you and practice implementing it into your own pieces!

Mainly, don’t stress about your work and just have fun with it! It’s very very easy to start comparing your work to others, but if you’re wanting to create, focus on that feeling: of that joy from putting an idea onto paper and bringing it to life!! If you’re still facing hang ups, more than likely you just have to power through it until you reach a break through. That’s where the “practice makes progress” comes in, sadly 😮‍💨

#sorry if this is total nonsense #It’s difficult understanding specifically what my process is since in my current art journey I just slap shit down and be done with it LMAO #no thoughts head empty here on the Mac Train™️#response #also sorry for no read more option!!#I hate clogging up the dashboard but I’m too lazy to get off mobile 😅

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aeoki · 1 year

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High and Low: At World’s End - Chapter 1

Location: Australian Hotel (Guest Room) Characters: Hajime & Midori

Season: Autumn Writer: Akira

< Some time has passed and it’s the second night of the school trip. At the luxurious hotel in Australia. >

Hajime: *Yawn…* The bed really is so soft and fluffy ♪

Midori: Yeah… It’s so relaxing…♪

The cute koalas we saw during the day were just so adorable it really felt like heaven. I feel like I’ll really turn into an angel or a fairy if I keep getting engulfed by all this purity…♪

Hajime: Ah, you’ll get your clothes all wrinkled if you roll around in bed like that~ Come on, you should get changed.

Midori: Uuu~... I can’t even move a finger, so do it for me, Mama…

Hajime: I’m not your mama, though~

Ehehe. Takamine-kun, you’re usually really cool but you’re actually pretty messy in private, huh.

I suppose finding out about things like this is the best part of school trips, though.

Midori: ………♪

Hajime: Ah, I just told you not to go to sleep~

Oh, jeez. I guess this big brother will have to get you changed, then.

Come on, take it off~... Off we go.

Okay, all finished ♪

Midori: You really changed me in a blink of an eye. That’s some amazing skill.

You looked like you were used to that, Shino-kun… You’ve got a younger brother and sister, right…?

Hajime: Yes. They’re really cute, but I don’t want to look after a “big younger brother” while I’m on a trip, so do the things you have to do properly, okay?

Midori: Uuu~... That’s what’s “normal” for me, though. Don’t you usually just plop yourself on your bed after a tiring day?

Hajime: I don’t~ If I fell asleep, I wouldn’t be able to do the chores around the house.

Midori: Shino-kun, our interests are pretty much the same and our personalities are also similar, but you’re way more remarkable than me, huh.

You’re so dazzling, my eyes are fully open now.

…Oh, before I realised, we’re back in our hotel room.

Hajime: Why are you suddenly having a memory lapse?

Midori: Everything’s so much fun and I’m really tired – It all feels like a dream.

Ahh, we really came all the way to Australia, huh.

We’re in a completely different country… It doesn’t really feel like it since we’re in a hotel, though.

Hajime: Ehehe. For me, being in a luxurious hotel room makes it feel like I’ve landed in a completely different world.

Midori: The dorm rooms at Seisou Hall are really fancy for no special reason and the style of the rooms are similar, so it all just feels the same to me…

Don’t you think that everything past a certain quality can just be classified as “pretty amazing”?

Hajime: I suppose a little. Even if I looked outside the window, this town doesn’t really make it feel like I’m overseas. The vegetation is about the only thing that looks different.

But that can’t be helped. This is the second ES and it’s built in Australia – in other words, it’s “ES II”.

It’s exactly like its name suggests; it’s as if they copied the ES building and its surroundings and pasted it on Australian soil.

The exterior and positions of the buildings and surroundings are practically the same, after all. It feels like we’ve wandered into a parallel world of sorts.

Midori: It would totally be a parallel world if a gloomy Morisawa-senpai and an aggressive Shinkai-senpai appeared, though.

Hajime: Yes. Or even if a huge Nii-chan appeared. …I think I might actually want to see that.

Anyway, it seems we’ll be filming a sort of introductory programme for “ES II” in exchange for us being here for free on the overseas trip we always dreamed of.

We’ve got to study a lot about “ES II’ and where we currently are – about Australia, too.

We won’t be able to confidently introduce the location if we don’t have a deeper understanding of it, after all.

Midori: I don’t think we have to do that much, though… It’s all pretty much the same as “ES” in Japan even though we’re overseas, right…?

Hajime: I suppose that’s true. It seems ES has plans to build a base, or rather, a branch overseas in the future.

I remember Eichi Onii-chan mentioning something like that during our chat over tea one time.

Midori: ES isn’t seriously thinking of taking over the world, are they…?

Hajime: Who knows… I’m not sure what the leaders up there amongst the clouds are thinking, though.

We people on the ground just have to do one thing: simply do our best in following their instructions.

Midori: You’re way too good for this world.

Hajime: I just so happen to be that convenient person for them, though. It’s just my worldly wisdom.

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#high and low

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gaast · 1 year

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Two classes I took in undergrad were Hebrew Bible and New Testament classes. I went to a Methodist school and you had to take at least one REL course to pass. (It was also a liberal arts school with a notable theater troupe, so we were also required to take at least one Theater course. I mention this in case anyone wants to get on a high horse about this.) Both these classes were held in the basement in the main chapel they have on campus.

So anyway, I'm an atheist, never been to any kind of church service, only ever read some of Genesis as assigned reading in 10th grade, but I was super excited for these classes because I was an English major. Do you know the kinda shit you miss out on in literature when you're not super familiar with the Bible? We weren't required to read the whole thing and I didn't (I did less than what we were assigned because, again, English major--I had so much the fuck to read). If you were following me back on my old blog at this point you might actually recall this era of my life.

The professors for these courses, who I believe were married, obviously treated the courses as biblical studies courses, rather than your Sunday School fare. One made several jokes about how you can get an entire degree, hell, a doctorate just by reading, as he put it, "one book." But frankly, everything I learned about biblical scholarship itself was fascinating. If you want to talk about media archaeology and the intersections of dozens, if not hundreds, of differently scholarly and scientific fields, look no further.

The content of the Bible is one thing--as a foundational text inspiring the thought and lives of billions of people, reading it is an odd experience. Learning about Genesis, the whole Torah really, you learn that several different apparent editors (called redactors) very clearly changed the text that we received over time. These redactors even have names (that scholars have given them). If Exodus was edited to lend more legitimacy to the priesthood, you can bet that P did that shit.

But it also verges into book history. Ancient authors didn't have a concept of plagiarism. If you read lines you liked and wanted to use in your own writing, you just copied them wholesale. This is the only reason why we have some surviving fragments of otherwise completely lost texts--for example, Jesus' beatitudes. And if you wanted to give yourself more authority, you'd sign your work as if you were some other actually famous person. Many of the epistles were absolutely 100% DEFINITELY not written by Paul, but they all say they were because that was the practice. (The epistles are ordered by date and the ones after Paul's execution are way more shit-Christian than anything Paul wrote. But they claimed to be Pauline and maybe that was enough to include them, or maybe their inclusion in the Bible was more because their ideology was agreeable. Speaking of...)

But also, consider this: so many people wrote so many books that could have found their way into the Bible. Religious leaders at the time decided what books to include in the collection, and what books to exclude. The Book of Enoch was incredibly popular in its time, but it's now considered apocrypha. Meanwhile, Ecclesiastes isn't even really religious in tone or subject and it was included. (It's also fun to think about why English style rules exclude canon biblical book names from the otherwise-standard italicization of book titles.)

And one more consideration: ancient biblical texts had this pernicious tendency to be written in ancient Greek, which didn't really use things like "spaces between words." To make more scrolls so more people had access to these texts, scribes, who often couldn't actually read, would have to copy the incredibly cramped handwriting of people who they may not have known, from a language they couldn't understand, whose characters they could easily have confused. This happened in a chain of people, from scribe to scribe from town to town, over the course of centuries. Beyond that, imagine copying a scroll of, say, the Book of Isaiah by hand. Can you guarantee that you'd never copy the same line twice in a row by accident, especially if you, again, didn't know the language?

So what even is "the Bible?" Is it the document we got all these millennia later? Is it the original scrolls as written by the original authors--which we can never and will never have? Is it somewhere in between? Should it include this book, exclude that book?

The Bible is still alive. It's a living document that scholars and faith leaders are still debating to this day. If you don't believe me, why are you a Protestant and not a Catholic, or a Lutheran and not a Quaker, or a Baptist and not a Muslim, or Jewish and not an Episcopalian, or an Eastern Orthodox Christian and not an Anglican? Its meanings and histories will be debated for as long as we do, for better or worse. And frankly, there's no right answer. The Bible contradicts itself. We have Lilith because people noticed that Creation happens twice in Genesis because a redactor added extra versions of the earliest Genesis stories to fit their own agenda. You ever read Genesis? It's right there. Two parallel Creations happen side-by-side. They both contradict each other. Jesus contradicts the Hebrew Bible, using people like Isaiah's words to assert that his coming was foretold, when Isaiah, as a prophet during the time of the split kingdom of Isarael, was speaking metaphorically to damn the people in charge (and the people writ large) who let a culturally and ethnically singular people become separated ideologically. Looking at it from one perspective, Jesus was a rabbi, but he was also a biblical scholar, working to recontextualize meanings that were ancient even to him. And yet many claim it mjst be followed dogmatically. How? It contradicts itself! Do I do nothing on the Sabbath or can I take care of some shit I gotta do? How soon after my brother dies do I need to impregnate my sister-in-law for him? Do you really want me to bring up Lot's daughters?

If this kind of shit doesn't make you want to be a biblical scholar I really don't know what could.

But for one last little thing. The Exodus didn't happen. We can get archaeological evidence for a surprising number of things said to occur in the Bible. We can say with reasonable certainty that yeah, Jericho was toppled pretty quickly, for example (probably not with the mere use of trumpets, but you know). We're also reasonably certain that Jesus existed, because EVERYONE agrees this dude was crucified, and if you were someone's follower at the time you'd do everything in your power to assert that he was execured by any other means because of just how humiliating crucifixion was considered, but allies and enemies of his claim he was crucified so that's honestly enough for us to say, yeah, he probably existed and died that way. But we can't find evidence for the Exodus. Ancient Egyptians were notoriously good record keepers and they never recorded the mass departure of a nation's worth of slaves. We'd also be able to see in the earth evidence of that many people walking anywhere, especially if they were wandering for forty years. But that evidence hasn't manifested. It's very unlikely those events occurred.

But that doesn't mean the Exodus isn't real. How many millions, if not billions, of people have accepted that the Exodus occurred in their shared history as a people? How has the fact of that belief shaped their self-conception and the ways they interacted with the world? How has this simple story influenced hundreds of generations of people, and how did it guide them through the numerous awful diasporas they were forced through over the centuries?

Even if the Bible is fictitious--and much of it is--fiction has a power over people. It influences us. That's why we consume it. The Song of Solomon isn't included in the Bible just because it says Solomon wrote it. It's in there because it reflected the thoughts, beliefs, and culture of the people who produced and read it. Anyone who writes fiction could stand to think a little more deeply about religious texts and the ways they affect people's lives. It might make us feel a bit more responsible.

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outzenstevenson5 · 2 years

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raifenlf · 3 years

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Why Loki’s Sylvie Is A Mary Sue

So I am firmly in the camp that Sylvie on the Loki series was/is a Mary Sue. The last episode made me feel better and like maybe the show was doing a thing where they were faking you out that she was a Mary Sue only to show she was actually sort of a bad guy and I liked that. But all the recent interviews make me think the show wants to go back to her being a Mary Sue.

But I feel like when I call her out for being a Mary Sue people tell me what are you talking about, she’s not a Mary Sue, bad things happen to her, etc. But that doesn’t actually make her not a Mary Sue.

Also, before we start, I know some people find Mary Sue sexist. But I personally use the term for guys and girls. I don’t use the term to belittle women. I use the term to criticize a poorly written character.

And I know Mary Sue is often used to describe fanfic characters. But to me, this series is kind of like a fanfic because the writers took a character who had been in canon MCU material for ten years and then created characters around that character. So, I kind of review it like I would a fanfic. It’s very different than if the writers had created a brand new show with all of their own new characters.

Anyway, if you are not totally familiar with the Mary Sue term, then check this out:

I know the term Mary Sue probably means different things to different people. But I have always used these guidelines when I write my own fanfic to make sure my characters never come off as a Mary Sue.

This article really gives you a full scale of what a Mary Sue is. If you start reading it, you’ll immediately see why Sylvie is. But I’m going to take out the parts that most fit Sylvie just to highlight why I believe she is a Mary Sue. I apologize for this being so long.

Mary Sue Character Traits

Personality

Erm... what personality? The typical Mary Sue doesn't have one per se, because she isn't meant to be a character; rather, she's an entity by which the author makes cool stuff happen.

I feel like that is Sylvie in a nutshell. She doesn’t have a personality. I feel like even though she ate screentime, I still don’t really know her at all. The writers love to say she’s badass. That’s not a personality.

Sometimes when I am writing stories for fun and creating new characters, I like to take surveys as my fictional characters. Like the kind of surveys you’d see in a magazine, like personality types, what’s your dating style, etc. I figure if I don’t know what my character would do in any of those situations, then I need to keep working on my character. And if I was trying to fill out a survey pretending I was Sylvie I would have no idea what to answer because she doesn’t have a personality. She’s just “cool”.

What little personality a Mary Sue has isn't as important as how other characters react to it. No matter how shy or socially awkward Mary Sue is supposed to be, other characters will be inexplicably drawn to her

This is so Sylvie. Loki falls in love with her...why, exactly? He falls in love with her in the big Nexus event moment...why? Because she had a tough childhood? Mobius spends like two seconds with her in a car and goes from hating her to saying she’s his favorite Loki. For. No. Particular. Reason.

She's extremely persuasive; everyone finds her opinions to be better than their own

She enchants Hunter B-15 and then immediately Hunter B-15 makes it her whole entire life mission to back Sylvie up.

And occasionally she'll be a complete asshole...This can manifest itself in several ways...The author wants to write a badass but doesn't know how. This leads to a character who mistreats everyone around her and is never called out on her abrasive, casually abusive behavior.

Sylvie talked down to Loki and treated him like garbage for all of episode three, but it was never portrayed as a bad thing and we never got any impression Sylvie later felt bad for the way she treated Loki

The author doesn't know how to hold back the character, meaning that she will succeed at practically everything. This means that when she encounters rules or authority figures who would otherwise prevent her from doing what she wants to do, she rolls right through them (and they praise her for her "boldness" in defying regulations). If a bad guy is violent and aggressive, she can beat him by being more violent and aggressive (with all that entails). It's impossible for her to go overboard because she's protected by Protagonist-Centered Morality.

Sylvie is shown as a kid to immediately be able to grab a Tempad and run away. And she can kick ass way better than Loki, for no known reason. She is always able to fight back against the TVA when they attack her. And she can kill lots of innocent TVA agents but it’s okay because TVA bad, Sylvie good.

Skills

She will always be superior to the canon characters, regardless of what canon has established they can do or whether it makes any sense.

Whose skill was needed to defeat Alioth? Sylvie’s. Of course. Sylvie needed to teach Loki her skills in order for him to succeed (!). And again, she is literally called the superior Loki.

Relatedly, there's no effort to her skills. She never actually trains or learns anything to become more powerful; she just wins the Super Power Lottery, or is a freakish natural learner, or is just Inexplicably Awesome

We’re told Sylvie literally taught herself magic. She literally taught herself to enchant people. That. Makes. No. Sense. Like, I have so many questions. Like, why would it even occur to her to teach herself that? And how???????????? This is really lazy writing.

Canon Character Relationships

Mary Sue is often designed to hook up with another character, often as a form of Wish Fulfillment. This isn't that bad in and of itself (okay, it is kinda weird), but Mary Sue accomplishes this without any sense of realism. She just grabs her lover's attention straight away, and their relationship will never face any obstacles or tension; it's true love from the start and nothing else. The biggest giveaway is if the love interest is explicitly the author's favorite character, and she essentially "cures" him of all the angst that ails him (at the expense of his characterization).

Yeah, so...this one should be pretty obvious to anyone who watched the show. Loki literally falls in love with Sylvie immediately, and then he suddenly turns from “villain” to “hero” just because of loving her. And this was definitely at the expense of his characterization. And Loki just knows he falls in love with her. There’s not even any moments of hmm what do I feel for this person? It’s just true love, immediately.

She will be related to a canon character in some way. This (marginally) helps explain such phenomena as her being a Copy Cat Sue and other characters accepting her so easily.

Sylvie is a Loki variant. They use this to help explain why Loki is drawn to her and why their falling in love immediately “makes sense”.

Most characters give her more heed than they normally would. The good guys never stop praising her

Seriously, it was so over the top and OOC for Loki to gush over her. He literally tells her she’s amazing. They don’t even make it subtle.

Characters' previously established personalities change in reaction to her. Proud, arrogant gimps suddenly acknowledge her superiority in everything. Reckless youths will listen to all her advice. Responsible leaders will defer to her instead. Villains will obsess with her to the detriment of all else. Extremely competent characters will become stumbling buffoons who require her help to do anything. Sweet, mild-mannered characters whom the author doesn't like turn evil and insult her. They all become unnaturally focused on her in some way.

Again, Loki’s whole personality changed in reaction to her. He became a buffoon who needed her help to enchant the Alioth because of course he couldn’t do anything without her! Hunter B-15 goes from doing whatever the TVA said to fighting the TVA just because of Sylvie.

Story Elements

Mary Sue is without exception a single-person Spotlight-Stealing Squad. The entire story hinges on her existence; if you removed her, there would be no story.

Sylvie undoubtedly drove the whole story this season. It all became about HER meeting the TVA heads because of HER trauma. Loki’s life was only saved at the beginning because the TVA was trying to capture HER. And SHE was the one who started the whole multiverse (!).

Mary Sue is The Chosen One, even if the setting already has one. There are many ways she can accomplish this: she can be a Sailor Earth type who "shares" the position with the canon hero; she may be vaguely "destined to help the destined one fulfill their destiny" (i.e. do all the work except the final blow so that the prophecy is still technically correct); or the canon hero may be revealed to be a Fake Ultimate Hero all along. Being the Chosen One doesn't necessarily involve her being a God-Mode Sue, especially as authors become aware of the phenomenon and try to avoid it, but it does make her critically important to the world and allows her to continue stealing the spotlight without the "god mode" label.

HWR wanted Sylvie to come with Loki in the end, like she was chosen all along right alongside Loki. Like one of the most important characters in the entire MCU is now this character who we only met a few episodes ago.

Most Sues have an unusually Dark and Troubled Past. It's often used to create a Sympathetic Sue, but any type of Sue can have one

They tell us, over and over, how hard Sylvie’s life was because she was kidnapped by the TVA in order to create sympathy for her.

She almost never does anything wrong. In the rare instance that she does, it's usually; (a) a way for the author to disclaim her being a Mary Sue by introducing a single imperfection (that has no bearing on anything anyway), and (b) designed to show her smarts by making her feel instant remorse, and she'll be Easily Forgiven anyway:

So this one hopefully will not come true, as a lot can change between now and when the show is taped. But if the show goes on the way the behind the scenes team is talking, Sylvie immediately felt remorse for betraying Loki, and Loki has already forgiven her and is desperately looking for her. Ugh.

Alternatively, she is more than capable of doing something wrong, be it in general moral terms or something that goes against whatever code she abides by, and she maybe even frequently does so, but don't expect the other characters or the narrative to ever acknowledge or comment on it in any real capacity. If the other characters do call her out, expect them to be treated like they're the problem for daring to criticize her at all.

Mobius calls her out for killing people, but Sylvie immediately says he’s a bad person and then Mobius agrees, because, of course.

She will often suffer from Special Snowflake Syndrome; i.e., she has a trait or backstory that sets her apart from her group or race.

She is the only female Loki, thus making her the special one among all the Lokis in episode five.

Presentation

In visual media, the camera just can't stop staring at her.

The camera would follow her in fight scenes rather than Loki.

Mary Sue Tropes

Okay, so there are specific Mary Sue tropes that Sylvie is. One of those is Copy Cat Sue, which I think was referenced before.

Copy Cat Sue

A lot of fanfic writers...start to write something because of their passion for this character, but they find something about the character that doesn't mesh well. Maybe they're the wrong gender or are otherwise not close enough to the author's expectations...In any case, rather than put them through the Possession Sue process, they just get a Clone-O-Matic™ and out pops a Copy Cat Sue...the character might be intended as a replacement for the canon character, but without whatever icky traits the author hates. They'll then rob the spotlight, prove the canon character to be unworthy of his/her position, and either relegate the character to obsolescence or, perhaps, even remove them entirely.

Sylvie is basically a clone of Loki, she is a variant. But she absolutely robbed the spotlight of Loki’s, and they literally call her the superior Loki. I mean, they are literally not even being subtle about this. And there was a feeling by myself (and a lot of other viewers) that Sylvie might ultimately replace Loki in the MCU.

Black Hole Sue

Much like a black hole, this is a Mary Sue who "sucks in" the plot and characters to her. Characters will behave outside their personalities, logic will be defied, and rules will be broken for her sake.

Sylvie really does suck up all the plot and Loki definitely behaves outside of his personality just to fit the Sylvie show.

Jerk Sue

A Mary Sue who is mean or maybe even cruel, but are still treated as an ideal person.

Once again, Sylvie is basically a jerk all of episode three, but you’ve got Loki falling over himself to call her amazing in just the next episode.

Relationship Sue

A Mary Sue who exists to be the perfect mate for a specific character...this character has everything in the plot conspiring to enforce this One True Pairing...in Fanfiction, they are the perfect beloved of a canon character.

They literally have Mobius speculate that Loki falling in love with Sylvie is so extraordinary that it causes an entire Nexus event, that’s how huge this One True Pairing is (!). And Sylvie is the love interest of Loki, the only character who had been around before the beginning of the series

TLDR: Sylvie has all the tropes of a classic Mary Sue character. So calling Sylvie a Mary Sue isn’t being sexist or just randomly hating on the character. If you use common Mary Sue characteristics to examine the character, she just has too many of these characteristics to ignore.

#loki negativity #antisylvie #loki critical #loki criticism #antisylkie

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talesofstyles · 3 years

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Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 3 years

Text

I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

══════ ≪ .·:·.♡.·:·. ≫ ══════

Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

══════ ≪ .·:·.♡.·:·. ≫ ══════

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x female reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

Here for the sentence starters!! "I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater" and "I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what do do." Feel free to do both or either or whatever you prefer with either of the Marcuses! I'm in such a fluffy mood rn and these will make my day :)) (PS I adore you and I hope you have a good day xx)

Making Moves (Marcus Moreno x f!Reader)

Summary: Your neighborhood superhero, Marcus Moreno, is being nagged by his daughter to find love. Lucky for him, just the right woman moves in down the street.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, brief talks of death (just to refer to Marcus’s wife who passed away), brief mentions of sexual stuff. it’s tame.

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN. I love some good Marcus Moreno. He’s such a cutie and these prompts made it so fun! You can still send me prompts from this list with a character, just mind the taken ones! p.s. my emotional support Brit @maxlordsgf see how I used patio/backyard??

The Moreno household was cozy. You wondered if it was Marcus who’d decorated the beautiful home, or if his late wife. You supposed it didn’t matter. You would’ve liked the former Mrs. Moreno, if Marcus could love her like he did.

He lived a few houses down from you. You’d moved in a couple of months ago, into the nice Craftsman style home you currently rented. The best thing about the house was the beautiful front porch, which exposed the lovely suburban neighborhood. The porch had come with a swing, and you’d decided that it’d have to be your new morning coffee spot. After all, this is California, where the sun was plentiful and the air was just cold enough to be refreshing in the mornings.

The time that you drank your coffee on the porch also happened to be the time that your neighborhood Heroic, Marcus, went for his morning runs. He’d been excited to see that the house was sold, and Missy was too. They planned on bringing over some sweets once you were settled. Several weeks after the sold sign went up, he saw you for the first time.

You looked like an angel, he thought. You wore a fuzzy robe with patterned capri pajama pants peeking from beneath it. Your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, slightly fogged from the steam of your coffee. You sat on your porch swing, knees pulled to your chest, reading from your tablet. He was immediately caught off-guard. Your new home was at the beginning of his running path, but his breath was already gone from his lungs from your beauty.

Pushing his own glasses up his nose, he gave you a little wave as you looked up. You’d smiled at him, a grin with your teeth visible. The man was handsome, you’d noticed. Dark hair, a little scruff, eyes that scrunched when he smiled at you. He was fit, too, his muscles evident beneath his tight t-shirt and running shorts. He kept running, unsure what he could say to you.

Marcus returned home some thirty minutes later to find Missy awake. “Hey, the new neighbor moved in,” he told her as he walked to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Ooh, tell me all about them.”

“Well, we didn’t talk. I still don’t know if it’s a family or anything,” he admitted. “But there was a woman sitting on the porch.”

Missy’s eyes lit up. “How old?”

Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know, muñeca,” he told her and kissed her head as he walked past her to sit at the table.

“Old enough to date?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and stuffing her mouth full of cereal. “Did she seem single?”

“Stay out of it,” he teased her and poked her forehead, right between the eyes.

She flinched back a bit but laughed. “Dad, come on.”

He shook his head. “We can bring over a housewarming gift tonight, huh? Then we can see.” -

Well, it turned out that night was too busy to do so for the Morenos.

You saw him the next morning as he ran past again. You wore different pajamas but sat in the same position. You’d waved back.

That’s how the next couple mornings went for the two of you. Every day, Marcus could swear you looked prettier. With you looking like that in your pajamas, he couldn’t imagine how beautiful you’d be at any other time.

Finally, Friday night, he and Missy put on some music and got to baking.

“What does she look like?” Missy asked curiously as she cracked an egg into the bowl- she’d learned the hard way that her father was not to be trusted with egg duty.

Marcus described you to his daughter, his eyes far off and a small smile on his face. “She’s very pretty.”

“Well, duh. You’re simping over her, of course she is.”

“What’s a simp?” He’d asked, brow furrowing.

The knock came an hour or two later. You’d gotten home from work an hour or so earlier, so you were in relaxed clothing, the remnants of your makeup on your face.

Behind the door stood the handsome runner you saw every morning, and a miniature, carbon-copied version of him with longer hair and more feminine features. “Hi! We’re the Morenos. We live in the blue house down the street. I’m Missy, and this is my dad, Marcus,” she introduced herself cheerfully. She held a tray of brownies. He held a bouquet.

“We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” the man- Marcus- says with a warm smile on his face.

“Oh, thank you!” You grinned and took the tray Missy held out. “Well, come in, please,” you invite them. “Do you drink, Marcus? I was just having some wine. Oh, and Missy, I have some soda if you’d like that.”

The three of you sat in your half-constructed living room for a while and chatted. You learned about the former Mrs. Moreno and how she’d passed a few years ago. You shared that you were living alone and single, due to a bad breakup that led you to move here. The two were good company, you learned quickly, bantering back and forth more like siblings than a father and daughter.

As they stood up to leave, you apologized for the mess. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to hook up my TV lately, and I haven’t done anything else yet. I want to get the TV up first, but I’m practically useless with electronic stuff,” you admitted with a chuckle.

“Oh, Dad is great with electronics,” Missy told you with a grin.

“Not great. Competent would be a better word,” he chuckled. “I could help you set it up, if you’d like that.”

“I would, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. Here, we can exchange numbers, you can text me when you’d like me to come over,” he offered and pulled out his phone.

“Sure,” you said and told him your number, which he enters into his phone and sends you a text. “Perfect,” you nodded and saved his phone number. “I’ll see you two soon, hopefully.”

They said goodbye and you heard Missy giggling as the door shut behind him. It’s muffled, but you thought you can hear Missy anyway: “That was smooth, Dad!”

That was months ago now. You’d developed a relationship with the both of them, visiting each others’ houses often for dinner or just to chat.

When summer rolled around, Missy invited you over for days at their pool. You two had enjoyed yourselves, Marcus playing the role of your butler for the day, serving you mocktails and teasing his daughter. It became a common occurrence during the summer. You even had a reverse day on Marcus’s birthday (July 12th) where Missy served the two of you. It was almost like a date. That was the day you both realized you’d fallen hard for the other.

As much as you spent time with Marcus, the girl positively adored you, and always sent you texts from her father’s phone.

We’re having pizza tonight! Wanna come over?

Dad says he sucks at math. Can you help me with my homework?

My friends canceled on me. Are you free to eat Ben and Jerry’s and watch Mamma Mia with me?

You’d become like a mother figure to her, helping her when she got her first period, taking her shopping for middle-school dances, giving her boy advice.

Marcus liked you just as much, if not more. You liked him too. He was a funny man, kindhearted and warm. He’d listen to you talk when you’d had a shitty day, bring over a bottle of wine when he needed some comfort, cook dinner for the two of you when Missy was at Anita’s.

One night, you’re eating dinner with them on their patio. It’s nice, overlooking their backyard and their pool. Missy is going to a friend’s later, to sleep over, but Marcus had cooked food for the three of you on the grill, something you’d learned he was fantastic at, and you’re inside getting more food. The door is slightly cracked, and you can hear the two of them talking.

“Dad. You have to make your move, and you gotta do it tonight! Otherwise, she’ll go for Kent a couple doors down. You don’t want that, do you?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“It’s not that easy, muñeca. I’m so in love with her I don’t know what to do.”

Your heart catches in your chest, fluttering. Marcus likes you. Not only that, he’s in love with you. The past few months race through your head, and you hyper-analyze every little interaction the two of you have had. It’s clear now, in hindsight. You swallow hard, putting back down the skewer of vegetables.

He’s been the only thing on your mind the past few weeks, you have to admit. Your visits to each others’ homes had increased, with you spending more and more nights a week at the Morenos’. His laugh makes your stomach flutter as Missy says something else to him outside. You bite your lip. Tonight’s the night. If he doesn’t make his move like Missy insisted, you’ll do it first.

The conversation is light for the rest of dinner, and you’re a bit detached. Marcus can tell, but he doesn’t comment on it. You simply stare out into their pool, listening to Missy ramble on about the plans that she and her friends have for tonight.

A while later, her friends’ parents pick her up. You stand in the driveway and wave a thank-you to the girl’s parents as they drive off with Missy and her friend in tow. “Love you guys,” she shouts out of the window. You grin and shout it back, in sync with Marcus.

The two of you return to the backyard. You walk a little farther apart from Marcus than normal. “Hey,” he says and stands right next to you, his shoulder nudging yours. “What’s wrong? You’ve been off all night,” he mumbles softly.

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, really,” you chuckle, looking down at your feet.

Marcus is oblivious to the fact that you heard the two of them earlier. You and Marcus have always had a playful relationship, and the idea strikes him to help cheer you up. “Hey, vecina.”

“What- ah!” You squeal as Marcus lifts you in his strong arms. He walks the two of you to the side of the pool as you wriggle in his grip, laughing. “Goddamnit, Marcus! Let go of me!” You screech as he holds you over the pool, though you’re giggling the whole time.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he laughs, your feet kicking as they dangle over the chlorinated water.

“No, you asshole!” You laugh, wriggling. “Put me down, Moreno, or God help your poor soul when I-”

He sets you down on the edge, backing up a bit. “There, fine. Just trying to help,” he teases. He did, he thinks to himself. You’re smiling again.

You’re painfully close to him. Your hands find his hips and he looks down at your hands in confusion as you pat the pockets of his shorts. No phone. Perfect. There’s a devilish grin as you wrap him in a bear hug and fall backwards into the pool, taking him with you.

You let go once you’re underwater, shooting up to the surface from under him and laughing. He comes up moments later, wiping his eyes and pushing his hair back. Your laugh is maniacal and loud, completely content and proud of yourself. “There, I cheered you up at least,” he shakes his head and smiles. He walks to the shallower end of the pool, and you follow.

“I wasn’t in a bad mood,” you shoot back.

“Well, something was off. Will you tell me now?” He asks, your eyes wandering to his- oh, he’s ripped, goddamn- abs beneath his wet t-shirt. His eyes remained trained on yours, ever the gentleman.

Swallowing hard, you nod and walk closer to him with a smile. “I heard you and Missy when I was inside getting more food,” you tell him, biting on your lip to hold back an excited giggle.

His brows furrow in confusion then lift in surprise as it hits him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you nod, wading a little closer and then even closer. You can hear his heavy breathing and look into those big brown eyes with a grin.

“Well, I-” he starts stammering, unsure of what to say, until you place your hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Marcus,” you mumble soothingly, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I know you said it’s not that easy. Why don’t you let me take the reins then, hm?” You ask teasingly, bringing your face close to his.

He grins, taking the opportunity as he sees it. His lips crash to yours happily, his hands finding your waist over your sopping wet clothing. You smile softly against his lips. They’re so soft and warm, the very lips you’ve been staring at for a long time, imagining this. He’s gentle but loving and you deepen it. He follows immediately, parting his lips against yours and he sighs into your mouth.

The two of you stand there, in his pool, making out, for quite a while. Finally, when he breaks away, looking at you through his water-drop-stained glasses, you grin. “This is your fault, you know. I’m gonna have to go home and change into dry clothing.”

“Or you could borrow some of mine,” he offers with a shy smile, and you grin.

“That works too.”

He kisses you one more time. “Will you stay the night? We don’t even have to… to do anything. I don’t even really want to yet. I just want to keep holding on to you.”

You nod and kiss him softly, for just a moment. “Of course I will.” -

You awaken in the morning to the smell of cooking. You live alone, and it makes your brow furrow in confusion, eyes still shut, until they open and you find yourself in Marcus’ home. His bed, specifically.

You smell like chlorine and your hair is damp still, but you’re wearing a big black sweater that smells like detergent and cologne and sleep. It’s Marcus’s, you realize with a smile.

Last night was truly perfect. No, you didn’t sleep with him yet, but it was still perfectly intimate, the way you held each other and whispered sweet words and pressed soft kisses all over each others’ faces and torsos. You’d made out for a fair amount of time too, just like teenagers again, but it was meaningful.

You pad down the stairs, wearing just your underwear and one of Marcus’s big sweaters. He’s cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and your heart melts as you see him. “Good morning, superhero,” you coo as you wrap your arms around him from behind and press a kiss into his neck.

His body warms and melts into your touch. “Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

“Amazing. Your bed is insanely comfortable,” you chuckle and snuggle in against him, resting your head against his back.

“I’m glad. Go sit down, breakfast will be ready in a bit.”

You nod and do exactly that, sitting across the kitchen island from him. He puts some pancakes on a plate, drizzles them with syrup, and slides it to you. “Bon appetit.”

“Thank you,” you grin and waste no time in cutting into them with a fork and taking a bite.

You sigh happily and Marcus’s heart can barely take the sight of it. “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“I can’t get over how cute you are,” you tease and pop another bite in your mouth. “The good news is that you can get over it, because I’m coming over here for breakfast in your clothes every day now.”

“Or you could live here.”

The proposal is so quiet, so sudden and nonchalant that it takes you aback for a minute. “What?”

He shrugs. “I know we’ve only been together for, what, 10 hours now, but Missy and I both adore you. You’re over here all the time anyway. Why don’t you? Save us both some money, too.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin. “I might have to think about it.”

He nods. “I get that, I-“

“Done thinking. I’ll do it,” you grin happily.

“Really?”

“Really,” you nod, giggling excitedly.

Marcus leans across the kitchen counter and kisses you softly. “Be prepared for a lot of Moreno loving. Missy’s a cuddler.”

“I think I can take it,” you smile and press another kiss to his lips, with all of the love in your heart.

translations:

vecina- neighbor (female)

muñeca- in this context, doll

hey taglist, come get y’all’s juice

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalpanic

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

... I just love OTPs, I can't help it.

OTP HEADCANONS: 2020 Edition

These will include the series of Red Queen, Dorothy Must Die, SGE, The Folk of The Air, and Nightmare Before Christmas(I'll throw in the Skellington kids, too, because I love them💙)

MAJOR TW FOR ALL THE EVENTS THAT OCCURED IN 2020, AND THAT INCLUDES QUARANTINE.

RED QUEEN:

At the news of a Pandemic, Mare and Cal are equally confused and scared, but at least they're not on the battlefield.

They hold up in Paradise Valley until the quarantine is lifted.

It starts off fine with them doing puzzles, hiking, and doing some exercises to pass the time. Then 3 weeks pass and both are bored; Mare's bored enough to drink coffee onto of the fridge and Cal's sitting in a chair upside down because fuck court etiquette, he's so bored.

Cal contemplates luring wolves with dinner scraps again.

They had a mini argument that meant nothing because Cal's hair got long and he wanted Mare to cut it, she but only offered to shave his stubble, not cut his hair.

They both get a lot of sleep, and have a lot of nightmares, which they comfort each other from.

They also really enjoy the silence.

Cal gets into poetry and Mare paints. Both are surprised at how good the other is at their new hobbies.

They talk. A lot. It begins awkwardly and ends with the two in each other's arms.

Cal becomes more of a punner, and Mare loves and hates it.

There's tall of getting a dog, but there's one problem: Paradise Valley doesn't have any shelters, and they'll be arrested or forced ro turn back hime, regardless of rank.

Mare grows taller... by 2 inches. She almost killed Cal for how much he laughed.

When they're allowed to go out, Mare often forgets to bring her mask.

Cal's good at remembering their masks.

Mare REFUSES to leave when she hears about the murder hornets.

Cal gets repellent to calm her down.

They also recover some Old Era TV Shows.

ENDLESS quotes from The Office, Friends, and many more shows.

Cal visits Maven's grave more. Mare comes with every now and then, but usually lets him go alone.

They don't usually argue, but those arguments never last.

They tried a bit of ability training, and greed that they should be careful when Mare summoned a bolt of lightning from the sky and Cal almost set fire to everything around them.

They read a lot, too, but Cal reads more than Mare because she falls asleep, usually on him.

DOROTHY MUST DIE:

Nox had no clue what a Pandemic was, or what the big deal was about going outside and not being near people, until Amy explained it.

First day of online school crashed and burned because Nox had NO IDEA what he was doing, which led to Amy 'accompanying' him in classes.

Amy puts her college plans on hold for a little while.

Nox is more emotional and neither of them know how to handle it.

They have more nightmares, since there's nothing to keep their minds busy, but Amy is more reserved about it. Nox prefers to write about what he dreams, anyway.

Nox stays up, from all the nightmares, but Amy sits with him to keep him company.

When Amy heard about the murder hornets, Nox held up a fly swatter and opened all the windows.

Amy does fine, but Nox dies from boredom, when they're done with school. And I don't mean he just sits and groans, he lies face down on the couch as Amy tries to get him up.

They spend A LOT of time in Nox's apartment, and it's literally spotless because Nox is THAT bored.

They binge a lot of TV shows, and Nox falls in love with shows like Peaky Blinders.

They tried watching Game of Thrones. It didn't go well; negative past experiences.

Nox figured out the plot twist to The Umbrella Academy WAY before Amy did.

They watched Heathers and Amy asked Nox what he'd do if she was dealing with trash friends and guys who don't take 'no' for an answer. The look on his face when he asked who it was reminded Amy of who he was before meeting her.

Nox finds YouTube and discovers the guy that makes knives out of anything and makes it his mission to copy each and every video, come Hell or high water.

Amy walked in on him doing this and genuinely wondered if he was okay, and asked if she could help him.

They also binged musicals. Nox isn't a huge music person, but he still loves them; Kansas has its own magic that he finds intriguing.

Amy once found Nox crouching ontop of the fridge while drinking a mug of coffee.

Madison stopped by and dropped off some rhinestones, lash glue, and a tool to apply the stones. Amy spent a lot of time putting the stones on her face while Nox watched, with Madison and Dustin also watching via Facetime, sitting backwards in a chair and wondering what her plan was, even making very Julien Solomita-esque comments, mixed with very 'I used to be a fighter and a spy' comments that made Amy, Madison, and Dustin laugh. Some if those comments:

"I know Glamora told you to lighten up, but I don't she'd expect this."

"If those were real diamonds, you wouldn't need any armor or a weapon. Just headbutt them, and you're good."

"Don't be upset, but it's the beginning of summer, so I don't think winter's coming any time soon."

"Whichever chandelier you made out with, I will find them, damn it."

After a little while, Amy asked if Nox wanted a rhinestone face. He agreed, but only as long as she took out all the red stones. He could handle pink, but no red.

It took them an hour to get the stones off.

Their hair gets long and they agree to cut each other's hair. Nox cuts her hair chin length and Amy tries to be as style his hair. They don't look the best, but they at least look good.

They absolutely watch Unus Annus, and start quoting that.

When they get the news they can go out wearing a mask, Nox got confused and got 3 different masks: a masquerade mask, a normal face mask, and a gas mask, which he wears all the time to annoy Amy.

They do stay in shape as much as possible, but there is evidence that they could have been more active, with their muscles shrinking and both having lost a little weight.

Nox NEVER drops his guard, and quarantine didn't help.

They tried dying their hair, but it didn't work as well as they'd hoped.

SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL:

Tedros worries about Agatha and everyone else, but Agatha keeps him in check.

Crime drops big time, so that's a plus for Tedros and Agatha.

They have more time to breathe, with everyone being inside and avoiding each other.

Tedros hates the quiet at first, but Agatha helps him adjust.

They spend a lot of time wandering the castle and answering whatever call there is, if any.

The SGE is out for a little while, so they don't hear too much from there.

Tedros, without normal king business to distract him, has more nightmares and starts losing sleep because he doesn't want to dream about what's happened to him and his friends.

Agatha has nightmares, too, but she's better at hiding it.

They do talk about it and agree to be more open with what's going on in their heads.

They also agree that they'll help each other through these times.

Tedros helps Agatha with swordplay and Agatha both gets him into reading more and tries to help him with his magic.

Whenever there's something they need outside, Agatha gets it because she's not that afraid of getting sick; she grew up eating frog and lizard soup.

Tedros worries about her, but doesn't really stop her because she's taller, and having fun trying to stop Agatha once she's committed to doing something.

Tedros finds a new hobby: origami.

Agatha doesn't join in, per se, she more watches because she's never seen Tedros be so patient with something.

They play around with each other's hair, as it grows longer. Agatha ties Tedros's hair back and Tedros braids her hair.

They write to Sophie or anyone else, like people who have some sort of report of a crime or complaint duch as infertile soil, so their penmanship improves.

Tedros grows a bit of a stubble and, after some prickly kiss attacks, Agatha threatens to shave it off herself, if he doesn't. It's all in good fun, but she sort of did mean it because his face and cheeks were really scratchy.

Tedros REFUSES to let Agatha go out alone, even when she's masked up.

When they go out, Tedros always carries a sword.

Picnics in the woods.

Star gazing at night.

Agatha starts wearing pants, as an experiment, and her "dresser"/dress designer is APPALLED.

There are times they argue, but they stay together and communicate because relationship goals.

THE CRUEL PRINCE:

At the news of a Pandemic/plague, Cardan ordered all the human servants to get as healthy as they could so they'd be able to go outside. He would accompany them, but they could not let Jude go out.

She's not happy, when she finds out

Cardan asks if she can avoid going to the human world, so she doesn't get sick.

She goes anyway and returns unscathed.

Cardan considers glamoring the human servants to keeep Jude healthy, but Jude almost pincushions him for it.

Anxious? Worried? Psh! Don't be silly. Cardan becomes somethimg if a paranoid maniac because he's scared of Jude getting sick and dying because he's Fae and she's Mortal, so she's more susceptible to illnesses and he doesn't know wnoufh about mortals to get her healthy agaun were she to get sick, but there's nothing wroung with him, really.

Whenever they're not ruling, Jude practices her swordplay while Cardan reads, major plus being that he reads full series to not worry about Jude so much.

Jude helps Cardan with sword fighting, using wooden practice swords not metal, and Cardan helps her try to get into reading, reading to her as she rests her head on his chest when she doesn't want to read read.

Cardan discovers manga and graphic novels and is too confused for Jude NOT to laugh; "He's in armor made if IRON. How is he able to fly!?" "I've seen a lot people different people, and none of them have made this face." "... So is Spiderman THIS one or THIS one?"

Sword practice usually ends with Cardan on the ground exhausted while Jude simply stands and chuckles for him to get up.

Cardan doesn't get beat smd scarred, he gets poked and minorly bruised, which he was not ready for because of how he was treated by Balekin.

One day, while Cardan was reading some Sherlock Holmes, Jude slipped hoop bracelets on and tied ribbons to his tail, at least as many as she could before she got caught; she only realized as such when his tail started flicking out of her reach and curling around her wrist, and saw Cardan grinning at her.

They do visit Taryn and Vivi still, but Cardan only wears a mask to remind Jude, who does not forget ever.

Cardan thinks about his 'friendship' Nicasia, Locke, and Valerian and semi-realizes that Valerian and Locke may have been using him while Nicasia was at least a little genuine.

They talk about Locke and equally wish that they had helped Taryn in killing Locke. If not, then they wish that they at least watched. They agreed that if time travel was real, Jude could help Trayn kill Locke and Cardan could watch, as long as he helped dispose of the body.

They laughed at that a couple minutes later.

THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS(Featuring the Skellington kids(I'd say Skull Kids, but I feel like Skull Kid(s) was taken)):

Jack knows what a Pandemic is; he lived through one while he was alive.

Sally knew it would happen because she knows one happens about every two hundred years/whenever a year ends in 20.

The triplets know what a plague is, but have never seen one actually happen.

When they explored the human world at night and noticed there were absolutely no humans in sight, Luna reminded her brothers that the humans were told to stay inside to prevent any spreading.

Jacob takes the opportunity to MAKE SURE people actually stay inside.

Pro: he got Instagram famous. Con: Jack and Sally were not happy at all with how reckless he was.

Let's say, for the sake of the story, Halloween had to be cancelled worldwide because regulation and a need for things to get better.

Upon hearing the news of Halloween getting cancelled, Jack was very salty about it; "Why cancel Halloween, if the 4th of July was still allowed to be celebrated?"

All of Halloween Town was very upset; the living are so fragile, it ruins the fun of scaring them.

The Mayor was in deep, DEEP distress, but Jack made it up to him, and the rest of the town, by saying next year's Halloween would be ine no one would ever forget, and it's not because he's 'borrowing' a holiday again, it's because they'll all have a year of scaring shenanigans built up inside them all that will make up for what was missed.

Everyone rejoiced and Jack, once he got back inside his house with his wife and children, sighed and mentally kicked himself for saying no one would forget next year's Halloween; there was one Halloween in particular he sure as hell isn't forgetting any time soon.

Daemon's carving more intricate pumpkins and plans on giving the humans mini-scares so they keep quarantining, hiding a 'surprise' for any entitled Karens he finds.

Luna is the most obedient of the triplets by staying in Halloween Town and instead studying what she calls a 'counter-plague' so there's no need for a Pandemic; she refuses to call it a vaccine because that would imply sje wants to help the humans that shot down and could have killed her dad. She still has a bone to pick.

Jack doesn't spiral out like in the movie, he has Sally to help and the triplets to keep his mind busy.

While Jacob and Daemon keep the humans from leaving their houses, Luna researches the current events and learns of murder hornets that are large, sting like all hell, and cause death to anyone unfortunate enough to get stung.

Jack gets very intrigued and they collect as many as they can and keep them in a jar, but take one out to study it.

They were not impressed; murder hornets? Jack has seen worse.

Since there wasn't a Halloween, Jack decided to walk through the streets, seeing as how Daemon and Jacob already did a lot of the scaring for him(thise little shits). He had to admit, it was nice to walk in the night and only hear the animal sounds and not screams.

Luna did not find a 'counter-plague,' even with Sally's help, but she did discover some poisons she could use against her brothers. Sally made her promise not to do so.

On the Halloween night where nothing happened, Jack took his family out to a picnic/star gazing session. Genuinely one of his favorite Halloweens to date.

HENRY STICKMIM COLLECTION:

Henry and Ellie knew it was going to happen and were more than surprised to also see Charles planning ahead by making a list for what they needed, even admitting he'd been following the news and rumors and stocking up on ADD medicine so he wouldn't have to go out to get them.

The other soldiers weren't worried until they were told to go home and take a break for a little bit.

Triple Threat wasn't really effected until day 24.

On day 1, they just hung out and were relatively calm, working online, doing workouts to stay fit, and just being as normal as possible.

On day 24, all three are more than a little bored. Henry's bored enough to andwer calls from telemarketers and prank them, Ellie's contemplating bleaching her hair with peroxide, and Charles is playing with fidget toys he's bough and collected over the years, though he's doing it more because he's a little stressed than bored.

Henry and Ellie are surprised to this this, but Charles admits he used to bite his nails a lot, but stopped after a LONG while.

Speaking of names, Ellie paints hers and the boys', though while Henry paints his in clear coat, Charles paints one hand black and the other in red, mint, and glittery pink on one nail because try stopping him.

It makes Ellie laugh and pisses off Henry so much.

Ellie gets calls from her family saying they want her to come home, or closer to home, because they're worried and she instead blocks their numbers.

They watch a lot of horror movies as a reason to stay inside.

When they get bored of American horror and try Japanese, Asian, and more western horror movies.

Instant regret.

They watched the movie Audition and Henry looked at a very unimpressed Charles, who said the antagonist was being sloppy, and hid all the kitchen knives, saws, and sharp and blunt objects, including tools(must've remembered Human Piece).

He stopped after a week of Charles being himself and literally shaking at Hannibal Lecter as they watched the Silence of The Lambs series.

All three open up more about their lives. It's ugly, there's yelling, conflicting life philosophies, and even some insults thrown. Henry admits that gotten screwed over by the law enough times while fending for himself to have as little faith in it as possible, Ellie admits she ran away from home and would rather die than go back because of how tight of a leash they kept her on, and Charles admits that while he has thought about quitting on the government and turning to a life of crime, he never did because that would have been to easy of a choice. Training for the military was and still is hard as hell, which Henry and Ellie can tell because Charles can physically do more than them(if they ran a mile, Henry and Ellie would be exhausted and Charles wouldn't even be out of breath), but he's never given up on it because he knew his parents would skin him, if they were still alive.

There were tears at the end, and the team all needing to be alone for a little bit, but they were back together and agreed to be a little more open with each other, since they were a team now.

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transmasc-wizard · 2 years

Note

*cough* art style *cough*

/np /np /np

RIGHT YEAH FORGOT ABOUT THAT SORRY

ANYWAY

art style. the first rule of art style is HAVE FUN. If you have an element you reeeally want to add to your art style but you're like "but my art style doesn't look like that :(" just. add it. Art style is not a law and is ever-changing and art is about having FUN and making COOL-ASS ART

second rule of art style: "art style" just refers to the usual way to employ colours, lineart, form, mood, shape, subject, etc etc etc in your art. All together, it makes up a unique way of drawing that you have.

take LavenderTowne. (I'm not going to post any of her art here bc reposting without permission (even with credit) is shitty, but that's a link to her youtube where you can see what I'm talking about.) Her art is full of pastel colours, round lines/soft edges, large eyes, small noses, feminine-presenting characters, visible and defined lineart, people/humanoids, and a "cute" aesthetic. She goes for a more cartoony effect with largely exaggerated proportions; she's closer to steven universe than she-ra, yk? Additionally, she uses more cel shading than photorealistic rendering.

All those together make up her art style. And not every single one of her drawings has all those elements, but most of them have many.

Meanwhile, Sam Does Arts--despite also drawing non-realistic feminine people in digital art--has a much, much different art style. He has less defined lines, more realistic proportions, softer shading, soft lighting, and a general peaceful, calm, realistic-but-to-the-left vibe.

Art style is just about what choices you make with how you draw. Do you use bright colours or pastel ones? Do you draw in black-and-white? Do you have a lot of thick, defined lines or thinner, vaguer ones? Do you draw X facial feature big or small? Do you go for realism or complete cartoon or somewhere in between? Do you draw people, animals, landscapes, whole scenes, etc? What mood do your pieces tend to have? Do you do round lines or sharp ones? What perspective do you tend to draw from? Do you want your art to look 3-d or 2-d?

It's important to note that you don't need an answer for all of those, and that they're all "usually". You don't have to always use bright, saturated colours just because they're usually present in your art style. You don't always have to avoid drawing feminine people just because you usually draw masculine ones. And you can have more than one art style! My "elaborate detailed painting" style and my usual style are very different, and that's ok.

Finding your art style is literally just going "ok, do I want to do/like to do this or this or this more often?" and then doing it. You can yoink elements from other artists, too; if you like how artist ABC draws eyes, draw eyes like them. If you like how artist XYZ does their shading, shade like them. Just don't take a bunch of elements from one artist's style, because that's then copying them.

Also: you already have an art style. You already have a way you naturally do your art. "Finding your art style" is really about editing your current art style into something you like better, via practice and actually asking yourself "why does my art look like this? what do I want to change about my style?" and then you change it accordingly.

I want to draw more poses and start shifting my style away from "person from the shoulders up with no background", so... I'm doing that. I don't like the way I used to draw eyes, so I changed it. It's a lot easier than it feels at first, and you really just need to spend some time practicing the way you'd rather draw.

I'd like to emphasize that art style is about how you like to draw. It's not about what's popular, or copying cool tv show 273, or what you feel like real artists should be doing. Your art style is one hundred percent about what YOU want to do and what YOU find fun to draw.

That can be what's popular, btw. It can be similar to the cool tv show you like. But don't do something just because you feel like you have to. Do you want to draw nothing but photorealistic cacti? DO IT. Art is for you.

anyway!! i hope that is a tad bit helpful!! feel free to ask more if you have more questions, I had a Lot more thoughts about this than i'd thought it did :D

#asks #the pastry #art style

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simtanico · 3 years

Note

Hi! I don't know if this is an annoying/difficult question, sorry if it is, but do you have any advice at all for modelling sims based off real people? Your sims are SO crazy good. When I try to make them they end up looking... eh... Vaguely like the person? But there's a huge gap between that and some kind of 'spark' some simmers seem to manage to capture.

Hello! Definitely not annoying. Difficult, as in how difficult it is to answer? Maybe. I'm gonna go off on a couple of tangents. But I'm gonna try my best to explain the process. Which isn't really much of one sorry.

There's a handful of tutorials and tips out there regarding reference photos and like... proportions and all that so I won't cover that.

I use that as a general guide of course, but mostly I just save some photos of the person at various angles and focus on one feature or two at a time. Literally going back and forth between reference photo and my game. I think if you try to get everything at the same time, it really makes it easy to get frustrated with whatever your sim looks like at the moment. Making sims in general is a combination of a LOT of things depending on your style.

I can point out ALL the flaws with my sims based on real people. In my experience, it’s about getting the defining features of a person close enough to the real thing so that it resembles them. I don't think you need a complete copy to get the point across, however i do think some people and features are harder to emulate than others. I've been working on some sims for YEARS, and they still don't work out lol

and take a look at this progression on my sim based on Z4ne H0ltz starting back in 2015!

that first screenshot:

Personally, I get a little lost if I work on a sim too much all at once. I find some time away makes me less tired and frustrated. Just pace yourself :)

Also if you need any help, shoot me a message here or on discord. I promise I don't judge or anything.. it's sims who cares lol

TO START...

I suggest starting with the head and its shape. Starting off with a game-generated sim, the first slider I get to is head width. It's usually too dang wide for my tastes. And then adjusting the general position of the the features. You can always change things later, so you don't have to know exactly what you're going to do, but as I've mentioned before, sculpting sims up in CAS is just practice with sliders! Also in the long run, you may want to use Pu+Chi House's Smooth Face Normals slider! I attempt to explain and show what it does here. I've uploaded the slider here: https://simfileshare.net/download/984204/

This is gonna be a doozy sorry in advance if the read more doesn't work

SLIDERS SLIDERS SLIDERS

Big sliders like Pu+Chi House’s face shape sliders dramatically change the face shape, and it could save you a lot of time! I highly suggest using these to get rid of the weird large jaw sims can get.

Play with different sliders and how they interact with one another! Example: jaw width and Cheek Fullness affect the same area. if you need a wide jaw and don’t want cheek distortion, you can use cheek fullness, lower the jaw width slider and then edit the cheekbones from there

Knowing what sliders move what and how it can work to your advantage is key! I cover this in my reply post about noses.

For visual reference:

I start out with my nose but I want the nostrils to sit further on the outside

so i go in and use the nose width slider and raise it to widen the lower nose:

Then lower the nostril scale slider

Comparison:

as you can see, i kind of achieved what I wanted, but also widened the nose tip too! Welp, that takes another slider I have, Tip Width. And I'll adjust that accordingly! It's really just a matter of what you're going for and what you're going to have to compensate for as a result!

That said, our community has made some awesome sliders that open up so many possibilities and even eliminate the need to do that multi-slider tango. I wouldn't even know where to begin (wish I wanted to make videos because I could talk for an hour about sliders)

For example @pitheinfinite made sliders that can make sims look better and more realistic, I'm jealous at what they've achieved!

They have their Inner Corner to Nose slider that moves an area of the sim's face hat make eyebags and the shadows and lines appear farther out from the inner eye. It saves you from having to use cheek sliders to mimic the effect and thus ruining the face shape you have going

It's truly an INDISPENSABLE slider. One of many!

Since I make sliders, I usually just make some to specifically fix whatever issue I'm having. Granted they're made with general function in mind, which makes my cheater-y way of making things happen more useful in the future. I have about 50 experimental unfinished sliders in my game and can tell you that all my current sims use them for some reason or other. So I'm not working with nothing, I guess?

EYE SPY 👁

The best way to really get nice accurate looking sims is the eyes.

Pay attention to the slant of the eye, the shape and position of the upper and lower eyelids. you can use the game’s Eyelid Height slider, and AWT’s Eyelid width and height sliders (and many more)

and especially where the iris (green) sits relative to the eyelid. getting that shape and eyeball positioned correctly really makes a HUGE difference

I do suggest Bloom’s Eye slider (left and right) that rotate the eyes left and right. That along with their Lazy eye sliders can give your sims a less symmetric face and position the eyes to be FAR more accurate and realistic than the default.

I also recommend their vertical sliders (Eye lift or drop) to help with eye positioning.

I can't stress the importance of the right contacts or eyes for your sims. Of course it all depends on how you make your sims's eyes and all that. Take the last sim i posted about. It took forever and a half to find the right contacts that didn't need severe or intense editing to capture the same vibe the person he's based on. The problem is pretty persistent for me, and I am just speaking for myself when I say this is necessary. Iris size, shading, recolorability, detail, catch lights, and pupil position are things to consider for your play style and preferences.

In addition to seeing what eyes will do the trick, I do edit the catch lights in the screenshots to give the eyes a different emotion or look. (I use defaults that get rid of the game-generated catch lights, and supernatural eye glow.) It's nice when that's all it is and I don't have to go in and photoshop things in and out to make them look human lmao

Perfect, schmerfect

And just know that as long as you have the same vibe or look going on it doesn't need to be perfect! Things will evolve over time, and you can change and perfect things as you go along, but close is better than trying to achieve an exact replica. We are working with the limitations of sliders and the optimized meshes they work on! So yeah there might be jagged bits or the profile might not exactly match and some things might not be accurate, but that's okay! Considering what sims look like at their default, you should be proud! I use the same mf eyebrows on all my sims basically and I tell myself they're just placeholders (yeah, right), but I manage to make them work with what I have!

Sliders, Makeup, and Skins, oh my!

a good base skin is critical, but not the end of the world if you pick the wrong one. They determine kind of definition and types of features highlighted on a sim 100000% and you might lose a feature you like or dislike when you change them! Feel free to switch up between skins you have to find the best fit.

Makeup can be a game-changer though!!! Any details you can add and help make your sim look the most like the person you're basing them off can go MILES.

In some cases, I've actually gotten really interesting results trying to get my sculpt as close as possible to real life references so the makeup makes a difference but don't define the features by themselves. Still, though, I utilize makeup up a LOT. [remember that if you use Nraas, you can layer makeup. Right-clicking makeup will also remove it if it's applied :)]

Here's the last sim i posted about when removing makeup:

no nosemasks really replicates the face-claim's nose (too shiny at the lower part) but it'll do 🤷‍♀️

Freckles, eyebags, highlighters, face shadows, pores, nosemasks, etc are all great!!

The way you move your sliders WILL effect how these look, so don't rely on makeup that adds super-specific detail or goes over an area you know is a jumbled mess because of sliders!

I do have a mess of recommendations and wcifs for skins and makeup. replies tag | wcif tag

[also I love compiling wcif cc lists for my sims it's great]

Finally, I appreciate your comment about my sims, mainly because I know they're not ever really exact copies or as close as I want to be to their real life counterparts, so thanks!! I've seen fellow simmers get really good results without messing as much as I do and I love when people can make really good maxis match likenesses because it's just so damn cool! It's truly a talent. I'm not one of those lucky few, but I like to try my way at it anyway. After what feels like some good progress I'll post a pic here. Even after doing this forever I don't feel like I'm an expert or can get good results in a shorter amount of time, but it's just fun to see the progression (or regression) of how my sims look.

#long post #replies #no tutorials just rambling and vibes~~~~

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sukiglycerin · 3 years

Text

the scrapbook documenting denki kaminari and his experiences with love, subtlety, and volumes of manga || denki kaminari.

* pairing: denki kaminari x oblivious!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, normal conflict(??) but not much, uni!au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers

* words: 4.5k

* warnings: brief scenario of intoxication, mentions of maidgirls (one of them has a gun because mey-rin from kuroshitsuji), reader has past bad experiences with relationships, bakusquad is supportive af, reader is oblivious (duh), i love sero, side kiribaku

* original request: Can you do a fluff Denki crushing on the reader but the reader is really oblivious to him just badly flirting and bakusquad gets annoyed and helps them get together 😳

* a/n: this turned out much longer than expected, but i’m satisfied with the turn-out! i call this a “scrapbook” because it’s like a collection of short moments. i’m experimenting with this writing style, so i hope you enjoy it! i started writing reader by basing them off of this one pretty girl i know (and very much like), but then reader started morphing into me projecting myself and oh boy. yeah. fun fact: i actually own the kuroshitsuji manga volume with the maidgirl on the cover (volume 22).

“please don’t like me,” is the first thing you say to denki kaminari. you don’t know who he is, though, when you say these words. all you know is that he’s presumably a college student like you and that he’s quite extroverted. behind him stand three of his friends giggling to themselves. it’s apparent they’re playing a practical joke.

the first thing the blond boy said to you was, “hey, you’re cute, i like you.” that was thirty seconds ago, after you’d put your manga down when you noticed his friends pushing him towards you.

he cracks a grin upon your response. “alright.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “the point still stands - you’re cute.” his eyes fall to the manga you set down. “hey- is that detective conan?”

it’s an old, worn copy of detective conan’s first volume.

“oh, yeah,” you reply.

“can i see it?” he asks. you nod.

he picks up the book, surprisingly gentle with its fading corners and creased spine.

"i used to read the series all the time," he says quietly, reliving a memory in his eyes. "i always tried to solve the crime before conan."

you're not sure what to answer, but he introduces himself before you can.

"i'm kaminari, by the way." he slips a piece of paper in your manga, setting the book down on your table. "text me."

“please don’t fall in love with me,” is the first thing you whisper to denki kaminari, hushed under the sheets in mina’s room. you're surprised he can hear you over the quiet murmurings of a ghibli movie playing on the tv; you're surprised he's awake.

“okay,” and it’s the first promise he’s ever broken, voice all low and hoarse from the after-effects of prolonged silence.

(maybe he should've feigned sleep, he later thinks, as his heart stupidly falls and crashes clumsily into love. maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.)

he turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling. it's dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars mina and sero had impulsively hung up one friday evening instead of studying. there's a couple moons, too, which bakugou had frowned upon, stating, "where are we, jupiter? there's only one moon orbiting earth." kirishima laughed.

from the sound of shuffling sheets and a quick glance next to him, denki can tell you're now laying on your back, too. he almost makes a comment about you copying him. he stares at the faux stars overhead, not tired enough to close his eyes and allow sleep it's victory for the night. there's not much to do while awake at the moment other than strain his ear to decipher to the tv's audio. his throat feels dry, but he's not motivated enough to sit up to grab a water bottle. anyway, he supposes you and he are staring at the same sky, in a cheesy way. he remembers reading something like that in a book.

he kills the time and his aching mind by finding stupid constellations in the stick-on stars. there's a slightly distorted dipper of some sort, and a heart. there's a lot of squares. there's a shape he passes off as orion, but he knows anyone a tad more into astronomy than him would gasp at the abstract shape and completely dismiss its resemblance to orion.

eventually, your breathing slows to a rhythmic pace beside him. the logical part of his mind tells him to sleep now that you, too, are sleeping. he doesn't know why he waited for you to be asleep first. one pentagon constellation later, kaminari allows sleep's gaze to wash over and envelope him. the ghibli movie is still playing.

it seems that his friends have beat him, somehow, to the conclusion that denki kaminari has a bit of a crush on you. it's childish, really. he shouldn't like you, recalling your first words to him. they struck you apart from other people he'd met. back then, though, he never seriously thought about you like that. sure, you were conventionally attractive (enough for him to approach you to give you his number), but it was all in good fun. that's what you were, too, for the longest time: good fun and a friend.

until one day, glances lingered for too long while you weren't looking. one day, kaminari's jokes became more and more aimed for you, to hear your laughter in his ears. one day, kaminari realizes he has your usual coffee and bubble tea order memorized, when he can barely remember his own.

he pretends all of it is completely normal, but mina assures him differently. as does bakugou, which is strange, because he's usually not wrapped up in other people's affairs (when voicing this to the blond, he responded, "it's hard not to notice because you're too damn obvious"). it's kind of hard to ignore when bakugou calls it obvious (he's literally had kirishima pining over him since day one with no notice).

kaminari really does try to ignore the bubbling feeling rising at the bottom of his heart. he really does, but you keep on shaking and shaking his poor heart until it's all fizzy like a bottle of soda. he's weak, okay? one day, he’ll explode.

his friends are all urging him to confess to you already, but he cannot work up the nerve to do so. instead, kaminari drops you obvious hints that he likes you. he doesn't know whether you're completely oblivious to them or if you're deliberately ignoring them.

he's been so painfully obvious, he swears.

he's practically able to write a list of hints he's dropped. he's fairly confident he could publish it as an advice book with the title "how to tell your crush you like them without saying 'i like you.'" by this point, he's the king of obvious subtlety.

the list would go something like this, in no particular order:

pick-up lines

"did it hurt, when you fell-" you were silent, "-from the vending machine? because you're a snack."

silence. absolute radio silence. he was extremely tempted to run away from the sheer awkwardness between the two of you. as he turned to leave and freak out in private, he heard you mumble a belated "thanks," which made everything worth it.

he still left to freak out, though (and plan his next pick-up line to tell you).

manga references

"hey, y/n," kaminari had said one day, after a particular burst of confidence. you hadn't looked up from your book.

"if i were shinichi from detective conan, you'd be ran," he'd said, referencing the main love interests from the manga. "or maybe vice versa. you are the smart one in this relationship..."

you didn't bat an eye. "they never get together, though? shinichi and ran."

"they- they don't?!" he'd sputtered indignantly. he definitely needed to read up his detective conan lore. "but they both like each other?"

"true," you'd replied in typical you fashion, neither letting on whether you did like him or not. well, hey, kaminari had thought. you didn't deny it. progress.

hand size comparison (which was, in reality, just an excuse to kind of hold your hand)

kaminari had smoothly been planning this for weeks (which, according to sero, was a little sad). he'd bring up the topic of hands one day in your daily conversations, then nonchalantly slip a "oh, y/n, let's do a hand size comparison!" he high-fived himself mentally upon the formulation of this genius plan - you'd definitely fall for him (or at least, realize his feelings for you - this state of teetering between do they like me or do they not like me frustrated him for months on end). the perfect opportunity presented itself one day as the two of you lounged in mina’s room (which, at this point, had become you and your friends’ hangout spot) studying.

“wow, you type fast,” kaminari remarked as he pretended to innocently look up from the “work” (changing his laptop wallpaper for the tenth time that day) he was doing. you were focused on your work, sitting on mina’s bed with your laptop propped up by a pillow on your lap. you’d barely registered his words, judging by the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you looked up at him after a slow beat.

“oh, uh, thanks,” you replied. “i’m just copying some text down. i don’t usually type this fas…” you trailed off, eyes widening as you watched kaminari scooching next to you on the bed. he put his hand next to yours, whose fingers still ghosted the keys of your keyboard.

“look,” he said softly, bringing your hands up to eye level. “hand size comparison.” it was breathed out belatedly, but your crystalline eyes didn’t leave his. he started to curve his fingers in between yours, holding your hand so tenderly. he really, really didn’t want to let go. “we fit.” it was a whisper he wasn’t sure you could hear - did he want you to hear it? “like… a puzzle,” he added awkwardly.

you nodded, dazed, slowly bending your fingers over his. he rocked your clasped hands side to side, a fond feeling creeping through his limbs. it was warm and tingly - and maybe it was contagious. could you feel it too, buzzing past his fingertips to you?

precisely three minutes passed before kaminari’s arm started to ache. he didn’t catch your disappointed expression when he let go of your hand, but he did catch the smile that emerged when he held your hand as the sides of your fingers nudged the bed. you didn’t get much work done after that, sitting in silence with him.

brushing your hand in a popcorn bucket

movie nights on fridays were commonplace at mina’s. the plan, this time, was created by kirishima, who said that it was manly with just the right amount of romantic. kaminari hoped so. the movie settled on was some romance flick, as decided by mina, kirishima, and sero’s pleading with a very begrudging bakugou.

he can’t remember much of the movie. what he can remember, however, is the very close presence of you next to him as the two of you shared a popcorn bucket (courtesy of sero’s very romantic ideas). your hands brushed a (purposeful, on kaminari’s end) dozen times throughout the film. the last couple were accidents. on the first time, though, kaminari watched with satisfaction from his peripheral view as you looked from him to the popcorn that obscured the place where your hands made contact. he was very satisfied by the time the movie ended.

truth or drink (which just ended up with you and he both getting very, very drunk)

you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sake, but that night was an exception. according to your drunken explanation, you had a very rough day. your exam, first and foremost, did not go particularly well (“who cares about freud!?” you blurted. “i dooooon’t!”). kaminari didn’t have the heart to ask who this freud was. then, one of your close friends confessed to you (which almost made kaminari’s heart stop, when you first recounted it to him), and you had to turn them down. you adamantly refused any sort of relationship, you told kaminari. (“nuh uh,” you shook your head. “they’re not good.”) it was surprising to him that you opened up that night. your first couple drinks left you quieter than usual - which was scary, because kaminari was practically having a conversation with himself then. a couple more drinks loosened your tongue, though.

“there’s someone i like.” you jabbed a finger at him. “but i’m not supposed to saaaay… and it’s scaaary,” you slurred.

“ohh?” kaminari asked, more focused on the burn in the back of his throat. “whooo is it?”

you looked at your arm outstretched to him, and the pieces fell into place slower than they should’ve. he first looked around, just in case he was covering the person you were really pointing to (of course, you and him were the only ones there).

“this guy?" he asked, flabbergasted and pointing to himself. "him?!"

you nodded solemnly. "but i don't like dating," you said stubbornly. "love is dead!" you announced, flopping on the carpet.

kaminari watched the heaving of your breaths as you lay on the ground, and strained his ears to hear your soft, soberish murmuring.

"i really like you, denki kaminari."

a dopish grin formed itself on his face. "i really like you too, y/n."

kaminari then promptly blacked out, but not before hearing you running to the bathroom to throw up.

as of now, he can’t recall anything he or you said that night. on the contrary, he can vividly remember the ringing in his head and the sickly feeling that overtook him the next morning.

"you two are so frustrating!" mina declares over her sweetened iced tea. she points at kaminari, then to you standing with sero in the distance. you’re animatedly talking about some painting (“it’s renoir!” you mooned when you first saw it) while he and the rest of the group sit on a nearby bench.

kaminari puts his hands up. “don’t look at me - i tried my best!”

“yeah, sure,” mina dismisses. “and i’m the queen of england.”

“i mean, they already told me not to like them!” kaminari counters. “what am i supposed to do about that?”

“shoot your shot!” mina urges. “c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? …wait, don’t answer that.”

“yeah, kaminari, bro,” kirishima puts his elbow on kaminari’s shoulder. “flirt a little bit more.”

“that’s all you two seem to do,” bakugou grumbles from the other side of kirishima.

“you just need a little push,” mina says. kaminari isn’t sure he likes mina’s definition of push.

“i think i’m g-”

“hey, sero, come here!” mina calls to sero in the distance, earning her a couple dirty glances from others in the gallery. “kaminari wants to look at the painting with y/n.”

oh, god, kaminari groans internally. sero, already walking toward the bench, flashes a knowing grin toward him.

“go get ‘em, champ.” sero pats kaminari on the back as the blond stands up, emitting a low, audible groan.

the four on the bench watch as your eyes light up at the approaching kaminari, who’s sheepishly scratching his neck. he says something - then you start again, rambling something about “impressionism” then “salon.” mina watches with clasped, anticipating hands; kirishima’s hand accidentally brushes bakugou’s, who’s holding a juice box and watching the two of you; sero simply smiles with knowledge that the others are unaware of.

“well, what do you think?” you finally ask kaminari, gesturing to the painting.

“uhh,” kaminari says. he was too busy staring at your face - the twinkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips - to pay attention to any of what you’d said. something about impressing and fleeting moments. he looks at the person depicted in the composition, then back to you. he remembers kirishima’s words - flirt a little bit more. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“i think it’s pretty,” he leans into you, murmuring so he can be sure no one but you and he hears his words, “but it’s definitely not as pretty as you.”

you look down at yourself; then, for whatever reason, to sero. kaminari looks at sero, too, who’s wearing this stupid smile that sets unease in kaminari’s chest. he gives you two big thumbs-up. he’s so confused by sero’s behavior that he barely registers the light sensation of something on his cheek - a kiss. he looks at you, who’s looking away, then to the bench, where his friends are cheering despite the disapproving looks from those around them. he touches his cheek out of disbelief. light swells in his chest - it’s warm, so warm - but your aloof voice brings him back to reality (which really, isn’t much different from a dream).

“kaminari, you’re very red right now.”

“the two of you,” mina exclaims with the two of her hands clasped together in excitement over skype, “should go to a manga cafe!”

kaminari blinks. “as a date?”

“i wasn’t thinking about it like that.” mina nudges him, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “but hey, that works too. i mean, they did kiss y-”

kaminari cuts the pink-haired girl off before she can finish. “is that something… they’d want to do?”

“mmm…. probably,” mina says. “they were reading manga when you first met them right?”

he can vividly remember the somewhat tattered volume of conan, the detective turned little boy who must solve crime while hiding his own identity. really, the wear was only on the soft cover, nudged and peeling on the corners with faded text splayed on the spine. the pages were in crisp condition, he’d noted one day as he (totally, completely discreetly) watched you read the copy again. the bookshelf in your dorm and the stack of books on your desk is littered with different mangas, ranging from the old classics (astroboy) to some newer works (your lie in april). he only remembers this fact because he really, really wants to borrow a copy of black butler (yes, it’s the one with the maid on it. she looks really hot with a gun, okay?). all your manga are well-taken care of, cared for diligently as if each book has a piece of your heart in it. besides, you rarely lend out any (sero once asked to borrow jujutsu kaisen and you very, very reluctantly handed it to him), so he doubts you’d trust him with it.

“hang on, lemme ask sero if they’d be interested in a manga cafe,” mina says, pulling out her phone. “they’ve been close lately,” she mumbles as she types out a quick text to him, a quiet ping letting kaminari know that she’s sent it.

after a pause, mina excitedly reads sero’s reply: “yeah, probably.”

well, that was a definitive answer.

“there’s one nearby here,” mina offers. “hagakure told me good things about it, and she has a knack for finding the best spots in town. i’ll send you the address.”

“you think they’d like it?” kaminari says in an atypical bout of self-consciousness.

“of course,” mina replies instantly. “don’t you see how they look at you?”

usagi manga kissa makes kaminari cringe. it’s not the bunny-themed logo on the top of the building, nor is it the wide assortment of manga lining the walls, nor is it the cozy, soft seats nuzzled in the nooks and crannies of the café. it’s not even the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of various anime maid girls (he actually particularly really likes that detail). it’s the name itself. usagi is fine - kaminari likes bunnies as much as the next guy. manga is fine, too - he wouldn’t be here if not for the manga. the kissa makes him cringe for the most immature of reasons, like a five year old just learning basic english vocabulary. kissa innocently shortens the word kissaten, for cafeteria, but suspiciously sounds like the english word kiss. he does not want to think about kissing as he walks into the café with you, and especially not when the lady at the counter asks if you want a couples’ discount (you say yes, solely because it’s cheaper).

he does not want to think about kissing as he walks next to you, browsing the manga selection and passing the shoujo section that boasts illustrations of happy couples and romantic imagery. he doesn’t want to think about kissing as the two of you walk to a “couple’s” room, you rambling about the plot of the manga you chose and him with some shounen volleyball manga in his hand. kissing is the worst thing to think about as your knee touches his in the cramped apparent two-person room. he is not thinking about kissing at all when you offer him your water bottle, half full, and he’s definitely not thinking about indirect kissing or anything when he takes a sip. that would be crazy.

fortunate for him, his manga is full of not-kissing, so he’s able to somewhat enjoy it without his mind bombarding him with the fact that your face is less than a metre away. as he finishes up the volume, he realizes how much of a middle school student he feels like.

“y/n,” he looks up to you and says. you’re watching an old episode of neon genesis evangelion on the computer provided in the room, the manga you were reading sitting on the table beside the keyboard.

“yeah?” you respond and pause the anime. out of his peripherals, he can see you turn to look at him. he stares at the wall ahead of him, lacking the confidence to face you head-on.

“remember when we first met?” he reminisces.

“the cafe?” you say. “yeah.”

“if… i can ask,” he musters, “why did you say what you did then?”

you pause, taken aback. “i… i don’t know.”

“because,” kaminari starts, and you flinch, “i like you. a-and i know you said not to-”

a ghost has crossed your face. your mouth is agape, as if you suspected his feelings but never thought he’d verbalize them. he wonders what the kiss was about.

“i’m,” you gulp, breath stuttering, “i’m sorry.”

kaminari lied. five days later of zero contact with you, he realizes he’s in deep. he doesn’t like you - he’s in love with you. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and here he is, sifting through memories he had with you like they’re books. he should probably be studying instead of lying spread eagle on his bed, thinking of you. he can recall a promise made one night and the moment it was broken; he can remember the plastic stars he studied that night, falsely shining and lighting hope within him. he can remember dozens of constellations, half of which were geometric shapes, that he fell asleep to with you at his side. his heart aches, alighting a dull burn within him like a protostar barely able to burn hydrogen.

there’s a polite knock at his door, so he assumes it to be either kirishima or sero. mina always enters unannounced and bakugou is far too brash to knock softly. slowly - almost reluctantly - he sits up in bed, standing up and making his way to the door. he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, telling him that his hair is an absolute mess and in no way presentable. he figures that either kirishima or sero will comment about it, but he never needed to impress them in the first place. turning the knob and opening the door, he’s expecting either of his friends, maybe here to nag him or ask him to come and study or say “hey, why haven’t you spammed the group chat with memes in a while? i missed them.”

he definitely isn’t expecting you, face pulled into a worried expression and lips held in a thin, anticipating line before you meet his eyes. you’re pouring out a waterfall of apologies at a thousand words per second as soon as he opens the door, letting yourself in and hardly taking notice of his bird’s nest hair. he guides you to the couch, attempting to interject and ask you to slow down, but he finds that it sounds rude at any given moment. you’re sitting on the couch, lamentations and explanations spilling from your lips as you grip the plush material of the cushion you sit on, when you finally pause to take a breath. kaminari uses this opportunity to interrupt you.

“woah, woah, woah.” he hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder. “can you back up?”

“oh, yeah,” you start to move back in your seat and kaminari stifles a laugh.

“no, can you start your story from the beginning?” he asks. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m really, really sorry about what happened the other day,” you apologize, then look at him finally and ogle his hair. “i got… scared,” you admit earnestly. before he can make any question of it, you continue, “i like you too, see. and i never really, seriously acted on it - i didn’t want to. so when you did the inevitable and confessed… it scared me. the truth is… i’m not the best at romance or relationships. i don’t want to put anyone through that, again.” your voice wavers but finishes strong as you look kaminari in the eyes.

“that?” he asks. he’s afraid he’s crossed a line, but you reply all the same.

“i was in a relationship, once. i wasn’t… i wasn’t good enough. i didn’t do the things that people in a relationship are supposed to do, i guess.” you fiddle with the fabric of the couch, looking down at your fingers. your voice gives away the vulnerability of the topic, wrapped in a stiff disconnection; you’ve distanced yourself from it, probably once too familiar with the feelings you speak of.

“it’s okay,” kaminari says, almost too quickly. he slows himself down. “that’s… completely fine,” he admits truthfully. “we can go slow. i… i can wait.”

“can you?” you look up at him, hope shining your eyes. it dims quickly before you say, “you don’t have to. i don’t want to limit you…”

“the only person i want is you,” he reassures you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. “you’re not…” he struggles for words, “...limiting me if i don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“are you sure?” it’s an almost inaudible whisper, clutching your hopes in three words that are held together by thin threads.

“i’ve never been more sure,” kaminari replies confidently, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“okay,” you breathe out, relief tingeing your speech. “i… want to be with you.”

it takes everything in kaminari not to kiss you right there.

“oh, by the way-” you say, standing up from the couch and leaving kaminari to sit alone, “did you still want to borrow that copy of black butler?”

“the one with the maid who has a gun?” kaminari asks, eyes wide. how did you know about that?

“yeah. you kept staring at it before, so i assumed…”

“yeah. yeah, no, yeah, that’d be really great. amazing, actually. wonderful. stupendous-” kaminari shuts himself up before he can ramble on longer.

“okay, give me a second,” you respond, smiling, and exit to the hallway to retrieve the manga.

you return with the volume in hand, placing it in kaminari’s hands.

“thanks,” he says as he glides his thumb over the glossy cover and mint condition. it’s heavier than kaminari thought, and it feels like the weight of a heart. he’ll be sure to take extra care of it, holding it with ginger fingers and a sweet, sweet feeling in his chest.

#kaminari x reader #kaminari fluff #kaminari angst #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha angst #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #bnha #luna's writing #kaminari headcanons #bnha headcanons

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