#idk i just.... sometimes i think that a lot of thin people think that shopping for clothes as a fat person is the same as shopping- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acerathia · 7 months

Text

Magic Shop || S. Todoroki

Summary:

After 'accidentally' getting cursed, you seek the witch of the forest to fix this problem. Only did you not expect a beautiful man to reside there...

Wordcount: 12.4k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Witch!Todoroki Shoto / GN!Reader

Tags/CW:

witch!shoto, contractual partners to friends to lovers, pining!! lots of pining, aged-up characters, GN reader, honestly mostly vibes in the woods idk what to say, fluff, innuendos, but sfw, maybe shoto is ooc, forgive my transagression <;/3

Note:

Please note that information about witches may be inaccurate as I was only using my fantasy. And any links are safe!! Also!! This is part of the 'Haunted House Collab' by Willow's House, check out the other works!!

Your hand slaps against the surface of your ringing phone, hoping to silence it with a lucky stroke back to sleep. But that only works for a couple of minutes as it starts once again relentlessly chiming, with no way to stop it. With a groan you remember the infinite number of alarms you had set yourself the night before, your past self too aware of your strong desire to sleep overpowering your need to go to work. So you don’t have a choice, you’d like to keep your job for as long as possible, even with your current sleeping habits.

Slowly you swing your upper body up, and blink blearily, just staring into your room for a couple of seconds, just trying to force you to properly wake up. You take your phone into your hand to stop the still blaring alarm and of course every subsequent alarm after that one. You run your hands over your face, once again trying to wake yourself up before getting up. Shuffling your feet, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up. A good splash in your face does wonders against this fatigue, but only sometimes, so you hope it works today.

It actually helped a bit, your eyes stinging from the direct contact with the flying water. After finishing the rest of your routine, you go back to your room and put your work clothes on, ignoring the crinkles in them, even if your hands mindlessly try to flatten them, they will eventually disappear, hopefully. You just don’t have time nor the patience to iron them out. Nobody is going to notice them underneath a blazer. A last look in the mirror tells you that you do look presentable enough to show up at work. So you grab your necessities and hurry out of the door.

You don’t hurry because you might be late, you just like to be a bit early on the street, never sure what might delay your way, a traffic jam leading every car to link its arms with each other, making any other form of transportation nigh unusable. This especially accounts for you being stuck between arms and torsos of other people, holding for dear life on a pole in the bus, trying your best to avoid falling onto the ground with every rumbling stop.

Your stop draws near, and you’re finally able to leave the suffocating transportation can, you take a second to breathe, to collect yourself once again. The shaking of the bus has almost begun to lull you back to sleep, even if you were standing with hands in a death grip. So you slap both of your cheeks and continue your way to your workplace.

At your arrival, you think that luck must be on your side, as you still have a couple of minutes until your shift starts, enough time to calm down after all that speed walk, and simply drink some water. You put your stuff into the locker and begin your work. And you hope to keep that luck running for the rest of the morning.

But it seems that your luck is already strained thin, as you mess up some of the dates by accident, inconveniencing a visitor at their work. So you hurry up to apologize for this mistake before they can ask for your boss.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. We’ll fix this as soon as possible, so feel free to take a seat, Mrs. Nukarumi,” you offer her with a smile, not moving a muscle as her face shifts at the name-drop. You don’t realize your mistake until she steps closer, a menacing aura clogging your airways. You begin to panic, but you keep your face professional, a smile, a questioning tilt to the head.

“Listen, I can excuse some mishap at work, happens to the best of us. But getting my name wrong, and to such a distasteful degree is arrogant, especially after being quite the regular at your establishment,” she puts two fingers on your forehead, her nails pressing against your skin, and now you drop your smile for a frown, as the shadow of her hand covers your face, suffocating in a way only air can be. “It’s Nakamura, and I’d like to know how you will live your life without a soul ever recognizing you.”

Her fingers begin to feel warmer with each second, and at first, you thought it might be due to the prolonged skin contact. That is until this warmth turns into heat, her fingerprints searing themselves into your skull, your skin non-existent. Some kind of pain spreads all over your facial features, not painful enough to coax out a scream, but enough to make your muscles twitch in response. At this sensation, you try your best to pull away, but you seem to be glued to her fingertips, like she’s holding the strings of your body between her knuckles with this simple touch.

You finally manage to take a step back the moment her fingers leave your skin. She seems to be satisfied with whatever she just did, as a grin spreads over her face as she glances over your face. Mischief is coloring the outlines of her lips before she just leaves without another word, not caring if the situation is fixed any time soon.

For some reason, this is the least of your worries, as you make your way to the bathroom with quick steps in search of a mirror. But the moment you stand in front of one, you can’t see anything wrong with your face, not even a small print of her fingers on your forehead. Everything looks normal and proper to you, so you just shrug it off, keen on returning to your post behind the desk.

On the walk back to your space, you come across the manager, who gives you a weird look, and you glance down at yourself, thinking your clothes might have gotten in disarray. But there’s nothing wrong with them. You still straighten your blazer a bit, which doesn’t seem to help, as he finally comes up to you.

“Excuse me, this area is for staff only,” he tells you with a warning in his voice, and you can only furrow your eyebrows at that.

“Uh, yes, I am a staff. It’s my shift right now,” you reply, confusion tinting your voice.

“Lying is useless in this case, I don’t recognize you, and I know all of my staff.” He shakes his head in some form of disappointment before threatening to call security if you don’t clear the space immediately.

Absolutely confused, you just leave the space, and even the building altogether, just heading home, because what else are you supposed to do? You got kicked out by your boss, for some strange reason, and nothing makes sense to you.

What did he say again? He doesn’t recognize you? That’s the wildest reason to kick someone out, ever. Does he want to fire you, or is he pulling some kind of elaborate prank or scheme? You honestly don’t care, you just hope you still get paid for your work.

As you have some time to spare, for obvious reasons, you decide to take a short trip to the store to get yourself some groceries, and maybe you could chat a bit with your acquaintance there, letting a couple of minutes pass in idle talk.

So you enter the store and begin collecting whatever your heart desires, and whatever your wallet allows you, before making your way to the register, where your almost friend works. You smile and greet them, hoping to be able to listen to whatever gossip they have at the moment. But they only give you the usual customer service smile, the usual greeting voice, no recognition sparking in their eyes at all.

Your chest constricts and you try to think of what you might have done to offend them, yet nothing seems to be the problem. And you could hardly bother them while they’re working, so you leave the place without inquiring any further about any possible reason.

Trudging home, you can’t help but wonder if you had done something for all of this to happen. There’s no way this day is filled with one unlucky incident after the other. There’s no correlation for this bad luck, you started your day as you do every single day. The only weird moment was with that weird woman, who just grabbed your face for no reason. But whatever she did, it didn’t work, you checked yourself in the mirror and everything looked fine to you, normal. So why does it seem like no one can recognize you?

You enter your home as the final puzzle clicks, and everything makes sense, well barely. A gasp escapes you at this revelation, and you almost throw your groceries onto the table, grabbing for your phone. With a frown, you open the front camera, seeing yourself, with every feature you know and are used to. Maybe the effect is similar to the one with a mirror?

You decide to take a picture of yourself, not focusing much on looking good, but rather on verifying your thoughts. After you take one where you’re sure your whole face can be seen, you open the gallery to click on the newest picture. But instead of a picture, you’re faced with a blurred mess. Did your hands tremble? There’s no way they moved that much while you took the picture. Still, you take another one, and another one, and another one. And all of them turn out to be blurry.

Chewing on your bottom lip you scroll further to some of the older pictures you have on your phone and they all look normal, your face still visible and clear. So there’s only one conclusion: only the ones you took today have that particular problem, so that means the woman had actually done something unexplainable to you.

With a sigh you put your phone away, driving your hand over your face. You screwed up, you accidentally messed up with the wrong person today, and now you reap the consequences. What are you supposed to do now? How could you even undo this? You can’t go to work if no one recognizes you, and you can’t just not work! You’re ruined, your life will be in shambles over a little mistake, this is so ridiculous.

Panic is running hot through your veins and you do what every sensible human being would do in such a dire situation. You take your phone and look it up, even if you don’t know how to phrase the problem properly. So it isn’t surprising when the first couple of hits you stumble across are different subreddits and medical pages about loneliness. But no matter how far you read into those, there is just no correlation between them and your current problem.

Thus, you dive deeper and you discover some shady-looking forum, all small font and 2000s style of blogging, in which you read a rather recent post.

Does the witch in that forest actually exist? Cuz I heard rumors, but no one has shown real pics smh. If yes, how do you meet them? Like, I wanna get some potions or stuff, idk

– i guess that’s one way to touch grass – that’s some witchful thinking LMAO – ofc, u just gotta go that fb page, there’s proof

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you click on the link, which turns out to be a rickroll. You don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh or groan in frustration. The only upside of this is that you had gotten some form of lead to… something. You’re not quite sure what the whole witch thing is about, but if there’s smoke, there must be a fire. At least you hope so, because it’s the only thing that could solve your problem at the moment. You’re pretty sure the woman put some kind of curse or spell on you, there’s no other way to achieve this kind of effect.

Naturally, you’re going to look for that witch now. You have quite some free time left, so maybe there is some upside to that too…

Trying to be positive about the whole predicament, you trade your current clothes for something more robust, something suitable to endure a visit to the forest. The place mentioned in the post isn’t that far from your living place, so you plan to walk there, getting some blood running to prepare you for the worst.

With a bottle, your phone, and whatever is necessary for your trip, you leave the building. Your phone in hand, you try to discover the fastest way to these woods to avoid losing time.

Finally arriving at the entrance of the forest, you decide to take the already existing paths, leisurely walking along them. And you have to admit it has taken you some time to realize something important in your current endeavor: there’s no way a witch is going to be living on the equivalent of a main street of the forest. No one would do that if they’re actively trying to get by without notice, and witches don’t want people to know where they live. That’s like, their lore or something.

This makes sense, and you nod to yourself, convinced by your own logic before you step off the path. At first, you paid attention to where you put your foot down, careful to not destroy any plants or to get stuck somewhere. But after a while, you simply forget to look at the ground and where you’re going. As a result it shouldn’t be a big surprise when one of your feet gets caught in something, you’re not quite sure what, because the moment you topple over you immediately begin to roll down a hill.

Scrunching your face, you brace yourself for the upcoming impact, hoping sincerely you won’t get knocked against a rock or a stump, breaking something or injuring you in any other way.

Nothing happens. Slowly the rotations come to a stop and you feel your back thud against the ground one last time, even if you still feel the turbulence in your head.

After taking a couple of seconds to get your head straight, you hesitantly open your eyes, only to glance at the face of another person. And for a moment you feel like nothing is real, he’s beautiful. Soft plush lips, slightly agape in surprise, eyes widened and sparkling in the early afternoon sun, and you need to look a couple of times back to notice the different colors, gray and blue, a storm separated from its lightning. His lashes brush against his smooth skin on one side, and against a burn mark on the other, as he blinks, trying to understand what just happened.

You immediately close your eyes again, hoping to fool him into thinking you had passed out, even if he probably saw you staring at his face like a fish out of water.

A slight chuckle, air fanning over your face, tells you that he is no fool. So you have no other choice but to take a breath and to slowly sit up, avoiding looking into his eyes with all your might, even if you’re compelled to look at him just a while longer.

Instead, you start looking around and you notice that you have fallen onto the edge of a beautiful meadow, flowers sprouting all around you, colors bursting underneath the late afternoon sun. The wind dancing between the petals. The delightfulness of this place fills you in awe, and it only grows bigger when you glance back at him, seeing the perfect man sitting underneath the rays of the sun, the wind ruffling his red and white hair playfully. You think about how it feels to touch this cloud in the afternoon sun.

That is until you finally register his gaze lingering on you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you can’t look him in the face anymore, once again. Nerves get the best of you, as you realize that he must have caught you staring at him and you fiddle with your fingers before you gather some courage to talk to him.

“Uhm, sorry for that, heh… You might be wondering why I’m here, and honestly you won’t even remember me when I’m gone, which is for the best I’m not going to lie. But I still wanted to ask, and I know it’s a weird question, but honestly, my whole day has been so weird, you can’t even believe it. What I mean is, do you happen to know where maybe, just maybe, where the witch of this forest is? I kinda got into that situation and I need help…” After getting everything off your chest, you take a second to take a breather.

“Oh, yes, I know where the witch is–”

“Really? Wow, that’s cool, rad, cool, cool! Oh, do you mind telling me? That would be awesome, for real,” you interrupt him, leaning forward in an outburst of excitement, once again just staring at his face

“No, I don’t mind. It’s simple really. The witch is here,” he answers, and if you’d known it better, you could have sworn to see some mischief glinting in his eyes.

But you’re too distracted, squinting your eyes trying to see anyone else in this open meadow. The witch can’t be hiding in such an open space, so you turn around to look behind you.

You jut your lips out when you couldn’t see anyone in the near distance. “Where? There’s no one here?”

The corners of his lips raise slightly. “Well, because we’re the only two people here, the best conclusion is that I’m the witch, is it not?”

You can only nod slowly, mouth agape and eyes roaming over his figure once again. Now that he mentions it, if you focus a bit on his blue eye, the one seemingly illuminating and softening his scar, you could discern symbols circling his iris, whispering secrets only he is to know.

It takes you a moment to bring these two concepts together, as this turn of events just swept you over in a cold rush. Even if you’re going to be honest with yourself, what did you expect? Some beautiful woman with long black hair, miraculously emerging from the waters of some shallow pond? This probably is your sign to read less fantasy… Does it count as fantasy if witches are apparently real?

You blink and push this thought away, this is really not the time to contemplate the structure of your world. So you take a breath, trying to formulate your thoughts more coherently this time.

“Oh, okay. Uhm, so… hold on, no, how am I supposed to call you? Because there’s no way I’m calling you a witch for, I don’t know how long, but that doesn’t matter… Uhm,” you veer off topic before just introducing yourself in the same breath.

Wow, you did amazing, you should pat yourself on the shoulder, because how can someone start at a point and finish at the wrong place? You bite on your bottom lip, slightly crunching your face. But the moment he says your name, the strain seems to melt off, you’re so taken aback by how elegant your own name sounds from his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose you can call me Shoto.”

With a nod, you do your best to memorize his name and to replace the imaginary picture of a witch with a replication of him, sitting between the flowers, and you’re aware that your memory could never truly replicate this look, this moment; it always be something faded compared to this, and you curse your insufficient brain capacities. Until you remember the actual reason you came looking for him.

“So, Shoto. I need your help, you know, as the witch, because, uh, I don’t know if you noticed already, but I guess someone cursed me? For some reason. Unrelated to anything really…” you laugh nervously and avoid his gaze “Like no one is able to recognize me, which is weird! I look normal in mirrors, but not in pictures? And, uh, see, I kinda need my face to work, you know? Is there something you could do to help me? You’re my last resort, pretty please?” You had hurried to explain your reasons for arriving at this place before the silence between you could even start, or worse, before he got the time to just stand up and leave.

He leans back and his eyes glance over your face, examining you, and you notice how the contrast between his eyes seems to grow for a moment; one almost glowing eerily while the other darkens to reach the depth of the universe. It feels like you’re in the presence of a supernova, a star about to burst by its seams.

But the moment he blinks with a nod the moment is gone, almost like it never was any different. At least he looks like he found whatever he’s looking for, the curse probably.

“I will help you. But in exchange I do need you to aid me in the time it takes me to break this particular spell,” he sets his condition and slightly cocks his head to the side, waiting for your response.

A wide grin splits your face as he agrees to help you. excitement thrumming through your veins at the prospect of working with an actual witch, and even getting rid of this problem altogether. But you still take your time to weigh the choices in your head.

You don’t really have another choice, do you? Because if you refuse, what are you supposed to do? It’s either you help him with his potions, whatever that requires of you, you’re ready to even give your blood for this, or you just suffer for the rest of your life under this horrid curse of unrecognition. Even if you have to admit that this condition of yours could be a real killer in the shady business of the underground, assassinations, break-ins, or whatever illegal activities they entertain. No one would ever be able to catch you, as you practically have no face to be identified by. If you only possessed more usable skills to pursue this potential path of corruption, but you don’t. So you only truly have one choice left.

You readily agree to his terms, on your own condition, you want to be able to go home at the end of the day. You’d like to enjoy your sleep if you involuntarily have to miss work. With the same reasoning, you promise him to come back tomorrow before you’re already on your way home. You hadn’t noticed how late it already was, because the meeting didn’t feel like it took hours off your day. But who are you to judge the sun for packing up a bit earlier, at least it’s still bright enough for you to walk on your own. And on your trek home, you see his captivating eyes every time you blink, almost being able to feel the difference in temperature, coals and ice, hot and cold.

They haunt you, no matter how often you shake your head to get rid of them. You do have bigger problems to concentrate on. But your worries vanish once you land on your bed, all washed up and in clean clothes. The short hike seems to have taken a toll on you, or maybe the revelation of the whole situation, as you fall asleep as soon as you could even think of sleep.

The next morning you wake up all sore, and you whine into your pillow, already despising the possibility, the simple thought of getting up. Yet you sit up and grab your phone to tell your boss that you’re sick. Which technically isn’t a lie, if something does belong in that section, then it’s a curse for sure, and it’s the best option to not get kicked out again, or fired for not showing up to work.

With that you pat yourself on the back for finding a solution to that particular problem, and for giving yourself at least a week to solve this mess. If it doesn’t work out by then, you’d have to get a doctor’s notice, and you honestly doubt that a doctor can diagnose you with this if they even can recognize anything in the first place.

One problem out of the way, you go through your morning routine to head out to start solving the main problem. You put on some proper clothes for this trip, and this time you’re not keen on not tumbling down a hill, and being aware of the hill in the first place will definitely make it a lot easier.

The way to the meadow turns out to be a lot easier once you know the way, and as a consequence, you gain fewer bruises on the way down. You’re glad for that because the ones you earned yesterday throb every time they get touched, even by the barest breeze. But you will survive this horrendous pain, everything to reach your goal of getting rid of this curse.

If only everything is as easy as you wish it to be. Because the moment you arrive at the border of the meadow, you encounter another problem: Shoto isn’t here today.

You curse under your breath while glancing around the empty open space. What are you supposed to do now? You can’t just walk aimlessly and shout his name into the darkness of the woods. That would be stupid, you don’t know what lurks in its insides, and you’d like to avoid disturbing the wildlife and him, probably, if he is actually living in this forest.

Should you just take a seat in the middle of the meadow? Would he be able to see you from wherever his residence is? Once again you curse, but this time at your inability to plan forward, because you really should’ve asked for some details, but for some reason, his agreement seemed enough for you to just up and leave. Now it is obvious how you didn’t think any of this through.

With a sight, you lightly kick the ground. After you take one last look over the meadow, you decide to walk up the borders of the open space in hopes of finding some sort of hint about his possible whereabouts.

It takes you some time to come across a small river, water glistening clearly under the sun. and you decide to follow it on a whim. Honestly, this is probably the next best thing, because everyone needs some form of water, and this forest has no lake, so the river makes absolutely sense.

The flowing water leads you deeper into the woods, but you can’t actually get lost if you just follow the river in the opposite direction, so you’re not really worried about that.

This decision turns out to be the right one because after some time you spot a cottage in the near distance. Surrounded by bushes and the ivory sparkles under the rays of the sun breaking through the ceiling of leaves. As you step closer, leaving the river behind, you’re able to see the veranda filled with all different kinds of plants in pots, hanging, standing, thriving. You think you can even discern some form of garden on the other side of the building, but you decide to stop in front of the door rather than visit that small space. Who knows how a witch is able to protect their place.

Before you even think about knocking, you note how this place doesn’t look like what you expect of a lair, but honestly, you don’t have any other visual than the gingerbread house, and to be fair, that’s a fairytale and as much as Shoto looks like he came straight out of one, there’s no connection between these two. Not that it matters, you’re certainly not a kid, so you doubt he would eat you, which is unlikable in the first place.

You raise your fist to finally knock on the wood of the door, but before your knuckles could even connect with it, the door actually opens, and you make eye contact with Shoto. You slowly lower your fist and notice how he’s holding a basket in his hand, eyebrows raised in silent surprise. For a moment you both just look at each other in confused surprise until he finally starts speaking.

“Oh, good morning. I didn’t expect you to be here so early. Come in,” he steps aside to fully open the door, inviting you into his home.

With hesitation you step inside, looking around as curiosity tempts you with its soft claws. A smell of a mix of herbs wafts in front of you as you inhale. There is a small seating arrangement, a loveseat, a sofa, an armchair, all resting on top of a soft carpet, inviting you to sit on the ground and enjoy some tea or read a book.

Connected to that space is an open kitchen, to which he heads to, and you hurry to follow his lead. It takes you a moment to take your shoes off, so you can’t help but follow his path carefully, too scared to accidentally disturb this calm space of his.

His home seems rather normal, but once again, what did you expect? Some kind of massive cauldron, some random stuff hanging off the ceilings, or body parts in a mysterious liquid? You should’ve expected this, this is just a normal cottage in the depths of the forest, the only exceptional thing, or person, is Shoto, and you don’t mean him being a witch.

Once you arrive in the space of the kitchen, he motions you to sit at the table, and you do, your expectations getting the best of you and waiting for some form of grimoire to thud onto the table. But nothing of that sort happens, he just sits on the opposite side, leaning his chin in his hand and just looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and a small pout on his lips.

You try your best to stay silent, even if the urge to say something is getting stronger with the second, but you withstand his piercing gaze resting on your hot skin. You bite on your tongue to swallow your question down. Especially when his eyes begin to emit a low light once again, all stormy weather, dark clouds shrouded in lightning.

It abates the moment he hums. “I see. Well, I guess I am able to undo this spell, but we both don’t know anything about the workings of the spell, it probably will take me some time to fix the proper counterspell. For that, I need your presence. Should we get started?” He leans back, his eyes glowing under the sunlight, but this time it feels a lot softer, less like magic and more like a fairy tale.

The next thought you have is filled with indignation because he just assumed you don’t know anything about the spell. Well you don’t, but it’s about the assumption itself, not the fact that you have no idea about this craft. So you can’t really say anything in your defense, because there’s nothing to defend but your pride, and it’s not worth it at the moment.

“Sure thing, but I have to let you know: I know how that woman put this spell on me, and… uh…” you start confidently, only to peter out, not knowing how to continue this trail of thought.

Despite that, he does seem surprised by that in some way, indicated by the way his eyebrows shoot up. “Is that so? Would you mind telling me?”

You almost think to hear some sort of accusation in his tone, but you have no reason or idea why that might be. So you just shrug it off before delving into a short explanation of the events that had occurred to you, until you recount the first meeting with him. Of course, there are some details you omit, because you’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of such a graceful person, because he’s a witch, not because you think he’s so beautiful you might turn blind if you look at him for an extended period of time, that would be ridiculous. Also, telling him about your fall is just unnecessary to the plot of this story, isn’t it?

He nods, eyes telling you that he realizes the omission, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least he seems like he understands more about the situation than you, simply from the description of whatever she had done to you, from whatever you had felt.

“This does help quite a bit. Doesn’t make the process much faster, just easier. Not that it matters, I’m qualified to undo this spell either way.” He stands up and begins to open the cabinets, rummaging through their insides before pulling out a notebook and a pen.

There’s no way this is his spellbook. The place where he keeps his most secret, most important spells. It looks like any ordinary notebook from the store, and it probably is, considering how normal everything looks. Maybe he has a special way of safekeeping?

You squint and stare at the notebook, trying to discover something hidden, but the only thing you see is how Shoto is writing some stuff down, the signs clear and elegant.

Only occasionally does he look up, eyes roaming over your face without sitting still on anything in particular. You doubt he could even if he wanted to.

And now your thoughts wander to the possibility that he would actually want to look at you, how his gaze would soften when caressing your skin, the sun sparkling against his dual-colored eyes, making them glisten with adora–

No, you have to stop here, or you’re not going to survive his presence in the upcoming brewing sessions. Healing sessions… Yeah, healing sessions, because he’s healing your hurt ego, getting rid of your predicament. There’s nothing else to call them. Uncursing? Spell Deletion? No, that sounds ridiculous. Healing sessions sound like some form of therapy, and being in the forest is kind of therapeutic, well, his presence sure is. Not that the name matters, you’re never going to talk about it with anyone, ever.

You blink a couple of times to come back to reality, only to make eye contact with him and your breath hitches. You do your best to act casual and prop your elbow onto the back of the chair but you slip and you have to catch yourself with a jerk.

A nervous laugh escapes you and you lean back, crossing your arms in front of your chest to get rid of your fidgeting. You avoid looking into his eyes this time, focusing on the fringe falling onto his forehead, red and white braiding into each other seamlessly.

He doesn’t even bother to say anything about what just happened and just goes straight to business. “Here’s what we’re going to do in the next few days,” he starts explaining like you just didn’t utterly embarrass yourself in front of him. “I doubt a counterspell will work without consequences because we don’t know the exact working of your curse, even if I have a good idea of it. Still, I don’t want to risk it, so I’m simply going to brew a potion, which will wear it out until it disperses on its own. That means we have to go out and collect some necessary materials. We’re going to do that later though, as there are some preparations I have to make first.”

With that, he closes his notebook and leaves it on the table as he stands up. He motions you to follow him and you leave the house at his heels.

Outside he pulls some sort of platter from below a table and hands it to you before he kneels on the ground in front of a pot in the form of a long rectangle. Inside it is a green plant, stalks spreading out like rays of the sun, leaves tiny and feather-like.

“These are Maidenhair Ferns, also called The Hair of Venus. They could have some effect on your current condition, but we have to dry them first for their potency to unfold. I’m going to take care of the cutting of the plant and I ask you to put them neatly onto the platter. That way we can continue our work at a faster rate,” he explains, his gaze only brushing over you before leading his focus back onto the plant in front of him.

You nod, even though you’re not sure he could register this movement with the way he’s intently looking at the leaves of the ferns. You still take a seat by his side and put the big plate on your lap, ready to receive the first leaves and stems.

At first there isn’t a lot for you to do, so you’re busy looking around, taking in the sights of the forest, enjoying the sun on your face, but soon enough you start taking the stalks filled with neat leaves and arrange them properly on the plate, trying to avoid stacking them as much as possible.

Luckily, he doesn’t pick that many plants for you to even begin thinking of that possible problem too much. With a platter covered with just the right amount of leaves, he finally turns around to face you.

“We need to pluck the leaves from the stem because each part is different, and will need a different time to properly dry. We only need the leaves for the potion, but I’d hate to waste the rest,” he murmurs, his long, nimble fingers already running along the stem of one of the plants, picking the leaves off with careful fingertips, barely staining his nail beds in the process.

You proceed to take one fern in your hand, trying your best to imitate him and to rip the leaves at the right spot and not rip them apart accidentally. Sticking your tongue slightly between your teeth in concentration, you manage to not destroy the first fern, even if the process has gotten a bit messy, your fingers turning slightly green. You begin to understand why people who garden have a ‘green thumb’.

You both work in a comfortable silence for some time, simply enjoying the repetitive motion. Before you even dare to think about standing up, you both make sure that everything is properly separated and not layered. Just then you stand up and follow him around the corner to some sort of backyard. You reckon this is the place you glanced at earlier. There’s a table standing out in the open, and he motions you to put the platter you were carrying onto its surface. In that position, the sun is going to dry them for you, essentially doing the work for you.

The moment your hands are free, you get the urge to stretch into the rays of the sun, your blurry, lidded gaze glancing over the edge of the open space between the bushes. And that’s where you spot it. A beautiful deer.

With a silent gasp, you blindly try to tap Shoto on the shoulder, accidentally brushing against his jaw in your hurry. Normally you would apologize, but you don’t dare tear your eyes away from the deer, much less make a noise, in fear of it disappearing without a trace. The doe, you correct yourself, as it lacks any form of horns.

“Oh,” you hear Shoto say softly under his breath, finally spotting the deer too.

For a moment you both just stay silent, not daring to even move too much, simply enjoying the mesmerizing sight of a doe under the shining sun, framed by the lush green of the forest. That is until the deer just turns around and jumps away like it just doesn’t care about you both just staring at it in awe.

You release a small puff of air, some tension releasing as you had been too caught up in the moment. Turning around in his direction, you regret even breathing the second you lock eyes with Shoto, his face closer to you than you had anticipated. It seems like you both have moved closer in that short moment, huddling together for some reason at the mere sight of the doe.

Your eyes jump over his dark eye to the lightning blue one, electrifying you like a summer storm, and you wonder if he’s gotten hit by lightning itself, resulting in these mesmerizing eyes, and the scar around that bright eye, the only blemish on his smooth, soft looking skin. Maybe it’s connected to his powers, to these symbols deep inside the blue, unreadable to you.

To avoid staring at his scar, your gaze travels over his high cheekbones to his plumb lips, and you could almost imagine them quirking slightly, the moment before he reveals a true laugh of joy out of his soul. This thought startles you and you immediately take a step back, bumping into the corner of the table.

A low whimper escapes as you double over, clutching your wounded side in a dramatic manner. At least now you’ve got a reason to avoid looking at him, to avoid getting lost in all these daydreams about him and…

“Are you okay? Did you hit a sensitive spot?” he asks, worry tinting his voice as he puts his hand softly on your back.

You nod at first before you begin to shake your head, these two questions colliding in your head, all while you try to ignore the possible innuendo. If you step into that territory of thought, you might as well run into the woods and bury yourself in some random cave, to never face him again.

The pain slowly abates after you take a couple of breaths to calm yourself down. It’s going to form a bruise, which isn’t that big of a deal, but you wish it wouldn’t feel like something had impaled your guts.

Straightening up, you show him a thumbs up, even if his slightly furrowed eyebrows and jutted lips show that he isn’t quite convinced. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to fight you over that, so his hand leaves your back. The spot is suddenly so cold, and you can’t help but miss the warmth of his skin, even through clothing.

You try your best to divert his attention away, and maybe yours too, as you look around, in particular to avoid looking at his face. You spot some form of wooden fence, probably a small garden, and you step in its direction with a craning neck to see what he could have planted there.

“Oh, is that a garden? What did you put there? Do you sustain yourself like that? How do you know what soil to use for what plant? Are these to eat or just for your potions?” These questions pour out of your mouth, the perfect distraction for you both as you don’t have to pull out some random question out of nowhere. And you’re genuinely interested.

He seems to have noticed your attempt at distraction according to his rising eyebrows, but he still indulged you and steps closer to the high edge of the garden and you join him close behind him.

With a soft voice he starts explaining the use of each herb, each fruit and plant, patiently pointing toward them, all while mentioning neat little details, like their harvest season, how picky certain plants are. And you can’t help but be captivated by his knowledge and the way he shares it. Even if you sometimes break out of the immersion of his voice when your eyes begin to roam over his face instead of listening.

Time passes with you both kneeling in the soft grass and inspecting the little space filled with love. You only notice how late it has gotten with the way your eyelids feel heavy, your gaze unfocusing and hazy. And as much as you’d love to just take a nap in the middle of the grass under this beautiful weather, you have to get home before that.

So with a goodbye and a promise to return tomorrow, you make your way home, the way easier to walk as your body starts to memorize the path. You could say you could find the way to the cottage in your sleep with how tired you currently feel.

It’s no wonder you barely remember getting ready for bed, much less going to sleep because your brain is practically already out of commission before that happens.

The next day you wake up with a satisfied groan. You’ve never felt this refreshed in your life before, and when you glance at the time, you startle, realizing why. You’ve overslept, you’re late for work! You immediately stand up, heart beating a frenzy in your chest and your arms tremble slightly. With a sudden rush, you remember how you had taken sick leave just yesterday, and you slump back onto your bed.

With a shaken sigh, you sink back into your pillow. You could have slept a bit more, but it seems like your internal clock was keen on terrorizing you today. And with that rush of adrenaline, you might as well stay up and get ready to visit Shoto today.

You take your time to eat breakfast and just enjoy the silence of your home before you make yourself ready for the way. You also check on the state of your food, in case you need to get some groceries. But you don’t, so you clean your place a bit before heading out.

And once again you step through the same path you’ve been visiting the last few days, and you wonder if it would inevitably become some sort of established path with the amount of walking you’ve been doing between the same couple of trees. Maybe you should start changing the route a bit the next couple of times.

You arrive in front of his door and this time you’re able to knock on the door before it’s ripped open, and you startle by the look Shoto throws out of the door, all narrow eyes and downturned lips, almost resembling a snarl. You hesitate in asking if something is wrong. His eyes blink before recognizing you, in the widest sense, and his whole face seems to almost soften. With no exchange of words, he steps to the side and opens the door for you to step in.

Mirroring the day before, he makes way for the table and sits down, waiting for you to do the same. And you do, because you’ve been walking closely behind him.

His notebook is already open on the surface of the table, and he leans slightly forward. “The leaves of yesterday still need some time to fully dry, so today we should go out and collect some other stuff I mentioned yesterday. Is that alright with you?”

You would do anything to get rid of that curse on your face, so of course it’s alright with you, and you nod to show him that. He also nods in confirmation before closing his notebook and grabbing a basket to put whatever you will collect today inside.

While he is doing that, you hurry to the door to open it up for him, even bowing slightly with a grin across your face and the moment he passes by you, you think to see a small smile on his lips, amusement sparkling clearly in his face.

After closing the door behind you, you follow him to take his side as he ventures deeper into the forest. His steps are purposeful, and you’re sure he knows where to find the target material. Still, you wish you could help with whatever he’s looking for, but you doubt you would be able to recognize it even if he told you the name of it. Despite that, you’re happy to listen when he starts talking, explaining what he’s looking for.

“I have some vague idea of what could help against your current ailment. Right now, I’m looking for a Bird’s Eye…” he trails off as he seems to have spotted something.

This revelation confuses you. What does he mean with a Bird’s Eye? Is he going to pluck the eyeballs of some poor bird? Is that something he usually does? He doesn’t seem like the person to entertain such thoughts. You want to ask him if there’s another way, but he had vanished between some bushes.

You swallow down the tremble in your throat and fight through the shrubbery to catch up to him. You emerge a couple of steps next to the spot he’s bending over. With some paces to place yourself at his side, only to see him hold some sort of purple plant delicately between his fingers. Petals growing upward the long stem to a soft point. A lavender plant… A Veronica… And suddenly you feel stupid for still assuming something without real proof. Still, you can’t help the relieved breath you let out.

Straightening up, Shoto shoots you a look, all hidden crinkles, and creasing eyes, almost like he’s making fun of you, like he’s amused at your obvious relief. “Seems like you had expected something else, didn’t you?” he asks, his gaze resting somewhere on your cheek.

“Uh, what else am I supposed to think? Telling me, ‘oh yeah, we need some bird’s eye’, doesn’t sound like, I don’t know, like you’re about to pluck an eyeball? How am I– hold on, did you do that on purpose?” you gasp at your own accusation. “You did! That’s so mean of you, I can’t believe you would use my trust like that!”

You pout slightly, even if you doubt he could see it properly, so you cross your arms in front of you to show your stance on things right now, even if you’re aware that you look overly dramatic. But that’s the point.

Your stance doesn’t seem to affect him, because you suddenly hear a light chuckle escape his lips, and when you glance at his face, you can clearly see how his lips quirked up in a silent laugh, all soft and delicate.

While you’re staring at him, you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face clearly, because you probably look stunned, amazed, stupefied, and every other word to describe the way your eyes widen and your mouth standing slightly agape.

His eyes wander over your face, eyebrows scrunched up as if he wants to see whatever the fog is hiding behind that blur. Whatever he’s looking for doesn’t seem to be there, because the frown only deepens before he turns back to the flower in his hand, putting it carefully into the basket.

“These are the flowers we’re looking for. Do you mind picking some up?” he asks, already doing so himself, inspecting each one carefully to only select the ones most fitting.

You nod and diligently begin to pick the ones you seem worthy, collecting them into some sort of bouquet in your other hand. After a while, your hand is barely able to hold onto more, and you’re quite content with the look of your makeshift bouquet. Not being able to resist the urge, you tap him on the shoulder and hold it under his nose.

“Please accept this!” you say dramatically, acting like you just confessed your undying love to him, but you couldn’t stay serious long enough to wait for his response, especially after seeing his raised eyebrow. You burst into laughter. “Sorry, sorry! I just thought it looked like a bouquet, so–”

“Oh, so you wanted to offer me the Eye of a Bird? How romantic,” he drawls, his mouth puckered and eyebrows high on his forehead. Only the gleam in his eyes seems to betray his serious stance.

You nod with a muffled giggle. “The peak of modern romance, of course! You deserve nothing less than the best.”

He takes the flowers from your outreached hand and inspects them, acting too critical of your offering before nodding in approval. “I shall accept these, but only this time.”

You gasp, a hand over your heart. “Only this time? My good sir, then I shall prepare something more glamorous, something you can’t refuse for the next time!” you declare with a boisterous voice and a puffed chest.

Once again his lips purse in consideration. “Well, I don’t know if this is possible, there won’t be a next time, that’s for certain. You shan’t woe me this easily.”

“We shall see how this turns out,” you puff with arrogance, only to break down in little giggles.

The moment you break the immersion, he too breaks his facade with a broad smile, pearly teeth on display and eyes crinkling with happiness and mischief. With the breeze ruffling his hair he looks like the image of pure bliss.

His obvious happiness makes you smile, and you have to catch yourself before you let out a dreamy sigh. You have no other choice but to break the line of sight, lest you do something you might regret, especially with the way your insides feel all soft and malleable at his sight, full, ready to give something to always enjoy the way he seems to be in such peace. But you can’t give in, no matter how much your heart seems to plead with your senses. You should not do this, you shouldn’t even think like this in the first place.

So you redirect all your focus into picking the perfect flowers, paying close attention to the details. With that, you both slowly fill the basket, and before you know it, the evening sun is shining through the leaves, putting everything in a soft orange glow.

The full basket has gotten quite heavy and you both decide to share the burden, each one of you grabbing a side of the handle to carry it together. This arrangement is there to make it easier for you both, so no problems should arise. Even if the path you’re taking is narrow in some passages and trying to get through them together, side by side, his shoulder ends up bumping, brushing against yours more often than not. And every time this contact happens, you do your best to not flinch away or to think too closely about the warmth he radiates; avoiding leaning closer to him than you already are.

Finally, you arrive at the cottage and you feel like you have lost all breath in your lungs, most of it evaporating by the simple look at him, by the simple brush. Despite needing some space, you continue to help him carry the basket to some sort of designated space inside the house. And once you get rid of that weight, you stretch your arms above your head, hearing a silent yet satisfying crack.

Feeling the need to rest outside, even if you just were under the open sky, you take some slow steps out of the door, because you desperately need a moment to breathe without being scared of brushing against him.

That’s how you end up sitting on his veranda. The sun had already set and darkness is swallowing the forest, which is now filled with entirely new noises and movements. Despite the lack of light and the unknown biting at your toes, you don’t feel unsafe or in danger, rather the silence and the cool breeze have a calming effect on you.

With a roaming look into the sky, you notice the amount of stars visible against the deep blue of the night. Without any trees obstructing your sight and no artificial lights destroying their twinkle, you can’t help but be entranced with them. You’re so fixated on their beauty that you almost miss Shoto taking a seat by your side.

For a moment you both stay silent, arm against arm, shoulder against shoulder, knee brushing a thigh, and this time you don’t even dare to hold your breath. You feel the desire to lean against him, to feel his breath flutter against your skin. But you’re satisfied with this moment, with the way he seems to glow under the stars, giving him a halo of silver light.

Only because you’ve been staring at him do you notice when he stretches his hand into the sky and lets his finger connect individual stars into constellations. You squint, trying to see the lines from your perspective but you struggle a bit as everything is shifted, so you don’t even know which stars are connected despite following the way his finger moves.

He seems to notice your struggle, as he scoots closer, his front now almost touching your back, his head hovering over your shoulder to get down to your height. After settling like that he carefully grabs your fingertips and waits for you to pull away or to react in any way to show him your rejection, but you don’t. You rather marvel at how soft his skin feels against yours in that feather-light touch.

His hand leads your fingers to make a fist with only your index finger pointing out. With your hand like that, he rests his palm against the back of your hand, on your wrist. Positioned like that he slowly begins to show you the constellations with your own finger, all while making sure it’s visible from your perspective. While guiding you, he softly murmurs their names and the planets and stars, explaining everything and yet nothing, because you’re almost too focused on his breath against your face, the way his chin brushes against your shoulder, and you try your best to not turn around to directly face him.

After some time you do begin to relax and to enjoy all this information and the light contact. You end up leaning against his torso, his cheek resting on your head, and you both remain like that for some time, simply soaking in the presence, the silence and the warmth between you.

So it’s no wonder how you barely notice the atmosphere wrapping around you, lulling you into something peaceful and welcoming.

You only notice how gone you were when the sun's rays hit your face softly, waking you up with their soft kisses, and you can’t even be mad at being woken up like that. It is comfortable and warm. Still, the moment you open your eyes, you startle slightly at the sight of the unfamiliar, yet familiar ceiling. You slowly sit up and a patchwork blanket slides off your shoulders to bunch around your waist.

With a quick look at your surroundings, you realize where you are: the cottage. And with that realization you put the pieces together: You fell asleep on him, while stargazing, while holding his hand.

You bury your face in your hands, embarrassment flooding your ears. You hope you didn’t mumble, or worse, drool in your sleep. Or you might simply never look him in the face again.

Peaking between your fingers, you spot him in the open kitchen, silently working on something over the stove, his back turned towards you.

“Breakfast is almost done. You can freshen up a bit, I put some clothes that might fit you in the bathroom,” his voice sounds and you flinch, surprised he had noticed you being awake. “It wasn’t difficult, you made quite some noise.”

You frown, jutting your lips out. Is he reading your thoughts? Is that one of the abilities of witches? You sure hope it isn’t, or else he would know about everything that had crossed your mind in his presence… You desperately want to avoid this possibility, but it can’t hurt to try. So you think of something so stupid, so outrageous, he has no choice but to react.

I couldn't read the witch's handwriting at all, she always wrote in curse-ive.

You almost hit your own face with a groan, but you keep your gaze on his back, trying to see if this entices any form of reaction out of him. But nothing happens and you just sigh, even if you’re still curious how he had guessed your thoughts to that degree. Maybe you should ask him later…

A shrug and you stretch the last bit of heaviness out of your limbs before you grab the blanket to fold it and to put it neatly onto the sofa you’ve been sleeping on. It would be rude to leave it crumbled like that, especially after he put the effort to carry… you… For a moment you stop in your tracks and just blink blanky at the blanket in front of you.

He carried you… and put a blanket over you… He carried you…?

This realization hits you like a swinging bat and you have to bite on your lower lip to suppress a gasp. Your eyes jump to his figure, making sure he’s not looking at you, his back still turned towards you, and you slowly make your way to the bathroom, your joints feel like they’re locked up and creaking like a bad oiled machine.

Once you arrive in the bathroom, you close the door behind you and lean heavily on the sink. You feel like you just gave yourself some serious whiplash. So, with a deep breath, you begin to splash your face with cold water, trying to calm yourself down before you turn around to look at the clothes he had prepared for you. Holding the shirt in front of you, you decide that it will fit you even though it might be a bit loose, but you can’t complain about that.

With that you change into the fest pair of clothes, folding your clothes neatly. You don’t even take the time to look into the mirror to check how they fit, almost afraid of what you might see.

You leave the bathroom with another stretch and enter the open kitchen to offer your help to him, but he refuses politely because he already plated the table and there’s simply not enough space for the both of you to cook something without elbowing each other.

So you take a seat at the table, resting your head on your palm, content with just watching him being busy with the food preparation. He moves with a practiced hand, movements smooth and elegant. You can only observe as his surprisingly broad shoulders move, muscles stretching and filling his shirt. Your eyes wander over his lean back and you purse your lips the moment you see his small waist. You wonder if you would be able to put your arms around his whole torso, or your legs…

You inhale sharply, immediately averting your eyes to the window, trying to divert your thoughts to something else, anything but to look back to his direction. It’s a beautiful day outside, there’s no need to stay in the bedroom, or inside, no need to have any thoughts relating to inside activities.

Your gaze jumps around, looking for something to latch onto, but there’s nothing but the wonderful depth of the forest, which isn’t quite enough to distract you from the possible way his muscles could coil when he leans over you…

A bite to the inside of your cheek brings you out of that train of thoughts, and you’re aware of how you need something more concrete for your distraction, like that deer. But you could only vaguely discern some movements in the bushes and nothing really stepped out of the shadows.

The clatter of a plate disrupts your almost desperate search as Shoto puts a plate in front of you, and you can’t stop the excited grin spreading over your face at its contents. He made some waffles, toppings dripping down its sides and its smell luring you in to take the first bite. It looks delicious, an absolute masterpiece. And you can’t resist it, barely taking your time to thank him properly for his efforts, before digging in and letting the soft dough melt over your tongue. You close your eyes and you almost moan out of delight, the taste an explosion of pure bliss. Instead of embarrassing yourself like that, you just stuff your mouth with another bite.

And before you know it, the plate is empty, leaving you full, yet yearning for more. But you doubt you could even manage to get another bite down and just slump backward into the back of the chair, feeling some kind of satisfied drowsiness.

“Shoto, my man, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. You got some magic hands,” you tell him and grin widely when he raises his eyebrows at your choice of words.

Instead of properly answering your compliment, he lets out a puff of air before beginning to collect the empty dishes. You immediately stand up, keen on helping him this time around, especially when you don’t need much space to do the dishes. That’s how you end up drying the washed dishes and putting them away in their respective places. Of course not without him showing you where they belong first.

With this arrangement, you finish doing the dishes at a faster rate. He’s drying his hands as he turns around to look at you. “I’m going to brew the potion today, or at least try to. Feel free to take a book to entertain yourself for the time being.”

He points to the huge shelf covering the entire wall of the living room and you gape slightly at its size. How did you miss that in the first place? Even if you have been distracted by a lot of things, this thing is huge, there’s no way you could have just not seen it.

You barely give him a nod before immediately stepping closer to the shelf, running your fingers along the spines of the books. So many different topics, genres and authors, and there is no way Shoto didn’t read them all. No wonder he has such huge amounts of knowledge. After you have taken a couple of strides along the length of the shelf, you finally choose one of the books and take it out of its place.

With it firmly in your palm, you go and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Once you’re in the perfect position you start reading, thumbing through the book about heroes and their powers, and your brain rattles with all the possibilities and the groundwork of this fictional world.

The background is filled with the sound of utensils clashing and clattering, soft blubbering of his potion, and after a couple of pages, you decide to take a look from afar.

He’s still in the kitchen, bending over his work, a slight furrow between his eyebrows, a thoughtful pout tugging at his lips. And you just look. Just admire the evenly split hair of red and white softly falling, framing his face, the calm demeanor revealing his kind heart. You smile. You can’t help but think, these thoughts filling your veins, coming from your heart, how charming he looks, how beautiful, how handsome. Despite being aware that this relationship is entirely contractual, the chance of seeing him again after this ordeal is slim, you admit to yourself, you like him, a lot. And there’s no way to truly know how he feels about you. To him, you’re probably just another person requiring his services, nothing more, nothing less, only bound by the verbal deal you’ve made.

This realization makes you smile bittersweetly, already accepting the outcome. So you try to get back into the book, to put your focus back on the ongoing plot. But your thoughts circle back to the endless ways this could end, the endless ways this could turn and bend. And no matter how badly you wish for it to end otherwise, every path leads to the same blocked path, a deal done, a face regained and a connection lost. Who are you to interfere with fate?

You force yourself to face it, to accept it, no matter how much your heart resists. It will hurt, but everything turns out to be how it’s supposed to be.

A breath and you begin to digest the story word by word, forcing yourself to take them in until you finally relax and get into the flow of the story and its plot, all while the background noises fade out of your consciousness.

You feel yourself clutching at your non-existent pearls as you near the end of the book when Shoto walks up to you, nudging your foot with his to get your attention. And once you look up from your book, he holds a cup with some sort of tea in your direction. With thanks you take it and immediately sip from the warm liquid.

“I thought you’re supposed to brew that potion?” you ask him, cupping your hands to warm your palms on the glazed ceramic.

“I was. That’s the potion in your hand,” he answers and the corners of his mouth slightly dip upward.

You startle at this revelation and almost let the cup drop. “Wh-what? You could’ve said that earlier!”

“How could I when you so eagerly took it from my hands before I could even say anything?” he chuckles and cocks his head to the side, eyes crinkling at your shocked face.

You gape at him and look at the half-empty cup in your hands, then back at him. “Are you messing with me? It feels like you’re messing with me…”

He shakes his head. “As amusing that would be, I’m not. You’re drinking the potion right now. It will probably take some odd hours to take full effect, if at all.”

Slowly you nod and just down the rest of the tea-potion in one big gulp. You exhale and the warmth of the tea coupled with the late hour begins to make you quite drowsy. There’s no way you’re staying two nights at his place, that would be just so utterly rude of you, especially if you’re going to lend out some of his stuff. That means it’s time for you to head home, as much as you’d like to stay on the couch and continue reading.

You close the book and return it to its place before you thank him once again and take your stuff. With everything in hand you begin your way home, the evening still young and the wood still filled with enough light to not get hurt when crossing it.

Finally arriving home without accidents, the first thing you do is change out of the borrowed clothes and prepare them to wash later so you can return them to him. And you start doing your nighttime routine, even if the initial drowsiness is now gone for some reason, but you’d like to be prepared for the moment you feel tired again, and maybe you need some distraction. If you don’t, you might as well go insane with anticipation, literally expecting something to happen immediately.

This anticipation fills you with adrenalin or something, because for some time you just walk around your place aimlessly, not able to settle down without feeling your heart race. You finally settle on your bed with your phone in hand, trying to calm down to the best of your abilities. It doesn’t quite work, because you realize you never asked Shoto for his number, you never felt the need to, and maybe you shouldn’t even ask in the first place.

You sigh and roll around, beginning to scroll through whatever apps you have in rotations, and you only stop to scratch at your tingling face. At first you don’t think too much about it, as it only itches around your mouth. But then the itch begins to spread over your cheek and you have to stop everything you’re doing, because you have to know if you suddenly have some sort of allergic reaction. After thinking for a while, you don’t remember eating something that could elicit such a reaction, so it can’t be that.

It takes you a moment to realize what that could mean and you jump off the bed, rushing to the mirror only to stop in the middle of the way when you remember that mirrors don’t show your problem with your looks. So you race back and dive for your phone, almost hitting your head on the headboard. You don’t pay attention to that though as you’re opening the camera, facing it towards you.

After you take a picture in semi-good lightning, you click into your gallery, only to see the newest pic and stare at it. There’s you! With every single feature you remember and cherish.

And before you know it, you’re already out the door, dashing through the streets and into the woods. You know you should be careful about tripping, but the need to see him, to thank him, to hug him, is overwhelming. Excitement is coursing through your veins, giving you a boost in energy and you feel laughter bubbling through your lungs.

Then you stumble. Unlike the first time, you don’t immediately take a tumble down the hill, because someone catches you right on time, long before you could even get closer to the ground. You grab their arm to straighten up and end up looking directly into Shoto’s eyes. For a moment you just stare at him, mesmerized by his glittering, compelling eyes, by the way you can so clearly see them despite the darkness surrounding you both.

His words bring you back to reality. “Oh, back so soon?”

“Wh– huh? How? I mean, yes, but how did you know it’s me?” you ask bewildered, shutting your mouth with some force before you keep it open when you remember that he can see your expressions now.

He smiles, plush lips revealing perfect teeth, eyes crinkling with obvious joy while roaming over every detail of your face, taking their time over every little feature; almost like he finally found whatever he has been looking for every time he glanced in your direction. One of his hands cups your face, caressing your skin. You lean involuntarily into his touch, enjoying the soft skin on yours more than you should have.

His next words make your heart beat faster than you thought possible, and suddenly a new path opens itself before you.

“My dear, I would always recognize you, no matter what.”

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raychleadele · 4 months

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Lately I’ve been really craving greens. Just absolutely slamming salads, putting them in wraps, on my morning egg toast, wilted into my pasta. Mixed greens everywhere. Spinach and arugula my beloveds. Also tried watercress for the first time and found that delightful. Loving my leafy greens. Figured there must be something in them, a vitamin or other nutrient, that my body really needs, because I’ve been going through them like crazy.

Relatedly, I recently paid an in person visit to the grocery store. I usually order for pickup to save on time, but this day I wasn’t able to for some reason. I was buying canned clams to make my late grandpa’s clam chowder. It’s a traditional Christmas/New Year’s season meal for me, I had to have it.

And when I picked up my can of clams, I became entranced by how many different canned fishes there were on the shelves. Sometimes I buy tuna, but I’d never touched most of them. And I know I was shopping hungry and when you shop hungry everything sounds good, but on that day the canned fish sounded really good. I thought “Idk, maybe I could be the kind of person who likes canned sardines.”

Then I snapped out of it and realized how hungry I was, and thought how insane it is for me to crave unfamiliar canned fish when I hardly eat the familiar variety I do buy, and reassured myself I’d get a meal when I got home, and I walked away without ransacking the shelf of canned fish.

But then I did it again at the fish counter at the Asian market a week later. I stood there for a full ten minutes, studying the dozens of whole fish they had that I’d never tried before, thinking maybe this would be the day I’d finally try filleting a fish for the first time, before deciding there weren’t any in my price range that looked fresh enough (I am in the only triple landlocked state of course), and walking away with no fish.

Then I saw that post here about someone who slammed three cans of fish and then learned they have lots of nutrients that help with seasonal depression. And I remembered how I’ve been slamming so many salads. And I thought huh, maybe my body is trying to tell me something about fish.

Then one of my favorite food YouTubers uploaded a video all about how people eat canned fish around the world and I said OKAY! CLEARLY I NEED TO BUY THE FISH!

So when I ordered groceries yesterday to prepare for the coming blizzard, I ordered canned fish. Specifically, I got one can of sardines, one can of anchovies, and one can of smoked oysters.

Today I cracked open the can of sardines for lunch. I taste tested a small piece and it was delicious! So I toasted an English muffin, spread it with some cream cheese, topped it with some thin sliced red onion and my beloved mixed greens, and added some sardines on top. Drizzled the top with some of the sardine oil and had an open faced sandwich. It was messy, because the minute I tried to bite into it all my toppings fell off, but it was delicious.

So anyway, I guess I am the kind of person who enjoys canned sardines now.

#personal #food

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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Do people in the US use bananas in desserts or cakes?

Yes.

We love our bananas almost as much as we hate commies or letting Latin America run its own governments!

The banana is actually our most consumed fruit. We pretty much only have the Cavendish unless you go to an Asian or Latin market. I'd say the average American doesn't even know bananas come in multiple types. But that one variety we have thoroughly incorporated into our cuisine for over a century.

Obviously, immigrants bring cuisines with them, so you'll see some Latin American and Asian dishes using bananas here if you're in the right part of the country, but probably the most quintessentially American uses of the banana for dessert are the banana cream pie and the banana split.

Bananas are also often added to milkshakes or used as garnish on other ice cream dishes at ice cream parlors. Pretty much any ice cream parlor will have banana splits on its menu at all times. (Though places that just serve scoops of ice cream to go in a cone or cup might not.) Banana cream pies aren't as ubiquitous, but most bakeries that make pies will have them as one of the flavors they alternate between alongside some staples they make every day, and restaurants that serve pie for dessert will frequently have this flavor.

Bananas Foster is a flambé typical of midcentury restaurants trying to be fancy (meaning 1950s) and came from New Orleans. It's not something I'd ever expect to see on menus around here in 2020s California. I'm not sure what kind of restaurant Bananas Foster would be typical of in the modern day outside of New Orleans. Event caterers might offer it as a gimmicky dessert for a special occasion. I guess I think of it as more of an impress the tourists type food than a default, but it's something I'd expect to see in a book on "American cuisine".

Banana bread and related muffins are very common. These are sweet but not overpoweringly so, and you'd typically find them in a coffee shop as a snack, maybe for breakfast or for mid afternoon. We have lots of "breads" in this genre including the very common pumpkin bread.

Banana pudding is a kind of trifle that is very typical of Southern cuisine. Growing up, the only time I ever saw it was at a particular soul food and BBQ place (there's a lot of overlap between African American traditions and Southern ones for obvious reasons).

I suppose it sometimes looks as fancy as most of the image search pics I'm finding, but my personal experience with it from that BBQ place is a lot closer to the gloopy homemade pic on Wikipedia. I've always seen it made with Nilla wafers, which I consume in no other context.

American Chinese food is ubiquitous, and restaurateurs were faced with a dilemma: American diners expect a dessert course, but Chinese Chinese cuisines don't descend from that same era of French haute cuisine that set the number of courses and their order in the eyes of Western Europe. The default ~exotic~ dessert they settled on was fried bananas. They're a version of the deep-fried banana fritter from all over the place. IDK how closely ours resemble the Indonesian ones. This is one case where you do sometimes see "baby bananas" in a mainstream American context, though fried bananas are also often made with the Cavendish.

(Baby bananas are those small, thin-skinned ones. The internet tells me they're also Finger Banana, Ladyfinger Banana, Nino Banana, Murapo, and Orito. Sorry if that's pedantic. I've got no idea which bananas you guys have over there. Something more than the shitty Cavendish, I presume.)

You wouldn't be likely to see a fried banana anywhere but as dessert at a Chinese restaurant or maybe at a Tiki restaurant on the rare occasions those still exist.

If you're not familiar, the midcentury US was obsessed with this fad for faux-tropical decor, food, and very alcoholic drinks. Supposedly, a lot of it was fueled by military men having served in the Pacific, so it has a heavy Hawaiian influence, but it's really a mishmash of incoherent memories of Polynesian things with a heavy topping of colonialism and exoticism. It's problematic trash, and I love it, especially the stupid mugs.

The frozen banana is another US cuisine thing. It's a frozen banana on a stick with a chocolate coating and usually nuts stuck to the chocolate. Apparently, this one is from California, so it may be less ubiquitous than I imagine.

Wikipedia reminds me of Hummingbird Cake, which is a Southern thing that, in my opinion, hasn't made it as far outside that area as banana pudding.

Lately, our collective boner for the Great British Bakeoff has made Banoffee pie start showing up here, but it's not really an American thing.

Wikipedia tells me there's something called a banana boat that's a classic campfire food (i.e. something you make in/on a campfire while camping). It sounds like an upgraded s'more, and I am outraged that nobody told me this was a thing.

A very regional specialty that I only recall because of a Josh Lanyon novel is buffalo milk, which is an alcoholic milkshake that's the signature drink of Santa Catalina, an island near L.A. that has a herd of bison living on it due to some filmmaking shenanigans in the 1920s. Sometimes, it only uses banana liqueur, but it can also use fresh bananas. It's a chocolate-coffee-banana concoction.

I'm quite fond of peanut butter banana sandwiches, but aside from those and fruit salad, I'd say Americans probably think of the banana more as a breakfast food, slicing it onto our cereal and onto or into our pancakes and drinking it in smoothies. Or we think of it as a standalone snack in handy packaging. But we definitely have a wide variety of banana desserts and sweet drinks too.

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torchickentacos · 2 years

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ok while I listen to math videos I’m gonna ramble a bit about a strict parent theory I have. if anyone who sees this is chronically ill with strict parents maybe this will be relevant, I’ve got a bit of a wider audience here and I think it may also apply to a couple of you

I was talking to my friends in discord about how my parents are strict about who I hang out with and I have a theory about it and it has nothing to do with other people actually-I think it’s a chronic illness parent thing. They didn’t used to be this way and I really have noticed an uptick since the diagnoses in the last 5 years. Like, it’s gone from “sure, go to the shopping center with your theatre people we’ve never met after school and just text me when you’re done” to “I haven’t heard that name before, who are they and how do you know them? ”. And my theory is maybe all bullshit but I think that after hospital scares and being put on hella meds and stuff, parents start to become more controlling of their children socially. Because here’s the thing-medical stuff is out of their control. My mom cannot control my flare-ups any more than I can. She cannot control that her daughter, who she does love very much, is sick and disabled. It could be a lot worse, sure-I’m technically fine, but I think it’s been really hard on everyone, not just me. I think that’s really fucking hard for a parent, if I had to guess-seeing their kid who used to run around and do gymnastics grow up into someone who uses a cane to walk the dog down the driveway. And I think that lack of control over my medical stuff is manifesting as being overly controlling in other aspects of my life-because she CAN control who I hang out with. Or she can try, anyways, but I can still join servers and stuff. But when it comes to voice chats (since I’m still pretty locked-down and I barely see my irl friends irl), she has control over that. I live in a tiny house with 6 people and thin walls. There is no way for me to do a voice chat without her hearing and I think that comforts her to an extent-again, it all comes back to control.

And it’s not malicious. It’s annoying and probably not needed, sure, but I genuinely believe it comes from a good place. If she can’t protect em from my own body, then she can try harder to protect me from everything else. idk just kind of my theory. Sure, it pisses me the hell off sometimes but I also can’t be super mad when I realise a lot of it is probably from a good but misguided place.

#not pokemon

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imafoolishfragilespine · 6 months

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every time someone talks about how my dad needs to retire (which is true, i know) or at least sell the business or my coworker potentially leaving and how that would impact said things or me getting another job someday i truly just wanna throw up. how pathetic everyone must think i am for still being here

i want to get out, i wish i had never gotten stuck in this, my anxiety has gotten so much worse since i graduated college especially wrt job stuff and what hasn't changed is i have no clue what i really wanna do and even less idea how the fuck to do it. i don't know how people go on interviews to a million places (especially multiple rounds what the FUCK is that about you shouldn't have to go to more than one for basic fucking jobs it's insane to me) and deal with being rejected over and over

i just feel like nothing i like okay is something i can translate into skills for another job. and some of the stuff i do now is alright, really, but it's not what i want for myself. i just feel like i can do more with my brain than this (though sometimes i feel like a fucking idiot bc i lost my feeling of being good at anything once i no longer had school to rely on). and the things i am good at, like some of said things i do, are not how i wanna spend my life. i don't need a job i'm insanely passionate about because that'll just lead to burnout, i think, but i want something i like

every thing i think that i like of is an impossibility. bookstore? could i handle retail? not to mention a smaller bookstore would be preferable over like a chain, but i would guess that's way less job security. writing? i will never be good enough for that. though hey with some of the shit that gets churned out these days maybe i could. but i'm only writing my self-insert fanfiction most of the time anyway, i can't come up with anything original lol. something in fashion? can't draw, can't sew, sometimes i don't think my own style is good enough, plus how that whole world tends to idealize thinness. the shopaholic series honestly had me thinking about being a stylist, but it feels like those people are sooooo knowledgeable, and i really just like dressing cute for me. how do they tell what size people wear by looking at them? how do they think in terms of what that person likes instead of their own preferences?

idk those are just a few things where it's like man wouldn't that be nice in an alternate universe where those things are possible? even like, okay clothing stores, sure, i'd get to dress cute and everything, but again retail, especially with the fact that it seems like those workers are kind of pressured to pressure customers and i just can't do that. i feel like i'm stuck with the office environment where at least in my current situation i kinda do what i want wrt clothes, just not the kind of revealing stuff i might wear on a day out, but i try to have fun and do some unique pieces while still looking professional enough, but it's still really limiting as to when i can wear my cute outfits, especially bc i don't have a fucking life, so i only get to do them when i go shopping with my mom.

and otherwise i don't mind the office vibe necessarily, i know some people think it's soul sucking but again in my current situation i have my own space, a lot of my issue is not having enough to do lol (again, i could be using my brain more i stg, sometimes it's nice doing easy stuff like scanning so i can read or be on my phone throughout the day, but it still feels pathetic) so like it's not like i'm working SUPER hard on shit i don't care about, but ultimately i am generally working on shit i don't care about. again, it doesn't need to be passionate, but i just want to have a little more feeling about it. anyway, yeah, offices are okay to me, i just think something more laid back in terms of clothes would truly be better for me, that's maybe a silly thing to focus on in terms of picking a job, but it's just the truth, i wanna have fun lol

i don't know what to do and i need help and maybe i haven't vocalized that enough to anyone but my mom in the early days when i talked about resumes or whatever and she thought maybe my brother could help like sorry but he got his first job after graduating and stuck with it, same for my sister or close anyway. my friends have had all sorts of different jobs but they're generally not Professional World jobs so their experiences are different. only one person i can think of and she's got so much on her plate i wouldn't want to bug her about that kind of thing. i just feel so alone in it and stupid and pathetic and helpless and it's always there in the back of my head for the past few years if not a full on thought spiral

it's not even getting into the fact that i wanted to think about these things properly this year and then my body went insane and that's still most of what i can focus on. like would i have found excuses to not think about it anyway? probably. but five years at this job is too fucking long and ten years since i graduated high school and not having changed my life in any meaningful way just feels so incredibly fucked up and i wanted to change things and then i couldn't. and even now knowing whatever's going on with me probably won't drastically affect my future or my abilities or anything, it's still so mentally exhausting and i can't do anything but retreat into myself and wish it would all go away or magically be fixed, even though i know nothing is gonna drop into my life. but i'm not good enough or smart enough or mentally well enough to do fucking anything.

#personal

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neuro-gal-thoughts · 1 year

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I'll Never Fit In

This morning I cried.

Because I realized I will never fit into clothes off the rack in Tokyo.

I watched a video of a very brave creator who spoke of visiting Tokyo recently. They are recovering from an Eating Disorder and they had to cope with visiting Tokyo and not fitting into clothes at shops in Tokyo (when they used to fit in the clothes).

The video really hit me hard in a way I wasn't prepared for.

Like almost anyone AFAB, I've struggled with my own special path of disordered eating and silent suffering of body checking myself. So it was already a moving video to see someone be so honest about their struggles.

But what really hit me is the knowledge that Tokyo/Japan is not unique in terrible availability in sizes and styles for anything bigger than a size 4 (US). A lot of Asian countries don't have a big size range.

And so when we get generalized ideas/representation for Asian women, I have never felt included in that demographic.

I've often felt like one of the first things people tend to say about Asian Women Facts is that "Asian women are small."

I never asked anyone if they thought I was fat because why ask when my mom, aunts, sister, and girl cousins (and my dad, uncles, older brother, and boy cousins) personified me as "Fatty"?

My mom's nickname for my sister was "Baby", even to this day my mom will sometimes refer to her as that nickname.

My mom's nickname for me was "Fatty" and I don't even know who all called me that instead my real name until I was an angsty emo teenager and for some reason that instilled fear into people and they started calling me by my real name. Thankfully, I can't recall the last time my mom called me by the nickname she coined me when I was...IDK an infant?

My sister got the good nickname because she was skinny and pretty, and I got the bad nickname because I was fat and ugly; that was the only way I could make sense of it as a kid.

I just mean to say, growing up I was told that Asian women are known for their small-ness. Small height, small feet, small bodies.

And as a kid, I was called "Fatty" by everyone in my life but my teachers, classmates, and younger siblings.

At the age of 10 I began developing breasts. My thighs and hips began getting bigger. No one ever said anything about my ass but by 13, I knew I had a big ass. Everyone told me I had huge boobs.

Well, girls did. My gay friends did. My mom always did.

Thinking back now, I feel like my mom hated my growing body as if it was my fault that I was developing differently than from my sister and how my mom did when she was my age.

My mom was "chubby" when I was a kid, but I saw from old pictures that my mom was thin before she had kids.

So she saw my body as a failure. My body betrayed me before I even had a baby, unlike her.

I was born fat and ugly. I didn't start life thin and pretty. Unlike her.

And it's not lost on me that my mom probably wouldn't have hated me and my curvy body so much if I didn't also have a belly.

I spent a lot of years being upset about my belly.

I read an article on Kate Winslet once. I was probably 13 or 14. Kate talked about how a journalist had called her fat and she responded to the comment with something along the lines of not caring about fitting into slim expectations, and besides, she has a flat belly anyway. AKA She's not that fat, OK?

At the time, I recall when I looked in the mirror, I didn't have a thin frame like my sister, I had a flat enough belly though, like Kate Winslet. So I wasn't that fat.

But by the time I was 16, my belly grew too.

I spent so many years hating that my belly grew too, that fat collected there too. I thought that I would have been "OK" had I stopped gaining weight and my body stopped developing at the age of 13.

At 13 I was terrified of knowing my dress size, but suffice to say, I knew I didn't fit the sizes that other Asian girls wore. And this was in the US.

My sister and cousins traded clothes but I didn't fit in my sister's clothes so I knew that I couldn't trade clothes with them. So that meant I couldn't be fashionable like them.

Just to say, as a girl in the US, I didn't fit in with the Asian kids. Looking over at Asian kids from Asian countries, I felt like I especially didn't fit in with them.

As an adult still living in the US, I've worked a lot on accepting my body as it is and feeling grateful that there are progresses being made in accepting more body sizes (though there is so much more to go because the anti-fat bias is still strong).

But I still have to remind myself that other cultures have their own setbacks.

And I know I shouldn't just try to connect with Asian culture from just the Asian angle, but I really don't know if people know how lonely it feels to feel like I don't belong anywhere because I just don't fit in the boxes in the right way.

And I hate talking to people about it because I get this feeling that people think that if they make it known that they can relate it'll cure me of my insecurities.

"My mom told me that I was fat too."

Yeah, it's more than that.

It's knowing that no matter what age in my life, I have always and will always be too fat to even be considered someone worth recognizing by the Asian community.

It's knowing that there are girls and women out there who are the same size as me throughout my life and they have to navigate a society that doesn't want them there, actively doing things like limiting the size ranges available in clothing stores.

And they have no support. If anything, they're surrounded by the childhood I was able to grow out of.

And all of this in service to the idea that people don't like the sight of fat bodies.

But honestly, even in the US, I can't find clothes that fit. Size ranges suck a lot too.

No matter where I go, it just seems like I'll never fit in.

#neurodivergent #tw eating issues #tw body stuff #tw body issues #tw parental abuse #tw abuse #tw disordered eating

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sonderastrology · 3 years

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🌙🌈✨Astrology Notes✨☄️🌟

*Based on things I’ve noticed about different placements as a Leo sun/Virgo moon/Capricorn rising... these notes may not resonate for everyone but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles baby* MADE BY SONDERASTROLOGY

🧿I see the people I’m close with more as their moon sign with a dash of their sun, almost as if the placements were reversed. This is because the moon sign is sort of hidden at first whereas the sun sign is the core energy. When you befriend or love someone, the moon sign (emotions, mental processes) is slowly uncovered and in my opinion, takes over the general energy of the sun. Of course, all signs, houses, and aspects are important... this is just the way I look at it idk.

🧿Everyone needs a best friend with the same rising sign as your moon sign... they just *get* you.

🧿Also having friends with the same mars sign as you is so important! They can hype you up like no other and vice versa.. your vibes just click.

🧿I’ve noticed that people with opposite sun signs but rising signs in the same element take AMAZING pictures together. For example; A Pisces sun w a Leo rising and a Virgo sun w a Sagittarius rising would make eachother look bomb in photos.

🧿Pisces, cancer, Virgo, and libra placements are proned to being stalked and hit on by weird men... I’ve seen it too many times, protect yourselves!!!

🧿People always tell me that they were intimidated by me at first or even “scared”, and that I give off a bitchy vibe. My placements that indicate this?Capricorn rising (Uranus, Neptune, Lilith in 1st house), Leo venus and Virgo moon in my 8th house, Scorpio MC, Scorpio and Pluto in my 11th house. Other placements that can have this effect: Aries, Scorpio, Aquarius, and Earth signs in personal planets/MC/Rising signs. Personal planets aspecting mars, Pluto, saturn, sometimes Neptune, and Lilith. Mars/Aries, Saturn/Capricorn Pluto/Scorpio in the 1st, 2nd, 7th, 10th, 11th house. 8th house placements and Chart Ruler in the 8th, 10th, and maybe 12th house. There’s definitely a whole lot more placements not just these.

🧿Aquarius/Air dominant people (esp mixed with fire) along with an array of other placements I’m sure, have a VERY hard time with forced structure and routine... it brings out their rebellious nature.My best friend from high school is an Aquarius Sun Gemini Moon (with an Aries mars), and she DESPISED going to school for 7 hours a day, she just couldn’t do it. She would skip school all the time and eventually enrolled in night school. Same went for my other friend who was a Sag sun Gemini moon, both of them would act TF out in class. They’d fight with teachers, the principle, other students... and I really believe it was due to the forced schedules and the power dynamic between teachers and students in high school. The Aquarius sun person is my best friend today, and she’s one of the smartest people I know. Just because you weren’t “good” at school does NOT mean you aren’t smart. Fuck the system is an air sign BRAND.

🧿I’ve noticed A LOT of Gemini sun, moon, and rising people have light shades of hair... mostly blonde or dirty blonde.

🧿I’ve met 4 people born on the 28th of the month and all of them are incredibly beautiful... no matter what sign. Same goes for July Leo’s although I’ve noticed that they’re more arrogant and self centered than August Leo’s who are more generous and outgoing

🧿Your Jupiter sign can help you work with law of attraction and manifestation more effectively. If you have Jupiter in an air sign, try manifesting things by; writing it down, saying it out loud, visualization, and meditation. If you have Jupiter in a fire sign; manifest under the sun, write out a plan even if it’s unrealistic. If you want money, hold even a penny or a dollar and act as if it’s the amount you want. Act as if everything you want is already yours. If you have Jupiter in an earth sign; manifest while doing yoga or on a walk. Manifest outside or read/listen to positive affirmations. Jupiter in a water sign; manifest using crystals and rocks with guidance from tarot. Manifest through the arts and hobbies; draw what you want or make a song. Something where you can use your creativity. *All of these methods for manifestation are effective for all of the signs I just think that certain ways can help certain signs more*

🧿Based off of people I’ve met, air risings aren’t as friendly and bubbly as you’d think they’d be when you first meet them. Even their vibe seems nervous and closed off at first; standing with arms crossed, shoulders inward, I dont know just sort of shy. Once they open up a bit more then their weird side comes out and they become more goofy and carefree. I think air signs of all placements struggle deeply with anxiety even though they are often portrayed as outgoing and quirky, which they are but a thin viel covers it. No matter what, air placements keep an open mind and I’ve always felt like I could be myself around them.

🧿Libra placements are known for disliking confrontational disputes but I’ve noticed that these are the same people to whisper nasty things under their breathe when you start to walk away from an argument... they have you whip back around like “do you have something to say?!”

🧿I’ve seen this before and imo it’s true! Signs in the 8th house rule addictions... I saw someone post that having a water sign in the 8th house could indicate addictions to liquid, more specifically; caffeine and alcohol. Being addicted to something is in other words creating a bond with it- water signs are naturally bonded with liquid so it makes sense that their prone to being addicted to them. Water signs occupying the 8th house might always drink water or have water with them. Since the 8th house also rules finances to an extent, most of their money might go to coffee, drinks, beach vacations etc. For fire signs over the 8th house, they could be addicted and/or spend a lot of money on smoking, spicy foods, or anything that gives them a rush; rollercoasters, haunted houses, skydiving or even drugs like esctacy/cocaine... anything that gives them that thrill or lights a match in their stomach. Earth signs in the 8th house may be addicted to physical things; money, work, food, looks,... things that give them value or that call on their senses and ego. They could hoard/collect items such as coins, cars, beauty products, etc., or generational items passed down... due to bonding with things that they can bulid/see/show off overtime. They are very attached to the physical because as an earth sign it feeds their ego and value, like a tree growing in soil. Money could mostly go to eating, gambling, plastic surgery, materialistic stuff. They could be addicted to buying things and selling them for a higher price. Air signs occupying the 8th house could point to spending a lot of money on or being addicted to technology or all things ‘relevant’. These individuals might be addicted to their phones/social media and the attention they get from it. These people are always posting stories throughout the day or online shopping or even just browsing different apps. They’re addicted to getting information via books, the internet, and through talking to other people... oftentimes these individuals are very good at making money through the internet (depending on other placements ofc). They may spend a lot of money on books, new gadgets, music, tattoos and puzzles. These people are addicted to all things new! They have a thirst for knowledge and experiences and will seek it out effectively. 🧿When I look at a person’s birth chart, whatever gender, I especially pay close attention to their Mars sign and house. To me, Mars represents the overall energy and vibe a person gives off and the house placement is where it’s most naturally acted out. For example ; Aries Mars in the 6th house. Aries Mars person would give off a hyper, motivated, impulsive energy. Physically this could manifest as shaking their leg while sitting, quick movements,standing/walking instead of sitting down, gives off a more to the point and carefree attitude (keep in mind all of this is affected by many other aspects and placements in a chart). Being in the 6th house, ruling day to day routine, health, how we act at work, etc., this means that the Aries Mars characteristics are more prominent during work and day to day rituals (quicker to learn, effectively performing daily tasks, gets shit done, or they could get into arguments at work easily, constantly rush around, might be stubborn about seeing a doctor/health professional, might be more prone to getting headaches at work or in general) again, depending on the rest of the chart

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badass-at-fandoming · 3 years

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Just Little Malkavian Things ~

Malkavians these days can do nothing but de-conceptualize, Dement, eat hot chip, and lie.

Since people seemed to enjoy the #JustLittleVentrueThings VTMB adventure, here's a matching Malkavian one. Though I'm gonna be real with ya here, I had less fun D:

I finally figured out why I have such trouble wrapping my head around depictions of Malkavians in VTM media. Books, Storytellers, and fans say it's like having a mental illness and being linked to a massive group chat. But, listen, I've lived around and with mental illness all my life. I've been in massive group chats. Being Malkavian ain't like that.

It IS like being an early-twenties English major in the midst of an existential crisis, over-worked and cross-faded outta your skull and watching horror movies to Cope(TM)

So it's like drugs. It's like you had too much weed and too much wine and are let loose on Los Angeles. Which. My friends and I have and we, coincidentally, also "fought" a stop sign. The Malkavian PC never really seemed like a character to me: she's like a collection of cliches and dude-bros doing blunts while watching slasher movies. I named her Liotta after the Psychic Shop owner, and I'm sad Liotta didn't really get to be a person.

I wasn't surprised by any of the dialog. It's a pattern. Alliteration, allusion, animal joke. Alliteration, allusion, animal joke. It lost its charm.

Often, I didn't know what the FUCK I was saying. Which is the Malkavian Experience(TM), according to Rosa.

Anyway

Nonsense time

Most characters have an extra paragraph of dialog to Acknowledge That You Are A Malkavian. Some get an extra conversation branch. For example, there's lots of new Bertie dialog and he was all impressed Liotta knows about Gehenna and Thin-bloods <3. The Anarchs characters, especially Skelter, get a lot more. Skelter, Ash, and Liotta totally vibe.

If you sneak around the Santa Monica drug house, they talk about Mercurio?? Hello?? Mercurio, you bent Masquerade by not getting beat up real good.

Zero pretense about Voerman. Yes, I have DID; yes, I am making it your problem.

When Liotta talked to Beckett, he said the DID was "something to look forward to." Goddamnit, Beckett. That's not how the Bane or mental illness works! >:-(

I've never sneaked before!!! Did you know that the Tong AND the American gang downtown have fakes in their suitcases??? Like, Full On, "it's just stuffed with newspapers, brah." They were going to kill each other over newspapers. For some reason the Tong brought the REAL suitcase along too, but I'm so past having VTM make any sort of sense. It's fine.

Accidentally pissed off Nines. I meant farmer (affectionate) and Nines thought I meant farmer (derogatory). :(

The Dementation powers are (a) pretty purple loop-de-loops, (b) not as effective as Dominate (reaaaallyyy missed a good AOE attack), and (c) oddly enough, gave more compassionate dialog choices. I mean. In the pen-and-paper version, Dementation isn't conflict-focused, so the devs had to jigger it to use as attacks. But I was touched when Liotta made Hannah believe she was Paul, so Hannah got to say goodbye. Making Samantha believe Liotta was a pet turtle was funny and spared her the pain of her friend vanishing a second time. Heather thinks her entire experience was a dream and returns to her life, more or less unscathed.

Boris?? Asked Liotta to kill Venus for him???? DUDE, WHAT. I didn't know he could counter-offer!! What happens if you take up his offer? Who controls Confession? Does it close down??

Pro Tip: don't trust the pale woman in a cowboy stripper outfit who comes out of your vent and tells you everything's fine.

I went through an ENTIRE Ventrue playthrough without puking and Liotta ate one (1) unhoused person and blew chunks. I didn't realize Diseased Blood was a threat. What happens if you skip the Plague-bearer quest? Should you just never chomp on the Downtown unhoused community?

Strauss called Liotta "young one" and I was like, sir. You're not Beckett, you can't trick me.

A rat dances in the Downtown sewers and tells Liotta that the grass is greener in someone else's asshole.

And also will take you places.

Do you know what it's like for a Capri Sun to suddenly start speaking and offer taxi services.

LaCroix: how did Bach find me??? also LaCroix: [names his company after himself] [lives in Ventrue Tower]

Liotta told Beckett that Kindred are a joke and I got extra EXP for being so sneaky.

DMP produced snuff films even before Andrei???!!!! I thought all the blood was from the lil geo-dudes.

Liotta agreed with Andrei that Caine is here and boot-scooting around in his lil Angst Mobile. :D

As bad as Liotta was in group fights, she repeatedly made bosses cower and stand quietly while she beat them to death. Andrei had a full on lay-on-the-floor temper tantrum in his war form and Liotta just. Smacked him until he exploded. She didn't even take damage!

Imalia's computer password is ALSO "cleopatra." Just like Tawni's! Dual reference to the Embrace type

IDK why I never asked this before, but, um, who does Mitnick share the bunk bed with? Barabus..?

I went back to the Empire Hotel Penthouse suite to fetch the educational book and the Russian mob dudes were still there?? Hello, sirs, your leader is dead. You can leave now.

Liotta heard the real thoughts of the Red Dragon hostess...and also some debate about the Dark Father's presence in LA, heehee.

I thought it was fun that one of the "take me away, Cabbie!" taxi replies mentioned riding in a car like father and child. :D

"Why is the Mandarin giggling at me" is a sentence that came out of my face.

With the different dialog options, sometimes it's impossible to be polite to NPCs. For example: Liotta could only call VV "dolly/doll/toy doll" instead of her preferred names; the Chinatown gun seller felt frightened, thinking we were Police or Immigration.

Some great fourth wall breaks in the dialog: "I don't want to get involved either, but tell that to whoever is playing me!" to Beckett after the Giovanni Mansion.

"You can't spell success without whatever the hell my name is."

"If I cannot win with effort, I will cheat my way to victory. I am gone." Funnily enough, this was my first run where I didn't hack in to boost stats.

"I just want it to end. I feel like I've been playing forever."

Some nice wider lore references: "I devour knowledge like the great worm devours the corpse of society" could refer to how Salout, in tapeworm form, is devouring Tremere's body and destabilizing the Clan and/or Kindred night society.

"They should have a channel devoted to you in my head" to Beckett. In his Diary, Beckett witnesses Malkavians devouring Malkav and may or may not join the Cobweb (PS check out this great fanfic where he does).

This made me stare into space for a minute and question my life choices. During the Sabbat massacre, Liotta didn't snack on any of the blood doll ghouls (ya know, the ones with the eyes gouged out). She had such high Inspection + Finance that she had $4k in her wallet and could buy blood. I wanted to test a rumor that if you don't feed on the blood dolls, you get extra EXP. You do. BUT anywAY, right before the Tremere miniboss, Liotta was sword-fighting some goons and the blood doll...attacked him for her? Like. He moved on his own. When the goon was dead, the blood doll asked if Liotta was all right. This might have been a glitch but...the horrific implications that those men are still conscious, still willful, still feeling. ACK. I hope they got out the next morning.

RIP Ming Xiao. Flamethrower right to the tiddies.

I stole @ryttu3k's idea and noclipped through the werewolf section. Liotta still killed the Garou, but I didn't want the stress.

Caine is very Caine. "Don't you get it? We've already been judged!"

Liotta went Anarch because what little backstory I came up for her was she considered Smiling Jack her sire. Nines complimented her ability to murder.

Sheriff got sooooo dizzy that he fell over right onto Liotta's sword 27 times.

Dancing werewolf ending! Seemed fitting. :D

#vtm #vtmb #vampire the masquerade #malkavian #anarch #smiling jack #sebastian lacroix #nines rodriguez #cuthbert beckett #ming xiao #andrei the defiler #text post #my vtm nonsense

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moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

Swan Lake:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

A/N: This idea came to me at like 3 am and idk why, it’s totally not canon or whatever but it was fun to write. I also don’t know anything about ballet so don’t come for my neck lol.

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Slight Mentions of/Implied Physical and Emotional Abuse, Descriptions of Death/Fighting etc.

Word Count: 3,977

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

+ Jack Timmons (OC, albeit a shitty one)

Requested: No

Summary: After constant threats of losing her position in a prominent ballet company, Y/N feels trapped in her circumstances. That is until an infamous blue-eyed gangster stumbles upon her one night, helping her leave her past behind, because sometimes that’s the best thing you can do.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.” Y/N counted to herself as she rehearsed in the quiet concert hall. Her nerves still a mess as the ear-splitting voice of her department head played on a loop in her mind. His harsh words stinging as she continued on.

With every leap and pirouette, her toes and tired muscles screamed to be free from their routine binds that held them together. Her corset digging into her skin, the paper thin pantyhose ripping on her knees from a nasty fall, and her feet cracking and bleeding with each new pair of ballet slippers she broke-in. On nights like this, she often questioned what she was doing this for. Was it for glory? For money? For distraction? It seemed only time could tell.

Unbeknownst to her, a man looked on from the dark entrance. A cigarette in hand as he observed her movements. His eyes alert as he’d heard a man yelling moments before.

Smoke escaped his lips as he watched in silence. The only music coming from inside the woman’s head, her body moving in strict motions to the beat she’d memorized from the orchestra that would usually play during shows. Her instructors voices in her head, threatening to fire her if she didn’t do better.

She never thought that something that brought her so much joy could bring her so much pain, but that seemed to be how things went in life, at least for her.

As she ended her dance, she sat on the cold stage, untying the stiff slippers and wincing as the fabric clung to her bloodied feet. No matter the cloth she put around them, she always found cuts and blisters ambushing her skin. This was the price she paid for perfection. Dancing was her “thing.” Her one gift to the world. The one thing that she’d always have, that no one could ever take away from her.

But with tear filled eyes she looked up at the spotlight beaming down on her, the makeup that was once well kept, slowly being washed away by the tears rushing down her cheeks.

As she ripped her gaze from the blinding light, she thought she felt eyes on her. Feverishly blinking the colorful spots on her vision away as she looked out into the empty seats, where a set of blue eyes stared back, their owner stoic and unmoving.

“Hello?” She asked, her heart racing slightly as she painstakingly walked off the stage and down the middle isle towards the man. Trying her best to wipe her tears away.

“Sorry to startle you miss. Just observing.” He said gruffly, cigarette smoke escaping his lips.

“Why are you here...? What’s your name...? Who do you work for...?” She asked in a barrage of questions, her nerves frazzled as she stood before him.

His blue eyes pierced hers as he took in the state of her. Elegantly hiding the pain behind a powder pink façade.

“I stopped in while on business and I heard yelling.” He said, adjusting his peaked cap, the razor blades glinting off the dull light from outside the theater.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized what gang he was a part of. Remembering talk around the city that they were moving in on London. Making threats and crashing party halls more often than not.

“Everything’s fine, sir.” She said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“You don’t look fine.” He said.

“You haven’t answered my questions, sir.” She said, deflecting his comments and looking at him skeptically. With a sigh, and a long drag from his cigarette, he spoke.

“My name is Thomas, Thomas Shelby. But you can call me Tommy if you like...” He said walking towards her. Her heart racing slightly as she stood in place.

“...and I’m a man who does bad things. But don’t worry love, I have no bad business with you.” He said, gradually walking towards door.

“Wait....” She said, looking around the empty theater nervously as he stopped in his tracks.

“Why exactly were you watching me?” She asked, walking to him.

He sighed as the cigarette burnt down to the last little bit, ending with him throwing it on the tiled floor and stomping it out.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright....and then I saw you dancing to no music. It intrigued me.” He said flatly.

“How so?” She said, crossing her arms at the infamous gang leader.

“Because I can hear it too.” He said.

“You memorized the song? How? You haven’t seen the show.” She said, walking down the stairs with the mysterious man.

“My mother used to play it at home and she’d dance, quite like you. I recognized the routine.” He said, standing near the exit. The streets bustling with people under the moonlit sky.

“You don’t look like someone who listens to music. Do you dance?” She asked, beguiled by the rather handsome blinder.

“I liked a lot of things before the war. Dancing was one of them. But now?.....No.” he said shaking his head slightly as he continued.

“Sometimes life has a way of taking things from us.” He said softly, lighting another cigarette as he stood before her.

“That it does.” She said, glancing at her tired hands as he observed her once more, how she stood and how her hair fell limply around her face, framing it ever so gently.

“I’m probably overstepping my bounds...Tommy. But uh, if you’re ever in need of dancing lessons...I can help. Free of charge.” She said, the thought escaping her lips on a whim. Her mind racing with wanting to dance anywhere but there in that dreadful theater.

“Free of charge aye? Do you make a lot at these shows?” He asked, his eyes boring into hers.

“No. I’m actually on my way out. Was almost fired for the last show. I wasn’t good enough.” She said looking down.

“That’s a shame. I thought you did great.” He said.

“Tell that to the department head. I’m tired of ruining my body for something that doesn’t pay. I’d rather do it for fun. At least then life might be worth living.” She said, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her pent up feelings slowly trickling out as the minutes passed.

“What do you do for fun, Tommy?” She asked, changing the subject.

He stood in thought, never really taking into account anything besides the noise in his head or the ache in his heart. Never giving himself the time for anything reminiscent of fun.

“I uh, work with horses I guess.” He said.

She nodded and sat in a chair near the exit, wincing and fiddling with the tulle of her tutu.

“So what do you say? Dancing or no?” She asked, a small smirk playing at her lips.

“I’ll accept your offer, on two conditions.” He said.

“Alright, what are your conditions oh infamous Mr. Shelby?” She asked, seeing a small smirk on his face. One that seemed to be uncomfortable, like it had been hidden for years.

“That you give me the name of your department head, and let me employ you.” He said bluntly.

“I’m not a killer, I’m just a dancer.” She said, looking down at her wrists. Bruises forming from many routines throughout the week and from her vile department head.

“You won’t deal with that kind of business. But I’d like to pay you. I can see that you work hard for what you want.” He said sitting next to her.

“You want me to dance for you? What like at some whore house?” She scoffed.

“No. You can dance for fun or teach or whatever it is you want to do. But a job with me, in my shop, can bring you the money you’re looking for. You won’t have to beat yourself up anymore.” He said, noticing the bruising hand prints around her wrists.

“I’ll think about it.” She said quietly, getting up and stretching out her arms, her muscles aching at the movement. Thomas headed towards the door abruptly, not wanting to keep her any longer considering he’d given orders to his brothers a while ago.

“Hey...” She said, stopping him.

“Mhmm?” He mumbled, lighting another cigarette.

“His name is Mr. Timmons. Jack Timmons. I hope you find him.” She said giving him a small, hurting smile before heading back towards the theater.

“Oh and miss?” He called back, making her turn around.

“Yes?”

“I never got your name.” He said.

“It’s Y/N...Y/N Y/L/N.” she said. Thomas nodded and reluctantly turned around, walking slowly into the night the next man on his hit list already buzzing through his mind.

As he stepped onto the cold London streets, he saw his brothers drinking and waiting by the car. Their faces covered in smoke-residue from their mission.

“Oi! What the fuck took you so long aye? We torched the bar down the road so we need to go.” Arthur said, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey he’d stolen.

“I was doing a bit of legitimate business. Did you lot get the money?” He asked, revving the engine and peeling out onto the cold, damp roads towards Small Heath.

“Yeah. Got the whole thing. They won’t mess with us again. What kind of business were you doing in a fucking theater?” Arthur asked.

“Probably fucking one of the dancers.” John said, the toothpick dangling precariously on the edge of his mouth.

“I saw people leaving the show and decided to go there to clean off from our last raid. And I heard a man yelling at some woman there. He’s uh, been a bit of a problem but I can’t tell by how much just yet. He’s been working the woman to death for little pay...so I offered her a spot here.” He said.

“Why are you so caught up on the woman? What, is she gonna dance around the shop all day?” John asked, earning a chuckle from a drunken Arthur.

“I’m thinking she’d make a good assistant. I watched her after he left. She was the only one there, working on the same routine for an hour straight. Was bleeding by the time she was done.” He said.

“Well besides the woman, what are you wanting to do with the man aye? We’ve caused enough trouble here so far.” John said.

“I have a feeling this man is abusing the whole company or at least the woman I spoke to. She’s miserable, you can see it in her eyes. I only saw eyes like that in the trenches.” He said quietly, looking out at the sky through the thin windshield.

Over the next few days, it seemed her plight only grew as the dancers rehearsed, their instructors criticizing more than helping them as they moved to the beat. Y/N’s eyes fearful as their department head entered the room. The music stopping as they all sat on the stage as instructed.

Behind the stage, Thomas watched silently as the instructor eyed the women. The mans eyes only seeing money and fame instead of them as people. But his gaze seemed reserved for Y/N especially.

She was bruised from the repeated practice, the falls, and from the mans calloused hands that beat her beyond the theater walls. Threatening to fire her if she didn’t improve. Claiming he was “trying to save the company’s image.” Telling her she’d be working the streets in no time if she failed again.

Even though she tried her best, often putting in more work than her peers, it still wasn’t enough for Mr. Timmons and his dreadful company. The only thing getting her by was knowing that after the big show, things would settle down, knowing he’d go back to just yelling at her and occasionally at the others, instead of talking with his fists. But the pay remained the same, barely keeping a roof over her head throughout the years.

“Y/N, I’ve seen your performances these past few weeks and they’re all the same. The turns are too loose, your footing is off, and you’re out of step with the others. I don’t see why you can’t do better.” He said loudly as she stared him down. White-hot tears brimmed in her eyes as her face heated up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. None the wiser to the blinder who’d watched it all unfold.

“Meet me backstage after this will ya? We have to discuss some matters over your position here.” He said, walking to the next girl and nodding his head. He moved on from each person giving small snide remarks, but they were nothing compared to what she’d gotten, and it filled her with rage. With a sigh, she wiped her tears and stood up. Decided then and there that she’d walk out. To make a scene like she’d dreamt to during the 5 years she’d worked there.

“Mr. Timmons...the only thing you’ll be doing backstage is shoving these up your ass.” She said, chucking the bloodied ballet slippers at him before exiting the stage and going to her dressing room, locking the door.

Thomas watched silently until Mr. Timmons excused the rest of them, leaving only him and the poor excuse for a man in the dimly lit area back stage.

As the man walked with a master key towards Y/N’s dressing room, Thomas quickly came up behind him. Hitting him in the back of the head with his gun and wrestling him to the floor. The man screaming through a bloodied mouth as he landed punch after punch to his face. Thomas soon removing his cap and slicing the mans eyes, blinding him instantly before shooting him.

Y/N watched from the doorway, dressed from head to toe in her normal clothes she’d came in with. Her eyes red and swollen from crying and her body aching from the mornings work.

She stood there silently, the sight of the man who tormented her making her smile slightly as she realized she was free of him.

“Y/N....” Thomas said, wiping the blood from his face as best he could as he stood up from the mans limp body.

“Thank you.” She said, sniffling a bit as she kept her tears at bay this time. Walking quickly out the door to the outside of the building, the cars whizzing by as the cold wind crept through her clothes.

Thomas quickly draped a nearby blanket over Timmons’ body, dragging it to the dressing room. But before leaving he retrieved the master key from his limp hand, locking the dead man inside as he cleaned up the mess from his handy-work.

As he looked in the bathroom mirror minutes later, he could see the blood on his skin, the metallic smell barely phasing him as he washed it down the drain. After cleaning up, he headed out the door, finding Y/N sitting on the pavement smoking a cigarette.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, sitting by her and lighting his own, his hands bleeding slightly from the blows to Timmons’ face.

“Why not.” She said, fiddling with a pink ribbon in her hands that once kept her hair tightly in place.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said, sighing as he looked out at the mid afternoon sky. The city bustling around them.

“It’s alright. I’ve wanted that to happen for 5 years. Don’t worry though, after knowing him, nothing really scares me.” She said with a small smile, relief finally hitting her as she realized she’d probably never have to face the man again.

“He’s dead though right? Like you made sure he’s never coming back?” She asked, her eyes still nervously scanning the roads out of habit as the doubt crept in.

“He’s never coming back. I’m burying him tonight.” He said.

“Make sure it’s deep.” She said, the bruises on her wrists more prominent in the daylight.

“Always do.” He said looking at her wrists with a clenched jaw. Knowing full well Timmons was behind it.

“I’ve uh, thought about your offer by the way.” She said looking down at the ribbon.

“You have aye?” He asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. Her voice bringing him out of his thoughts a bit.

“Yeah. I’d like to try it out, if you’d still want me there. I don’t know what a ballerina could offer the company but, it beats where I was.” She said, cringing internally at all the painful memories which unfortunately often overshadowed the good ones.

“I’ve seen you work hard so far, so I figured making you my assistant would be a good position. You’ll come in at 8, and leave by 6 on most days.” He said.

“Most days? What happens on the other days?” She asked.

“On those days you keep busy so you don’t think about how or if we’ll return. You’ll help keep the shop in line along with my aunt Polly until one of us walks through the door. For your safety.” He said.

“Do all the assistants and secretaries work that late?” She asked.

“Only on those nights they do.” He said.

“Alright. May I ask one question?” She said.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, blowing smoke from his lips. He stared at her while she thought over her words, her eyes not as miserable as before.

It made him feel better knowing that even though he couldn’t save the men in the trenches, he could at least save her. Someone who shared their same eyes, their same exhaustion, their same fear of not knowing what was next.

“Why me? You could hire anyone else. Any other woman for that matter. But you chose me...” She said, putting her cigarette out on the damp dirt road.

Thomas sighed for a moment, not wanting to tell her he couldn’t help but fall for a beautiful woman even though they’d just met. No matter her profession, he didn’t expect a ballet dancer to steal his heart so quickly and effortlessly.

“I could see you were different.” He said.

“How so?” She asked, his answer not enough as she looked into his eyes. They were like looking into the ocean, threatening to pull her under.

“When I came in after doing some business and saw you there practicing, you intrigued me. You were dancing with no music, but still trying no matter what happened.” He said.

“You saw me fall aye?” She said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but I also saw what you did after....It’s always about what someone does after the fall, that makes a person who they are. I guess I chose you because you didn’t give up.” He said.

“And I thought it was because I was wearing a pretty pink ballet costume.” She said, smirking.

“That might also be a reason.” He said with a smirk. After a long pause, he spoke again, this time more quietly.

“For the record Y/N, I truly don’t see why the others treated you like they did....But I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He said.

“A man like you making promises? That’s a bold move.” She said, her heart racing as she held his hand gently, nervous to touch someone in a way that wasn’t done in self defense.

“I’m a bold man.” He said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Oh really?” She said with a smirk.

“I can show you.” He said, leaning towards her as she did the same. She couldn’t help but feel differently towards him. He didn’t make her feel scared or on-edge like so many people before her. Instead oddly enough, the dashing blinder made her feel safe.

It was in that moment that he too realized he hadn’t felt this way in a while, since before the war. The only comfort he’d ever found previously was at the bottom of a bottle or beneath the sheets in a brothel. The feelings felt out of place, the noise from the war competing with the song in his head, the same one from her shows. The same one from years ago at home.

With a calloused hand, he caressed her cheek, looking into her as eyes as the sun shined into them. Their color illuminated by its rays as he brought her lips to his, a wave of relief washing over him as he felt her relax into the kiss instead of pulling away.

“So...when do I start?” She asked after he broke the kiss, her eyes trailing to his lips.

“Tomorrow. I can pick you up.” He said.

“Won’t you be tired from burying Mr. Timmons? I can drive myself.” She said.

“It’s not my first time burying someone love. I’ll swing by in the morning.” He said, getting up.

“Alright...see you then.” She said, a genuine grin forming on her face for what felt like the first time in years as she watched him head off towards his car.

Over the next few weeks, she became acquainted with everyone in the shop. Polly taking a special liking to her as she loved dancing as well.

“You’ll never catch me dancing ballet. Maybe a waltz but never ballet.” She said one morning.

“I can teach you, it’ll do you some good. Keep you strong.” Y/N said, thinking about how she’d get by with teaching in her cramped apartment.

“Tommy taking classes from you yet?” She asked with a smirk.

“God no. I think he only said that to get me working for him.” She said, thinking back to his first deal with her.

“What are you two talking about aye? We have work to do.” Tommy said, walking into his office where they sat in his chairs nonchalantly.

“Pol was just asking me if I’d taught you to dance yet. You did say you used to...but there would be no ballet of course.” She said, smirking at him as she blew smoke from her lips.

“Well, I have business at the races soon so I guess you’ll have to teach me. Especially since I’ll need someone to accompany me.” He said.

“I never thought you’d ask. What shall I wear?” She asked.

“Something red.” He said, giving her a peck on the cheek before heading out the door.

Their banter carried on like this months after her employment. The only thing different though was where she stayed. Everyone knew he’d had the hots for the woman as soon as he laid eyes on her in the theater. John joking that going to London was the best decision Tommy had ever made. Seeing as she helped him find himself again even if it was just in simple ways. From the nights spent keeping the sounds of the shovels at bay, to the weekends spent helping him learn a few dances. They both healed each other with each step. He never thought he would enjoy dancing or even something as simple as sleeping ever again, but she helped him and he helped her, and he felt the only way to pay her back was to help her still live out her dreams. Eventually converting one of their many rooms into a dance studio, where she’d help teach children on the side, without mean words and harsh fists beating her down.

By this time, she finally knew what she was dancing for, or more so who. And it pleased Thomas to see the life finally return to her eyes as she did so. Knowing that one of the best decisions she made was to dance for herself. Even if it didn’t garner any grand applause, she knew she had people who cared, and who saw the value in what she did, considering it was her gift to the world after all. Even if it was the gangly Shelby family as her audience, she knew it was better than any theater.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx,

@lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore, @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added or removed, just send an ask/message! :)

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x female!reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

Text

In The Darkness [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 1681

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: George is adjusting to life without Fred.

Tags: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: idk, I was supposed to write something completely different and then this happened

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

He was sat in a ball in front of the couch, knees tucked to his chest as he stared into space, the candle he had lit hours previous long flickered out. The dark held a lot of unknowns, a lot of what ifs, but right now, the dark offered him some comfort, a hideaway from the world. In the dark, he could be anyone. In the dark, no one knew him. In the dark, everyone was alone. Everyone was lonely.

Just like him.

Of all the tragedies he’d allowed himself to imagine over the years, not one came close to making him feel the way he was right now. Because he’d lost the person he adored the most. The person he relied on, his rock, his other half. He felt as if he was half a person, a shell of himself, as if he’d only be whole once he was reunited with his twin.

He’d thought about it, for a fleeting moment. As the reality dawned upon him and he felt his heart shatter. He’d thought about joining him - but one look at his mother’s distraught face and he knew. He just couldn’t.

He painted himself as surviving in front of his family, in front of his mother. Pretended he was fine, for her sake, for his brothers’ sakes, for his sister’s sake. He plastered a smile on his face from the moment he got to work to the moment he arrived back through the door.

George wished he was that guy - the guy who carried on, who pushed through, who could smile through the pain. He wished... Merlin he wished he was okay.

And as he sat in the dark of his living room, his lip trembling, hands shaking, he chanted the same mantra to himself,

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Yet with every repetition, he felt himself sliding deeper into his thoughts, deeper into the abyss.

Because the truth is, he had never had to live without Fred. He’d never known life without him - never wanted to know life without him. And now here he was, swallowing harshly and digging his nails into his palms as he willed himself not to cry.

Fred wouldn’t want him to cry. Fred wanted people to laugh - his whole life he’d revolved around pranks and entertaining people. But George couldn’t help it.

Because Fred wasn’t here. He wasn’t here to tell him to stop fussing, to stand up and be George Weasley, one half of the Weasley twins. And so George couldn’t help it when the first tear fell.

Because it wasn’t Fred and George anymore. It was just George.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sat there, hadn’t even realised someone had arrived at the flat until the candles that had gone out suddenly flickered back on.

“George?” A voice called out from the hallway. The ginger made no move to reply, or to get up. He only gathered the energy to look up when he heard a small, almost inconspicuous gasp.

Because the sight in front of you was not the George you’d known since first year. The man curled up on the floor in front of you was thin, pale, his eyes red raw, lips chapped. His jumper - with an ‘F’ stitched on the front, you noticed - seemed sizes too big and you knew he hadn’t been eating properly.

“Oh George...” you whispered. You placed your bag down carefully on the couch and sat beside him on the floor, holding your arms out.

For a moment, he blinked, as if he was unsure if you were really there, and then he let out a broken sob as he buried his face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him close and whispering reassuringly to him, almost cradling him as he cried in your arms. You felt the tears in your eyes falling down your cheeks as you pulled him closer, stroking his back.

You hadn’t seen him so sad, so broken, in all your time of knowing him. You’d seen him laugh, cry, smile... but nothing, nothing compared to this.

“I miss him,” you heard his voice, muffled by the sweater you were wearing, “I miss him so much.” You felt your heart squeeze as you pressed your lips together, staring at the wall ahead of him as you let your fingers run through his hair.

“I know,” you replied softly, “I miss him too. Sometimes I forget and-and then I remember and... He’d be so proud of you, you know? For how strong you’re being, for how well the shop is doing.”

There was a silence, and you wondered if you’d said the right thing. Was there a right thing to say? You didn’t know how to cope yourself, but seeing George made you wish you could take his pain and add it to your own. You’d give anything to see him smile - laugh - properly again.

“I just... I want him back,” he said after a while, pulling away from you slightly, but only to readjust his position so that he was now laying across your thighs, “I... No one understands. I look at myself in the mirror and I see him. I make a joke and-and he’s not there to join in. He’s not... he’s not there. And it hurts so much. No one calls me Fred anymore. I mean I hated it when people got us confused but... now they can’t. I’d give anything to trade places with him, he deserves to be here instead, not me. Why... why did it have to be him?”

And as you held him in your arms, you felt helpless. Because truly, you didn’t know why the world had to take Fred away. Maybe that’s why it was called a tragedy.

“I’m not going to pretend that I know how you’re feeling because I don’t. I know he means more to you than anyone and I- well, he was one of my best friends and if I’m feeling how I am then I can only imagine what it’s like for you right now George. You’re going to be okay, though. You are, I promise. It doesn’t feel that way now but you will. It’s gonna take time but I’m here, I’m here every step of the way, whatever you need, okay?”

You sat in silence for a while, just holding onto each other, the candles flickering around you. Glancing down at him, you saw his eyes start to droop and you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Should we get you to bed?”

Feeling him nod, you helped him stand and followed him into his bedroom. You pulled his duvet back and plumped his pillows as he got himself ready in the bathroom before he re-entered the room, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly as if he was going to smile when he saw you, before shifting his gaze away.

He got into bed and you turned, just to move his wand from the nightstand but he grabbed your hand and looked up at you frantically, as if he thought you were going to leave.

“Can you stay?” He asked, his eyes vulnerable and heart pounding.

“I- Well I- Yes, yes of course I will. Of course I’ll stay with you,” you replied, squeezing his hand and offering him a smile.

Because you knew he needed someone to be there for him, and by Merlin were you going to help him. Because you were not going to let him go through this alone.

You found yourself a few minutes later, not for the first time, beside George in his bed, wearing one of his shirts that he’d lent you as you were pulled into his arms. Your head was resting on his chest, his arms holding your waist as he squeezed you every so often, as if making sure you were still there, still with him.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the darkness, as he allowed himself to intertwine his fingers with yours, “for everything. For being here.”

He meant it. Besides Fred, you were the only other person to believe in him and the shop, to stand by him, to be there for him. And he loved you for that, just how he knew you loved him too, even if neither of you had said it aloud.

“Anytime, George. You know you can call me and I’ll be here, I don’t care what time it is. If you need me, you’re my priority, okay?”

He felt him nod, and silence overcame you both again. You closed your eyes, beginning to drift off when he spoke again.

“Every time I smile I feel guilty,” he admitted in a low tone. You wanted to ask why, to prompt him to speak but knew you couldn’t rush him. He’d speak when he was ready - if he was ready. He squeezed your hand before continuing, “I feel guilty for smiling but... I can’t help smiling when I’m around you. You’ve always been there for us - for me - and I’m sorry if I’m overstepping the line but... I think I’m in love with you. And right now I don’t know how to deal with that but I do. I love you and- and can’t do anything about it without feeling guilty for being happy but I will. I can’t expect you to wait for me but if- if you feel the same, I-“

“George, it’s okay,” you interrupted him softly, moving to catch his gaze in the dark, “I’d wait as long as you need. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you. We’ll get you through this, together.”

And you kept your word. Sometimes there were bad days, days you’d find him curled up in front of the mirror, sobbing, days you’d catch him throwing things at the wall in frustration, in anger... but other days you’d see him smiling - really, genuinely smiling and you’d know.

George Weasley was going to be okay.

#george #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #hp #harry potter

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ed-recovery-affirmations · 2 years

Note

so i’m doing my best to try and recover at the moment, but it’s hard. i keep hating that i’m gaining weight and that one of my clothes (it’s a dress) is starting to get tight in spots and it’s really hard to not want to relapse and go down again. i also keep feeling like i’m eating to much and should not eat now because of it. my brain is a haywire at the moment. please can you just tell me it’s okay. idk really know what i need but i need to know it’s okay, that this is fine and i’m not worthless and stuff

Hi anon! I'm so, so sorry that it's this hard to get better. I know it can be scary to deal with body change, especially when thinness is so heavily encouraged all around us. But it really is okay to gain weight in your recovery. It's okay to gain weight at any point in your life, really. Sometimes life stuff affects our bodies and schedules and all kinds of things that can cause weight to fluctuate and that is not a reflection of your worth. And that holds true no matter what your current weight is! I know it's a long road, but I'm rooting for you to one day have a happy healthy body that you feel comfortable and good in!

Growing out of favorite clothes can be hard, but maybe this is an opportunity to take yourself shopping for a recovery wardrobe! That way you can think of it as a positive change. If money's tight, thrift stores can often have really cute pieces of clothing for a bargain, depending on where you look. I know clothes shopping can be an ED trigger too though, so just be gentle with yourself and try to do what works for you. Maybe order clothes online if trying them on in a dressing room would be triggering. There's no getting around it, often with ED recovery comes significant body change, at a rate that can be really scary to ED-ers! I'm sorry that someone or something has made you feel like your worth is tied in with your thinness. You are absolutely not worthless, and your body is good and deserves lots of healing and fun new clothes that fit it well. And your soul is good too and deserves self-care while you navigate all this recovery stuff.

Keep at it, and stay in supportive environments. Avoid people who make you feel like your worth depends on your weight. Prioritize finding people who love who you are and are happy to see you thrive and grow - inside and out!

#affirmations #ed recovery #healing #self-worth #self-love #ed cw #body image

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samwritesforyou · 3 years

Text

Booked (pt.2)

Summary: you decided to go grocery shopping since the amount of people in your house significantly grew and diego keeps you company. after that crazy hargreeves family prompts you for a beach trip?

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: this fic is making me feel things, i cant quite place it. like... whenever i write it i feel weirdly at home?? idk :D feel free to share your thoughts either in tags or comments! its Very appreciated and motivating, actually! have a lovely day! <3

part one can be found here!

“Okay but if we kill them, nobody will have any questions, will they? We just bought a house and they moved somewhere far away!” was the first thing you heard, as you have awakened from your “nap”, deciding to keep your eyes shut just for a moment longer, not to lose it again.

“Five!” seems like everyone else said that in unison, grunting and groaning.

Okay, they don’t want to kill you. That’s great. You think it’s safe to open your eyes now.

You were laying on the king-sized bed upstairs, all siblings huddled up around you, watching intensely.

All the chatter between them came to a stop when they noticed that you woke up.

“So.. you’re like all superheroes or something?” you said tiredly, despite feeling rested.

Your mind still felt fuzzy from that info, hearing about such thing only from the tv series or sci-fi genres.

“Guess so,” Luther piped up, shrugging his massive shoulders and offering you a small smile.

Your eyes slowly drifted towards the kid standing by the frame of the bed, wearing a serious expression.

He sighed and frowned at you.

“To be clear, I’m not a kid and I’m actually older than all of you here. I’m a time traveller and I witnessed more in my life than any of you,” his passive-aggressiveness was directed at you, but by the choice of words it felt like he was talking to everyone who was present in the room, “There’s going to be an apocalypse by the end of the summer and our job is to stop it. We failed once, but we won’t fail twice. We rented this house, thinking it would be a good place where we can practise our powers without anyone interfering with us, so please,” his face turned into an exaggerated, wide smile, “don’t get in our way nor mention it to anybody. Thank you,” and as he finished his angry monologue, the blue colour filled the space around him as he disappeared in the thin air, right in front of your eyes.

Hm. Okay?

Only two seconds passed after that, when another sibling started talking to you.

“And I can talk with the dead!” he said happily, spreading his hands in the air like so monk preaching.

“We have a dead brother who’s named Ben and one day I will definitely let you two meet once I learn how to properly conjure him,” he concluded, very pleased with himself.

“Hi, Ben,” you just said with a warm smile on your face, somewhere into the air next to Klaus.

He literally cooed at your action, coming over to you and giving you a quick hug with a pat on the back.

“Okay, maybe we can reveal all our powers later, but let’s leave (y/n) to rest a bit, alright?” Allison proposed, rushing everyone out of the room and then just sparing you a wave and an apologetic smile, closing the doors and leaving you alone.

Maybe you can get used to all this madness. To this family.

You really rested after that.

A room had a roof-window, so laying on that bed allowed you to look up at the sky and lazy, white clouds that every so often rolled along with the blue background.

Soon enough you heard muffled chatter downstairs, this old house being absolutely the worst in being soundproof.

It all reminded you of simpler times, actually, no matter the crazy circumstances.

But enough was enough, and closer to the middle of the day you managed to get out of the bed and descend to the first floor by the wooden stairs, looking around.

Suddenly it seemed quiet.

You shrugged at that and just made your way towards the door, energetically jumping down the few stairs from the veranda and felt your feet hit the hard tartan surface.

Since it was six (plus one spiritually) more people than you were used to having in your home, you decided it was only logical for you to go and buy more food into the local store.

You almost reached the gate to go outside of your property as you heard some fast steps behind you, catching up to you.

When you turned around, you saw a man with longer hair and almost expression on his face.

“Uh... hey, you’re going somewhere?” he asked, brushing the back of his neck.

“To the market, why?” you asked, tilting your head sideways at him.

“Well.. don’t laugh, but I wanted to jog a little, but got concerned that I might get lost..” the end of his sentence was almost inaudible already as he lowered his voice, “so.. mind keeping me company?”

That kind of surprised you and as you slowly realised the meaning of the said words that came out of his mouth you bit the inside of your right cheek *hard*, just not to laugh.

What a silly guy. Getting lost in this hole?

But sure, why not keep him company.

“Be sure to catch up with me though,” you teased as you basically broke into the run, opening the gate and hopping straight onto your bike and starting pedalling really hard to get as far away from him, finally bursting out laughing at the significant distance.

“What?!” was the only thing you heard from him and then you felt the breeze from the hot summer air caressing your cheeks as you were passing your neighbours in the well-known road.

“You seem happier than usual today, darling!” some granny said to you from her garden and you just waved in reply with a huge grin plastered on your face.

After spending last years of your youth more or less alone, you couldn’t even phantom the thought of people your age living with you for the eternity of one summer.

You could never complain about a life you had here, it was all you ever wanted, but the connection with the people of the similar age to you was really lacking sometimes.

And the absolute joy that was washing over you right now was the witness.

You slowed your pace after some time, pretty soon being followed by jogging Diego, beads of sweat rolling down his muscular hands.

Your gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary and you quickly tore it away from him, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks as you now looked straight ahead of you at the road.

“I’m not the best runner, but also not the worst, hun,” he said between the breaths as you continued your ride/walk and you just smiled.

“Pretty decent, I’d say,” you finally stopped at the market’s “parking lot” where there were two spaces for cars and at least a dozen of handles for bikes.

You put yours into one of them, not even bothering to lock it. Everyone knows each other here and everyone knows you.

A young person in the village mostly consisted of people in retirement.

“Alright, what do we have here,” said Diego as he followed you into the store that reminded him of something out of the 70s, really old school design and brands that he never heard of before.

“Everything is mostly homemade here,” you answered, making your way towards the fridge with cold drinks, opening it and throwing him a cola can, “except these bad boys.”

“Hell yeah,” he smirked and then looked around, but his gaze kind of kept wandering back at you, while you were too busy picking the right type and amount of groceries.

Why would you live here all by your lonesome?

“So..” you finally heard him say, as you checked out and we’re both putting the groceries into the deep basket on your bike, “you seem pretty chill with us being.. abnormal.”

You briefly looked up at him when your fingers accidentally touched between the cans of soda and glasses of milk and then your hand moved the other way, eyes too.

“Well.. who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not in this world, honestly?” you jumped on your seat when you were done with loading and started your ride back.

“I know,” he agreed, jogging way less intensely now as your pace appeared much slower, “but seven siblings all having some weird shit powers is... kind of crazy, don’t you think?”

That made you nod, “Yes, of course. But still, I’m not too baffled about this. What are the odds that a village person like me would even get into a situation like this?” you asked rhetorically, gaze fixed on the rocky-sandy road ahead, “You should accept life as it is! Confusion and denial are a waste of time,” you concluded and extended your left hand as you were driving past an apple tree and managed to rip two fruits at the same time, offering one to Diego - all while still riding a bike.

“I have my superpowers too,” you laughed a little and winked at him, making him flustered as he tried to hide it by biting into his apple.

“What do we have here?” Klaus welcomed both of you at the entrance to the summer house, topless and in a skirt.

“We just bought some groceries since we’re capable of eating the whole fridge out in a day,” Diego deadpanned as he - despite your protests - unloaded your bike storage and went into the house to put the bags there, his arms showing extra muscle that’s normally hidden when his body is relaxed.

Your stare lingered for longer than necessary and Klaus *definitely* picked upon that.

“Darling, if you want to get Diego, be a bit more straightforward with him. He’s a dum-dum,” with the last word he knocked on his own head with a finger and rolled his eyes, giggling playfully afterwards and smacking you on the shoulder.

You defensively did the same, blushing and looking anywhere but at Diego nor Klaus.

Hmmmm, such interesting trees you’re having at your own garden all of the sudden.

“But hey, we’ve all decided that before we start training for the inevitable doom of us all, we would take a break for at least a few days and just go to the beach. When we were coming up we noticed the sea behind all the forests, like.. four kilometres from here?” he looked at you with question, “Have you ever been to the beaches there? Could you guide us?”

You gave it thought only for a brief second and then nodded with a confident smile.

“Sure! I haven’t been there in a year or two but the beaches are still the same, I bet,” you answered and put your hands on hips in a cool posture.

“Thank god!” he impulsively hugged you and let go that instant, “otherwise Five said he wouldn’t let you go with us,” he pouted and then sighed, making his way towards their rusty turquoise-ish car.

You followed him, his words piquing your interest.

“Why does he hate me so much? And why is his name Five?” you narrowed your eyes, plopping yourself on the front seat and sat sideways so you could look at Klaus while talking to him.

“Well, darling...” he started, animatedly throwing his arms in the air, “Five was always a strict man, especially after he came from the future, where he spent like billion years and now he’s 50 year old and always shoves this fact into our young baby faces,” he clearly complained and with annoyed expression continued, “and he’s Five because my name is “officially” Four, but Five was the only one of us who disappeared from the house before our dad even bothered to give us names instead of numbers,” he finished but then remembered and continued, “Actually, it was our AI robotic mom Grace who gave us names,” now he was finished, from somewhere materialising a bottle in his hand and taking a sip from it.

“Anyways, beach trip, babeyyyy!”

“Huh..” you just blinked a few times at him as you heard a hoard of different voices going your way.

You wanted to get out of the car to let them sit however they wanted - you were the odd one out after all - but then they all hoarded in there so quickly that you couldn’t even react, being left in the front seat.

Driver’s seat next to you was empty for now.

As you looked back, Klaus was sitting right behind you, next to him Vanya and on the other side Diego, looking out the window.

Behind them was supposed to be a storage area but they apparently turned it into some diy seats as well, Luther and Allison sitting there, not minding the small space.

Soon the blue sort-of-teleport appeared next to you at the driver’s place and Five briefly threw his gaze at you, swiftly starting the car.

The whole inside of the vehicle roared and you were on your way towards the beach, with you as a main gps they had.

Lovely taglist: @radcloudenthusiast @spacenerdpascal @white-wolf-buckaroo @a-girl-who-loves-disney @undead--ghost

NEXT PART→

#diego x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #tua diego #diego reader insert #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #number two x reader

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kyutown · 3 years

Note

hii, if you are accepting requests, can I ask for a ship with bts, txt and nct 127?

Thank you in advance ^^

(also, my mother language is portuguese, so I'm sorry for any mistake, for the long description too)

Physical:

So... my height is 162cm (5'4), I weigh around 50kg, I have a skinny body figure with an hourglass shape, thin waist, long (almost reaches my belly button) and straight medium brown hair, dark brown eyes and pale skin. People always tell me that I'm naturally charming. I'm not a big fan of heavy make up, that's why 95% of the time I'm barefaced. The color that best suits me is black, small face: 17,5cm (last time I've measured was 18cm, but I just measured yesterday again and it was 17,5cm lol), soft skin, eye smile, kind of an aegyo-sal (however, only appears sometimes, idk, not sure if it really is) and bunny teeth.

I used to have double eyelids in both eyes, but now I have a double eyelid on my left eye and a triple eyelid on my right eye, (somehow I developed a third eyelid in the beginning of the year).

Personality:

My MBTI is ENFP-T, sign is Sagittarius. I'm the youngest, silliest and weirdest in my group of friends. An only child. I can be friendly or very shy at first, it depends on my mood. Love spending time alone and thinking by myself, I'm very competitive, can do both sexy and cute styles, a scaredy cat, love perfumes and fashion, animal lover, midnight person, traditional romantic, very curious, like romance and horror movies, fav color is purple since 2010, pretty talented at singing; dancing; drawing and acting. I LOVE playing video games since I was around 4 or 5 years old. Also LOVE stars, moon, galaxy and everything about the universe (and prefer sunset over sunrise). I've always been one of the smartest at my school, even tho I hate to study, it just seems natural. I also can speak 3 different languages.

People usually laugh of what I say, so I guess I'm kinda funny (?)

I'm very honest, kind, active/athletic (I can't stand still for a long time, I have the necessity of keep moving), a bit sarcastic, bubbly, dirty minded, sincere, open-minded, loyal and love eating sweet things.

I have extreme fear of bees, whenever I see one I start screaming, running and (in some extreme cases) crying.

Most of the time I just pretend that I'm strong and cold, but actually I'm very fragile with my emotions, I act like idc, but later I will surely think about and cry.

Flaws: stubborn; bossy; too much emotional; I'm sincere on the point that sometimes can hurt the others and manipulative.

I'm already a bit stage experienced, since I started "performing" when I was only 11 years old, it started with a role as the lead actress in a play at my old school, for a crowd of around 300 people. I was the lead actress in 2016, 2017 and 2018. In 2017 I joined a choir and stayed until 2018. In 2019 I participated in a school show talents with my group of friends, we danced very like a girlgroup. Since then, I took a break from the stage. But never did something in the professional level, only at school.

I took both contemporary and street dance/hip hop classes at the age of 10 (2015), as well drama classes. And in 2017 I took singing lessons.

(yeah, I'm a 04 liner)

Clothing style I'd say I'm more of a tumblr/casual, I can wear any color, but darker tones fits me the best.

My current biggest ambition is to become famous, I'd love to become an Idol cuz I completely love the stage/singing/dancing and performing. Hopefully it can become reality soon. (Yeah, I'm willing to audition in the beginning of the next year)

My fav skinship is holding hands, hugs only if they are quick. I just want to hug longer my s/o (and my parents ofc), I'm not a VERY touchy and clingy person, I like to have my personal space.

My ideal type: is a guy who is at least 172cm but I would prefer his height to be between 175cm-180cm, not small but not a giant, has black or dark brown straight hair. Ideal age gap 1995-2002, I'm totally into an older s/o, but not older than a 95 liner (I don't want him to look like he is my father). An understanding boy, who knows how to respect privacy, because I like to spend some time by myself, romantic, loyal, trustworthy, honest, knows how to dance, open-minded. Affectionate but not THAT clingy, I'd feel annoyed if he wanted to live glued to me 24/7. Sometimes, when feeling more affectionate, I will want to hug him all day and cuddle while watching something and have a good conversation.

I believe in destiny, so a person who wouldn't make fun of that, cuz I get sad/mad pretty easily tbh.

Someone who isn't only a s/o, but also a best friend, who I can have fun and share everything. I'd melt inside when he praises me a lot, but I wouldn't know how to react on the outside.

I'd like if he has the same liking for shopping as me, and for traveling too.

That's it, I tried to be as detailed as possible about everything and resulted in a really long description. I hope you don't feel bothered for it.

hi! thank you for responding!

for bts, i think jimin would be good with you! jimin would not only be your significant other but he would always be like your best friend which you wanted! he would talk with you, go shopping with you and do all of the things you would do with your friends! when you have a fight or argument with family or friends, he would always be there for you and would always want to see you having fun!

for txt, i think yeonjun would match you well! yeonjun is a fashionista! he would be the type to dress up with you, go shopping and would do many of the other fashion things with you! he is also born in 1999 which matches your ideal age gap! he would also give you lots of hugs but would still understand if you need your alone time and privacy. but he would love it when you hug him!

for nct 127, i think taeyong would be a great fit! he enjoys listening to music, watching movies and playing games! he would for sure, be the type to spend his free time with you! he would also be the one who would be understanding, affectionate, loyal, trustworthy, open-minded and honest! he would be many if not all of the adjectives that you listed above!

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diffuserlover · 3 years

Note

hii, uhm...Lately I've been requesting ships to a lot of different people, so I'm kinda confused if I already sent a ship request or not. If I did, pls just ignore this.

If I didn't, can I request a ship with bts, txt and nct 127?

Thank you in advance ^^

I hope I'm not bothering

(and also sorry for the long description and for any mistake)

Physical:

So... my height is 162cm (5'4), I weigh around 50kg, I have a skinny body figure with hourglass shape, thin waist, long and straight medium brown hair, dark brown eyes, pale skin. People always tell me that I'm naturally charming, not a big fan of heavy make up. The color that best suits me is black, small face: 17,5cm (I just measured yesterday lol), soft skin, eye smile, kind of an aegyo-sal (however, only appears sometimes, idk, not sure if it really is) and bunny teeth.

I used to have double eyelids in both eyes, but now I have a double eyelid on my left eye and a triple eyelid on my right eye, (somehow I developed a third eyelid in the beginning of the year).

Personality:

My MBTI is ENFP-T, sign is Sagittarius. On my group of friends I'm the youngest, silliest and weirdest. I can be friendly or very shy at first, it depends on my mood, love spending time alone and thinking by myself, I'm very competitive, can do both sexy and cute styles, a scaredy cat, love perfumes and fashion, animal lover, midnight person, traditional romantic, very curious, like romance and horror movies, fav color is purple since 2010, pretty talented at singing; dancing; drawing and acting. I LOVE playing video games since I was around 4 or 5 years old. Also LOVE stars, moon, galaxy and everything about the universe (and prefer sunset over sunrise). I've always been one of the smartest at my school, even tho I hate to study, it just seems natural. I also can speak 3 different languages.

I have extreme fear of bees, whenever I see one I start screaming, running and (in some extreme cases) crying.

Most of the time I just pretend that I'm strong and cold, but actually I'm very fragile with my emotions, I act like idc, but later I will surely think about and cry.

I took both contemporary and street dance classes at the age of 10 (2015), as well drama classes. And in 2017 I took singing lessons.

(yeah, I'm a 04 liner, December 14th)

Hii! Sorry again I don’t do bts ships! But I did the other two!! I hope you like themmm!! :)

TXT:

I ship you with…

Yeonjun

Yeonjun absolutely adores you😄

You both are pretty similar 😊

You both can pull of the sexy and cute styles 😆

He knows you love fashion and perfumes so he is always taking you shopping😁

A lot of the time steals your perfumes snd claims he just likes the smell of them but it’s cause he really misses you😭🥺

He always jokes around saying he will fight off the bees for you but when your genuinely scared to death he won’t joke around😚

You both are very competitive🙂

You guys were banned from playing games at the dorms with the guys anymore because of the amount of noise complaints filed💀💀

His first instinct when it comes to you is protect your but let you have your space😁

He knows you like time alone so if you ask he will give it to you☺️

If you guys could you could play video games all day long😂

Literal heart eyes when he finds out you were a dancer because he just loves dancing😍

He will probably ask you to come to the studio and dance with him a lot😄

If your relationship is public you guys would do dance loves together 😚

Sometimes he is really envious about how smart, beautiful, and what an overall great person you are but he is never insecure about it😊

Overall you and Yeonjun are the definition of a perfect relationship🥺

NCT 127:

I ship you with…

Haechan

He’s clingy towards you🤗

Haechan loves your singing and when he’s had a bad or can’t sleep he would ask you to sing him to sleep😇

At first I feel he would make fun of your fear of bees but would see how extremely scared you are it and stop😆😭

He knows how much of a romantic person you are so for anniversaries he goes all out and makes sure to get you sweet food🥺

You guys also got banned from playing games with everyone, it was mostly Haechan’s fault 💀💀

Gemini and Sagittarius have a really high compatibility🙂

He really likes how you can switch between sexy and cute because he knows he can too😄

He knows you guys are the hottest couple out there😍

When you finally got him to agree to watching a horror movie with you he clung to you like a baby😚

It is scary the two of you playing video games together😂

Overall you and Haechan have such a fun and sweet relationship🥰

#txt #txt ships #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #txt yeonjun #nct #nct 127 #nct ships #haechan #lee haechan #nct haechan #kpop #kpop ships

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shoichee · 3 years

Text

IF YOURE SEEING THIS IM GLAD I MADE THIS IN ADVANCE😩👊 Anyways— pronouns are she/her but I don’t mind they/them. Bisexual(?) ISFP personality, Taurus, hobbies include writing, shopping for clothes, styling, and hanging out w/friends. Skills: writing. Strengths being I’m sociable, friendly, nice, normally patient, funny, and sarcastic. Weakness being I’m too loud sometimes without knowing, snaps easily when patient is thin, hard-headed, stubborn, gullible, forgetful, sensitive (but not Sm). I gotta have some alone time otherwise I just get drained and don’t at all. Some days I don’t talk at all bc I’m just that tired. I stress easily over school too so—🧍🏻‍♀️

I’m 5’2/5’3 and will not hesitate to confront someone who hurt people I care abt. Ig I carry more in my legs bc I got big thighs and calfs. I have a mole right above the right corner of my mouth. Exercising is fun but not anything excessive😌 I LOVE FOOD PLS I love trying out new food too— BUT ANYTHING WITH CHOCOLATE THO, IT’S MY WEAKNESS. I have rlly curly hair that I recently discovered😀 I literally also love to joke around sm too, even when Ik I shouldn’t. I LOVE TALKING ABT ANIME idk why I think it’s fun talking abt interests with another who can relate.

My love language would also be physical touch! I space/zone out sometimes— I just do. Plus I fidget with things like rings, pencils, and hands <— my fav thing to fidget with idk why. I love to style my clothes! Collars, turtlenecks, jeans, belts, rings, etc. I like looking good✨✨

This was SUPER HARD TO DECIDE LMFAIOGHIAOAO BUT CHOICES HAD TO BE MADE… JUST KNOW THAT YOU’RE VERY (near equally, depends on who you identify yourself with more) COMPATIBLE WITH THESE TWO MEN :^))

Best Matchup. . .

Kise Ryōta

Kise is a fellow ESFP personality, so he’s exactly you, except… more extroverted

I won’t explain much about the MBTI, because you two share the exact same personality traits in theory other than that one letter difference

this isn’t a problem since you’re able to match his energy a lot due to your sociableness and how easily you hang out with your friends

when he finds out you love to shop and have a stylish eye for fashion, he is OVER THE MOON and hooting around like a monkey

*cue him pestering you a lot for your opinion on current fashion trends regarding his model work*

if you’re 100% down, he’d totally suggest dates where he would try to pick out clothes to style you and you do the same for him, and then it’s just this whole chaotic mess where both of you are laughing in the sales section because of one dumb joke one of you said

Kise wouldn’t hesitate to introduce you into his own circle of friends a.k.a his teammates, since he knows how they’re all mostly introverts and can vibe with you much better

and since you’re so sociable and friendly too, everything just clicks, and Kise feels better knowing that you wouldn’t feel as lonely because he’d always be off to modelling work or practicing

but you also don’t mind this, because whenever Kise is busy, that’s the time when you get to have all the alone time to yourself

headcanon: he first started gaining respect learning about your writing hobby… however, he only started calling you with “-cchi” after you sassed the hell out of someone for trying to pick on a close friend of yours

he’s forever whipped

you definitely make up for his… unfriendliness with strangers, and while you’re merely conversing with them, you can definitely hear his unfiltered opinions through all the petty mumbling

things might backfire when some of the things he says makes you crack up out of nowhere and the person in front of you is just utterly confused… and then you have to sincerely apologize for your outburst

and every single time, you have to scold this guy to cut it out LOL

“Ryōta! Keep your mouth shut, I swear—!”

“But (y/n)-cchi!! I’m not wrong, am I?! I just know that hairdresser did him dirty!”

“It’s rude! Don’t say that about Midorima!”

“But you’re trying not to laugh!!”

“I’M NOT.”

“And why is my name being brought up between the two of you?” Midorima may have tuned into your conversation, but can anyone blame him when both of you were as loud as rockets?

see, being paired up with Kise is not good for your tendency to be loud, ESPECIALLY, I repeat, ESPECIALLY, when Hayakawa is nearby

Kasamatsu just… groans, that’s all he does, and now he has your own volume to deal with too

but in the public setting, Kise is still tactful, so especially in store retailers, when he senses you about to yap your mouth, he slaps his own hands over it, trying to shush a confused you

“Sh-SHHHH! (y/n)-cchi…! We’re in public, remember?!”

since you’re normally patient, you easily put up with Kise’s… entire being LOL

and when your patience runs very thin (either with him or someone else), Kise would immediately sense it and either stop his behavior and back off or glare off the person who’s making you ticked off

he’s... a little concerned that you’re gullible, and since his own teammate Kobori is just as naive and gullible, he’s very familiar with this personality trait and its repercussions

Kise does get a tad bit annoyed when you easily believe what people tell you and even more pissed at the people spreading false information in the first place, and he’s always telling you with a serious tone:

“(y/n)-cchi, you can’t just believe everyone at face value. You have to take things with a grain of salt and keep a skeptical mind until you see things with your own eyes.”

Kise doesn’t use his serious/blunt side with you frequently, unless you’re about to do something irrational, whether having a gullible or stubborn moment

Kise won’t understand your stress for school ngl, because he’s pretty neglectful of his own studies

he’d probably tell you that a bad grade or a missing assignment isn’t the end of the world or something like that, and you’d probably get pretty ticked off

Kise would have to learn that some people have different priorities, and when you tell him that you being stressed over school is the same as him losing a game, everything just clicks and he suddenly gets you

he thanks all the deities up in the sky when he learns that you’re not picky about where you want to eat and what to eat, and you easily pick things from the menu, scarf it all down, and ask for new recommendations // it’s quite refreshing to see someone not care about how much/what they eat because… y’know, he’s working in the modelling industry

he’s up-to-date with all the latest games and series, and he even plays a few console games himself, so he��d be super eager to introduce you to his own guilty pleasure of gaming

GREAT NEWS! this guy eats physical touch and serves physical touch for all 3 meals of the day

you spacing/zoning out would NEVER happen in the vicinity of Kise because he’ll ALWAYS pounce on you, swing you around, hug you, nuzzle against you, or… all of the above

he loves your hair, and he thinks it’s super unique… he INSISTS ON RECOMMENDING YOU CUTE HAIRSTYLES because he INSISTS that it’d be such a shame for such pretty hair to not be styled and adorned with accessories

he also insists on you wearing his clothes for the “oversized, boyfriend outfit” trend

he LOVES that you put effort into looking good and putting on cute outfits, and you literally stab his heart with a cupid’s arrow every time you come see him with a new look

he’s definitely going to accidentally pick up your fidgeting habit… one day, he’ll start randomly fiddling with his left earring 24/7, his fringe 24/7, or massaging his hands for no reason until one of his teammates eventually points it out

keeping up with Kise is literally a daily exercise in itself

Runner-Up Matchup!

Himuro Tatsuya

Kise is the ESFP, while Himuro is the ISFP (so there’s no need for me to explain about you two’s MBTI, because you share the exact same thing with him)

so he’s more than capable of giving you the alone time you need, because he probably needs the time alone for himself too

he’s also explicitly stated to be good at making friends and socializing, so you also get to experience the more “extroverted” world

he’s someone who just follows you wherever you go for outings and dates because he has absolutely no sense of direction, and if he wants to have ANY chance of being able to make it back home, he’s gonna stick to your side like glue

that means he really doesn’t object to going along your shopping trips and food booth taste-testings, and besides, he gets to spend time with you (and that’s all that he asks for besides a good challenge in basketball)

he’s mostly level-headed, so he balances out your weaknesses way too well (you’re talking about someone who babysits Murasakibara 24/7)

whenever you get a bit too rowdy, this man does the smoothest thing and just gently presses his index finger to your lips with the smallest “innocent” smirk, and that… usually does the job of quieting you (JUST LOOK AT HOW HE SHUSHED ALEX WHEN SHE TRIED TO SMOOCH HIM)

but then after, you’d usually say a bunch of “colorful words” out of shock and embarrassment and try to be sarcastic to deflect some of that embarrassment off, and he EASILY teases you back just as hard (and this riles you up even more… it’s an endless cycle)

“Now now, (y/n)... you do know that it’s not the first time I’ve done this to you, right?”

“BUT DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS IN FRONT OF EVER—”

“Shhhhh,” he hushes, pressing his finger against your lips again with no shame. “If you really wanted me to stop doing this, you’re going to have to watch your indoor voice.”

so whenever his teasing streak shows up, that’s where your sarcastic side kicks in the most

when he has his hard-headed and stubborn moments (especially regarding basketball), you clock some sense into him and confront him about his troubles with the patience that you have

and Himuro easily does the same for you, being the voice of reason in your irrational moments and trying to ease you in with his words and talk the issues out

he’s very capable of being manipulative and cunning, especially in the courts, so when he spots someone who’s going to take advantage of you and your gullibility, he’s immediately leading you away while giving them a knowing look that spells out, “leave now :)”

on the flip side, he’s an absolute gentlemen, always so focused on your needs and quite sweet to you, and your wee little sensitive heart is soaring to the sky with joy

so when you do stress out over school, he’s there by your side in an instant, offering to tutor you in any subject you need and giving any suggestion that would help your assignments get completed faster

ALTERNATIVE AU headcanon: what if you saw Himuro getting decked by Haizaki and you immediately dash to confront him…? chaos ensues

jokes aside, both of you are fiercely protective of each other, it’s not even funny

this may have led a small quarrel between the two of you about “who gets to protect who,” and I’m not just talking about the Haizaki incident, but in general

“What were you seriously thinking?! That was unbelievably dangerous!”

“What the hell?! Did you expect me to sit idly by while I watch you get beat up?!”

“That’s not the point! What if they hurt you?!”

“But I’m not hurt!”

“Shuuuut up,” Murasakibara would childishly say, cutting the both of you off, and suddenly, everyone in the room fears for his life despite him being the tallest in the room. “Why are you two even arguing about the same thing, anyways.” and he says it like a statement, not even a question, as if it was the most obvious thing ever

this is a demonstration of when the two of you can become quite stubborn and hard-headed

but again, this quarrel would be a one-time thing, and as soon as the both of you reluctantly concede and accept the fact that the both of you are willing to do the same thing for each other, your relationship grows stronger

stop, you two have this totally cutest thing that only both do as a couple, and this makes Murasakibara gag and Okamura cry tears of pure jealousy:

it first started as a type of teasing from Himuro, where he’d gently poke and boop your mole above the right corner of your mouth (probably another way to keep you quiet), and not wanting to be bested, you instinctively booped back Himuro’s own mole under his right eye

and then it progressively got to the point of him swooping down his head to peck your mole, and then being really smug when you try to reach his face with your lips (but failing miserably)

the man is really taking advantage of your short height LOL

or when you think he’s about to kiss you and he moves his lips to your mole at the last second, just because

and then you catch him off guard by smooching that beauty mark of his (because his head is lowered to your face at these moments)

Himuro takes complete advantage of the fact that he’s closest to Murasakibara and subtly STEALS his snacks to give them to you LOOLLL, and he knows fully well that Murasakibara wouldn’t be that mad at him compared to if other people tried to steal his food (example: Haizaki)

whenever you give those throwaway comments about how you wanted to try something or whenever you agree with Murasakibara that a particular dish looks delicious… he’s cooking it that very same day, no hesitation AND HE WILL LOOK FOR THE BEST RECIPE FOR YOUR TASTE BUDS

master chef only wants to satisfy his precious customer (except you pay in kisses and wholesome affection)

most of the dates involve you stopping by his house and taste-test his food LOL and sometimes you write while you stay in his house (and it adds more of that nice silence the both of you love)

Himuro takes complete advantage of his friendship with Murasakibara: the sequel — he steals Murasakibara’s hair ties occasionally and gives them to you when he notices how your hair bothers you sometimes, especially if you’re trying to concentrate on school assignments

he has a poker face, that’s very canon, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of expressing himself; after all, he said it himself that he just has a different way of showing emotions… so when you make a random joke that’s probably not in the right time nor place, he’d slightly turn his face away and cover it up with a hand, but if you look closely, his shoulders are shaking and he’s silently laughing SO HARD (he’s trying hard to be polite, but why the hell do you have to be so funny?!)

whenever you space/zone out, he lets you be, choosing instead to stare at your idle face and it just makes his heart go yay (that is, until you notice his intense stare and then probably say something sarcastic to get him to stop looking at you like that… but then he’d play dumb and go, “look at you like what?”)

again, when you start fiddling, he just observes you with fond amusement, but then he’d verbally say out his observations:

“Ah, (y/n), that’s the 7th time you’re toying with your rings again.”

“?!?!?!??!”

how the hell are you two the beauty couple??? literally your outfits are actual statements, and Himuro’s looks alone stun everyone (the little kids, the middle-aged women, and even Nijimura himself) into admiration

imagine the power he’d have if you decide to actually dress him up and style him…

#milestone matchups #500 followers #500 follower milestone #knb matchup #knb matchups #mihangry #it's actually canon in the REPLACE novel that Nijimura meets Himuro in America and was floored by his beauty #submission #knb x y/n #knb x reader

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