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shigarakislittlepet · 3 years

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im so happy to find a blog with good nsfw content for literally all my faves lol we share the same braincell it seems! how about fluffy nsfw headcanons for Dabi, Shigi, Aizawa and Shinsou and well, Baku but I don't want to overwhelm you even if you don't have a character limit hhh, with a s/o that was completely inexperienced in sex before they got together? They grew more comfortable with the idea of sex over time as they used to be really shy about it but they're scared they'll mess up and disappoint their loves? If possible could you mention what kind of approach each boy would have for the first time with their virgin s/o? I'm just feeling some fluffy dick tonite ya know lol stay safe out there <3

Ohhhh my gosh, this whole thing gave me brain rot lmao, thank you for giving me this power <3<3<3

This also took me literal months to finish because life got crazy, so I’m sorry about that. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

TW: loss of virginity, gentelness, fluffy smut, unprotected sex bc I’m a whore (Y/N is on birth control), and as always all characters are adults especially Y/N

-Dabi-

> You are surprised by how patient he is with you. You were sure he’d have gotten tired of waiting, but he didn’t push. He didn’t make you feel badly about it, and the last thing he would ever want to do to sweet little innocent angel is coerce them into something they weren’t ready for. So, he waits.

> It happened so gradually. Over time, light kissing became making out. After a few months, you got more comfortable and it didn’t feel at all odd to fall into bed with him, cuddling and “swapping spit” as he called it, which always made you giggle like a schoolgirl at his crudeness. His hands would test the waters, but he was always feeling for nervous tremors and flinching, never wanting to go further than you were comfortable. At first, he only rested a hand on you lower back, drawing lazy circles into your waist, his other cradling your face gently, reassuringly. Eventually he could get his hand beneath your shirt, still just at your lower back, but he was content with his progress. Your skin was soft and you said he felt warm, and that was the first time he ever thought of his quirk as “sweet, comforting”, as you described the warmth from his hands.

> After a few months went by, he had progressed to the point of being able to freely roam your body with his hands, the warmth helping you stay calm and anchored to him.

> What continued to surprise you is how easy it felt, once you were ready. You didn’t even see it coming. He asked you, so gently, if he could take your shirt off. You told him he could as long as he promised to keep you warm. He went along slowly, constantly reassuring you, “God Angel, you’re so beautiful. I gotta see more of you, can I? Please?”, “You’re so soft, I need to feel more of your skin, angel, please?” You didn’t even hesitate, you didn’t need to. You felt safer with him than you ever had in your life.

> You realized, once you were both naked together, just how comfortable you were with him. And suddenly you felt like you needed to give him everything he ever wanted, and you knew he would do the same for you.

> It happens so slowly, or at least, it feels like it does. His hand slowly grazes down between your bodies until he reaches your core. You gasp, no one but you had ever touched you there, and it feels so foreign and wonderful. And warm. Once you begin bucking onto his fingers, an insatiable grin stretches across his face. He retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips, and you watch as he sucks them clean. He calls you delicious and rolls on top of you, asks you if you’re ready for him. For the first time, you look down between your bodies and see just how huge and hard he is for you. When he sees your concern he kisses your forehead, then your lips. “I won’t hurt you Angel, I promise.” You nod and smile, and he starts easing into you, stopping every so often when he can tell the stretch is too much. He kisses your cheeks, your shoulders, your lips, whatever he can get his mouth on as he pants and mumbles little praises. “I love you”, “You’re doin’ so well”, “You’re takin’ me sooo well”, “God, you’re so beautiful, you know how beautiful you are Angel?”, “Ahh, you’re so fuckin’ tight and wet for me Angel, you want me that badly?”. The praises and teases help you considerably to keep you relaxed, and fuck, you DO want him. So fucking badly, you need him. When he’s finally seated inside you fully, he waits, clearly using every last bit of his restraint and self control to give you time to adjust. When you finally whine and buck your hips up on him, he loses it. “I hope you’re fuckin’ ready, Angel.”

>You find rather quickly that Dabi’s style is a beautiful mix of “fucking” and “making love”. He fucks you, hard and deep, so much so that it makes you see stars, but while he does it he’s caging you in-between his arms, holding you close while he pistons in and out of you. He looks you in the eyes, watching your reactions, quickly finding what angle makes you convulse and let out those beautiful moans and coos that he’s now desperate to hear.

>When he nears his end, he reaches down between you again to rub sweet circles against your clit, because no way is Dabi cumming first. It’s just not his style.

-Shigaraki-

>BRAIN ROT

> Shigaraki is definitely happy that you’re inexperienced, he’d kill anyone who had ever laid a hand on you before him. You belonged to him.

> It also means that you’re a virgin, which really gets him going because hes a pervert. ((He’s also secretly glad that he’s not the only virgin))

> He is touch starvvveeeeddddddd. We all know this. But at first, he’s so hesitant to touch you, for fear of destroying you.

> You are patient with each other, and together you find out what works and what doesn’t. He got some artist gloves so he could hold your fucking hand without hyperventilating about dusting you. He’s still afraid of you disappearing beneath his fingertips.

> You were never, not even for a second, worried that he would hurt you. You knew that he could, that he had the ability, but you knew that he wouldn’t.

> He wasn’t so sure, he was afraid of rolling over in the night and finding a pile of dust where you used to be. He wakes up from nightmares about it and has to wake you up to hold you while he shakes uncontrollably. He just has to know you’re alive.

> You both get more and more comfortable with physical proximity and contact together, because you both wanted it, you were both just so worried about fucking everything up.

> When the time came where both of you decided you were ready to have sex, you admitted to him that you were afraid of not measuring up to his expectations. All these “what if’s” kept popping up in your mind: “what if he doesn’t find my body attractive enough”, “what if I don’t know how to move right”, “what if I cant please him”, etc. etc. etc.

> He just looks at you kind of taken aback and confused. He was worried about you not being able to see him as sexually attractive because of how he looked, he was just as self-conscious as you. “Darling, you’re the most perfect person in existence, how can you not see that? Look at me! I’m... I... Look like this! How could I ever hope that someone as beautiful as you could ever see me that way?”

>You didn’t immediately know how to respond. You were... heartbroken that he saw himself that way. You couldn’t image him being self-conscious about anything because in your eyes, he was a god. He was perfect and angelic and you told him as much. You looked at him with such adorably big eyes and your voice was full of so much honesty and adoration, he had to have you immediately. He’d never felt desired, he had never felt lovable. He always thought it would be a miracle if anyone would ever be able to even stomach looking at him without cringing away in disgust. But you were so perfect and you loved him so immediately and so much that it knocked him out. He launches himself at you and just kisses you for a while.

> You both fumbled around a bit at first, trying to find what felt best. You both quickly came to the conclusion that you were going to have to practice together. A lot. As much as possible actually, because even in your inexperience, you both felt more amazing than you ever had in your lives. When you were connected like this, panting, kissing, licking, trying your damndest to become one being, it felt like bliss. You never wanted it to stop.

-Aizawa-

> MORE FUCKING BRAIN ROT

> Aizawa has an innocence kink. There I fucking said it.

> When it comes to the person he’s with, he’s a shameless flirt, and while he would NEVER cross a line or pressure you, he definitely does his best to get you in the mood whenever he can, much to your naïve frustration.

> At first you genuinely don’t even realize he’s doing it on purpose. The heated looks he gave you that made your knees weak? You didn’t think he was doing that on purpose, it’s just because he’s... tired? And he always looks so gorgeous, so that’s why. He ALWAYS makes your knees weak. Yeah that’s all it is, obviously.

> And when he comes up behind you, hands on your hips gently, and lowly rumbling in your ear. Sometimes it’s just comments about whatever you’re doing, which was bad enough. But sometimes it was mumbled compliments. About your outfit, how good it made your ass look. About how soft your hair was, how good you smelled, the softness of your skin while he gently rubbed his stubble against your neck.

>YOU COULDN’T FUCKING HANDLE IT.

> He was so soft most of the time, cuddling you while watching movies, cooking together, dancing in the kitchen with you at 3 in the morning after he finished grading papers. The shift that happened when he would get flirtatious was dizzying.

> You were nervous though, Aizawa was a bit older than you, and obviously way more experienced that you. One night while you were curled up in bed together, you told him you were nervous about disappointing him when the time finally came. He sat up and turned a light on immediately and pulled you into his lap. He held you and stroked your hair and told you how much you meant to him, how you could never disappoint him, how much he wanted you, and how he was willing to wait however long you needed. He held you until he was sure you felt better about it, and then he held you until he was sure you were asleep. You were the most important person in the world to him, and he wasn’t gonna let you think anything was ever gonna change that.

> When you finally got tired of his teasing and felt like you were ready, you decided to get him back. Before he got home, you put on one of his long shirts as a dress and started getting dinner ready.

> When he walked through the door and saw that you were wearing nothing but one of his black button ups, he had to maintain every ounce of his self control to contain the rush of feral need that suddenly consumed him. Now it was HIS turn to assume you were being innocent. And man did you play it up. “What’s wrong Shota? Are you feeling okay?” And you bat your big beautiful eyes at him. He was going to have a stroke.

> It wasn’t until you bent over and he noticed you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt that he realized it was an invitation. He came up behind you, caging you in against the counter, and growled lowly in your ear, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He gently pushed his growing erection against your ass, making you gasp. Score.

> “W-what do you mean?” you looked up at him as innocently as you could. He took your hand and pressed it to the front of his pants. He groaned low in his chest, thankful for any friction. “Don’t play dumb with me, kitten. You know exactly what you’re doing. I think you should take responsibility.” You grinned.

> “Yes Sir,” he jolts at that, and you sink your knees and get to work undoing the fastenings on his hero costume. When his cock springs free, you eagerly give it kitten licks until he’s had enough. He grips you by your hair and gently guides your mouth down onto his cock. He’s big, bigger than you can take, but that doesn’t stop Aizawa from purposefully making you gag on him every so often. He really does get off on how innocent you are, the tears that hang in your eyes from gagging on his cock. He’s gonna cum soon if he’s not careful.

> After he’s had his fun making you suck him off, he pulls you up and carries you off to bed. No way he’s taking your virginity on the floor, he’s too much of a gentleman. And dinner, what dinner? Thank god nothing happened to be on the stove or in the oven.

> He sets you down in bed and kisses you, takes his shirt off of you and finishes ridding himself of his hero costume. He takes pride in getting you ready for him, relishing in your sweet noises and how wet you are for him. A fact that he teases you about. “S-Shotaaa~” you moan and clench down on his fingers. He smirks, “What happened to ‘Sir’, hmm? I liked that, you know...” All you can do is whine up at him in response.

> When you feel like you’re close to cumming, you whine louder and clench down harder and before you can reach your peak, he stops. You whine in frustration before he leans down and rumbles, “Oh no, kitten, the only way you’re cumming is if you cum on my cock.” You gasp and nearly convulse at his filthy words, but you’ve never felt like you needed him more.

> He fucks you gently, at first anyway. For as long as he can. He rolls his hips into you and angles his thrusts expertly, aiming for that spot inside you that’ll make your head spin. And he hits it. Every time. And your head DOES spin. And soon you can feel the pressure build again and you start whining again, “Sh-Shouta, please! I’m s-oh! So close!” He smiles, and decides to take pity on you. He pistons harder, faster, brings a hand to your core to rub circles against your clit and when you cum, you scream his name and he can’t take it anymore. He slams into you, chasing his own high and simultaneously extends yours. You’re seeing stars by the time he cums deep into you. He rolls over, bringing you with him. You lie on top of him and he strokes your hair, and you just hold each other for a while.

-Shinso-

> I wanna say this now, Shinso is Aizawa Jr. I’m so sorry, but its true. They’re both tired, overworked, cat lovers that just wanna come home and cuddle and pass out.

> He knows he’s your first boyfriend. You met at UA and pretty much bonded immediately. Now that you’re both pro-heros working for the same agency? It was only a matter of time before he made a move. And thank whatever higher power exists that you have the same schedule. More time for cuddles.

> HOWEVER! Don’t let the fact that he’s a cuddle-bug fool you. He frequently has to remember that you’re a virgin and you’ve never been in a relationship before, so you have no idea how much he’s affected by you answering your door on a Saturday morning you both had off wearing one of his hoodies that absolutely swallows you. Looking up at him smiling and yawning sleepily, rubbing one of your eyes and groggily asking, “What are you doing here so early? I thought we weren’t going out till tonight?”. He has to breathe deeply to stop himself from jumping you.

> Because much like Aizawa, seeing you so sleepy and soft and small and knowing how innocent and naive you are to all of the things you do that make him need you... is going to make him lose his mind. Quickly.

> Instead of an innocence kink though, this motherfucker has a corruption and a mind break kink. He wants to make it impossible for you to feel pleasure without him, he wants to make you need him desperately, forever. And he wants to do it without the help of his quirk. But that would all come in time, at the moment he has to stop himself from cumming in his pants because you’re bending over on your way to your room so you can change, stooping to pet your cat and his hoodie rode up your ass and he can see your lacy black panties and you were GOING to drive him insane long before he ever got the chance to make you his, he was sure.

> He had brought you coffee and suggested you just stay in all day since you both had such a late night. Watching movies and stuff. You know, normal stuff. He told himself he wasn’t going to try and make a move. Right? Right.

> But when you emerged from your room 45 minutes later, showered and changed, your hair still damp and a droplet of water drifting down your neck and landing in the dip of your collar bones, all he could think of was licking it up. How good your hair must smell, how your skin was still probably warm form the water... He was staring, and you pretended not to notice.

> You were nervous about not measuring up to his expectations. You’d seen the women he usually went out with, and how comfortable they were with their bodies and their sexuality. How beautiful they were. As far as you were concerned, you were nothing like them.

> He could see the gears turning in your head and the downturn of your mouth, and he asked you what was wrong. He motioned for you to come sit with him, and it wasn’t five seconds before he pulled you into his lap. After some coaxing, you let him know what you were worried about. He assured you that the reason he was so happy with you is because you weren’t anything like the women he had dated before. Because, not only were you far more beautiful than they were, they had also been conceited and cold, only dating him because he was an up and coming pro-hero that could get them into events so they could dump him for the first bigger hero they’d meet. He liked that you were soft and warm and he could trust you, that you had always trusted him, even despite his quirk.

> You talked for awhile, and as the morning sun drifted higher into the sky, you decided it was time to door dash some food. While he ordered it, you excused yourself the restroom. You needed to think. The heaviness of the conversation still weighed on you, and you’d never felt closer to him than you did now. It was time, you were sure. You wanted to give him everything he’d been waiting so patiently for, he deserved it. And so did you damnit, no more of this scaredy-cat bullshit! You gave yourself your best war face in the mirror before you exited the bathroom and going back to the living room where Shinsou was reclined on your couch. Head tilted back, resting on the pillow behind him.

> He was so beautiful. Lavender hair a wild mess, eyes closed and lashes fluttering softly. You wanted to kiss his neck suddenly, and unlike when urges like this usually happened, you didn’t shove the thought away. You quickly straddled him and, before he had the chance to question you, you began kissing up and down his neck softly. “K-kitty...” he groaned beneath you, gripping your waist, his hips jerking up against yours.

> After a while of your explorative kissing, he growled impatiently and flipped you over easily, pressing you into the couch. He kissed you like he might die if he didn’t, deep and slow and desperate. When he finally broke for air and looked at you, he felt his heart and his dick jump. Your flushed face and your eyes that were looking up at him through your eyelashes heavily, your mouth hanging open gasping and your kiss bitten lips, your brows softly cinched at the effort it took for you to remember you needed to breathe.

> He asks you if you’re sure you were ready, and when you nod dazedly up at him he doesn’t need any more convincing.

> He takes his time, he’s slow and methodical. He wants your first time to be an enjoyable experience. Something you can look back on fondly and remember how much he loved you, how good it felt, how comfortable you were. He wanted it to be better than his first time, drunk after a hero convention, with some woman who didn’t remember his name in the morning and never called him back. He pushed the thought away. He focused on you, on how perfect you were.

> When he finally thrusts into you, you think you want to feel like this forever. You tell him so, and beams with pride, pushing your pleasure further. Kissing your neck and praising you. Telling you how perfect you are, telling you all the things you do that drive him crazy, telling you that he’s never going to let you go, that you’re his forever and he’s yours.

> You cum together, and you think that everything in the world must have always been this beautiful. You spend the rest of the day cuddling, eating, and making love.

-Bakugo-

> No thoughts in this mans head. None. At least when it comes to romance. When you first start dating, you had to make the first move cause his oblivious ass just thought you were challenging him. You had to explain to him that what you were actually doing was called “flirting”.

> So when it comes to your first time, you know you’re gonna have to make the first move there too. He fears rejection, so he avoids the things he really wants the most. Which in this case is you whining on his dick.

> But he also knows you’re a virgin and he doesn’t wanna scare you, so he leaves it be. Trusting his fist to get the job done when he really needs to let off some steam. Either by punching shit or jerking off.

> One day, you do catch him jerking off, and you immediately start to (stupidly) think that you’re not enough for him, that he might leave you for someone who can give him what he needs. You don’t think he notices you having a mini panic attack in the hallway so you sneak back to the kitchen to catch your breath and think. Why HAD you waited this long? What were you waiting FOR? You guessed you had just been worried about not knowing what to do, about him getting impatient and annoyed with you for your lack of experience.

> Making your final decision, you square your shoulders and march yourself back to your shared room. You confidently open the door to find him ... waiting for you?

> “Tch, took you long enough. You done freakin’ out now?” He grumbles from his spot on the bed. You nod meekly and he opens his arms for you, an invitation you gratefully accept. He pets your head and continues grumbling, “ just as bad as shitty-hair, nobody ever knocks anymore. You shouldn’t be surprised when you just try to walk in like that...”

> He keeps petting your head until eventually you hit him with it. “‘Tsuki, I wanna... uhm...” you look up at him with pleading eyes hoping his quirk somehow suddenly allows him to read your mind.

> It doesn’t. “ You wanna what? C’mon, spit it out.” No thoughts, remember?

> You huff and blush and finally squeak out, “Wanna make you feel good, ‘Tsuki...”

> His brain stops working momentarily. When he catches back up, he smirks. “Seriously? It just took you gettin’ jealous over my left hand for you to be ready?”, he teased. You stick out your tongue and he grabs your jaw, looks you dead in the eyes when he says, “I have something much more important for that cute little mouth to do.”

> Your eyes go wide at his suggestion, even though it really doesn’t surprise you. When Katsuki wants something he wants to go all out, no half-assing it. You nod nervously and he laughs at your apprehension, allowing you to shift down his body until you were face to face with his fly. You undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, and gently guide his dick out of his jeans.

> Beautiful is the first word to come to your mind. Beautiful and massive, just like the rest of him. He was easily over six feet tall, and built too so it really shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. For a moment all you can do is look up at him from your place below him, your big strong hero. You melt a little and you notice him smirking down at you again, “What ‘ya lookin’ at, princess?”. He gently strokes your cheek while you admire him, “You.” you reply dazedly. His smirk widens to a bear malicious grin, “Me? How come?”. A feeling you’re not totally familiar with, but you’re pretty sure is called submission, fills you suddenly and you feel warm and content. “You’re perfect,” you bat your eyelashes and bite your lip as you gently start to stroke your hand up and down his length.

>He controls his breathing, because he really can’t handle you looking so cute with his cock that close to your pretty little face. “‘Tch, and? What’s got you so worked up about it?” You giggle and nuzzle your face into the base of his cock and look up at him innocently. “I’m just glad I’m yours,” you smile and lick him from base to tip before gently taking him into your mouth. You’d read enough smut online to at least have some idea how to do this.

> He almost cums when you say that you’re glad to be his. His, he grins. He doesn’t get to think about that for too long though because your warm, wet tongue is sliding up his shaft and then your pretty little mouth engulfs him and he thinks he might hyperventilate if you keep looking up at him like that. He’d almost say it wasn’t fair, but then you start moving and he thinks that he could actually die happily from the warm bliss that fills him while he watches you try to take more and more of him down your throat.

> This is much more fun than you thought it would be, especially because Katsuki keeps letting out those little sighs and groans, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. You hollow out your cheeks and suck a bit harder before taking a deep breath and relaxing your throat as much as possible. You lower yourself down as far as you can, pushing past the ring of muscle in the back of your throat before moving down further. You feel him lay his hand gently, encouragingly, on the back of your head. You’re surprised when you find your nose nestled in the light blonde fuzz at the base of him and you stick your tongue out to lap at the underside.

> He jolts when you begin your descent. You’re not really gonna try to deep-throat him, are you? He watches you, mesmerized. No ones ever even tried, always saying he was way too big. It felt way too good. He laid a hand on the back of your head to ground himself, quickly realizing he had to control himself so that he didn’t clench his fist in your hair or shove you down all the way and hold you there. When you reached your goal, he sighed. Your throat felt perfect wrapped around him, just like he knew it would. When he felt your tongue sneak out of your mouth and lick, he thanked whatever creator there was that your tongue was long enough to reach his anchor. when you start to move your head up and down, he can only take it for so long before he’s thrusting up into your mouth. When you gag on him, that’s it, he has to pull you off him before he grips your head and suffocates you on his cock.

> He’s nearly at the point of begging, but thankfully, mercifully, you seem to get the idea. You wipe your mouth and lie back on the bed, giggling at his abruptness and he growls in response. He kisses you, and praises you, telling you how good you are, how much he needs to be inside you as he undresses you. You’re surprised at how automatically your legs open for him, and you tell him how much you need him inside of you as well. You feel so empty all of a sudden. Until one of his thick fingers finds your molten core and gathers some of your slick before sinking into you and you gasp.

> He continues to kiss and praise you as he works you with his fingers. You whine and moan and beg, it’s like music to his ears. When he thinks you’re ready, he lines himself up with your entrance, sliding up and down, grinding against your clit briefly before continuing. “I wanna hear you beg for it, princess.” and fuck, did you beg. A beautiful litany of filthy fucking words fell from your mouth, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He sinks into you fully in one thrust, gripping your open legs for stability.

> At first you can’t speak, you can’t make any noise at all. You feel so unbelievably full, and you look up at him and his eyes are clenched shut and his jaw is set. He’s holding himself back. He’s trying to be gentle with you because it’s your first time. He really is very sweet when he wants to be. You raise a shaky hand to his face and he leans into it. He met your eyes and you watch as his control falters when he sees you bent in half like this. You smile, “Katsuki, please”, is all you can say. It seems to open the flood gates. For all his self control, he pounds into you mercilessly and it fills you with the most intense feeling of ecstasy. “F-fuck ‘Tsuki, you feel s-so fucking good,” you moan and gasp brokenly.

> He cums hard. Grunting, growling, and near snarling the whole way through. You’re seeing stars, even though you haven’t cum. It had felt so fucking amazing, and you’re more than content with that. Katsuki is definitely not however, and is intent on eating you out until you beg for mercy. He always takes such good care of you.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #shinsou x reader #shinso smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut

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aver-no · 3 years

Text

Real to Me (Princess and the Frog AU) Chapter 1

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AO3

Summary: Virgil’s closer than ever to getting his dream, Pat’s prince is finally coming, and the Creativitwins are here, queer, and- shit.

Relationships: Platonic moxiety, familial creativitwins, eventual prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, and Janus (eventually Logan and C!Thomas)

Warnings: Unsympathetic Janus (I promise he gets a redemption arc) and like. one very minor swear word (lmk if I need to add anything else)

Word count: 4343

A/N: Heyyyy... so this chapter. Was NOT meant to be this long lmao, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! I worked really hard on it, and as always reblogs are very much appreciated :) (Also feel free to drop by my ask box if you have any questions!!)

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Virgil groaned as he fumbled for the off button on his alarm clock. Another day. He rolled out of bed, narrowly avoiding the beat-up nightstand, working the kinks out of his neck. He quickly straightened out his sheets and stepped over to the old (“it’s vintage”) mirror his mama’d given him. Virgil wanted to make sure he was presentable, if only so he’d be stared at as little as possible. He tugged at his tight curls and grimaced. He’d slept in his work clothes to save time in the morning (lord knows he needed all the sleep he could get) but it left him looking a little rumpled. Virgil could see bags under his eyes too, and there was no time to put on makeup. He sighed. The outsides are just gonna have to match the insides today.

Virgil shuffled over to his closet to grab his coat. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at the sight of his dad’s picture, right next to the illustration he’d given Virgil so many years ago. Working three jobs suddenly didn’t seem as soul-crushing as before. He grabbed the black coat, quickly shrugged it on, and dashed out the door, snatching his hat at the last minute – it might rain later.

Virgil got to the corner just as the tram was pulling up, green paint and white stripes as dull as ever. The door opened and Virgil was eternally grateful someone he knew was at the wheel. He didn’t think he could handle the stress of wondering if they were going to go off the tracks. He gave a small smile to the portly man driving. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hey Virgil!” Charlie looked him over sympathetically. “You’re lookin’ a bit roughed up today, son. Didn’t get much sleep?”

Virgil internally grimaced, knowing he’d probably be getting comments like that all day. He just forced a laugh as he reached the top of the steps and replied “Gotta pay the bills. You know how it is.” He wasn’t going to mention he could pay the bills just fine with one job. Or that he was probably chasing a pipe dream.

“Ha, yeah,” and a sympathetic look were the only responses Virgil got. That was fine. Uncomfortable people didn’t ask you questions.

Virgil walked down the dirty aisle of the tram. There were some empty seats, the hard plastic kind that public transport always has, but he just grabbed hold of one of the metal poles in the middle of the aisle.

Every once in a while, Virgil felt his eyes close for a few milliseconds longer than he’d normally let them. He didn’t want to let his guard down, lest he be pickpocketed or trampled or find himself in any other scenario anyone else might call “unlikely,” but it took an astounding amount of effort to pry his lids open every time. Virgil tried to fight it by staring at the people and cars passing by. New Orleans was as lively as ever. Even at 5:30 in the morning, there were jazz musicians playing on street corners and people dancing beside them, looking like there was nowhere else they’d rather be.

Virgil unfortunately became quite familiar with that fact as he stepped off the tram, almost running into a line of musicians as they paraded down the street. He started to get increasingly impatient as the trumpet, then the trombone, then the drummer danced by. Just as there was a break in the line and Virgil could see the street he needed to take to Duke’s Cafe, a large man with a handkerchief grabbed his hand and swung Virgil around in a circle. Affronted, Virge pushed the man’s hand away and quickly walked in the direction of the restaurant. Some people need to learn personal space.

一

“Wait Remus, I’m going to- ! Oof!”

Cackling could be heard as a fancifully dressed man with loose, dark curls piled on his head slammed into the railing of the ship.

“But Roman,” Remus said innocently, “I thought you said you were excited to get on land.” He waltzed up to the man pushing himself away from the edge of the boat.

“That doesn’t mean push me off the ship!!” Roman playfully shoved Remus.

“Eh, you didn’t fall or anything,” Remus shrugged.

The other rolled his eyes as the boat slowly pulled up to the docks, allowing the men aboard to see the photographers and reporters waiting to catch a glimpse. As soon as the ship pulled in view, flashes started to go off, capturing its gleaming white hull and a man standing behind the railing. As Roman flashed a practiced grin, Remus stepped away from the railing, as if hoping to prolong the time he had before stepping off the boat. When the ship began to pull to a stop though, the twins walked over to where the stairs led down to the dock, one with excitement in his eyes, the other with distaste. Roman struck a pose, hands on his hips (easy access for elbowing Remus), and flung off his crown to dash down the steps. Remus chased after him, determined not to be left on the boat (again), only pausing when he physically ran into Roman at the bottom of the stairway.

“Ro, what th-?!”

“Prince Roman! Over here!! Did you see you were declared most eligible bachelor by the Times-Picayune?”

Remus squinted at the reporter that called out to them. To Roman, anyway. Most eligible bachelor? Really?? That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard.

Roman, however, grinned and drifted to the center of the crowd. “Well no, you see, I just arrived, but to say I’m surprised would be-”

“Prince Roman! What do you think of New Orleans? Have you received your invitation to Eli La Bouff’s masquerade?”

Remus’ expression soured. Masquerades were lame anyway. He tried to push his way toward his brother. “Roman, come on-”

“I’ve found this city quite welcoming so far,” Roman didn’t acknowledge Remus, he just paused to beam around at the crowd, “and I’m looking forward to seeing more of it. In fact-”

“In fact,” Remus cut in, finally reaching that asshole, “we’d enjoy it more if we did some sightseeing.” He shoved Roman away from the crowd without waiting for a response. He hated reporters. He wasn’t even allowed to talk around them because apparently what the press hears is “important to our reputation” and if he doesn’t watch his language, “rumors might spread.” It was one time! And who would actually believe that Roman uses cacti as dildos? The whole thing’s all shit on a stick if you ask him.

“Oh, yes! Sightseeing!!” Roman clapped his hands excitedly and followed Remus off into the city.

一

Roman couldn’t remember when, but at some point he had lost Remus in the busy streets. It was definitely after he’d changed into street clothes, but before he passed the place grilling shrimp… The prince wasn’t too worried about his brother, but having a loose Remus on the town probably wasn’t great for the people of New Orleans.

Ro’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a trumpet blaring a couple blocks down. His head shot up and he took off down the road, drinking in all the sights around him. Every once in a while, he’d wink at a stranger, or maybe strum his ukulele in tune with the sounds of the city.

As the prince reached the end of the block, he saw a line of musicians dancing down the street. Roman’s face lit up and he chased after them. When he caught up he strummed along with the group and called, “Mind if I join?”

“Hey, we can always use another!” a dancing man with a handkerchief shouted back.

“Ashidanza!” Roman danced off after the band. These guys’ll probably show me all around the city.

They walked down several streets, each as exciting as the next. There were so many people milling about, so many smells and sounds, so many lights strung up between balconies, and restaurants on every corner. He flashed his most heart-stopping grins at the people they passed, drawing blushes left and right. His eyes only lingered on a few, before he danced on.

The group of musicians passed by a diner that smelled particularly good, and a tall man with a strong jaw caught Roman’s eye. He spun around, strumming louder to catch the man’s attention all while eyeing him up and down. Tight curls, glowing skin, dark eyes? Looked a little tired, but handsome nonetheless. Yeah, that deserves a wink. But as soon as the man turned away from the table he was cleaning, he just rolled his eyes at Roman’s antics and walked back inside the diner. Roman simply shrugged and lost himself to the music.

The group continued for a few blocks until they found a fairly empty road and started to really play off each other. Now this is what I signed up for. Roman cheered and whooped along with the others, and slowly a crowd formed.

It’d already been a few hours since he’d seen Remus but… what’s a few minutes longer?

一

“Order up!” Virgil held back a grimace at Buford’s gruff voice and the dinging of the bell. He turned to walk towards the back counter with his tray and pushed imaginary flyaways away from his forehead.

“Another coffee over here, Cher!” The man at a nearby table called.

“Gotcha, Eddie.” Virgil internally sighed and poured the coffee into the cup, eyeing Buford every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t gonna start slamming the bell again.

“Hey Virgil!”

He threw out a quick “Mornin’ Georgia” while placing a woman’s plate down.

“Hey, how you doin’ Virgil?” another voice called.

Virgil finally looked up to find a whole group of people sitting around a table, and hoisted the coffee pitcher off his tray to serve them. “Hey y’all.”

Georgia grabbed the mug he just filled for her. “We’re all goin’ out dancin’ tonight, care to join us?”

There were some words of assent amongst the group, but Virgil just protested, “You know I don’t dance. Besides, I’m-” he handed a napkin to a dirty four year old he wouldn’t have even come near if it wasn’t his job. “Need a napkin? I’m gonna work a double shift tonight.” Virgil strode over to a well-dressed man putting a napkin around his collar. “Here’s your hotcakes.” He folded his empty tray to his side and turned back to Georgia’s group. “I’m just really busy right now-”

“Again?” Georgia interrupted. “All you ever do is work.” She looked so disappointed Virgil almost felt bad. Almost.

Buford’s bell dinged. “Order up!”

“Maybe next time,” Virgil called over his shoulder, knowing full well it was a lie. He thought he might’ve heard someone say “I told y’all he wouldn’t come.” But that was probably just his imagination.

Buford cut him out of his thoughts, “You daydreaming ‘bout that damn restaurant again?”

Virgil deadpanned. “Buford. Your eggs are burning.”

He scrambled to get them off the griddle, but kept going off on Virgil. “You ain’t never gonna get enough for the down payment.”

“I’m gettin’ close,” the waiter scowled indignantly.

“Yeah? How close?” Buford was just mocking him now.

Virgil pushed down his frustration to demand, “Where are my flapjacks?”

The chef didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s impending anger, just laughing out, “You got about as much chance of getting that restaurant as I do of winning the Kentucky Derby!” Virgil’s lip curled into a snarl, but Buford kept going. “Saddle me up, y’all! It’s post time! Giddyup!” Virgil heard the worst trumpet imitation he’d ever had the displeasure to witness coming from behind him as he stormed off with the food piled on his tray. Just ignore him. Just… just ignore them. You’re getting there.

The bell dinged and Virgil looked up to welcome the customer, brightening a little when he saw who it was. Thank god. An easy customer. “Morning, Mr. La Bouff.”

“Morning, Virgil,” Eli rumbled as he pulled the chair out from his usual table and opened the morning paper.

Virgil placed the eggs and flapjacks on an old woman’s table. “Congratulations on being voted King of the Mardi Gras parade.”

“Caught me completely by surprise! For the fifth year in a row,” Eli joked. Virgil smiled good-naturedly at Mr. La Bouff’s hearty laugh. “Now, how ‘bout I celebrate with some-”

“Beignets?” the waiter placed a plate in front of the large man. “Got a fresh batch waiting for you.”

“Well keep ‘em comin’ till I pass out,” Mr. La Bouff laughed gleefully.

Virgil had just given his most indulgent customer service smile and turned toward the kitchen when the door slammed open and left a blond boy with a light blue jacket and a cream waistcoat beaming in the doorway. He stood there for only a split second before jumping up to Virgil, shouting, “Vee!!! Virgil Virgil Virgil, did you hear the news??” He plopped down into the chair across from Mr. La Bouff to say “Tell him Daddy!!”

Mr. La Bouff slowly swallowed and held up his paper to show the front cover displaying a handsome man with loose curls and a dimpled smile. “Oh yes,” Eli started, “Prince Roman-”

“Prince Roman is coming to New Orleans!!” Patton interjected, giggling excitedly. “Isn’t he amazing?” His face got all dreamy before continuing, “Tell Vee what you did, Daddy!”

“Well, I invited-”

“Daddy invited the prince to our masquerade ball tonight!!” Pat jumped up excitedly, then seemed to realize he was making a scene and sat down to continue a little quieter, “Tell him what else you did!” Mr. La Bouff paused to look at Patton for a minute, expecting him to interject again, but Pat stayed silent. He looked to his daddy and beamed, “Go on.”

“And he’s staying-”

“He-” Pat started, but then caught himself, deciding to shove a beignet in his mouth instead.

“...And he’s staying in our house as my personal guest,” Eli finished proudly.

Patton nodded excitedly, and Virgil looked at them both with wide eyes. “Pat, that’s amazing! It’s a lot, but… amazing.” He walked back to the kitchen to grab another batch of beignets, and when he got back he placed the treats in front of them and rested his hand on Pat’s shoulder. “A little word of advice: My mama always said, ‘The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

“Don’t I know it,” Pat laughed, taking a big bite of his pastry before gasping, “Wait, that’s it! Virge, you are a genius!!” Virgil gave him a look of confusion from where he was placing dishes in the sink. “I’m gonna need about 500 of your beignets for the ball tonight!” Virgil looked up in alarm. 500?? Patton darted over to where his daddy was sitting and grabbed a large wad of cash from his wallet. “Will this about cover it?”

The waiter stood there speechless for a few moments before forcing himself to reach out to take the money Pat was shoving at him. “I- yeah. Yes, this- this should cover it just fine, Pat.” A rare smile slowly grew on his face and he looked up at the La Bouffs gratefully. “This- this is it... I’m actually getting my restaurant!”

Patton hugged Virgil tight and bounced him around, squealing, “It’s gonna be amazing Virge!” Suddenly, he let go, gasping, “I’d better get ready.” He grabbed his daddy and shoved him towards the door. “Tonight my prince is coming!!”

“Everything looks good to me, Mr. Fenner.” Virgil looked away from the building (his building!) as the man in question began to get up to haul the “For Sale” sign away. Another, much shorter man with the same nose and mustache walked by where Virgil stood. “.....And Mr. Fenner.”

“We’ll have all the paperwork ready to sign first thing after Mardi Gras,” the taller of the brothers announced.

“I’ll be at the La Bouff’s masquerade ball, how ‘bout I sign them then?” He wanted his ownership confirmed as soon as possible – there was no way something this good could actually be happening to him.

“You drive a hard bargain boy,” the shorter Fenner called from the car. “We’ll see ya there!”

Virgil finally let himself take a breath once the real estate agents drove off, and stood back to take in the view of what would be his restaurant. He felt truly hopeful for the first time in a long time. He was really gonna get his restaurant. Wow.

He was startled out of his reverie by a woman sneaking behind him to say, “Table for one please.”

Virge turned to see a woman with graying hair and deep smile lines holding out a beaten up pot with a bow tied around it. “Mama!”

“Here’s a little something to help you get started,” she smiled.

Virgil’s face went soft, a little nostalgic. “Dad’s gumbo pot…” He hesitantly reached out to take it from her.

“I know,” Eudora comforted, “I miss him too.” They both stood there for a moment before his mama urged, “Well now, hurry up and open the door!”

Virgil went and unlocked the doors, and as soon as they were wide enough to walk through, said wistfully, “Look at it mama... Doesn’t it just make you wanna cry?”

Eudora took in the cobwebbed rafters and the creaky walls. “Yes…”

Virge seemed to notice her skepticism, turning to look at her after placing the pot on a lone stool. “It’s a little rickety, it’ll definitely need some sprucing up to be safe, but can’t you see it? The maitre’d is gonna be right where you’re standing, and over there’s gonna be the gourmet kitchen.” Virgil gestured to the left end of the room. “And hanging from the ceiling, a crystal chandelier! I’ve been thinking about the weight of it to make sure it doesn’t fall down, and so long as it’s not too big, I can save on the structuring of it. Of course I won’t pinch pennies too much, I want it to be safe, but-”

“You certainly have this all figured out, don’t you,” his mama laughed. “I’m sure this place is gonna be wonderful baby. It’s just…”

Virgil looked at her nervously. “What?”

“It’s a shame you’re workin’ so hard. It’s all you do,” Eudora smiled gently.

“How can I let up now that I’m so close? I’ve gotta make sure all Dad’s work means something.” I’ve gotta make him proud.

“Virgil, your daddy might not have gotten his restaurant, but he had somethin’ better,” Eudora squeezed his arm gently. “He had love.” Virgil snorted lightly. “Laugh all you want baby, but that’s all I want for you. Pat’s got his own dreams of happily ever after.” Virge’s eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t want you to be lonely. I wanna see you dance off into happily ever after too.”

Virgil stepped away from her. “Mama, I don’t have the time right now. I’m so close. Maybe when I get up and running, but right now… it’s just not an option for me.”

Eudora sighed and patted Virgil’s hand. “Alright sweetheart. I trust you.”

一

Roman stood amongst a crowd of people, all dancing and cheering. The trumpeter blared his horn, and the rest of the band energetically played along, the whole atmosphere charged with the infectious energy. A short news boy danced along with Roman, trading moves back and forth and smiling wide. After a few trades, the prince stepped to the edge of the circle to let the boy have his moment. With the space to himself, the kid dropped into a split and popped right back up.

“Ashidanza!” Roman laughed, tilting his head to some swooning admirers and immediately spinning back into the fray.

“Ro!” a familiar voice called. Roman looked up and smiled brilliantly, having caught the eye of his black-clad brother. “There you are. I should’ve been following the shrieking earlier.”

“Excuse me?” Roman dramatically placed his hand on his chest. “That is the sound of joy.”

“Sure, and you’re a heartthrob.” Roman squawked indignantly as Remus shoved him away from the crowd. “Come on, I found a restaurant that sells frog legs!!”

“What?? Ew, no. I’m staying here,” Roman dug his feet in.

“But Rooooo, they have five different sauces!! Five!!!”

“Yeah, for frog legs!”

“You got to play your jazz,” Remus argued, “so now we’re gonna eat some goddamn frog legs.”

“But I haven’t gotten to show all of my moves yet!” Roman protested. “And I’ve almost gotten enough admirers to form a fan club!”

“We should leave then, so my roguish good looks and entrancing humor don’t steal their hearts.”

“You mean your worm of a mustache and your freakish flirting?” Roman teased.

Remus glared and opened his mouth to argue, when a smooth voice came from the wall behind them. “Gentlemen!” The twins spun around to find a tall, masked man with a hooked cane and a black hat leaning casually against the wall. “Enchanté. A tip of the hat from Dr. Côté.” Roman noted that he didn’t actually tip his hat. The man – Dr. Côté – pulled a business card out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to them. “How y’all doin’?”

Remus swiped the card away before Roman could even lift his hand. “’Tarot readings, charms, potions.’” Re’s eyes shone brighter with each word. “’Dreams made real.’”

Ok, now Roman’s attention was piqued.

Remus looked up with a wild grin on his face. “You can really do that stuff?”

“Well… normally I do it for a price but… I suspect I’m in the presence of some very important people,” Dr. Côté grinned charmingly, canines glinting. The twins’ heads whipped around to share a look.

“...What other things can you do?” Roman inquired.

Dr. Côté seemed to really notice Roman for the first time. “Why don’t we take a little trip to my office and I’ll show you.”

The twins gave each other a look. Then Remus jumped up, shouting, “Come on, let’s just go already!”

First thing Roman noticed was that the “office” was not an office. Honestly, it was more of an urban cave – a nook in an alleyway off a street that was more dirt than anything else. It was filled with all sorts of things Roman never imagined would make for desirable décor. There were herbs dangling from one corner, and large masks with strange markings hanging on almost every available surface. Roman was pretty sure he saw some bones in the corner. The rugs on the floor didn’t match each other at all, but all were made of what was once probably very expensive fabric. Now it was just musty, matted, and muddled. The furniture was limited to a small, circular table in the center of the room, sitting directly beneath a chandelier that gave off an orange light, which didn’t seem to help much in the way of seeing. Roman silently vowed not to go within three feet of any of these… decorations.

“WOAH, cool bones!” Remus, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms.

“Don’t touch those!” Dr. Côté hissed. He took a deep breath and grinned, gesturing to the table Roman noticed earlier. “Why don’t you come have a seat?”

The men settled themselves around the table, Roman carefully examining his chair before sitting, just to make sure he wasn’t about to sit on anything… distasteful.

Then, Dr. Côté pulled a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere. They didn’t seem particularly special, simply decorated with a symbol of a hand that had an eye in the center, but the voodoo man held them with reverence.

“Are you gonna do a card trick?” Remus snickered. Roman buried his smirk and elbowed his brother’s side. He did not want to make a magic man angry.

Dr. Côté simply looked up, though, giving an oily smile. “They’re tarot cards. I can tell you your past, your present… your future.” He gave a knowing look and fanned the cards out to the twins. “Go ahead. Take three.”

The princes reached out to the deck, holding their chosen cards close to their chest as if it were a card game.

The Shadow Man stared at them for a moment, as if expecting them to do something before prompting, “How ‘bout I take a look at those cards now?”

Roman grinned sheepishly and placed his cards on the table.

“Ah… now you, young man, are quite a prince,” Dr. Côté began. “A prince of fairy tales, really.” Roman thought he heard Remus huff beside him. “Your world is truly… perfect.” Something retreated inside Roman a little at the words, but he looked up when the Shadow Man asked, “But will it ever be anything else? Nothing is quite so disheartening as playing the same role all your life, huh? But when I look forward… I can see you’ll be more… very soon.”

The prince felt an anticipation swell inside him. Very soon.

Dr. Côté grinned down at Roman, then turned to Remus, peering at his cards. “Ah, yes. You’ve always been ambitious, hm?” Roman was shaken from his reverie and just barely kept from snorting. (Judging from the glare his brother aimed at him, he didn’t do a very good job.) Remus was ambitious if you considered chaotic enthusiasm to be ambition. But Dr. Côté just continued, “You could do more, be more, than they’d ever imagined. I know it. What are you going to do about it?”

Roman looked to Remus, and Remus looked down at his palms. A hand was outstretched for each of them to shake. “Well, boys?”

The world was still for a moment. And then the black-clad prince’s hand shot out and shook the voodoo man’s, the other prince soon following suit.

“Very nice.” Dr. Côté’s smile grew leering.

Then an orange smoke crept up Roman’s arm and into his mouth, and the world went dark.

A/N: Sorry, the ending came kinda fast 😅 I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! Please feel free to point out any mistakes you see, and keysmashes are VERY appreciated :D

Taglist: @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @meowthefluffy

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fic #platonic moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #sanders sides au #my fic #real to me fic #real to me #moon talks

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marikaaajoy · 4 years

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my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

#plus ultra #<3 #personal

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unproduciblesmackdown · 4 years

Note

The opposite of your last post for the ask meme! Like 1, 5, 9..

thank you lol sorry it took me a minute to get to posting these answers......i also skipped a couple that got asked previously via answering all primes lol

1: What inspires you?

hm well just basic stuff like “being in a good mood” lol or “being hyped up by friends” or “having reason to be particularly excited about something” which is all like, factors that Contribute Energy......learning about stuff / trying something and discovering like oh i’m Into this thing, or that for whatever reason something turns out to be more within reach / doable than i might’ve thought, like, hey i wanna get on this maybe.......~creatively~ it’s great to like, see other ppl’s art, and while i’ve sure been Inspired by professional artists, overall i’m more like, influenced and motivated by seeing the styles / specific works of Online Randos like me.......i also Draw to create [self-indulgent (usually fairly) niche fanart which is also probably gay and is all the time of characters i like] so like, the Stuff I Wanna Make Fanart Of (which has Whatever characters i specifically would like to draw lol) is sure directly Inspiring in that way. i’d say i never had that experience of like, ppl being kids and seeing some [distributed work in a certain art medium] like oh i want to make my own [distributed work in a certain art medium] as in like, i wanna publish a book, i wanna make movies, etc, but i guess i Did b/c i was like elementary school age in the early-to-mid 00s and experienced some instances of online fanart like :o :o wow damn ppl can do that?? just be a rando drawing fanart and sharing it w/ other people online???? and today i am living that dream, so good for me lol. and also i’d like to shoutout marge simpson anime, which is a particular piece of Online Art (technically fanart even lol) which was like, unusually Motivating as a single work of art lol, i made a notes app fanart like immediately and then a way more “painterly” piece of fanart that was v directly inspired by it lol.......and i was sure Drawing It Up last last winter when bmc 3.0 was impending / happening, b/c i got into like Just in the dec before, so that was Fresh, and then bam the Content is happening concurrently and as soon as we even just learned that jeremy has glasses i immediately spent like honestly 25 consecutive hours making fanart for that exact Inspiration. we didn’t even know abt the hello kitty shoes yet!!! and naturally im not out here for stats or clout but it is Inspiring when ppl enjoy the stuff i make and let me know one way or another. [tag comments that express enthusiasm in any way.....Appreciated]

9: Do you trust people easily, or do people have to earn your trust?

i have to say i am wary! that’s in part just like, a default anxiety defensive mode lol. but it takes me a hot minute (aka weeks....or months.....) to realize when someone like, would like to be friends or something, so while i can be Friendly and Outgoing w/ people like, immediately, i’m not picking up relationships left and right that are close enough that i’d particularly talk about “trust” or whatever. i’m not necessarily Distrustful either lol, it’s more just like, again re: the constant wariness thing. it is not unlike a cat lmao i vibe with them lol i Get that [approach]....and there’s been times i’ve been like “hmm i sure do Not vibe with this person ever and am not comfortable around them / interacting with them to any extent beyond occasional casual interactions that i don’t super enjoy. that’s me being overly anxious and failing to be personable i guess!!” and then that person Does give that reason down the line like oh, actually, that eternal uneasiness was warranted :/ damb

21: How does someone become friends with you?

yknow i was like “didn’t i Also answer this one previously” but it turned out the question i was thinking of, which i Had answered, was “how does someone become important to you” lmao.....same diff

tbh it’s kind of an arduous process lmao like. first of all i am Bad about initiating shit, and a lot of times will like, be wary of Directly Interacting with people for a while b/c i am also Bad At not being too passive / unwilling to assert anything so like, if someone’s regularly interacting with me but i’m not into it / Eventually Realize i’m not into it, it’s that thing again where my main strat is [v gradually sidle away] lol and just find it difficult to extricate myself from interactions / relationships and so that plays into me really feeling like i have to have some real confidence that i’d get on with / vibe with someone Before i start significantly interacting with / getting involved with them which....is also difficult natch lol like. can’t rly get a great feel for what someone’s like w/o talking to them.......but then if i Distance myself at all at any point will that be taken as rejection or whatever.......and then anyways say i Am talking to someone, then it’s like, also i’m just not fantastic at casual conversation always and that stage where you don’t know someone too well and talking is mostly a Polite Ritual and it’s like oh god don’t mess up, respond Normally lmaoo......i am nervous. and i also have a tendency to just naturally try to make an interaction go smoothly than immediately prioritize / feel comfortable busting out My Personality lmao.....so then even if ppl are responding well enough it’s like ah jeez i know we’re all performing always but have i shown them What I’m Actually Like to any significant degree, am i just masking it up / mirroring the crap out of how they talk?? and also it then takes me quite a while to put together “if someone keeps talking to you / choosing to interact with you for like, weeks, it probably means they want to / are interested in doing so” lol.........and then i’ll take ages more of trying to consciously Be More Myself without *also* feeling like this is too much of an act lol, and gradually picking up like oh they’re still not like, annoyed or disinterested or something..............what i am trying to say is it sure takes a minute lol

also when i Am attempting sometimes to like [initiate interaction] with people my version of being Active is still not all that active lmao i will be like [occasional Like] or [even more occasional reply] or [tag comments or no comments coz it’s twitter and im rt-ing stuff] and it’s like oh wow if we’re not having more regular interaction i suppose i’ve failed or something?? does this mean anything further lol, did i do anything.....but welp gotta have that perspective that Not Necessarily lol and i’m not the only person in the world who might not make friends or even friendly acquaintances easily / at the drop of a hat and u can’t necessarily read way into shit that hasn’t Actually been communicated to you.......naturally though it is easier to have some ~perspective~ and Serenity about all this sort of thing when you do already have some Friends lmao........been feeling (and consciously nudging myself towards feeling) More Chill about say like, friendly acquaintances i have who aren’t raring to interact with me on the reg.......ppl i’ll go months or half a year or more between having a convo with and then we’ll be like trading dm’s for a couple days and then it’s back to not really talking, and that Is What It Is, not necessarily a tragedy, and really it feels “rude” to acknowledge to myself like oh i’m not sure that me and whomever even Vibe well enough that *i’d* be raring to talk all the time either, but hey, it’s also true, i don’t have to be Validated by ppl who know me having me in their friend circles in any significant way......i be out here on the peripheral / outer orbits and i can appreciate that for what it is, even if, again, easier to be more Cool with that when i’m not Only in ppl’s periphery...........i appreciate the pal i have who like, 99% of how we Communicate is occasionally sending each other pics of our cats, not very intimate but also back when i was offline for months on end they eventually went out of their way to find someone to get in touch with to verify i hadn’t like died or anything lol........i appreciate the Gestures of Caring that ppl have and do extend, even if we do not actually talk regularly.

and like also i’m bad at like. idk the main way i talk is again, At Some Length and often about real specific shit lol so im like woop aware that many ppl are not into that, or they might be down for having an exchange like that for a day and then they’re done.........not at all like wholly Against more lol Conversational conversations but i gotta say that’s more of a struggle lmao..........so let’s say befriending me takes some Patience. i kinda operate on [cat] rules. jellicle

25: How do you stop yourself from going back to toxic people?

i absolutely am Refraining from launching off on a ted talk of a tangent that is also me being the [the guy about to throw down a card on the pile on the table and that card pile is like “any conversation” and the guy is labeled “me” and the One Card about to be played is labeled “it’s capitalism” or smthing like that and also it’s all in spanish].jpg.......

anyways idk just try to keep things in perspective, right......i generally am pretty Passive about gradually sidling away from relationships that are bad and so by the time i Have exited them it’s pretty overdue lmao and i get to be quite confident that it was The Right Thing........and just when looking back on stuff it’s like, well if you remember the Good or “Not That Bad(tm)” parts maybe consciously think about the whole of it And specifically the Bad parts / the reasons for peacing out.......also the other day i was mulling over some standard [conflicted / complicated feelings about having cut certain ppl out entirely] and it also occurred to me that a lot of the [conflicted] feeling part came from sympathy for them, whereas from the perspective of Entirely My Own Feelings On The Matter minus that “how do/would they feel about it” consideration, the thought of never interacting w/ these ppl is like. fine with me lol........stuff like this is always Complicated and Individual and there’s certainly no like, one-stop simple Guide To Navigating All This Kind Of Thing, Cmon It’s Easy........another consideration i saw the other day via a graphic on twitter, which is probably most relevant re: say, controlling / abusive Partners, was how like, to think about how someone is acting if they’re saying you should Take Them Back b/c they’ve Changed their behavior, but to pay attention to if they’re trying to guilt you into it / justifying or downplaying their previous behavior / shifting blame and otherwise manifesting the inherently harmful and controlling patterns that are supposed to be gone now........anyways yeah complicated stuff and also just p.s. (and what would’ve been the jumping off point for the It’s-Capitalism tangential essay lol) ppl shouldn’t be blamed if they do choose to let someone back in their life like oh now they’re responsible for bringing their mistreatment upon themself.....no better than blaming someone for, say, having a harmful / controlling romantic partner in the first place like oh well they should’ve known better than to have gotten involved with this person..........ppl are in control of their own abusive behavior and shouldn’t be considered Forces Of Nature no matter how intransigent they are

33: Do you have someone you know you can always rely on?

tbt question 9 lol there’s defo some people that i do trust! love it....

45: Do you consider yourself creative?

another #tbt to question 1 lol.......i mean Yes i am creative in ways but like, who Isn’t, really.......think sometimes “creativity” means “do you like, do Art things” which, yes i do, but then within that there’s art that’s deemed more ~creative~ or w/e......not to mention that i don’t think something has to be definitively labeled an Art to be creative. like, for example, Science and Art aren’t opposites / the antithesis of each other, and anytime defines ~science~ as like, people just memorizing and outputting Facts and Numbers and considers this a distinction from Being An Artist.....wild and i Will fight you lmao. i tell you i can v much remember times i have had to completely disengage to keep from losing my cool at people arguing about “why i respect science but could only be an artist :’|” or “why Art is actually harder than Science and also we’re the underdogs b/c society values science so much more :’|” like.....mf...........anyways scientific pursuits may certainly have a different Methodology (see: scientific method) than art but lbr it still requires creativity and science and art are friends you fucking fools................and then also just zooming in on the Art-Making business here, i also like, have never had any interest in coming up with Original stories / characters and the like, and i don’t enjoy trying and it just really is not my thing, and it’s Funny or something when people wanna say that creative fanworks have value b/c they let ppl cut their teeth for what really matters, inevitably making their own original content(tm)......that isn’t inevitable for me lol and certainly is nothing i aim to do ever, and when there’s the suggestion that if you’re Good enough at ur medium you gotta manifest some of that original the character do not steal shit.........anyways i’m not pressed to claim i am an Artist(tm) or Creative(tm) lol like i guess technically i am both but i have no professional aspirations and my brain does not Do [generate original content] so it’s all like, i’m just out here.........s/o to this time i was trying to do my fuckin thing drawing on a tablet in a cafe and some random annoying guy is trying to talk and i happen to mention like “lol i don’t exactly call myself an artist really” and Guy goes “OH REALLY??? WHAT’S WRONG WITH ARTISTS? WHAT’S YOUR ISSUE WITH ART” like please cool it lmao but god p sure it was a guy who was just. very Around and very annoying in general

49: Do you feel like you’re a good person?

yeah i think i’m alright but really what is the use in like considering there 2 be achievable Good or Bad Person Statuses for everyone........let’s say it’s an ongoing, active state to be in the process of consciously choosing to be Good and working towards Better. especially considering that We Live In A Society which tries to teach everyone and continuously imbues our existence with Bad Messages about how to perceive and engage with other people, and being A Good Person is a lifelong effort and it’s unhelpful to feel that if you’re already Good or well-intentioned enough you can just dust off your hands and be like “well my work here is done” and be unprepared to examine your beliefs/actions or deal with the might-as-well-assume-it’s-an-inevitability that even if u have some noble-ass beliefs you’ll fail to live up to them at some point/s.......so like yeah lol again i feel like i am a pretty good person but can always be better and ought to be aware of / willing to work on that at any point

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 5 years

Text

Hypothermia

This is gonna be a trial piece to ease myself into this fandom; feel free to request for RDR2 anytime! I think the reason why I can’t get through any AC requests rn is because I’ve been playing RDR2 quite often (*cough* every day *cough*) so I think I’ll open requests for RDR2, keep them closed for AC, and then I’ll have the variety to keep switching between them. I know this is random and unrealistic lol but I kind of wanted to write it down to show that yes I do write RDR2 lmao. Anyway… Enjoy; feedback is much appreciated, as always :)

How could it still be snowing?!

Your horse marched behind Arthur’s, snorting quietly in the freezing air. The snow rose high, and you wondered whether you’d be able to hunt effectively.

Scrunching your nose, you adjusted the gloves on your hands and hugged your coat around you. “I hope it doesn’t get any colder,” you sighed, a huff of air escaping your lips. “I don’t think we should be hunting in this weather.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.” Arthur spared a glance over his shoulder. “We got a lotta mouths to feed.”

You both trekked in silence before you spotted a few tracks. “We’ll leave the horses here.” You dismounted carefully into the snow and grabbed your bow.

The snow made the tracks easy to follow, and soon you caught a glimpse of a big, beautiful buck taking a drink by a shallow icy river.

“That’ll do us just fine,” Arthur mumbled. “You take the shot.”

You called for the buck’s attention, drawing back the drawstring to let the arrow fly. It hit its target and the game collapsed with a surprised cry. You let out the breath you were holding and hurried to retrieve your arrow and prey. “Pearson will be happy,” you remarked, heaving the animal over your shoulder. The sudden heavy weight unsteadied your balance as you stood up straight.

“You alright there?” Arthur was leading your horse towards you.

“Yep!” Taking a few uneasy steps, you walked along the riverside. The river was running fast but smooth.

Under the snow, ice was abundant. You only realised that when it was too late. Your boot failed to grip the ground. The water drenched you as soon as you hit it, gushing over your arms and legs and soaking your back. The buck fell on top of your stomach, keeping it dry but pinning you to the riverbed.

“Woah, shit!” Arthur pulled the buck off of you and back onto the snow. You sat shivering in the shock of the change in temperature. “You alright?” Grasping your arm, he pulled you so you were standing.

“I-I’m r-really c-cold.”

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart.” He led you out of the river, swapping your coat with his. He put the drenched article of clothing on the back of your horse (along with the buck you caught) and wrapped his around your shoulders. “We’re gonna ride back nice and quick an’ sit you in front of the fire.” He helped you onto his horse and mounted up behind you. Whistling for your horse to follow his, he set off at a speeding pace through the snow.

Although Arthur’s coat was warm and dry, the rest of your clothes were drenched, and began chilling you to the bone. Shivers convulsed down your spine as the wind attacked your skin.

You heard Arthur curse under his breath as he spurred his horse on; you had both decided to hunt further away from camp in hope of more elusive prey. His arm wrapped around your waist and brought you into his chest as he rode, keeping you warm but getting himself damp.

“You’re gonna catch somethin’ bad, Arthur.” You tried to shrug off his coat to cover his exposed forearms, but he grasped it and held it in place.

“I’m just fine… Colter ain’t too far now.”

As Colter came into view through the trees, you became aware of the fact that you couldn’t feel your hands or your feet. “There we go, see? Told ya it wasn’t far.”

There were a few people standing around as Arthur skidded to a stop. “Can we get some help over here?!”

Javier was the first to respond, gently helping you off Arthur’s horse so he could dismount himself. As your feet hit the ground, your ankles gave way, causing you to fall into Javier. “I can’t feel my f-feet.” Your teeth chattered quietly.

“You’re so cold, Y/N.”

Arthur pulled his coat further up your shoulders as Dutch and Hosea came out of their cabin. Seeing your frozen state, Dutch yelled out orders.

“Miss Grimshaw! Can we get some warm, dry clothes for Miss Y/L/N?! Mr Pearson, please deal with the meat and get Charles to help you hitch the horses!”

Hosea held the door to the cabin open as Arthur picked you up in his arms and carried you inside, Miss Grimshaw following a few moments after, jumpers and warm trousers in hand. “Here you are.” She waited for Arthur to sit you in front of the fire before setting the clothes down next to you.

You tried to unbutton your shirt, but all you ended up doing was fumbling around the material. “M-My hands…”

“Let me help you.” You couldn’t remember a time where Susan Grimshaw was actually caring.

She cleared her throat. “Gentlemen.” Dutch, Hosea and Arthur quickly got the hint, and so while one went to change his clothes, the other two went to find more blankets and coal.

Slowly, you were dried and put in new clothes with fur linings. Miss Grimshaw took your hand in hers. “Can you feel any of this?” She started pinching the skin from your fingertips to your palm. You were shaking your head until she hit the centre of your palm.

“Ow!” You cracked a small smile as you flinched unexpectedly. “Sorry.”

There was a knock on the front door. “Come in,” Miss Grimshaw affirmed. Dutch opened the door, a few rolls of fabric wrapped under his arms, while Hosea held as many as he could possibly carry.

“Here you are, my dear.” As they set the blankets down, Arthur came out of his room, rolling up the remaining sleeve of a clean dark shirt.

“We’ll talk to Pearson about preparing the stew a little early tonight.” Dutch pulled his coat around himself more and headed out of the door again, Hosea in tow.

“I think what they’re also trying to say is that we’ll leave you two alone.”

Leave it to Miss Grimshaw to set it straight. “You’ve been very kind, Miss Grimshaw. Thank you.” Arthur said on your behalf.

“It’s not trouble at all; I’ve got to look after my girls.” You smiled warmly at her as she left.

“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” Arthur took some blankets from the pile and began wrapping them around you.

“You’re freezin’ too, Arthur.” You took note of his blue lips and pushed a blanket towards him.

“Nah, I’m fine—”

“Arthur Morgan, put a blanket on you right this instant.”

Smiling at your assertiveness, he agreed.

“Whatchu smilin’ at?”

He tried to suppress it. “Nothin’.” Grabbing your hand, he wrapped it in a blanket and gently massaged it in an effort to slowly warm them up.

“Now you’ve gotta tell me.”

“You’re cute when you’re bossy.”

“You won’t be callin’ me cute once I pull a gun on ya.”

“That may be true, and I don’t wanna tempt fate or anythin’ but I feel like that ain’t happenin’ any time soon.”

“Well… you’d be right.” You leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his body warmth. “How’re ya feelin’ now?”

“Better. Thanks for helping me.” You put your feet closer to the fire.

“I’d do anythin’ for you.” Blushing, he hid his gaze from you.

“I feel exactly the same, Arthur.”

#Red Dead Redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 oneshot #arthur morgan #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #x reader #rdr2 x f!reader #arthur morgan x f!reader

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echoes-of-realities · 5 years

Text

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 21/25

* * *

[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter] // [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Brittany invites Santana over for Christmas supper; Santana should have known that the Pierce’s would all be as endearingly charming as Brittany.

Notes: Thanks for being so patient the past couple days! My school year started late so they pushed our end of term late too, so this week has been crazy busy but the chapter’s here now and it’s still on time in my timezone lmao.

Forgive any mistakes in this because I just did one last checkover while severely sleep deprived lmao. Tomorrow’s chapter will either be up early morning or late afternoon!

Chapter 21: hot chocolates and crackers and family smiles

///

Santana’s drifting in and out of a dream filled with blonde hair and blue eyes when she registers that her phone is ringing. She groans and buries herself further under her blanket, desperate for even a couple more seconds of sleep. After all the excitement yesterday she had thought she would immediately crash after crawling into bed last night, but she ended up wide awake for most of the night, her mind continuing to replay the disbelieving and overjoyed look on Brittany’s face once she saw her family sitting there in that back room. Despite all that she’s overcome and done in her life, she’s pretty sure her proudest moment was last night, when Brittany turned back to her with that tender, adoring on expression on her face that made it impossible for Santana to doubt that Brittany returns her feelings.

She’s, like, almost one-hundred percent positive that Brittany is as in love with her as Santana is with Brittany, because the look on her face last night was so simple and honest that Santana can’t imagine what else it could be.

Her phone stops ringing and she sighs, still drifting between sleep and consciousness, but there’s barely a moment of silence before it starts ringing again, finally tipping her towards consciousness. Santana grumbles as she emerges from her pile of blankets and glares at her vibrating phone on the bedside table. It’s a two show day, which means she really should answer her phone in case there’s some emergency at the theatre that desperately needs to be addressed, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be happy about it.

She finally grabs her phone and answers it with a grunt that could, generously, be interpreted as a hello.

The laughter that answers her is like the best alarm clock in the world.

“Brittany!” Santana says, and instantly she’s wide awake. She wonders if she could record Brittany’s laugh and use that as an alarm instead of whatever prerecorded sounds are on her phone because it does a much better job of waking her up than her real one.

“Took you long enough to answer grumpypants,” Brittany teases, and the smile in her voice brings one to Santana’s face in return.

“I thought you where the ghosts of the theatre trying to get me to come in early,” Santana yawns.

“Forget the ghosts of Christmas past, the ones with bowties and too big egos are much more terrifying,” Brittany agrees with a laugh.

Santana hums and lets her eyes close, pretending, just for a moment, that Brittany’s voice isn’t coming through her phone and is instead right beside her. She imagines how nice it would be to be wrapped around Brittany right now; Brittany’s always so warm and Santana’s always so cold, and she always sleeps the best when Brittany’s breathing is the soundtrack for her dreams, her heartbeat lulling her to sleep like—

“—so would you like to?”

Santana blinks her eyes open, startling back to the present. “I’m sorry, what?”

Brittany laughs, high and fluttery, and Santana can hear the hint of nerves radiating from the sound. “Did you fall back asleep?”

“No,” Santana protests immediately, and then, after Brittany’s little disbelieving noise, she adds sheepishly, “Maybe a little?”

Brittany giggles and there’s a moment of silence where they just listen to the other smile before Brittany restarts her question. “I was saying, before you so rudely fell asleep on me—”

“Hey!” Santana protests around a laugh. “It’s not my fault you called at,” she pulls her phone away from her head to check the time, “seven thirteen in the morning!”

“—that Holly gave me the day off since my family’s here,” Brittany continues as if Santana hadn’t interrupted her, “and it would give Jane some real experience on stage. So I was wondering if you wanted to have Christmas supper with my family tonight?” she asks and basically causes all of Santana’s body to shut down as all functions are redirected towards trying to stop her heart from leaping out of her chest.

“Really?” she whispers, “I don’t wanna, like, intrude or anything.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Brittany hurries to insist. “My mom suggested it, actually, and I’d—” Brittany’s voice drops to a whisper and for a moment Santana feels like they might be the only two people in the entire world, “I’d really love it if you came.”

Santana’s heart swells in her chest until it feels too big and too bright for her body to contain it, and then just as quickly a sudden, disappointing thought strikes her and her heart crumples and shrinks like a crumped up paper towel. “Britt, I’d love to,” she sighs, “but it’s a two show day. I won’t be out of the theatre until, like, after eleven.”

“Well,” Brittany drawls sheepishly, “I may have mentioned that to Holly and she may have offered to give you the second show off, since you were hired on such short notice with no complaint and Holly said she really appreciated it and you deserve a little break and also so Quinn can get some more experience running the show. Only if you want of course!” Brittany adds hurriedly. “No pressure or anything! I totally get it if you don’t want to because you don’t know my family and I know they can kinda be a bit much sometim—”

“I’d love to,” Santana interrupts quietly, and she can hear Brittany’s teeth click as her jaw snaps closed.

“Really?” she breathes.

Santana grins into the darkness and snuggles further into her blankets, the warmth surrounding her nothing compared to the warmth in Brittany’s voice. “Definitely,” she promises.

Santana just listens to Brittany smile for a long moment, before Brittany manages a “Cool” that barely contains her happiness it’s so bright and warm. “You can just come over after the matinee or whenever. Mercedes and Sam are coming after the evening show too, so.”

“Okay, see you then,” Santana murmurs.

“See you,” Brittany whispers and there’s a beat of silence, a farewell missing that is unspoken but not unfelt, before they both whisper bye and the same time and giggle as they hang up.

Santana clutches her phone tightly in her hand and turns to bury her face into her pillow, willing herself not to burst from the dizzying force of the love that courses through her body, before she finally gets out of bed to get ready for the show.

///

Santana spends the entirety of rehearsals and the matinee being mercilessly teased by, in turn, Quinn, Mercedes, Mike, and then Tina.

At least Tina is helpful about her teasing; Quinn just smirks at her the entire morning of rehearsals and then even more during show, somehow both amused and haughty, Mercedes and Mike won’t stop making kissy faces and cooing at her the entire lunch break when she eats with them, both of them ganging up on her completely unfairly, but Tina is the only one who is actually useful while she’s teasing. She helps Santana redo her makeup after the matinee so its less I’m an exhausted production stage manager don’t talk to me or I’ll snap and more I’m confidently meeting my not-yet-a-girlfriend girlfriend’s parents despite not being confident, like, at all, and then helping Santana pick out an outfit without either of them even being near her closet because Tina just knows her so well.

“I can’t believe you’re actually worried about making a good impression,” Tina mumbles as she concentrates on getting Santana’s eyeliner just right, “You’ve already made such a good impression that I don’t think there’s any left for the rest of us.”

“That’s not how it works, twinkle toes,” Santana snarks.

“I know that you doofus,” Tina says with a dramatic eye roll, “I’m just showing you how absolutely ridiculous you sound for thinking even for a second that her family won’t like you.”

“I know it’s just—” Santana cuts herself off and looks away quickly. She looks so fretful that Tina doesn’t even scold her for almost causing Tina to draw a black line across her temple with the eyeliner. “If— If Brittany and I start dating,” Tina snorts a little because please they’ve basically been dating since the moment they met, “She’s never going to meet my family, unless they all pull their heads out of their homophobic asses, which will probably happen about the same time I marry a man, so never.” Tina quiets and gently strokes her hand over Santana’s shoulder until Santana finally glances back up with a slightly watery smile. “That’s why this is so important,” she continues quietly, “Because they’re— I don’t have anyone to introduce her to and— I mean—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tina coos before Santana’s tears can even fully form, “I get it. I know why this means so much to you— You’re getting the chance to have a family again.” Santana just nods, not trusting herself to speak, and Tina lets her wallow for a moment before she smiles a little. “But you don’t gotta worry about that. After yesterday I already know her parents adore you, and I only meet them in passing.”

Santana sighs and murmurs her thanks, tilting her head back up and allowing Tina to return to carefully applying Santana’s makeup.

“Tina?” Santana says quietly, and Tina hums a little in acknowledgement as she carefully taps the mascara brush to Santana’s eyelashes. “I already have a family,” she admits quietly.

There’s really nothing Tina could say to that statement than what Santana’s already said, so instead she just folds Santana into her arms and holds her tightly. “You know Mike and I have arguments all the time about which of us gets you for our future wedding party,” she jokes, as if this hasn’t been a real concern whenever Mike and Tina discuss their hypothetical future wedding, “Mike insists on claiming you as his best woman because you two are bros but I always call dips on you as my maid of honour because I knew you first and finders keepers, losers weepers, Michael.”

Santana’s laughter is muffled against her shoulder. “I should totally exploit this and make you duel each other for my affections.”

“Oooh that’s a good idea,” Tina says mock-seriously, and then, completely serious, “I’d crush Mike though.”

Santana giggles and settles again, her insecurity fading under Tina’s comforting embrace.

///

Santana hasn’t had Christmas with anyone besides her mom, and sometimes her mom’s chill younger sister when she’s in the country, since her abuela disowned her all the way back in high school. It’s stung deeply every year no matter how hard her mom would work to keep her mind from dwelling on the thought, but now, surrounded by the laughter and playful teasing of the Pierces, it feels like a distant memory of another life.

She’s spent the last four Christmases alone, but watching Brittany and her sister gang up on their dad with two rolls of wrapping paper while she helps Whitney cut up vegetables in the kitchen reminds her why she used to love the holiday so much when she was younger; back when her abuela would hold her hand at midnight mass and sneak her chocolates from her pocket when the minister wasn’t looking, when her and her cousins would terrorize the neighbourhood with their Crazy Carpets and sleds, when her mom would always wake her up in the morning so they could make homemade cinnamon buns, just the two of them, for breakfast before opening their presents, Santana’s presents always wrapped with care after her mom picked up so many overtime shifts to afford whatever Santana wanted for Christmas that year, her mom’s presents always sloppily handmade or cheaply bought with the money she got for walking Mrs. Sandia’s dog from down the street.

She forgot what it’s like to be surrounded by the joyful chaos of a family who loves so loud.

A hand on her arm startles her out of her thoughts and she jolts a little, turning to find Whitney smiling softly at her. “Penny for your celery,” she says quietly.

Santana glances down in surprise; she hadn’t even realized she was finished slicing the celery. She should probably pay more attention and not zone out when she has a knife so close to precious fingertips. She quickly sets the knife down and allows Whitney to reach across her and take the cutting board so she can dump the celery into the stuffing. “I just—” Santana starts, and then quiets for a long moment. “I just forgot how much I missed this,” she finally admits, quiet and honest. “My extended family didn’t really like that I’m— Well I haven’t seen them since I was in high school, and for so long it was just me and my mom which was perfectly fine with me. But then after— After everything, it was just me after.”

Whitney sets the cutting board down and turns to pull Santana into a tight hug, her arms strong and warm just like Brittany’s always are and the thought makes Santana smile. “Blood doesn’t always create love,” she says wisely, and Santana’s eyes wander to the living room and catch on Brittany and her dad, giggling as they hang garland from the window.

They look nothing alike; Brittany’s about a foot taller and all California girl beauty, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and summer sun freckles where her dad is straight hair and coffee dark eyes and clear skin, but they have the same smile, one that quirks their lips up and spreads them thin, scrunching their cheeks up to their eyes until they’re actually glowing from within, a smile that Santana can’t help but return whenever she sees it no matter what’s going on around her.

How some people don’t think that Pierce is her dad because of something as dumb as biology is beyond her; she knows better than anyone that blood doesn’t mean anything unless you choose to make it mean something.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into Whitney’s shoulder, “For letting me crash your family-time today.”

Whitney shakes her head, pressing a motherly kiss to Santana’s temple as she pulls away, releasing Santana to brush dark hair back from her face. “Of course,” she says, her lips quirking up into a small smile as she playfully pinches Santana’s cheeks before growing serious again. “You make my little girl happier than I’ve ever seen her,” she continues, and heat prickles Santana’s cheeks, “and you made today possible, so, really, thank you.”

Santana’s still blushing when Brittany wanders into the kitchen a couple minutes later, her uninhibited smile growing wider as she watches Santana and her mom work side by side in the kitchen.

“What?” Santana says self-consciously, but Brittany just shakes her head wordlessly, refusing to say anything. She doesn’t have to, because between Brittany’s bashful-hopeful look and Whitney’s knowing smile, Santana knows exactly what Brittany’s thinking, and there’s nothing she wants more than for Brittany’s thoughts to come true, for her to be doing this with the Pierces for years to come.

///

After supper Whitney and Brittany disappear to her room to hunt for a deck of cards in her closet, one that Santana promises she one-hundred percent saw when her and Brittany were looking for Christmas tree ornaments the other day. Pierce is as goofy and sweet as his daughter, and Brittany’s sister is as snarky and teasing as her sister, and Santana takes great joy in watching the Pierces and matching their characteristics and mannerisms to Brittany’s, finding that she fits in with them as easily as she fits with Brittany.

After a couple minutes of being recruited into helping Brittany’s sister hunt through the kitchen drawers to see if there’s a deck of cards there, she heads down the hallway to see if Whitney and Brittany had any luck; she’s pretty sure the deck was in the crumbling cardboard box with half its lid missing that her and Brittany shoved to the very back of the closet shelf.

The sound of her name catches her attention as she nears Brittany’s room, and she slows to a stop and pauses outside the doorway. The light from Brittany’s lamp—the lightbulb in the ceiling light went out yesterday morning and Brittany hadn’t had time to replace it yet—spills out into the hallway and casts Brittany and Whitney’s shadows long and looming on the opposite wall as she concentrates on the conversation in Brittany’s room.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that you have a girlfriend?” Whitney asks incredulously and Santana’s heart relocates to her throat, somehow pounding in her ears all the way down to her toes. “You’ve already told me so much about Santana this past month, you could have told me she was your girlfriend not just your friend, you know I don’t care who you date as long as they treat you right, and Santana so obviously does that.”

“No, it’s not— It’s not that— It’s just—” Brittany stutters, but her mom just continues to talk over her.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetie,” Whitney promises, “your dad and I think she’s wonderful. And not just for flying us out here. I’d don’t think I’ve ever, in your whole life, seen you as happy and settled as you are around her, and she absolutely lights up whenever you walk in the room. You don’t have to be scared that we won’t approve or something. I mean how could we disapprove, we adore her already.”

“I didn’t tell you because she’s not—” Brittany stutters, and Santana can easily picture the soft flush to her cheeks, “We’re not— I mean, we are but we aren’t, you know?”

She can see Whitney shake her head in the shadow on the hallway wall. “I— I don’t think I follow.”

Brittany laughs a little, her shadow dancing a little with the motion. “It’s okay, I don’t think I was following either.”

Whitney’s shadow shifts closer to Brittany’s until they’re indistinguishable from each other. “Why don’t you try again?” she offers.

Brittany takes a deep, steadying breath, and when she speaks Santana can hear the smile in her voice. “We only went on our first official date on Monday,” she explains softly, “But we’ve kinda been unofficially dating, like, every single day since we meet, more or less.”

“So then,” Whitney’s voice trails off and Santana wonders if her brows quirk in the same way her daughter’s does.

Brittany laughs a little and it looks like her shoulders shrug by the way the shadows twitch near their combined heads. “I mean, you know me, I’m usually pretty content to just let whatever happens happen.”

“But you already know what you want,” Whitney says knowingly.

Brittany laughs again, her voice bright and happy. “Of course I do, I want to be her girlfriend for, like, a really, really, really long time.”

Santana’s pretty sure she stops breathing entirely. She had known, of course, or at least suspected, but hearing it said aloud kind of makes Santana want to run up to the rooftop and shout that Brittany S. Pierce, the most amazing and brilliant and snarky and sweet girl in the entire world, wants to be her girlfriend; no one else’s, just her girlfriend.

She takes a moment to compose herself before she sneaks back to the kitchen, finding Pierce and Brittany’s sister engaged in hot chocolate making.

“Did they find it?” Brittany’s sister asks as soon as she spots Santana.

Santana panics for a moment shrugs, opting for honesty. “I dunno, it sounded like they were having a serious conversation so I didn’t interrupt.”

Brittany’s sister eyes her for a moment—and Santana is suddenly thankful her blush is never too obvious to people who don’t know her really well—before she shrugs and turns back to the fridge to locate the whipped cream.

Pierce glances up from putting the kettle on and grins at Santana, who’s hovering awkwardly at the end of the kitchen counter. “Has Brittany ever taught you how to make our World Famous Pierce Hot Chocolate?” Pierce asks. Brittany’s sister catches Santana’s gaze over her dad’s head and rolls her eyes, circling her finger around her temple as she shakes her head, causing Santana to bite back a grin. When Santana shakes her head Pierce gasps, apparently scandalized and insulted by the fact. “Well we gotta fix that right away,” he insists, urging Santana closer, “Now it’s a secret family recipe but you seem to have a friendly face so I’ll trust you with it.”

Brittany’s sister snorts from across the kitchen at her dad’s antics. “It’s not a secret family recipe if you keep sharing it with people not named Pierce, dad,” she chides teasingly.

“Nonsense,” Pierce says with a wink in Santana’s direction, “Everyone in this household today is an honorary Pierce.”

Santana blushes at Pierce’s words—at the thought of being a Pierce—and listens avidly to the family recipe, feeling more Christmasy than she has in years.

///

By the time Santana—for the seventh time, not that anyone’s counting—gets her ass whooped by all the Pierces at every card game they know, the evening show at the theatre should just be calling half hour, which means there’s a half hour before the live action How the Grinch Stole Christmas is going to start. While Whitney and Pierce decline the next hand of Blackout and disappear into the kitchen to make popcorn and pull out all sorts of snacks, Brittany’s sister takes it upon herself to teach Santana the best way to beat Brittany. For someone who’s being ganged up on, Santana doesn’t think she’s ever seen Brittany look happier; though she would be lying if this whole day, being so easily accepted into the Pierce family, hasn’t made Santana happier than ever either.

Pierce and Whitney emerge with snacks just as Santana successfully wins her first hand for the very first time all night, and Brittany’s pout at losing is completely useless because she has to hide her smile behind her cards; Santana can still see it in her sparkling blue eyes though.

Whitney and Pierce distribute snack bowls before sinking down in the couch, Brittany’s sister quickly claiming the third cushion, glancing between the only seat left, the armchair perpendicular to the couch, and Brittany with a challenging smirk.

Santana’s a little behind on the uptake, because before she knows it she’s being dragged off the living room floor and tugged down onto Brittany’s lap in the armchair. Brittany’s soft and warm and blushing under her, and Santana’s thankful for the darkened living room because it hides her own blush as she sinks into Brittany’s arms, Brittany’s admission to her mom earlier at the forefront of her mind.

“Hi,” Brittany whispers as Pierce searches through the channels to find whatever one is playing the movie.

Santana sucks in a deep breath; from where she’s perched she can feel every breath Brittany takes, every tiny movement of her thighs, every stroke of her hands over her own legs, burning her fingerprints into Santana’s skin with her touch. “Hi,” she manages.

The armchair is tucked into the corner, not private but a little bit removed from the other occupants in the room. Brittany adjusts them a little more, wiggling around underneath Santana until she can grab the bowls of snacks beside the armchair and pass them to Santana as she manhandles Santana until they’re both more comfortable, Santana’s butt tucked between the arm of the chair and Brittany’s thighs, her legs draped over Brittany’s so she’s curled completely into Brittany’s lap.

There’s still ten minutes before the movie so Whitney offers to get drinks for everyone, disappearing to the kitchen while Pierce and Brittany’s sister get into a discussion about the best Christmas movies of all time.

Brittany’s fingers tracing small hearts on her legs draws Santana’s attention away from an argument about the merits of Elf versus The Santa Clause, both of which are obviously inferior to Home Alone, the best Christmas movie ever, in Santana’s humble and obviously correct opinion.

When Santana meets blue eyes through the dim of the living room she’s suddenly struck by the realization of how much she wants to be doing this for the rest of forever.

“I’m really glad you came today,” Brittany whispers, her breath warm and sweet from chocolate and honey roasted peanuts, “I just— Having you here was just— It was—”

“I know,” Santana says quietly, her smile making her cheeks ache from how wide it is, “I know what you mean.”

Brittany hums and her hands relocate to loop around Santana’s waist and hug her tightly. Santana sighs and leaves the bowl of snacks in her lap to balance against gravity on its own as she wraps her arms around Brittany and nuzzles into her. “Yeah, that’s,” Brittany starts and then seems to lose her thoughts as Santana’s lips press fleetingly to the sensitive skin of her neck. “That’s,” she tries again, but then gives up and just cuddles Santana to her instead of trying to form a coherent thought.

Their snacks are long forgotten—as are their drinks once Whitney returns with them—as they just cuddle in the darkness and watch the movie, Brittany’s fingers trailing along Santana’s legs and Santana’s playing with Brittany’s hair, occasionally grabbing Brittany’s fingers to play with to throughout the movie.

Just as the Grinch is in the middle of stealing Christmas from the Whos, Brittany’s lips find her ear in the dark, pressing briefly to the peak of her cheekbone before they locate their target. “There’s nothing I want more than to do this next year too,” she breathes, like she’s standing at a wishing well with her eyes shut tight and a penny clutched in her hand, like she’s making her greatest wish in the world before flicking her penny into the darkness, like she’s hoping more than anything that it will come true.

Santana turns her head a little so she can look into Brittany’s eyes, her lips hitting Brittany’s nose on the way past. “Me too,” she promises quietly.

Brittany’s eyes soften and melt and Santana falls straight into the adoration and love sparkling there and she knows—she knows—more than she’s ever known anything else in her entire life, that she’s going to be falling in love with those blue eyes every single day for as long as Brittany will have her.

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #mercedes jones #whitney pierce #pierce pierce #the munchkin™#my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe)

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