#I love this beetle fabric so much

[tj-crochets]

My next tote bag! I’ve got the first round of ironing done, all the pieces cut out, and the pockets sewn so the next step is another round of ironing and that’s going to wait for tomorrow

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[your-local-uwu-artist]

it was suggested I post this to the tags as well >:D

fuck it ima tag @transcendence-au as well because tbh I'm very proud of my silly little animation

some me being a nerd under the cut!

okay so this all started when I read the original post this was inspired by and though 'wouldn't it be silly to add some art to this 3 year old post?' but then I decided to animate it for funsies!

and gosh I sure do love animating!

So I got the base sketch and then got into the lineart animation for each component!

i don't have the sketches/wips saved at all sense this wasn't really a project and it took less than a day to complete. but here's a peak at the timeline

I animate entirely in my ususal drawing software: clip studio paint. It's just what's easiest for me.

all of these layers outside that folder are just the sparkles! after I finished I added some sparkles for fun! there's a lot of them because it involved a lot of copy and pasting sparkle layers

the bottom folders here are the wings body and facial expression! for everything like the wings arms and flags I was able to just copy paste, reverse, and then align the timing correctly in the timeline

one thing unique about this animation is that the lineart and colors are in separate layers! I tend to do line and colors on the same layer but this time I was using a brush that doesn't have the same lack of anti-aliasing and sense it's a small animation I wasn't as worried about keeping a minimum of layers like usual.

also the movement of the body is only 4 frames! and one one of those is just the hat shifting position

initially I wasn't going to have the second facial expression but when I got stuck on animating the flags I added the second facial expression while taking a break.

the arm animation is just 8 frames! honestly the only tricky part in this is the flags, everything else was pretty simple, which made it super fun to work on because I got both a challenge and mindless therapeutic drawing out of it.

NOW THE FLAGS there was 3 throw away attempts before I got it: you see the thing that made this tricky is finding the balance between believability and visual appeal. a big part of animation is creating the illusion of physics, this is the 'believability' part, I need these to look like flags that are moving and made of flat fabric, HOWEVER if I animate these one-to-one with realistic physics: it won't look good! I can't apply wind to the whole drawing because then the hair would have to react, and wind goes one way, and I wan't the flags to be pointing opposite directions. so without wind the flags would be laying down flat, but that won't look good at all! and furthermore realistic physics would have the flag not being all nice and front facing most of the time. so the trick here was figuring out how much physics to apply to make it look believable, while still making it look good.

one trick I did to help me animate the flags is I actually made a plan rectangle flag as a guide so that the general mass/volume of the flag would stay consistent, this is something i highly recommend when animating! like having a circle guide along a characters head to keep their height and proportions consistent.

after I finally found the balance with the flag lineart coloring wasn't too hard! sense I just had to follow the lines, and THANK GOODNESS the trans and aroace flag have the same number of stripes: saving me time!

and then it all comes together to make a satisfying perfectly looping bundle of cuteness >:DDD I feel like the tau fandom doesn't have as many artists with particularly cartoony/chibi art styles so I've gotta play my part in spreading the joy-whimsy-adorable-sillys >:D

anyway! hope you get to see a cool beetle today :D

[brella-boi]

HALLOWEEN COLLECTION IS HERE!!

It finally has happened... at last... spooks arrived after a gruelling week of preparations. On this day we bring you:

Spider plushies

Two headed beetle plushie

Franken shrimp plushie

Left over plushies from ACME (same listing as always)

Wooden pins in 3 designs

Gothic pin banners

This update's items are LIMITED and will only be available until November 13th.

I have decided to make a second spider for the update after seeing the interest. Cannot promise a third one until I see how much fabric I have left.

This update is shared between my personal store and Etsy. All the items on Etsy are 20% more expensive to account for the awful fees it takes. I kindly ask everyone to use my personal store instead <3 It's a win-win for us both The inventory between the two sites is not automatically synced.

Unfortunately there's no third party that can do that for me as of now. So I will be manually changing inventory on both sites. (I am saying this as a precaution that you might be refunded if an item gets sold out. It is a first come first serve basis.) The only unaffected item by that are the wooden pins, which I can make more of easily.

Thanks so much for the continued support and excitement towards this update! :D I am so happy to finally bring it to you guys and debut the spider pattern <3 (I will have customs of it soon!)

Shares are SUPER appreciated on this! Thanks so much again! I love you guys <3

Happy Halloween!

Link in source and replies!

[tange-my-rine]

find yourself (and me) || Tangerine x trans male!reader

Summary: You knew Tangerine well, you'd fallen in love with the guy. But when a mission goes wrong and you fake your death, he can't know a word of it. And when you finally transition after years of wishing, you can hardly even imagine running into him again. If you thought you might, you'd run the opposite way. But fate had different plans.

Request by @random-thoughts-004.

TW: mention of deadname (it's like your codename but like still), fake death, grief, blood, wounds, murder, guns, knives, scars, cursing (it's Tangerine), and all things bullet train.

[[A/N: Thanks for my first request !!! I hope I did it justice! Enjoy this slowburn and kinda angst riddled oneshot. Reader's first codename is Butterfly. Second is Beetle. (You work with Ladybug's agency.) ]]

The first time you met Tangerine was one of your first jobs ever. You remember it so well because well, the twins made it memorable. They made everything memorable, you'd come to realize but not now.

It was a gala, and you were dressed well -fancy even, with hair perfectly in place and shiny fabric cascading.

The job was an easy one, getting your feet wet and whatnot; not that you hadn't wanted the harder ones, it was just like a test run for your agency -seeing if you could do it. Which, with your experience, was kind of ridiculous but you didn't want to get into it right now.

All you needed was information from a man, some sort of billionaire -you weren't honestly sure. The location of someone else, his brother... cousin? You knew his name and that was all that mattered.

You finished your drink, and with a walk that could kill, you made your way to the floor. He was talking to some men (tall with bleached tips, and another one broad shoulders with a mustache), but you simply pushed yourself through.

His eyes, naturally, rested on you, and you used it toward your advantage.

"Hi," you smiled over the rim of your glass, fluttering your eyelashes for good measure, "-do you mind if I interrupt? I've been dying to talk to you all day."

The man, Richard you remembered, smiled smoothly, "'Course, honey. We can always pick up this conversation later."

With a glance toward the men, you pushed your arm into his and began walking away.

You had felt the eyes boring into your back at the time, but you didn't think anything of it. You probably should have, but to be fair this was a test run, was it not?

The man guided you to a balcony, empty with the night sky and stars twinkling. You would've thought it was pretty, if you didn't have an objective.

"Name's Richard," he spoke, still close by your side, "-what's yours, sweetheart?"

Swallowing the bile in your mouth (he really wasn't your type), you smirked -playfully, trailing your fingers onto his upper arm, "I prefer to be a mystery to the men I meet, Richard."

He grinned, it was working well, "I'm not the first then?"

The rest of your conversation was much of the same, low chats about things that didn't really matter -hobbies, jobs, etc. And when you casually mentioned family, it was smooth sailing.

"Got a cousin visiting one of my houses down in Miami, but I haven't seen the rest in years."

You weaseled out the name, and with a cunning smile, went to refill your drink. He'd said he'd have someone do it for you, but you said something about 'clingy already?' and his masculinity came in check.

Your job was done. You were 30 minutes from getting home, out of these heels, and watching your favorite show with the emptiness of your apartment. These kinds of crowds were exhausting, you needed it.

That was until hands shot out of a closet and pulled you in so fast you couldn't even scream-

"What the hell?"

The light was on, thank god, as you took in the man. He was broad shoulders from before, dressed in a fancy suit -three piece, with curly gelled back hair and blue eyes. Oh, and the mustache. He was your type.

You shimmied out of his grip, pushing yourself to the farthest wall, "What are you doing?! You can't just pull women into closets-"

"Who fuckin' sent you?" He uttered out, harsh and brash -british accent, your mind noted.

"Sent me?" You played dumb, "-This is a gala, I was invited, prick."

"Don't fuckin' lie to me," he hissed, pulling out a gun and suddenly, this was all very real.

"Jesus Christ," you raised your hands, "-why the hell does it matter?"

"You're after my hit," he clarified, like it was fact -pushing the gun further into your face.

"Yeah, no," you laughed, "-my job here was information. I literally just talked to him, if you paid any attention to your surroundings-"

"Awfully snappy for someone with a fuckin' gun in your face," he retorted, but you could tell that his frustration had significantly lessened.

"Shoot me then," you egged on, "-lose your cover, and your target, and shoot me."

His mouth flattened, eyes hardening, as the realization slipped over his features; you loved being right.

Gotcha.

With the speed of a snail, he lowered his gun -jaw muscle flexing. You could tell he was pissed that you were right. This was fun, you would've stayed all night to get on his nerves, if this dress didn't make you feel like your skin was peeling off.

In very different circumstances, you would've been glad to be trapped in a closet with him. But, we can't always get what we want, can we?

Without another word, you slipped out of the closet and made your way to the door. And when you got home you scrubbed your skin clean until the flowery scent of your perfume went away (it made you sick), but that was nobody's business but your own.

The second time you met him was very different. Your job was a hit, a CEO of some fancy business -you didn't really care. You'd posed as some meeting for him -after hours, it was actually really simple to get this guy alone.

Anyway, you had just shot a bullet through his head when the door came crashing open -easily, you switched targets.

Instead of some innocent, however, it was the man -still wearing a three piece suit and the same mustache. He wore it well though, so you couldn't blame him.

"Not you again," you groaned.

"What the hell are you doin' 'ere?" He replied eyes scrunched and eyebrow raised.

"My job?" You answered, still pointing the gun at him without hesitation.

He raised his hands, begrudgingly, and looked you over, "You 'ere for a hit?"

You kicked the body at your feet, sarcastically, "Ya think?"

His eyes flicked down to the man, before back up to you, "Lucky for you, I'm just 'ere for a drive. You let me go, we call it even?"

You pursed your lips, tilting your head to the side -thinking on it, "Fine, but if I see you again it's fair game."

"Can't fuckin' wait, love," he remarked, and you honestly weren't sure if it was all sarcasm. Huh.

"Butterfly," you said as an introduction.

He furrowed his brows for a moment before a wave of understanding crossed over his face, "Tangerine."

Needless to say, you left that building laughing your ass off.

The next time after that you met Lemon, and then suddenly you were a trio. You switched agencies and were constantly partnered for missions, and even when you weren't, they'd follow you and keep an eye out for you. Even when you told them that you could handle it, they still showed up (Lemon always blamed Tangerine).

You don't know when Tangerine started shifting in your head -from friend to... something else. A scary something else. But you think it started here.

You were in a safe house, one you'd crashed in a lot actually. An apartment in the city with three bedrooms and a fancy kitchen, you could picture it as a home if you thought about it long enough. Couldn't see it without Tangerine and Lemon anymore though.

It was late, and you were watching some late-night reruns of a show you'd never seen -it was some sort of love triangle, and you somehow already had a favorite actually. You couldn't sleep, it was just something in your head -nightmares. You had close calls before and tonight was one of them; you wanted to be alive a little bit longer because of it.

"Hey," the voice interrupted your haze, drawing your attention to your right.

It was Tangerine, he was wearing normal clothes -baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt with his hair ungelled (you were still getting used to it). Blue eyes flickered across you, he could read you really well -you hated it.

He didn't ask if you were okay, didn't have to he knew, just sat by your side on the couch -you offered him some blanket. He took it, closer into your side than he was before -it made your head spin just a little. You figured because you hadn't been so close to someone in so long.

Before you could stop yourself, you started talking, "You ever think about what your life would be like if we didn't do what we do?"

It was sleepy coming out of your mouth, slightly slurred, but still genuine. You always got a little talkative around him, you weren't sure entirely why.

Tangerine deflected, blue eyes fuzzy over your face (you weren't looking at him), "Do you?"

"Yeah," you muttered, low and quiet, "-all the time."

"What would you do?" he asked, and he was genuine -you could always tell when he wanted to listen.

"I think..." you started, trying to decide your words, "- I think I'd want to be married. Is that stupid?"

"'s not stupid, love," he spoke, soft with his gruff sleep voice.

"It'd be nice, I think," you hummed, perhaps saying too much but you didn't care then, "-forever with one person. With this job, you're always alone. Jumping from place to place, partner to partner. I think it'd be nice to have somebody who was always there."

Tangerine didn't say a word.

"The real question is if I'm marriable," you laughed, "-do you think I have enough positive characteristics for someone to marry me, Tan?"

It was kind of a joke, and you expected him to respond that way. He didn't.

"Yeah," he whispered, dead serious, "-I do."

You were taken aback a little bit, something unfurling in your chest that you hadn't quite named yet but you knew it now, "You think so?"

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer -your head settling on his shoulder without hesitation. You stayed that way for a few moments, breathing in his cologne and shampoo -he smelt so good, how?

"Someone would marry you," he finally responded -something there in his voice but you couldn't name it, "-'d be fuckin' stupid not to."

It was going great, really great. Until it wasn't.

You can't even remember the mission now, but it was one that the twins followed you in on. You convinced them to wait out in the car, you could handle this.

And while you were, your earcon went off -static voice in your ear. You had to strain to hear it, but once you did, you wished you hadn't. It was Maria, your previous handler -you had no idea how she got your connection, actually. It didn't matter then, the voice echoing through your head.

"Butterfly, listen to me, you have to get out of there."

"Maria?" you questioned, slamming a guy's head into a wall, "-'Would love to catch up but I'm a little busy right now-"

"Butterfly, listen. You are in danger."

"Aren't I always?" you laughed, sliding a blade across another guy's neck -he sunk to the floor.

"I got intel on a manhunt for you, the White Death is looking for you. You are not safe, listen to me."

You stalled in place, your heart dropping to your stomach, breathless, "What?"

"He's been surveying your safe house. He knows what job you're on, you have to get out of there now."

One of them rushed you from behind, you promptly elbowed his throat and he let you go -you spun on your heel and shot him square in the head. It was on instinct, your brain was running a thousand miles a minute.

"I can't hide from a guy like him, Maria," you spoke, a sort of shake in your tone, "-he'll find me. He'll find the twins-"

"Listen to me," she repeated, "-we have a plan, but it's not going to be easy."

"Yeah," you sighed, "-okay. I've got nothing to lose, right?"

"There's a car on the westside of the building, you need to head that way and-"

"Maria," you thought of the twins, "-I already have a ride."

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"Jesus," you laughed, "-have a little faith in me-"

"Butterfly, you are not making it out of this building alive."

"I am," you replied, "-I don't know what you're thinking but I'm perfectly capable."

"You, Butterfly, are not making it out of this building alive. Are you listening?"

"I don't-"

"As far as anyone knows, you are dead. As far as the White Death knows, you are dead."

"Oh," you responded, softly, "-this is... I'm... What about the twins?"

"They can't know. The White Death will be surveying them for months after, if they don't play the part-"

"They would," you ushered out, tears burning at the backs of your eyes, "-they... They could not see me for awhile but they would know-"

"I'm sorry, but if you're actually going to stay alive, they can't know. The White Death is smart, he knows how close the three of you are. If they know, he'll know."

"Please," you whispered, you felt like you couldn't breathe, "-without them... You don't know what it'll put them through, Maria, I can't-"

"I'm sorry."

Tears fell before you could stop them, heavy and your throat felt like it was closing up (good god, you couldn't breathe). You stumbled to the window, eyes catching on the car that waited for you by the entrance -if you squinted you could see them, you just wanted to see them again. Even if it was the last time-

"Butterfly, breathe, I need you to focus, okay? For them and you."

"Will you tell them first, before... before anyone else? They deserve to-" your voice cracked, "-They deserve to know first."

"Of course."

You swallowed, gasping for a breath and desperately wiping at your eyes -it felt like you were suffocating. Even still, you righted yourself -for the twins.

"What do you need from me?"

"Leave your phone and something they would know you wouldn't leave behind. They have to... They have to believe it."

With a shaky breath, you threw your phone to the floor -it cracked, but you didn't care. You scanned over yourself, digging into your pockets for something -anything. And then you remembered, the scratching on the fabric -it was your bracelet.

It was a gift from the twins, a simple charm bracelet with one single charm: a butterfly.

You remembered when they gave it to you, you promising to keep it on every day. It was the best gift you'd ever been given-

Hands shaking, you unclasped it -watching as it clattered to the ground, butterfly looking up at you. With another breath, you pulled your knife out of your pocket -three initials carved into the handle. Something in you cracked then as you looked at it, a little shrine to you -this is what they'd see. When they were told you were dead, they'd see this. That was... That was it.

You couldn't stay here anymore.

"Maria," you swallowed, blinking back as many tears as you could, "-where's the car?"

The next 4 years were a lot. You'd finally become yourself, a man, and you lived out in a small little cabin in the woods. You lived next to a teeny-tiny town where everyone knew each other, and you made your life there.

It was a sunny day when a car pulled up to your home -a fancy, expensive one. You knew it well, it dropped you off here all that time ago. Maria.

She smiled when she saw you, skimming over you -she knew about the transition but she hadn't seen you since before, "You look good, happier."

"Thanks," you smiled, leading her into your home. She was well aware of your home, every few years, she visited. Told you things, about the twins -their successes, their failures. They were infamous now. Sometimes it felt like you were there again, you could close your eyes and smell Tangerine's cologne and see Lemon's smile-

"I have some news," Maria started leaning against your countertop -she was always so rigid, all business.

"Yeah?" you smiled, "-What did they do now?"

"The White Death is dead," she spoke -frank and direct.

Something in your shoulders lifted, tears burning the back of your eyes -it had been so long, "Did they...?"

You knew very little about what she told them then, but you do know it had to do with the White Death. You knew they'd try and avenge you one day, it was just in their blood. You hoped they had peace now.

"A few people did," she clarified, "-remember the bullet train I talked about last week?"

"Yeah, you had Ladybug on that one, right?" you asked, you knew of the guy -never met him.

"The twins were there," she hummed, "-Turned out to be planned by him. He was going to kill them all by the end of the line."

"But they survived?" you asked.

"They did," she assured, before pausing for a moment, "-I'm here to ask you something."

You pursed your lips, something catching in your chest, "I can't see them, Maria-"

"That's not-" she started, before clearing her throat, "-I want to ask if you want back in."

"Into... work again?" You asked, curious.

"Yes," she said, laying it all out, "-We have a spot open, you'd be under me. We can start out with small jobs-"

"Isn't this what we planned? All that time ago?"

"We did," Maria confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "-but, you've been here so long. Your plans can change, you know. You could live a normal life."

You thought back to that conversation that late night with Tangerine. You had wanted it then. At the time, you didn't know who you wanted it with but now... you did. And that... that wasn't happening.

But going back to work, that was familiar, that felt normal. You'd be yourself again. You hadn't felt that way fully since that day, but you could achieve it now. Mostly.

"Okay," you responded, "-I'm in."

That is what brought you here in some office building for a drive under the name, Beetle. Well, you weren't alone. A couple of months ago, you'd been at a meeting of the agency -Maria had requested you come. You'd said something a little bit snappy and from the back, a guy with blonde hair, glasses, and a huge smile, had yelled, "I like this guy!"

That was your introduction to Ladybug, and he'd immediately requested to be your partner to Maria. He even threw in some 'pretty-please's, you'd laughed really hard that day -you hadn't in a long time. And with a little hope of some normalcy, you agreed.

Now this was pretty run of the mill, you'd worked with Ladybug to know most of his quirks -like forgetting literally everything as soon as you stepped into the building, and not wanting to kill people on Wednesdays ('My therapist says I need to start taking care of myself, this is me doing that, Beetle.').

"Listen," you turned to him, "-just keep the guy distracted, I will find the drive."

"Hey," he mumbled, eating some kind of finger food, "-Aren't we supposed to be a team? What was it that Maria said-"

"Ladybug," you sighed, he could really annoy you, "-firstly, you know she never says anything in your favor-" he nodded at that in agreement, "-secondly, do you even remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"

He paused, squinting his eyes.

"Exactly," you pointed out, "-so I will go find the drive, and you go... mingle."

"I don't wanna mingle," he nearly whined, "-I should've retired after the bullet train."

You froze for a moment, at the mention, before coming back down to earth, "You can do that after we do this, yeah?"

"Oh," he waved his hand with a grin, "-you know I could never leave you, Beetle."

You smiled then, "I know. Now, go, seriously-"

"Yeah, alright," he swatted you, "I'm going-"

With that, you slipped over to the elevator -squeezing past a few stray people and pressing the top floor. Luckily, it was some sort of company party, so every office was unattended. You, yourself, needed the top office, so out of respect for your knees -you'd decided to use the elevator.

You would later wildly regret this decision.

Around the fifth floor, it stopped. You fully prepped yourself for some stray office worker, probably holding a two-liter to bring downstairs and the awkward conversation that would ensue. Instead, it was much, much worse.

Because in front of that door stood Lemon, tips still bleached and dressed in a casual suit -the same kind he always used to wear. Your heart was in your throat, so you casually arranged your tie -trying not to let your voice come out squeaky.

"What floor?" You offered.

He didn't say a word, was just staring for a moment -brown eyes solid on you like he was reading you. You knew you looked different, and even sounded different but you still thought maybe-

"Seventh, thank you," he smiled, sauntering up to your side.

You smiled with a nod, and pressed the button.

The silence was unbearable, and you were certainly going to give Maria an earful when you got back because this. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen.

That was literally your one clause for this work-

"Do I know you?" Lemon asked, looking at you questioningly, "-I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. You're so familiar-"

Your tongue was quicker than your brain, "I'm Carl, Mr. Madison's assistant?"

He pursed his lips, like he was trying to believe it.

"I work on the third floor, mostly," you lied through your teeth -it was just keeping cover, "-maybe you saw me there?"

"Yeah," he settled, still eyeing you weirdly, "-probably."

The rest of the ride was silent, just before he stepped off, "Carl, if ya see an uptight guy in a suit with a mustache, tell 'im I'm on seventh, will ya?"

You instinctively nodded, and as the doors slipped shut -your brain started screaming. Of course, Tangerine was here. God, you could handle Lemon, but-

You pressed your com on, hissing out, "Maria-"

"Yeah, Beetle, what's going on? Everything okay?"

"The twins are here," you spoke -tone wavering, your breaths felt shallow like you weren't getting enough no matter how hard you tried.

"Oh shit."

"Wow," you came back to earth for a moment, "-that's the first time I've heard you lose your cool. Too bad I'm losing my mind-"

"Beetle, listen to me, okay? They don't know who you are. You look different, you sound different."

"I know," you let a breath out, "-I just. I never wanted to see them again. I don't... I don't deserve to."

"Beetle, we've talked about this."

"I know," you took a breath in, "-I know. It's just a lot."

"Is Ladybug there with you?"

"No," you spoke, like it was obvious, "-he can hardly remember his name sometimes, Maria-"

"I'll tell him there's an emergency. Send him up to you."

"But there isn't?" You countered, hand slipping up to run through your hair.

"If the twins are there for the same thing, there's about to be."

With that, you were on the top floor. You kept your eyes peeled -fancy shoes clopping along the tile. You'd always wanted a pair, but now you felt like a prick, honestly.

You figured if Tangerine was anywhere he was here, or shuffled into the party. That was if you had the same motivation.

Which was probably your best bet.

Somehow, you made it to the office in one piece. No peering blue eyes anywhere or accents melting into your ears, you were alone. Huh, maybe you were lucky.

You shuffled through some drawers, scattering paperwork and knocking a tin of paperclips over. It really didn't matter, the man would notice the USB gone anyway so no need for it to look like someone hadn't stolen it. With the drawers, you came up empty-handed.

You pursed your lips, before brushing your fingers along the top shelf of the bookshelf, maybe it was hidden? Nope.

You spun on your toes, before your eyes landed on the laptop. It was literally plugged into his laptop, out in the open.

"Idiots," you mumbled, before pocketing it with the slip of your hand.

Ready to go and fetch Ladybug, your job was done-

"Give me the fuckin' drive," his voice bounced around your head, and you very nearly cracked your neck spinning around to see him.

The first thing was the gun in your face, which was familiar, actually.

You raised your hands in surrender, instinctively muttering, "Jesus Christ."

He stalled for a minute when his eyes met your face like he was processing something -you thought out of anyone he would recognize you. The gun faltered in his hand as his eyebrows crept together into a furrow, confused.

You washed over him too, his hair was slightly longer and he was stronger -you could tell. His mustache was the same, and the suit too, just tighter. But along his neck, right at the collarbone was a nasty scar -it was new, fresh, you could tell. A couple of months at most.

"Look, I'm just Mr. Madison's assistant," you started, your voice shaking but it actually helped you here, "-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?" He countered, frustrated again, but there was still something skewed in his face, "-I saw you slip it in your pocket."

"Right," you swallowed, "-glass doors."

He leaned forward, the gun doing the same. And you heard the jingle of his necklace, the one he always wore -something from his childhood he said, but there was another sound, another noise. Before you could think any better, your eyes dipped to it.

The butterfly charm.

Your heart stalled in your chest.

He had the butterfly charm, your butterfly charm, around his neck. The silver was stark against the gold, so you really couldn't have missed it -how long has he been wearing that?

A sob trickled up the back of your throat, but you held it back -blinking away tears.

"Look," you echoed, voice heavy with wear -you wouldn't cry, not now, "-we can work this out."

"I said," he stepped forward, and you could smell his cologne -it was still the same, "-give me the fuckin' drive."

You didn't move.

"Do you want a fuckin' bullet in your head, love?" He asked, his face getting redder, but there was still something in his eyes -he was hesitating. He never hesitates.

Not... not at work. He pulls the trigger and is done but he's hesitating-

Your heart pounding in your chest, you stood your ground -digging your heels in, "Shoot me. You can take it off my corpse, just shoot me."

Tangerine frowned, something in his face flickering between your eyes -you knew he saw you, but you didn't know how he did. Did he think it was just a coincidence? Did he know? Did he think he was hallucinating?

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word -Lemon walked in with a gun pressed to his temple. Your eyes caught on Ladybug's and he visibly seemed to relax at the sight of you breathing.

"For old times sake," he spoke, "-you give me my guy, I give you yours."

"You almost fuckin' killed me," Tangerine seethed through his teeth, "-why should I 'ave any leniency?"

Oh, you thought, that scar was from Ladybug?

"He's got a point 'ere," Lemon replied, rather plainly. You wanted to laugh.

Ladybug paused, "I said I was sorry, I thought we were past that, guys! We killed the White Death together, remember?"

Both of them froze, tense and lips twitching. Was that... Was that because of you?

"Oh, right, sorry," Ladybug recanted, "-sensitive subject."

It was. Something in your chest panged, you'd never thought you'd see it firsthand. You never wanted to-

You stopped the train of thought, hissing to Ladybug, "You are not helping here, you know that?"

"I'm trying my best," he practically whined back, "-you try reasoning with these guys! It's like talking to two brick walls-"

"Ladybug," you chastised.

"Right, sorry," he repeated.

You sighed, leveling to look at them, "Look, I'll give you guys the drive, okay? Just let us go. I'll get him out of here."

Tangerine softened just a smidge -blue eyes matching yours, you may have looked different but your eyes stayed the same. You knew that, and you hoped somewhere in him, he recognized them or they reminded him or anything-

Because if they didn't, you weren't making it out of here alive.

Wordlessly, Tangerine put his gun down and held out his hand. So he did see it.

Ladybug's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, he was clearly not expecting him to relent. But then again, you weren't either.

You pulled it from your pocket, dropping it into his open hand -careful not to touch him, you couldn't do that to yourself.

"Ladybug," you spoke, motioning for him to follow, "-Let's go. We'll tell Maria on the way."

He did as such, giving the gun back to Lemon, and slowly following you out of the door -back turned to the outside, keeping watch.

"Did you-" Tangerine interrupted, stalling the two of you in your path -your heartbeat quickened in your chest, as he turned to look at you, only you, "-Did you know Butterfly?"

"Everyone knows Butterfly," Ladybug responded, "-she's a legend, even for our agency."

He didn't react to his response, only solidly looking at you, Lemon too. You felt like every move you made was outing you, revealing you. That they would realize and hate you and never understand-

"I never knew her personally," you answered, swallowing, "-Just... Just stories."

And with that, you spun on your heel and walked out the door -Ladybug following dutifully behind. You felt their eyes on you every step until you turned back around in the elevator.

You didn't do a job for quite awhile after that. Ladybug, following your lead, took a break too -said something about meditating. You didn't listen, you couldn't.

All you could see was that charm hanging on his necklace -right next to his heart. Did Lemon have your knife? Did they split them?

The next few months were boring, Maria kept calling you and you kept telling her you were okay, you just needed some time. She even sent Ladybug on you a couple of times, but even he could tell you weren't at your best. He just kept recommending things his therapist said, you appreciated it, really, even though it didn't help at all.

When you finally got back to work, Maria sent you as a solo -Ladybug was something you had to limit after a while. All you had to do was get a package before it was delivered, simple.

You didn't know why god seemed to hate you.

You were posed as a delivery truck driver, you even had the truck, the outfit, and the lift. It was something you genuinely enjoyed and everything should've gone perfectly.

It should have been as easy as walking in and walking back out.

That was not the case.

You arrived at the hotel lobby, dressed in the uniform and smiling at the front desk. Politely asking for the boxes you needed, something about office supplies or pillows or something. The hotel had too much of it. All you had to do, was get the package and sneak it in with the others.

"Can I run to your bathroom?" You asked with a smile -you had to get out of the lobby somehow.

"Of course," she smiled, bright and beautiful, "-There's one down that hallway and to the right."

You followed those directions, and then decisively took off into the bathroom -despite it not being a part of the plan. Somewhere in the back of your head, you noted that someone was definitely following you. It was a shadow in the back of your eye, but you still saw it.

So when the door opened behind you, you raised your fist and-

Stopped.

Tangerine stood there, eyes wide as your fist was mere inches from his face. He was wearing a coat, maybe like a trenchcoat, that was brown and gave his whole outfit something entirely different.

"What the hell?" You hissed out, lowering your fist, "-What are you doing here? Following me?"

Tangerine seemed to pause for a moment, before wiping his hand over his mouth, "I'm stayin' 'ere, saw ya out in the lobby. This isn't... It's not a job. I'm not 'ere to... to hurt you."

"Did you just want to say hi?!" You asked, sarcastically -this could not be happening again, "-Last time I saw you, you had a gun pointed at my head. Forgive me for being afraid."

He licked his lips, and you noticed it then, something was very off. He wasn't angry, no, he looked exhausted like he hadn't slept in days; his eyes were red and puffy like he had been crying. Had he been crying?

"Um," you started, trying to act normal, "-is everything okay...?"

"Tangerine," he finished for you.

"Beetle," you offered in response, before repeating, "-Seriously, is everything okay? Should I call your... your partner?"

"You knew 'er," he interrupted, voice worn.

"Knew who?" You questioned, squeezing your nails into your palm -you knew where this was going.

"Butterfly," he clarified, "-you fuckin' knew 'er, you had to."

"Look, Tangerine," you replied, "-I already told you-"

He interrupted you again, quietly letting out a wet sort of chuckle, "You even say it like 'er."

"Say what?"

"My name," he bit at his lip, gnawing at it, really, "-you say it the exact same way, and I... I fuckin' remember that, so you knew 'er."

You were speechless for a moment, before settling yourself -trying to stay away from this, "Do... Do you need to talk for a minute? Or?"

"Are you 'er brother?" He asked, something heavy in his gaze, "-It's the only solution I can think of, and it's drivin' me fuckin' mad. I have to know-"

"Why would I say I don't know her if I'm her brother?"

"I don't fuckin' know," he breathed out, hands running through his hair, "-are you afraid of the White Death? What he... he did to 'er? He's dead, very dead. You can say you know 'er-"

"But, I don't," you offered, a little weaker.

"You do," he replied simply, "-you fuckin' 'ave to, you look just like 'er. You can't- I can't... Just tell me the truth."

"I'm not her brother," you repeated, it was the only thing you could say.

"Did she ever say anythin' about me? About... About Lemon?" He continued, his voice scratchy and eyes blinking so fast you knew he was holding back tears -your stomach churned.

"Tangerine," you sighed out, "-I don't know what to-"

He interrupted you again, hand pulling on his necklace, the charm, "'s hers, you were starin' at it the other day. 'Was her bracelet, but I think ya know 'at."

"Look," you swallowed, heavily, "-I can't do this now, I'm on a job. We can talk later, though, if you need to."

You ended up finding the box in ten minutes and leaving without another word.

By the time, you were ready for missions again -you were half convinced you wanted to just go back to the cabin, and live your life there. Away from mustaches and feelings and fear, you could enjoy yourself -listen to birds, observe nature, even.

Maria even offered it, after the last trip, she'd smiled at you in the solemn way she did and offered you the home back, the life back.

You thoroughly debated it for a few days but wanted to feel like yourself again and this was the closest you'd get, ever.

You loved him, and this was the closest thing you'd get to him. It was all you had.

Even if he did love you, you were... different now and you couldn't imagine that would be okay with him. You didn't let yourself.

The next time you saw the twins, you decided to embrace it -try and be as close as you could. If they figured it out and left you in the dust, so be it. You wanted them in your life.

It was another solo mission, Ladybug was in one of those 'I'm going to quit and move to Costa Rico' phases of his career and you didn't exactly want to cozy up with anybody else.

Maria understood, and sent you alone.

It was a hit, some guy with a big life insurance policy -his wife hired you, apparently. He was a loner, and didn't go much of anywhere, so you were to stage a robbery and simply kill him in the kerfuffle. Or, at least make it look like that.

The job was so easy that you'd taken to the city afterward -you wanted to live a normal life for a minute, and after it all, you ended up in a bar. A sort of quiet one with a wooden bar and dim lights -the only people in there being men watching football games, and even they did say much of a word.

It was calm, peaceful.

You heard the door jingle, you knew the sound but assumed it was a normal person -sipping on your drink in your booth alone, away from prying eyes. You didn't exactly want any company, not really, but you ended up with some.

The steps of fancy shoes, it was ingrained in your brain, only getting louder -you thought maybe someone was going to sit close to you. Until they abruptly stopped at your side, you promptly turned your head -eyes peering over your drink.

Tangerine stood there in much better shape, blue eyes focused gently onto you (not red and puffy) and hair perfectly gelled back. He was wearing the blue suit that matched his eyes really well -you'd told him it was his best one once.

"Tangerine," you hummed, sipping your drink, "-weird seeing you here."

He paused, eyes flicking over you for a moment -maybe taking in your outfit, just the same as you did. Before muttering out, "'Ere's a safe house nearby, me and Lemon are stayin' 'ere."

You knew that one, the three of you stayed there a couple of times but then again, where hadn't the three of you stayed?

You pondered over that for a moment, before speaking, "You can sit down, you know, I won't bite."

He seemed to tense up.

"Unless you do," you clarified with a bit of a smile, "-in which I retract my statement."

His lips quirked for a second, as he slid into the booth across from you, "'M off the clock."

"Ah," you nodded your head, "-lucky for you, me too."

"Lucky for me?" He asked, it all seemed so natural -you knew he'd ask questions about it later.

"I'm a good fight," you shrugged, "-what can I say?"

"I imagine," he laughed, and something in your chest swirled -you missed that.

He sat in silence for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table, as you messed with the napkin you had. It wasn't uncomfortable, not really, (you didn't think it would ever be) but there was still something hanging over the two of you.

"Look," he said, suddenly, "-about the other day. I'm sorry, I was... I was in a really bad fuckin' place. Just brought up some memories... I didn't mean to-"

"Relax, Tangerine," you sighed, something bubbling up your throat, "-I know what it feels like when you've seen a ghost."

Something in you twisted, tired, and thinking you were lying. God, you were lying to him. But you couldn't chance losing him again, you didn't want him to hate you. Force himself out of your life, his choice.

Not yours. It was selfish, you knew that much.

"They treat ya well?" He asked, and you tilted your head, "-Your agency? I had a friend... switched over, so..."

"Very well," you hummed, "-My handler is... she understands my breaks."

"You had a break?"

"Long time ago," you spoke, vaguely -you couldn't be specific, "-stayed in a cabin, lived normal for awhile."

He leaned back into the booth, something in him curious, you could see it, "How was it?"

"Boring," you decided.

"Yeah," he murmured, "-always thought it fuckin' would be."

You took a leap then, even if the answer would hurt. You wanted to know.

"You ever thought about it?"

"Bein' normal?" He clarified -eyes smooth over your face.

You nodded, finishing your drink -he seemed to notice, and you half thought he'd offer you to get another.

"Yeah," he breathed out -not matching your eyes now, something heavy on his shoulders, "-once a long fuckin' time ago. But... things change."

You wondered if it was because of you -that one night. If he wanted that with you-

He wouldn't anymore, your mind chimed -stinging under your skin, you are different. So is he.

Timing would never be right, it made your lips snap shut anytime you thought of telling him. The idea that he had loved you then, and now... now he wouldn't. That was worse than him hating you for life, just not... just not loving you anymore.

You swallowed, thick -you wanted to know more, but you couldn't just say that, "That they do."

He paused for a moment, before sliding out of the booth, "I 've to go, Lemon's waitin' on me."

You nodded your head, toying with your glass -eyes slinking across the rim, something in you disappointed. Something in you wanted him to stay, but that wasn't going to happen. You couldn't have him.

Not now.

"Beetle," he spoke, slow and measured, "-'S nice talkin' to ya. Maybe we can catch up again when we aren't at each other's fuckin' throats, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agreed, the tips of your mouth turning up just a little, "-I'd be alright with that."

You started seeing Tangerine every once in a while, strange little cafés and dimly lit bars. You didn't know how he always ended up in the area with you or close by, but it felt familiar. Like when the two of them would follow you into jobs, even when you said you'd be fine because they wanted you to be okay. Just in case. You supposed now that they actually had something to worry about.

That led you to now, you laid on the tile of a building -head pounding and the lights blinding. You had successfully cleared it and killed your hit, but someone had snuck up on you -gun drawn, they took a cheap shot.

"Maria," you breathed out, "-Maria, come in."

"Beetle? Everything alright?"

"They got a cheap shot in-" you hummed, "-I think in my chest? It hurts to breathe-"

"Okay, alright. I'll see who's around you, okay?"

"I think I can walk-"

"Don't move, keep your hands on the wound. What floor are you on?"

"Second," you faltered out a breath -a sting in your lungs, even still you shifted putting all your weight on your hands, "-shit, never get used to that."

"Never will."

You laughed, leaning your head back down against the tile -it was cold against your skin. You felt like you were burning alive, so it was actually a little refreshing.

The lights above you hurt your eyes, but it was easier to breathe this way. Inhale, exhale -a sting, inhale, exhale -a sting.

You imagined for a second this was years ago, that you were actually dying then. The twins would come rushing in, burst through the doors, and Lemon would be darting all over you -trying to figure it out. And Tangerine... Tangerine would grab your face and keep you awake -soft words but every once in a while shaking you to keep you awake. You wouldn't have been able to die then, not with them there -trying to help. You supposed you could die now, bleed out on a tile floor alone or with someone you didn't even know.

This dream of it being Tangerine and Lemon, that was something you could live for -you could almost see it in your head.

And then you heard it, a door busting open and fancy shoes clattering down the hallway -like yours that made you feel like a prick. You wondered if you got the idea of them from Tangerine, he surely owned so many pairs-

"Shit," there was a voice then, and your eyes snapped to the source.

Oh, I'm definitely hallucinating.

Tangerine stood over you before falling to his knees, mumbling -frustrated, "I just fuckin' knew it was you."

"Am I..." you spoke, breathlessly, "-Am I hallucinating?"

"What do you think I am? A fuckin' angel?" Something in your mind answered yes, "-Hate to break it to you, love, but it's just me."

"How the hell were you around here?"

"A job," he said, a little too quickly -it was suspicious.

"Lying-" you slurred out, "-I can tell you're lying."

Tangerine didn't say anything in response, ignoring it, "'S your chest, yeah?"

"Yeah," you hummed, "-where I'm holding."

"Alright," he breathed out, "-alright. Don't stop holdin' it, okay? Keep your hand 'ere."

"How am I gonna move?"

He rolled his eyes, "Can't give me an inch of fuckin' trust, can ya?"

"Sure, I can," you breathed out, flinching slightly, "-just tell me your plan."

He let out a chuckle, before without warning -slipping his arms under your knees and back. The movement jostled you a little and it hurt -you hissed out.

"Sorry, love," he echoed out, softer than you expected, "-'s the only way to get ya out of 'ere."

"I know," you exhaled, "-I know. Keep going."

It felt like you hadn't even blinked before he was pattering out of the building -he was going so fast. Your head was spinning now, but you were still conscious.

"Shit," you heard Lemon, as Tangerine slipped you into the backseat, laying you across the seats -head first, "-a bullet?"

"Fucking cheap shot," you breathed out, "-Killed a whole building full of people and some asshole came up behind me and shot me-"

Lemon seemed to laugh slightly at your frustration; it made you feel a little lighter.

Tangerine shut the door and you waited for him to slip into the passenger seat. You were getting tired, you just wanted to bandage it up and go to whatever hotel was open.

Instead, Tangerine slipped into the side with your head -carefully lifting it and setting you back down onto his lap. You froze -his cologne surrounding your head so much it made you woozy. Why had he done that?

"Stay awake, yeah?" He spoke, breaths raggedy -he really must've been going fast, "Beetle, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," you swallowed, the smooth cushion of his suit pants was tempting, but the situation you currently were in kept you awake. Your heart was pounding, your brain spinning, you were so close.

You'd been closer, but that was over 4 years ago. Even further when his hands made their way to your face and hair -trying to keep you awake. It worked very, very well.

Had he ever held your face before?

Something in you said no, but it could've happened. You were also so close and any time you got injured he'd always wanted to see it for himself. He usually refused to leave until he took care of it himself, with gentle hands. Whose to say you hadn't gotten a cut on your face?

Why did it feel so different now?

You looked up at him, just for a spare second -you saw his hand run through his hair, unveiling the curls by the second. You'd always liked his curls, when he'd shown you his natural hair -it was all soft and bouncy. It wasn't good for his image, you totally understood.

He's nervous, your mind chimed, does he care about you like this too?

You slapped away the thought and decidedly started staring up at the plush ceiling -this car was definitely expensive, you knew that much. The cushion on the seats, the detailing, the roof, the speed-

This thing had to be stolen.

"Ya alright, love?"

You swallowed and met his eyes, big blue blinking down at you and you could see it, the concern. Since when was he concerned for you? This you? Something had changed at some point and you didn't even notice.

"I've been shot," you retorted, obviously, "-I'm currently bleeding out on your fancy seats."

"That's not-" he huffed out, pinching the bridge of his nose -you couldn't hold back the grin on your lips.

Lemon laughed from the front, "'Give 'im a real run for his money, you know 'at, Beetle?"

"I try my best."

Lemon laughed again, and something in your chest felt lighter -you had missed them, so much. All those years at that fucking cabin, you had missed out on them, on knowing them, watching them, being with them.

God, you regretted everything then, but it was for the best. It kept them safe.

"Seriously," his voice was lower now but still so pointed, "-are you alright?"

You blinked away the fog of tears in your eyes, not now, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright."

The ride was short after that, it was wordless. Even though you think Tangerine wanted to say more, he didn't pry. Which you thought was very strange because he's Tangerine (he prods and pokes until you're set on murdering him) but you were literally bleeding out, so maybe it was courtesy.

You didn't have the heart to think it was anything else.

The twins brought you up the stairs, each taking a shoulder, and although it wasn't as dizzying as before when Tangerine had physically held you... It still was overwhelming.

These guys were like your family. You hadn't been this close to them in years.

"Alright, I'm assumin' you got the wounds?" Lemon asked, directed at Tangerine.

With a succinct nod, Lemon spun back around in the doorway -talking as he walked out, "'M off to get some food, don't bite each other's heads off, yeah? I'd hate to clean up the mess, personally-"

And then he was gone. You were currently sitting on a stool, hand still pressed intently into your chest, as Tangerine gathered up what medical supplies they had. Which was a lot, actually.

You spoke before you could think about it, "You know I can do this myself, right?"

"God, you've got quite the fuckin' head, don't ya?"

"You're one to talk," you replied.

Tangerine pursed his lips, in a way you could tell he was hiding a smile, before his eyes drifted to the ground for a moment. He didn't respond immediately, thinking on it.

And even when he brought everything onto the counter, he didn't say anything. It wasn't until he stood in front of you, nearly in between your legs as you sat on the stool.

"Just let me help you, yeah?"

Your eyes flickered over him, trying to read him but all you could get was -please. Almost like a desperation to help you, like he'd wanted to do this not just offering it-

"Yeah, okay," you responded softly.

"Shirt off," he quickly spoke -right to business, reaching over to the counter to grab what he needed.

You swallowed, you still weren't used to that. Taking your shirt off in front of people, off the top of your head you couldn't think of anyone who had seen your scars. Your top surgery scars. They were very obvious, right in the middle of your chest, and unavoidable. Did you want him to see them?

"Can't I just..." you started, "-unbutton the bottom?"

Tangerine turned back to you then, furrowing his eyebrows, "The gunshots in the middle of your chest, love, it'd be fuckin' half on anyway. Just take it off."

You frowned.

"No judgment here," he put his hands in the air, "-I couldn't care fuckin' less what your chest looks like, personally."

You licked your teeth and swallowed, before unbuttoning the dress shirt, slowly, but keeping it solidly on your shoulders. Kind of like how the men in cologne ads looked, with their opened-up shirts and the epitome of masculinity-

He didn't say a word, but you saw his eyes flicker over them -almost like he was noting it in his head before he switched his attention to the wound. He promptly dabbed it with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, and you nearly bit through your lip.

"Warn a guy, will you?"

Tangerine didn't even look up, "If that hurt, you're gonna have a fuckin' problem later, love."

"I've been stitched up before," you clarified, "-I'm not a newbie."

"Might as well be, yeah?" He hummed, tossing the cotton ball in the trash -flawlessly making it in (how does he even exist?), "-With your break."

"How do you know it was a long one?"

"I've never fuckin' heard of you," Tangerine explained, "-Ladybug's never heard of you and you're a part of his agency-" he dabbed another one over your wound, "-Must've been a long break."

He had a good point.

"Why are you so interested anyway?" You asked, quirking a brow, "-Plus, there are other agencies, how do you know I didn't come from one of them?"

"You're too good to 'ave," he replied, simply.

You fell silent, something stirring in your stomach -was that the first time he'd ever complimented you? Beetle you? Huh.

"Wow," you hummed, "-you can be nice. Who knew?"

"You're soundin' like fuckin' Lemon now," he groaned, before taking the needle from the counter.

"Lemon's smart then," you diverted your eyes -never could stand looking at being stitched up.

Tangerine rolled his eyes, and you looked back up to the ceiling -a smile ghosting onto your lips. Not that you'd ever let him see.

It went fairly smoothly, his hands made quick work of it and even quicker with the wound on your back (the bullet had gone right through your chest, luckily not hitting anything). Nothing happened, you were worried about nothing. He was Tangerine-

Just as you had started buttoning your shirt back up (you started from the bottom to the top), Tangerine froze.

Without a word, he walked closer to you -tilting your chin up with the ease of a finger and looking under it on your chest. You froze, his skin on yours was still something you couldn't deal with.

"Where'd you get 'at one?"

Fuck.

You knew what he was talking about immediately. It was a scar, just above your heart. You'd been stabbed on the job, and Lemon had fucked up your stitches so it had healed weird -came out curved somehow.

And then Tangerine was so paranoid that you showed him because he needed to know you were okay -it was so close to your heart.

"You almost fuckin' died, Butterfly. One inch down and..."

It was a one-of-a-kind scar. At the time, it didn't matter but now? You knew Tangerine could recognize that scar anywhere.

"Tangerine," you spoke out, measured. You tried to keep your voice calm, maybe you could save this-

He stepped back, eyes making contact with yours -they darted between them for a moment and then back to the scar, and then to your top surgery scars. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and everything in your body was screaming-

"Tangerine, listen-"

That was enough, something in him stiffened and he grabbed his coat off the back of the couch.

"Tangerine," you echoed out, but you knew it was no use now.

He didn't say a word, slipping it on and with the fastest steps you'd ever seen in your life, he disappeared out the door and slammed it shut.

The walls shook after.

You swallowed dryly, tears pricking at your eyes -this was never supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen-

Your hand was on your com before you could even think about it, breaths shuddering out of your chest -sobs breaking in the back of your throat. You tried to stop it, hold it all back-

"Beetle? Hello? I see your com is on, everything alright?"

"They know," you whispered, nearly silent -tears streaming down your face.

"Who knows what?"

"The twins, they were... they were the ones nearby," you started, and your voice cracked, "-Tangerine offered to stitch me up and I have a scar-"

"Beetle, slow down. I can't understand you."

"They know who I am, Maria," you breathed out, tears catching in your throat, "-Tangerine knows and he's going to tell Lemon, and I don't know what the hell to do-"

"Beetle, breathe."

"He left," you echoed out, and you were crying -god it had been so long since you cried, "-he left, Maria. He didn't even say anything-"

"It's a lot to take in. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"He's gone," you swallowed, "-I know it, Maria."

"You know him. Do you really think he's gone?"

You thought back to the pendant on his necklace -the butterfly, your butterfly.

"I don't..." you started, "-I don't know."

"Just wait, if nobody comes back... Give me a call, alright? I'll send a car your way."

So, you did.

You waited, buttoned your shirt back up, tried to wash the stain, and waited. You ended up flicking through TV shows, and smushed into the couch, waiting. Even thought about ordering your own food, but a part of you wanted to be sure that Lemon wasn't coming back.

After about two hours of waiting, you swallowed down the tears -eyes all red and puffy, and started gathering up your stuff. You accepted it now, you'd never see them again.

It was your decision, you would regret it for as long as you lived. Something in your chest heavy and exhausted, you readied yourself to call Maria back.

Just as your finger was about to touch the com, there was a jingle of some keys outside the door. You froze in place, slipping on one of your shoes without another thought -ready to leave. You knew he'd ask you.

The door slowly opened, and Tangerine peered inside -he looked worse for wear and you think if you focused hard enough you could see blood on his knuckles. You wouldn't ask, not now.

His blue eyes flicked over you, to your shoes and your coat all gathered up on your arms, he gnawed at his lip for a moment.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?

It was all harsh edges and sharp points, it made you bring up your own barriers.

"I'm leaving," you answered, straightening your posture and putting on your other shoe.

Tangerine didn't move for a moment, as you slowly made your way to the door -footsteps echoing in the heaviest silence you'd ever experienced in your life.

Just before you got there, Tangerine stepped in front of the door -something in his eyes heavy.

"Tangerine," you sighed, "-let me go."

"No," he answered simply, eyes meeting yours and you saw now, they were red and puffy too, "-hell no."

"Look, I really don't want to-" you started before briefly rubbing your temples, "-you want me to leave, just let me leave."

"Who the fuck said 'at?"

You tilted your head.

"Why would I want you to leave?" He furrowed his eyebrows, still angry, "-You... I just got you back, why the fuck would I want you to leave?"

"I lied to you, Tan," you breathed out, and something caught in your throat, "-I lied to you for years."

"You're fuckin' alive-" Tangerine exhaled, chuckling a little in disbelief, "-I have so many questions, yeah? That is far, so fuckin' far, from wantin' you to leave."

"Tangerine," you spoke, voice shaky, you just wanted to go. It would be so much easier if you just left-

He paused for a second, "Are you fuckin' listenin' to me?"

"I am," you replied, tears rising to the backs of your eyes, "-I just can't..."

"Love," he grabbed your wrist, something softer, gentler, "-Love, look at me, please."

You swallowed your tears and with a big breath, you looked at him. His eyes were always so very blue, but something about them then was vulnerable. Broken wide open, Tangerine sat in front of you.

"I want ya to stay, yeah?" He breathed out, wiping over his mouth, "-I want you to stay."

You pursed your lips, trying so hard not to cry -you shouldn't be the one crying, "Okay."

"Now," he sighed out, a little lighter, "-fuckin' sit down, you shouldn't aggravate the wound."

You wordlessly sat down on the far edge of the couch, closest to the door. Your hands were shaking, so you laid them flat on your lap -trying to calm down.

He wants you to stay.

"You said-" he started, his voice getting caught up in his mouth, "-You said you were in a cabin, yeah? Where?"

You opened your mouth, confused, "Why does that matter? You have... I lied to you for years and that’s your first question?"

He was standing up, pacing, and then suddenly stopped. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment blinking.

"You know, when they told us you were... dead," he echoed out -something caught in his throat, "-they didn't have a body? All we had was-"

His hand went to his necklace putting the pendant in between his fingers, "All we had was your things, there was no fuckin' body-"

"What does this have to do with-"

"I looked for you," he finally said, "-everywhere I went for a job, I fuckin' looked for you. Because if there wasn't a body, you could still be-"

He fell silent, for a moment -swallowing, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't believe it, "...alive."

"So," he continued, clearing his throat, "-I want to know where the fuck you were. 'At fair?"

Your mouth snapped shut - he looked for you? For how long? That wasn't important now though.

"Alaska," you answered, wiping at your eyes, "-small town, in the middle of nowhere. I had... I had an alias."

"Fuckin' Alaska," he muttered, under his breath.

"It was cold all the time," you added -a bit awkwardly, "-snowed nearly everyday."

Tangerine scanned over your face, maybe like he was trying to imagine you there, alone in the cabin. Or maybe, you out in the snow.

"That day..." he started slow, "-did you fight it? When you were told what you... what you had to do, did you fight it?"

"What are you asking?"

"Did you even think about telling us? Or, or-" he swallowed and his voice was husky and his eyes were bleary, "-coming back to us?"

"Tangerine," you echoed out, emotionless -trying to reign it in, "-I didn't have a choice. You know that."

"I know," he agreed, "-but did you fuckin' try?"

"You think-" you exhaled out, tears gathering in your eyes now, "-You think I didn't try to say goodbye? That I didn't beg Maria to change her mind? That I didn't tell her you guys would keep the secret-"

"Beetle-"

"-just so I could stay?"

"Beetle, I didn't..."

"I did," you swallowed, "-I did beg. It didn't work. If I... If you would've known, we both would've been in too much danger. I couldn't risk it."

"The White Death, yeah?" He clarified, and he was closer to you then he was before. His fingers kept twitching like he wanted to do something.

"He was after me," you hummed, "-knew where I was, where you were, where Lemon was."

"I just-" he started, "-I don't fuckin' get why... after you- After the White Death was killed, why didn't you- why didn't you come back? Tell us?"

"It's... complicated."

"Why?" he stressed out, "Why was it complicated? You were alive, and I don't know about Lemon, but, personally, I would've loved to fuckin' know 'at."

"Tangerine," you started, "-I'm different now, and you guys... you grieved me. How was I supposed to come back from that?"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck 'at you're a man," he interrupted, "-I just wish you would've felt comfortable enough to tell me- tell us earlier."

"Tangerine," you could feel the tears in your eyes.

"And we grieved you, yeah, but-" he explained, messing with his hands for a moment, "-knowing you're alive? That you were fuckin' breathin'? The grieving... It wouldn't 'ave fuckin' mattered, love."

"It would have," you stopped him, "-you thought I was dead-"

"Love," he suddenly sat by your side, gently holding your wrists in place, "-listen to me for once, yeah?"

You nodded, wordlessly, tears slipping down your face, this was guilt you were holding onto for years.

Without hesitating, Tangerine gently started swiping them away with his thumbs, "I thought I was in a world without fuckin' you. Lovely, annoying, beautiful fuckin' you."

You opened your mouth, but he merely continued.

"I couldn't imagine my life without ya in it, and then suddenly it was the fuckin' life I was livin'," he sighed out, eyes matching yours and hands cradling your jaw, "-you being alive changes fuckin' everythin'."

"Why?" You offered, eyes scattering between his -looking for an answer.

He paused for a moment, before dropping his hands, pushing his hair back for a moment, and swallowing. It was like he was readying himself.

"Lemon used to tell me that I was stupid," he finally said.

"Doesn't he always?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

He smiled a little bit, before grabbing one of your hands with his and fidgeting with your fingers -kind of like he just needed to be close to you, "Right, yeah. But this... He told me 'at one day I would regret not tellin' you."

"Telling me what?"

"When you... when you died, I realized the idiot was fuckin' right," he hummed out, a sob catching in his throat but he just kept talking, "-and then, I met a fuckin' self-righteous bloke who had the nerve to dare me to shoot 'im. Looked me right in the eyes."

"Tangerine-"

"And then the guy kept showin' up, and I kept seein' 'im and it was the always same back and forth," he continued, tracing along the creases of your palm, "-but at some point I started thinkin' that I wouldn't shoot 'im, even if he asked."

You laughed.

A smile flickered across his face at the noise, but he kept his eyes downward, "And then, I see 'im bloody and hurtin'. And I think back to the first time, when I didn't say it and if now I wasn't gonna be fuckin' able to-"

You raised an eyebrow.

"And then they dared to be the same fuckin' person."

"Tangerine," you asked, "-what the hell are you talking about?"

It was then that he finally looked up, and then you realized how close his face was to yours. You feel the puffs of his breath against your skin, and it made your head fuzzy. Your thoughts became blurry and all you could see was him-

Tangerine. Tangerine. Tangerine-

"I really don't give a fuck 'at you're a man," he repeated, blue eyes laser focused on yours.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell does that-"

His eyes dipped down to your lips.

Oh.

"Really?"

"Not a flyin' fuck," he echoed out.

You smiled, before letting your own eyes drift -just for a second. It was like a confirmation, a consent.

Before you could say another word, his hands reached up to grab your face and bring your lips to his. It was all force, desperate, like you were oxygen and he just wanted to breathe-

But somehow still gentle, holding you -fingers rubbing along your face like he was reminding himself you were there. That you were alive. That you were sitting there beside him breathing. It made sense now, all of it.

The grieving didn't matter because you were alive.

He finally separated, keeping his forehead on yours for a split second -staring into your eyes and huffing out breaths.

He kept you there, until it felt like you couldn't breathe -he stole all of it away.

When there was a knock on the door.

Then, there was another knock.

He groaned, throwing his head back -decidedly not letting you go.

"What do you fuckin' want, Lemon?"

"No way to treat someone who got you food," he chastised, "-you 'ave the keys, let me in."

"Come back in ten minutes," Tangerine answered -eyes solidly on yours, you felt frozen in your seat.

"The food's gonna get cold, mate," Lemon retorted, "-don't ya want it warm? I worked hard to get it, ya know? The closest restaurant was like a fuckin' block away-"

"Ten minutes," Tangerine repeated.

"I'm not fuckin' leaving," Lemon started again, "-it's cold out 'ere. You gonna leave your brother out in the fuckin' cold-"

"Fuckin' go, Lemon," Tangerine groaned out.

"Fine," he breathed out, "-keep snoggin', but don't fuckin' complain if I eat some of your food."

Yeah, you really missed this.

"We won't," you chimed in with a smile.

Tangerine smiled at you like you held the sun.

[saddled-on-stars]

Beetlejuice x coquette reader? btw I love love love ur writing teehee

Hi, Anon!! OH MY GOD I WOULD LOVE TOOOOO! Beej is 100% a softie for people like this, I can guarantee it!! ALSO, WHAAAAT?? Thank you so much, you're so kind!! I hope you enjoy this one :)

Happy Reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Trigger Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Reader Wears a Dress -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Key:       ★ (Y/N) = Your Name       ★ (L/N) = Last Name     ★ (Y/NN) = Your Nickname  -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-  Requested by: Anonymous

- ★ - Beetle's Bow - ★ -

‘Hmm… a little higher here, maybe?’, you thought to yourself, fixing the little bow of white ribbon on your new dress, hanging upon the black-felt mannequin that resides in your room. 

The dress is white, about mid-thigh-length, rising just above the knees. It has a very frilly-ish style on the torso and shoulder straps, as well as having a pink ribbon covering the waistline. 

It was the first dress you had ever made yourself, to say the least, you are quite proud of it. It isn’t the most perfect thing in the world, but it definitely isn’t bad, either.

You had designed dresses and other clothing items in drawing and sketch form, but it was none other than your boyfriend, who encouraged you to bring them to life, straight off of the paper.

As you tied the final ribbon on one of the shoulder straps, you hear your bedroom door creak open, the hinges slightly old. However, it isn’t an unpleasant sound, but rather a comforting one.

“Hiya, Babes! Whatchya doin’?”, your curious boyfriend asks, walking through the door. He's in his usual striped suit, his hair it's usual vibrant green. The stubble of his beard covers his face, giving him that warm, cozy look.

You smile at him proudly, hopping up from your stool to rush over to him, as you grab his hand, gently pulling him over to the mannequin to show off your first creation, which he inspired of course.

“I took your advice, Beej! I put the dress into real form!”, you exclaim excitedly, practically bouncing on your toes. “And it’s all thanks to you, Baby!”, you exclaim, wrapping your arms around his neck, peppering his cheek with kisses. He chuckles slightly embarrassed, his hair turning a deep rose color, “Ah, don’t sweat it Babes, you did all the work, here,”. 

He begins gazing at the dress in awe, imagining how you’d look in it. He begins examining the shoulder-straos and waist ribbon, knowing that it would practically hug your figure perfectly. 

Obviously, he would never wear anything like that. Stripes and wacky patterns is clearly more his style, and he likes it that way-

“By the way, Beej! This was obviously my first dress, but I’ve made a lot of sweaters recently-”, you say, beginning to rummage through your ‘creations box’, which is just an old shoebox that you’ve stapled some fabric to. Its got character, and it’s yours. 

Beej’s hair immediately turns from its deep rose color, to a colorful mix of his usual green, and a few little strands of his fearful blue. 

You liked ribbons, and frilly things, there was no doubt about that, and he doesn’t mind that you liked it one bit. In fact, he secretly likes it, how cute you look in all of your coquette stuff; it makes you look all cute and cuddly. “Ah-ha! Here it is!”, you say with a tone of enthusiasm, holding up a white knitted sweater, and it actually looks quite cozy. 

What’s different about it is that there’s some white lace around the sleeve cuffs and neckline, sewn on top of the sweatshirt. 

But what really catches someone’s eye is the little pink ribbon bows sewn in vertical lines across the sweaters. They’re everywhere on the sweater, but they’re small enough to make it seem like a cute pattern.

It definitely seems close to Beej’s jacket size, which makes him pause for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. Did you make it for him?

You drape the sweater over your forearm, fiddling with your hands sheepishly, noticing his reaction. “I-I made it for you, really…”, you begin, but you quickly look at him with a slightly alarmed expression.

“B-But if you don’t want to try it on, you obviously don’t have to, I just thought-”, you begin reassuring him, but you’re quickly cut off.

He’s kissing you, cradling your neck in his hands. You notice his hair fading from that colorful mixture, back to that nice, deep rose color.  You wrap your arms around his neck and let your eyes flutter closed, leaning into the kiss. You feel the sweater begin to fall off your arm, but Beej catches it with no problem.

He pulls away from the kiss with a smirk, immediately saying, “Well, now we can’t have this beauty falling to the floor, now can we?”, leaving you breathless and giggling.

Beej shuffles into the sweater, his faded pink hair peeking through the neckline, and he jerks his arms forward gently, as if to adjust the sleeves.

Before you can say anything, he begins walking to the other side of the room, leaving you standing there confused.

Knowing Beej, he usually has some sort of commentary after anything. Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it's not.

He whips around, his hand on his hip, and his leg on the opposite side sticking out, as if to pose as a model, causing you to giggle.

"Now presenting, 'Cute Cuddly Warm Sweater'. Creator is my girlfriend, (Y/N).", Beej says dramatically, as he begins strutting across the room over to you.

You're laughing so hard that your stomach hurts, and you sit on your stool. He finishes his 'Catwalk', and whips around again, strutting to the other side of the room.

After belly-laughing for some time, you notice that he's in front of you again, as you're about to fall off of the stool, he helps you up.

"Thank you Babes, I love it. Very cozy, too~", he says as he nuzzles his face as if to sink into the sweater.

You nod with a smile, as if to say, "You're welcome."

Walking over to the mannequin, you sew the final bow on the other shoulder strap; the final detail, and then it's finished.

Taking a step back from the mannequin after sewing on the final ribbon, you stand there admiring your work. Sure, it's not perfect, but it's pretty damn good for your first ever dress.

You feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you lean backwards onto the figure's torso.

"Y'know Babes, I bet that dress would look way better on you, than some black fuzzy mannequin.", Beej says softly into your ear.

Chuckling, you reply, "First of all Beej, it's felt, not fuzz." You then turn around to face him, planting your hands on his shoulders, while his hands still rest on your waist.

"You sure you want me to try it on?", you ask him shyly. You're not really used to him asking you to show off your work, as he admires it himself enough, whether that be your sketches or your sweaters.

He nods quickly and eagerly, with that stupid grin of his that you've grown to love.

You take the dress carefully off the mannequin and head to your closet to change. It's surprisingly comfortable, and as expected, it fits your body perfectly.

Seeing a pair of white mary-jane-style heels, you decide to throw those on as well to complete the look.

Glancing at the full dress on your body in your full-length mirror, your think you look quite nice. The dress looks better on a person than on a headless mannequin, in your opinion.

You knock on the closet door a couple of times softly, just to let Beej know you're on your way out. Knowing him, he was probably already waiting eagerly at the door for you, like a dog waiting for it's owner to come home from work.

Sure enough, there he is sitting on the miniature old vintage sofa in your room, his legs crossed like a child's, but you don't mind. He actually looks cute like this, to you at least.

His hair, which was a vibrant green almost instantly changes to an instant deep fuchsia. "Wow, Babes...", he says in total awe.

You blush slightly, but lean against your stool across from the couch, where he sits, his cheeks now following suit of his hair color.

He scrambles out of his sitting position, to cross over to you in just a few strides. You two don't need words right now. Just eye contact.

Holding out his hand as a simple gesture, you take it, as he helps you up from the stool, and he quickly spins you and dips you, causing you to let out a tiny squeak.

Ugh, that smirk always gets you. If your face wasn't totally tomato-red before, you're almost positive it is now.

He winks, causing a slight shiver to go down your spine, and then he plants a kiss on your lips, your arms once again naturally finding his neck.

And it turns out, even though your creation wasn't perfect, but how he cares for you in so many ways is perfect.

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[inexplicifics]

Hi im a fashion designer/fabric artist (in training) and I have Many Ideas about witcher fashion via monsters!

Some background — as witcher lands become bigger, and trade becomes bigger, and witchers travel in packs — well monster parts become easier to carry, right? It starts with the ichor black dyeing — the laundresses start to wear the clothes and they occasionally travel, and they have extra fabrics so it sells on occasion too, but because 1) rarity and 2) Witcher, it becomes a status thing to own ichor black clothing and a way to try and be in favor of the witchers (“see? We wear your clothing we Totally Support You” whether thats true or not is up to the court the clothing is in). And then the dyeing laundresses start to do different fabrics too (like silk), to sell for even more money. This gives them the thought to ask for monster skin to be turned to leather. Or griffin feathers/skin. Or just their Outsides in general to see what can be sold, dyed, or both.

And Triss is a bit of a perfectionist, and she’s a researcher, so sometimes the boys will bring her back parts she wants to make sure they cant be used or cant be used in a better way — and well beetle wings and feathers are good in fashion so I wouldnt be surprised if Milena saw the monster leather, feathers, etc, and saw Triss discarding various bones and claws and something clicked.

So my list of fashion choices in Kaer Morhen that eventually travels out comes down to two big items seen in almost every culture on earth:

• dyed cloth (ichor black in this case)

• and (monster) remains such as hide for leathers, furs, feathers, scales, and bones for adornments or accessories

Any monster you look at can be categorized in this, for the most part. Some monsters have special items, like vampire fangs, and I could see warg feet being like rabbits feet, a sign of good fortune or ward against evil.

Cultures like what they cant have and is seen as rare, so Ciri walking into court on Progress having a diadem or tiara made of vampire teeth, her ichor black dress studded with silver and bone, embroidered with wyvern scales, griffin feathers in her hair and the ends of her dress, and warg fur around her collar and ends of her sleeves (or any combination thereof) — she’d be a picture of Rich and Powerful.

And with how sharp Milena is (pun intended) i could see her very quickly realizing how Witcher court would have a very specific style (the same way people say something is very French or “that outfit is very Redanian Noble”) because thats the power of world building!!! Different places have different resources and that reflects in fashion!!

Thank you for listening to me ramble I love fashion, historical fashion, and fantasy fashion so this really tickled me!

This is marvelous; it adds so much depth and knowledge to the world-building! Thank you!

[lucimiir]

MY FAV DUNE PT 2 COSTUMES

And my (mostly visual/aesthetic) reasoning

(In no particular order)

Ok starting off STRONG with this Irulan look:

It’s simple, it’s classy, it looks comfy AND elegant. I love the beadwork on the headpiece and how it’s Bene Gesserit-adjacent but you can still completely see her face and hair. The light colors look good on her and that collar made me question it for just long enough to make it better.

Next up is Jessica’s early sayyadina look, and I loooooove this robe. The earth colors are nice, I like how it kinda blends in with the sietch while emphasizing her eyes, and the fabric is very rough and functional looking while still being beautiful. Mostly I’m psyched about the patterns in the weaving (I think it’s woven) and the way that creates continuity with her tattoos.

I had trouble finding good pictures for this, but

Everything about this scene was GORGEOUS. I swear I didn’t breathe for the first ten minutes of the movie, and these Harkonnen uniforms were part of it. The colors here are amazing and make the black look so harsh and unnatural compared to the sand and rocks and the Fremen clothing. Their shiny helmets are terrifying and sterile and buglike and I am living for it. (Little me would have gotten nightmares)

Obviously we’ve all acknowledged Lady Margot’s amazing dress, but it’s just That Good. The structure! The open shoulders and low neck + hood! The color! Sinister and sexy. And despite the fact that I loved the color, I might love this even more in the black and white scenes because it shows off the construction so well and the opera glasses honestly tie it all together.

Ok bringing back Jessica because she Doesn’t Miss:

I loooove this. The gold printing (?) around the hood might be my favorite part, and the beads under the collar are awesome without weighing down her whole face like the outfit she wears for most of the film with all the metal on the forehead. I also like how the structure and design of it is extra similar to Reverend Mother Mohiam, with the giant rectangular hood, but the color and the face beading are actually more reminiscent of the gown she wears when the Atreides arrive on Arrakis in part one.

A shoutout for Feyd-Rautha’s armor in the duel:

Idk I just really like how shiny it is. All the Harkonnen stuff reminds me of bugs (those evil looking shiny black beetles) I like how this is actually very much like a stillsuit and really similar to what Paul’s wearing, but more evil and shiny.

Last but CERTAINLY not least is just Chani’s blue scarf. BOY does this pull its visual weight. Like symbolism and meaning aside, it’s such a necessary piece of color in the all the desert scenes, and adds visual interest to what is a largely beige movie. In tons of the scenes most of the color is bright bright blue in the characters’ eyes and this scarf. And I think it adds a lot of joy and lightness to Chani’s appearance, which obviously symbolically changes as she does.

I just love costumes! This was a visually stunning film! I’m feeling very happy!

[seabirdtxt]

Hey, back at it with a request. I wanted to dump you with requests, but I also know that it takes you a bit to write, and I didn't want to overwhelm you ^^"""

Honestly though, with the requests I have in mind, I have a feeling they're going to become a spinoff series called "In which the Puppets learn the Creator is really, really bizarre."

With that said, this request will consist of some habits I have, and how our puppet boys would react to them! That being: reader is a night owl magpie who likes to collect a number of things. Whatever sparks their fancy, they hoard (It's why the Traveller has such a hoarding problem in the first place).

They collect some semi-formal things, like flowers and different plants, and like shiny rocks (Reader is familiar with the Language of Flowers, and I can fully see them and Kabukimono spending hours going over them. With Scara, Reader finds a piece of Rose Quartz in the shape of a heart and gives it to him, saying "You said you wanted a heart, right? Here you go! I know it isn't a real heart, but that's okay: because you already have a real one!")

But then they have the weird stuff they collect, like bones -and teeth -and scales - and bugs (Scara or Wanderer: "Why do you have this?" Reader, holding up the carcass of a beetle: "I just think they're neat!")

Or the worse part: literal trash. I'm talking broken pieces of glass and random metal parts, and like old candy wrappers that they've been keeping. (Again: Scara or Wanderer: "Get rid of this." Reader: "But it has sentimental value-!!!" S or W: "IT IS LITERALLY TRASH!!!")

But yes. Reader is a hoarder of many things.

i love this LOL i also hoard some pretty random things so like 🤝

(Might not have touched on all the same points as your ask bc i tried to keep it in-universe, but i tried to hit the major themes of each!)

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

Flowers and Gems: Kabukimono

This collection is one of your gentler ones, and you take care to replenish it often with new blooms and interesting stones you pick up along your way. There is so much more novelty to collect here than back on earth, after all!

Kabukimono is fascinated by the variety of it, begging to be taken along with you the next time you venture out into the world to add more to your stash, and maybe take inspiration to start a collection of his own! It takes a bit of convincing, but you eventually relent and allow him to accompany you.

He follows you with wide eyes and an awed grin, asking you all about the various plants that the pair of you come across. You try to remember them as best as you can, reciting what you remember from the ingame tooltips.

“Wow! What’s this one?” Kabukimono asks, bounding up to a reddish pink bush. He delicately plucks one of the flowers, showing it to you proudly.

“That’s a silk flower!” You tell him, smiling as you take the flower from his hand. He only smiles and picks himself another one. “The people in Liyue can process them and make them into a very fine fabric!”

Kabukimono nods in understanding. “That makes sense! I know lots of kimono makers back home often talk about the quality of fabric from Liyue.”

“Fun fact,” you add, “back in my world, silk is such a sturdy material that it can resist piercing damage, to a certain extent! But it is very weak to slashing, or cutting damage.”

“That’s so interesting!” Kabukimono’s eyes go wider at the information. “I wonder if that's true of the silk from this world, too!”

“We probably shouldn’t, y’know… test it or anything,” you interrupt him before he lets his curiosity get the better of him. “We can probably ask a seamstress about it later.”

“Ohhh, good thinking.” Kabukimono agrees. He pockets his flower and looks around the area, scouting for the next object to collect. “Hey, do you have an electro crystal, yet? I heard you can only mine them using pyro!”

You let Kabukimono lead you to your next destination, already planning to press the new flower for your collection. Distantly, you wonder how the two of you are going to get an electro crystal, considering neither of you have pyro visions.

----- ⚘ -----

Beetles and Bones: Wanderer

“I went back to Springvale to ask if those hunters still had some of those ancient boar bones,” is what you say, offering a sheepish grin to Wanderer, who stares down at you with his arms crossed. In all honesty, you probably deserve the scrutiny for having somehow escaped his supervision for several hours.

“Did you at least get the, uh,,” Wanderer gestures at the cloth bag you’re holding in your arms. “Special bones you were looking for?”

“Yeah!” You exclaim, shaking the bag excitedly. It makes a rattling noise as you move. “Do you want to see them?”

You don’t wait to hear the answer, instead leading the way to your room, where part of your collection resides. You hear Wanderer step in and close the door behind you, waiting in curious silence as you carefully put your bag on your bed, pulling open the drawstring with reverence.

One by one, you bring out the intact bones the hunters were able to unearth from you. You brush off some of the remaining dust, then you begin laying them out on your bed in their approximate positions.

“That’s your special ancient boar?” Wanderer asks, sidling up to you and looking at the bones with you.

“Yes!” You finally place the jawless skull at the top of the unfinished skeleton, putting your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “I found it during a quest when I was still guiding the Traveler. I knew I had to have it in my collection when I got here!”

“Fair enough,” Wanderer nods. “Can I see the rest of your stuff?”

You are more than eager to show off the cool stuff you’ve been hoarding since your arrival in Teyvat, from smaller animal bones, to surprisingly intact shed lizard skins and molted duskbird feathers, and even some hollow onikabuto shells.

Wanderer picks up each one with care, mindful of your enthusiasm for your strange collection. He turns each object over slowly, inspecting them as you’re explaining the particularities of your collection.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow some of these?” Wanderer eventually asks, as you’re nearing the end of your impromptu lecture. “I’ve got this Amurta elective that I haven’t started my project for, and some of these are interesting enough. I could probably write something about them.”

Your sudden silence is worrying, and he’s quick to backpedal in case he’d offended you in some way.

“Or, forget it, I mean-” he turns and pretends to scratch his nose to hide the dumb expression he knows he must be making. “I know this is all probably hard to get, so if you don’t want to risk it getting broken or stolen…”

“I would love to share it with you!!” Your sudden shout scares him out of his foul mood, and he looks at you in bemusement. Your eyes are wide and shiny, matching the stupid grin that settles on your face. Just as he’s about to reply, you leap up and scramble for one of the unopened drawers.

You proudly present a wooden box, and when you open it Wanderer can see the interior is padded and separated with thin wooden strips, creating protected compartments just big enough to fit some of the larger items in your collection.

“You’ve got to take extra good care of this stuff, okay?” You instruct him, and you help him pack the items he’d chosen into your carrying case. “I mean, I can probably find some of this stuff again, but the more delicate things are harder to come by. Promise you’ll be careful?”

He looks up at you, closing the lid of the box slowly and fastening it shut. “Yeah, I promise,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

----- ⚘ -----

Literal Garbage: Scaramouche

“You’re throwing this shit out, right?”

The noise you make, of absolute disgust and denial, is enough to make Scaramouche second guess his own words for a moment. He recovers faster than you’d give him credit for, picking up the broken clay jar and the dull shard of a broken sword. He holds up both in front of you, an accusing glare pinning you.

“Does this look like normal stuff to collect, to you?” he demands, tossing both back into the bin where he’d found them, retrieving a foil candy wrapper and a graphite pencil with no nib. Again, he discards both items with a noise of exasperation. “None of this stuff has any use! It’s all just garbage! Where do you even find this?!”

“Like,” you say, shuffling closer to your collection bin and putting the cover back on it slowly. “On the ground and stuff? I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh, but doesn’t make any move to reopen the bin. “You’re seriously testing my patience, here. Why are you collecting all this garbage? Can’t you collect something less… bizarre? Like seashells, or something.”

“I have some of those, too!”

“Not the point, here!”

You look down where your hands are pressing down on the lid of the bin, then back up at Scaramouche with a bit of a pout.

“Are you really making me throw it all out?” You ask, pitifully. He takes one look at you and grumbles with displeasure.

“That’s not what I said,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks down his nose at you. “You want to waste your time picking up other people’s trash and pretending it has meaning to you? Fine, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re stuck with a container full of useless junk that nobody wanted anymore.”

“Sometimes, even the things that people feel have no practical use can be worth a lot to someone else,” you tell him. “Things don’t have to be worth anything to be wanted.”

Scaramouche chews on your words for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say, I guess.”

He doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so you tentatively open the bin and reach inside, fishing around until your fingertips grasp what you’re looking for.

“Are you sure you don’t recognize this one?” You ask, holding up the candy wrapper so he can see it. He scrunches up his nose at the offending item.

“Am I supposed to?”

“It’s from that festival in Inazuma,” you smile, bringing the wrapper to yourself gently. “The one you guys took me to when you found out I hadn’t been to one before.”

Scaramouche looks at it closer, out of the corner of his eye. He lets his shoulders slump and shakes his head with a huff.

“Whatever,” he says. “The rest of it is garbage, though.”

You put the wrapper away with a cheeky grin.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

@that-one-i-think told me to talk about Tu’La in my rewrite AGES AGO and I’ve been hunting for my actual already-made Tu’La docs but idk where they went.

So.

This is a bunch of clothes stuff. Because. I can.

Tu’La has a lot of access to pigments. There’s a lot of colourful plants and beetles and rocks and such, so colour plays a very large aspect of the culture.

Especially in Meif’wa cultures, as a lot of Meif’wa come from areas like Rainforests, where colour discourages predators, or desserts where shiny clothes and smothering your skin in clay (which tends to stain it the colour of the clay after a certain amount of time) helps to protect you from the sun and heat.

Tu’La is a very varied region in terms of geography, and because of this has a large variation in cultures, but colour remains rather prevalent throughout. Clothes will often be dyed a myriad of bright colours, with colourful and shiny embroidery, and not only as a display of wealth but of patriotism. Their colour and overall flamboyant style of dress is very particular to their culture, and when multiple other regions have been colonised, or have lost large amounts of their cultures as the result of wars, it’s something that Tu’Lans tend to be very proud of.

It’s not uncommon for Tu’Lans, and especially Meif’wa to dye their hair and fur also. Some hues can be achieved using hair-specific dyes and clays, but others are achieved by using wool dye and similar materials to get bolder colours. This is actually a practice that can be also found in Ru’Aun though it is far less common, and those in Ru’Aun tend to lean towards darker, more muted shades.

The sun is a very significant religious symbol in Tu’La and always has been, from even before Menphia. It’s a typically quite hot region, and so many older religions have worshipped the sun, often thinking that they could appease it to be more gentle. Part of the reason their clothes tend to be very shiny is to reflect the sun to keep cool, but another is to pay an odd homage to it, as it’s very ‘in vogue’ to have as much of the sun visible on your person as possible, whether it be depictions of it or just actual sunlight reflecting off of your clothes.

There are some religious groups however that believe so strongly in the ideal of the sun that they refuse to wear colourful dyes. This is a very small amount of very… evangelical fundamentalist sorts. They will only wear fabrics that are sun-bleached, and nothing else. They will put mixtures into their hair to allow it to bleach easier in the sun. And such.

Anyways this was all done to justify all of the Meif’wa having colourful hair and KC’s addiction to the colour pink. Also bc I love colours RAHHH

[beanghostprincess]

audhd monster trio anon here - i just wanted to give them all the same number of traits but make them all different, so there have some i also considered or forgot at the time:

sanji - issues with fabric textures, which is part of why his non-suit clothes are like that, also stimming (the hair tugging is both a coping mechanism and stim, the twirling when happy is stimming too), having routines he doesn't like disrupted (more order of doing things than time of them tho, "if you start this thing, then you also have to do that other one", also things having specific places they need to be when not in use, cause looking for them is a disruption too)

zoro - bad at directions, liking things to be in patterns of 3 or multiples of it, sensitivity to strong tastes (especially sweet ones)

luffy - also texture issues (shoes in general and the frills on amazon lily vest are nightmare cause they have parts with different textures, the flowy post timeskip shirt is fine cause it's one texture that took some time to find), disregard for rules or social conventions he thinks are stupid or don't make sense, lack of object permanence (which is why he didn't talk about ace or the beetles until he saw them or something reminded him strongly of them) and face blindness; the audioprocessing disorder was most strongly seen in fishman island when franky said "this is my master tom's brother, he's coating the ship" and luffy heard "he's coating franky's brother" or something like that? but also in lots of other places too

These are all so real,,,, No because-- These make so much sense for their characters I swear 😭💖 My beloveds. You literally said everything I had in mind when thinking about them being neurodivergent,,,

Sanji's stimming, Zoro's awful sense of direction, and Luffy's lack of object permanence I think are the most obvious ones when referring to their characters and canon behavior. Like it's just so clear they struggle with these things. And tbh I am so happy the crew's whole deal is to find a home and a place to fit in because they're all different from the rest but understand each other so well-- Going insane. I love them.

Thank you so so much for these headcanons <33 If you have some more about other strawhats I'd be so so happy to hear them!!! Because,,, Y'know,,,, Robin and Usopp and Nami and literally everybody else are so neurodivergent too 😭 Not a single neurotypical person in this crew.

[starry-snippets]

jjba (jotaro, kakyoin, avdol, josuke, rohan, giorno, bruno, abbacchio, trish, mista, narancia) + aesthetics you suggest/dress them in

images are from pinterest! 

jotaro - techwear

✩ if you BEG you could get him to wear a techwear outfit that still maintains his love of gold brooches and chains. it’s not even that he doesn’t like the aesthetic it’s just kind of silly to him at first. sure he wears two belts, but two belts and a backpack on his chest and a smaller one on a thigh garter? um no. eventually caves when you show him something he finds really cool and man he has money. bad choice (or is it a great one?) he is fully committing elements of techwear into his every day outfits now. he’s dangerously hotter now too um

kakyoin - goblin/cryptid core (with punk influence!) 

✩ is a very creative guy who has a unique style and he’ll use that to his advantage! this would begin with a date idea of designing shirts or jeans and he has so much fun. now he has several pairs of fun jeans and a patch jacket he’s working on. when he’s dressed up like he’s ready to explore the forest he’s in such a mood to! get ready to spend time in the woods watching hierophant poking bugs with sticks and kakyoin showing you different types of beetles while you look for cryptids with a nearly empty flashlight 

avdol - bohemian/hippie 

✩ kind of related to his current style and that’s what he’s very willing to give it a try. loves the dramatic sleeves and ruffles, truly enjoying how snazzy they make him feel. also appreciates the jewelry! especially if you make it for him or buy it for him because it’ll remind him of you. loves fun patterns so he’ll enjoy combining them in unique ways, also appreciates the whimsical element of the layered fabric and prints 

rohan - avant garde 

✩ craziest dude in the world I swear. will wear anything just about if you make it sound revolutionary. tell him a trash bag is the next-in fashion trend and he’ll disbelief you to no end but will secretly be curious and try it out. helps he has the confidence to rock anything he tries. to be fair, when you dress him up you’re doing it mainly to see if he looks good in everything and you’re sad to see he does, indeed, look good in absolutely anything 

josuke - scene/punk

✩ loves the abrasive elements in punk! loves the colors and being able to make bracelets with you aspect of scenecore. in general he enjoys how he can look tough and intimidating but feels like the colorful accents really soften that depending on how much he accessorizes. doesn’t wear it too often though, really depends on where you two are heading. does let you dress him up fairly often though! 

giorno - cottagecore

✩ isn’t entirely against or for trying it out. is kinda confused as to why you want him to. he’ll eventually say to go for it. depending on what you put him in he will really like the aesthetic and wear it on your dates around town. isn’t a big fan when you ask if he’ll wear a skirt, but when you actually order one he really enjoys the length and the twirl. when you go on a picnic and he wears it, he just feels like he’s safe with you and away from the trivial stresses of his outre life 

bruno - coquette/angelcore

✩ like giorno, he isn’t for or against. leans to okay almost immediately however. he’s curious and very fluid with how he presents, so he’ll agree to just about anything within reason. when you dress him up he feels so ethereal. absolutely loves it? he likes how he’s wearing traditionally feminine garments but doesn’t feel effeminate. he enjoys the outfit and would likely wear it again, especially on a date with you 

abbacchio - goth 

✩ doesn’t want you to for a while despite sharing things with the style already. just feeling a bit prideful. does cave and let you do him up completely, probably because he had a drink. ABSOLUTELY loves the result however. the drama of the sleeves and the flair of his pant’s make him look so long and slender, like a real life dracula. finds the chains excessive but misses the significant effect they had when he was wearing them. definitely enjoyed trad goth makeup more than he’s willing to admit 

narancia - bubblegum b✩tch 

✩ likes it because he feels tall and assertive with the big boots on. will not wear it out of the house unless you’re really good at convincing him. doesn’t have the toughest skin so this does help him build his confidence and self-esteem even outside of his appearance. just feels so adorable, especially with you hyping him out. if he does agree to going out you’ll wear a super feminine outfit too or a suit, confusing traditional mindsets while having a super fun date 

mista - rockstar 

✩ really gets into his role when those skin tight pants are on. if you go out for dinner he’ll act like he’s the most important man ever and it surprisingly works. he will make use of the leather jacket you got him and would ask you to decorate it if that’s something you’re interested in. will wear elements of the outfit separately somewhat often but the entire outfit probably just on certain dates 

trish - indie

✩ loves lots of patterns so she appreciates the wiggle room of indie! she already has an impeccable sense of style but this is her go to when she’s heading out to museums, picnics, etc. trish always adds her unique flair to her outfits, often making edits to her shirts and skirts 

[azsazz]

Torrential

Knox x Reader

Summary: Anon Requests: “Hey I love your writing could you do a fic about Knox and his mate?” & “Knox supremacy” 

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,362

Notes: This is quite a bit different than what I’ve written thus far, but I hope you enjoy anyway. I wanted to try to write a little something for Knox since he’d be the love interest if I ever wrote my own book so here we go, Knox girlies stand up 💙

_________________________________________

You tuck your dark robes tighter around yourself as you hurry along the unbeaten path. The heaviness is a comfort, thick and soft despite the thin metal links sewn between layers. Protection camouflaged by its emerald fabric, a disguise at night as much as it is a shield.

It isn’t cold, but the forest after the sun has dipped behind the ruddy red mountains is eerie. Your only company is the clicking of beetles, howls from packs of wolves in the distance, and the soul in the jar clutched tightly to your chest.

Your High Lord had demanded it of you, to slay the otherworldly creature roaming his lands and return its soul to the river to be washed back to where it had come from. Hel.

It had been one of the most terrifying things you’ve ever encountered. A perfect mix of a beast that stood three times larger than any male you’d ever met. Its pincers snapped loudly, echoing throughout the hilly lands of your home, and they were the size of your forearm. Its ivory talons dug up the soft ground as it growled and clawed at you in a warning.

Those very talons had shredded your side in a fateful swipe that you couldn’t dodge. The beast had stomped on the end of your cape and in your desperate attempt to outrun the creature the strings of your hood had tightened around your throat, yanking you off of your feet. All of your breath had escaped your lungs.

Through the stars in your vision and the pain in your side, you’d managed to dodge the pincers on their swipe downward, ready to stab through you and wave your limp body around like a trophy. They’d lodged into the dirt as you rolled away, and it had given you just enough time to stab your knife into the underside of its jaw and through its skull, effectively slaying the beast.

The long jagged claw marks carving open your side had hurt, but your advanced healing combined with the enchantment from the High Lord hadn’t taken long for your skin to stitch itself up, leaving an irritated pink scar in its wake.

The Night Court isn’t a place you find yourself visiting frequently, but the instruction from your High Lord had been to dispose of the creature's soul in another territory, and you weren’t one to argue. As his hand, you’d do anything that he asks, even if it means completing a job that you’d graduated from working every once in a while.

The soldiers originally sent after the beast were no match for its large but nimble body and quick reflexes. You’d seen off a group of five men and only two had returned, one with talon marks that nearly carved his face in two, an eye missing, and a broken jaw hanging agape. The other soldier had fared better, though the way that he was limping and the trail of blood that followed told you that he’d probably been grabbed by the creature’s pincers.

The High Lord had executed them without a second thought and sent you in their place.

A branch snaps beneath your foot and you cringe, stilling your body. If a member of the Night Court catches you in their land – returning a soul no less – you’d be tried for your crimes in front of the High Lord and his family. You’d heard that in the years since his children had grown, they’d adopted positions within his court as spymasters, warriors, lords and ladies of court territories and the sub-courts they ruled over. One child had even been ordered as keeper of the river, arguably one of the most taxing roles in the court.

The river – aptly named Psychē, for the souls it houses, is a direct line to Hel. Rumor has it there are four hidden waterways throughout the continent, though this is the only known. The remaining three have not yet been discovered, or if they have their founders kept that information close.

You hardly know how it works. Your High Lord had told you nothing of the intricacies of returning a soul to the underworld. He’d sent you off with a knowing look, that you would do well by his name and come back unscathed. The charmed pendant on a silver chain he’d wrapped around your throat was for protection, should you need it.

Your instructions included capturing the beast's soul before it escaped into the night sky, trekking into the eerie lands of the Night Court, and disposing of the soul without getting caught by the riverkeeper.

If you got caught, you’d surely be dead.

You stiffen as the sound of the breaking branch ricochets through the lush forest. Your hand tightens around the jar nestled to your chest and your heart skips. You keep your breathing soft and calm, listening for any signs that you’re no longer alone.

It’s nearly too dark to see. Your only light is the bright stars guiding you to your destination. You’ll know you’ve reached Psychē once you stand directly beneath the Alizer star. The High Lord’s instructions echo in your head.

He’d also mentioned the silvery glow the body of water would give off when you were near. A reflection of the moon and the withering souls reaching up for the sky. You’d heard that they’d make nearly any bargain to become one of the stars.

You knew better than to swear on the Psychē. It is your job for Mother’s sake. Capture and kill those who have done wrong by their bargains, by their court. Slay beasts and creatures alike. Trap those who do not belong to this realm and let the riverkeepers decide their fate.

The thought sends a shiver up your spine.

There’s a faint tap against your chest. The soul trapped in the container slams itself against the side, trying to shatter the glass to escape. It only bounces off of the magicked jar. You bite back a smirk, pulling it from between your robes and giving the crock a rough shake. The wisps of the once beast shatter inside and it begins to swirl around in a mass, trying to weave itself back into a semi-conscious state.

You snort at it, returning it between thick layers of mossy robes as you continue your journey.

The brush begins to thin and you gasp as you enter a clearing. In the center is an ethereal-looking river, just as it had been described to you.

The waterway opens into a pool of light, shining brightly against the thick trees. It looks like a body of liquid metal, like stars fallen to the continent and melted into something more, something that snatches your attention and makes you want to bathe in it. One side of the Psychē thins out into a trickle, and you wonder if you follow where it would take you. Hel perhaps. It must not be an easy trek to the underworld. The other end of the river tapers slightly, the water sweeping into the swirling pool of light.

The clearing looks as if it’s never been touched by anything in the time it’s been here before any fae or wild creatures were put on the continent. There are no tread marks in the grasses from passersby, no animals seeking out the river or its lush waters. Now that you’re paying attention to it, the clearing is silent, like you’ve stepped into a secret, or worse, a trap. No sound coming in and no sound leaving.

Stumbling forward on suddenly weak knees, the thought that your High Lord has sent you on a mission that you won’t be returning from crosses your mind. You take a steadying breath, shaking the silly thought away. No, he wouldn’t do that to you, you are his favorite and his hand for Mother’s sake. Of course, he would want his dearest pet back.

Quickly and quietly you kneel before the edge, peering into the sparkling abyss. Your robes sweep up on a phantom wind that makes your hand tighten around your jar protectively, the other sliding to your weapon at your waist. The fabric pools around you as you lower yourself to the ground, settling around you in dark waves.

The Phychē’s calming silver waters ripple with lost souls. Your breath hitches at the sight.

You don’t know if they’re on their way to or from Hel, if they’re sentenced to swimming this impassible boundary between the living and the dead, screeching and screaming to the Mother for mercy.

You think they might be praying to the wrong entity for help.

With one last cautionary glance, you settle. You untuck the container from your chest and place it between your knees, keeping a tight grip on it just in case the beast tries to break through it again.

You pull your large hood back, revealing your face to the river and the night sky.

Taking the jar back into your hands, you grip the lid with one and the body with the other, twisting the top a hair looser. You’re eager to get this mission over and return to your lands, to your palace, where the High Lord eagerly awaits your return.

A loud wail startles you and your head snaps to the darkened woods around you. Beaming light from the river washes the brush bright around you, but no glowing eyes are staring in your direction, no glint of fangs pulled back from snarling lips. There are no other sounds to lead you to believe that there’s someone out there watching you.

The screech grates down your spine like steel on steel, drawing your attention to the metallic waters before you. The soul's gray form swims beneath the surface of the water, treading against the magic with all of her might to stay in front of you.

It’s a soul that has made that sound, you realize, shuddering. She’s a tiny little thing, nearly half of the size of the other wisps of lives swirling around her. She calls up to you but you don’t understand what she’s saying. The language isn’t something you’ve ever heard.

Apparently, souls from all realms live within the Pyschē.

The curious part of you wants to reach in and grab her, pluck her out of the busy stream of souls and hear her pleas, let her loose upon the Night Court. It’s clear she wants to bargain, they all do, if the shouts and moans of the other churning spirits tell you anything. Promises that they’ll never be able to fulfill, in exchange for your help.

But the warrior in you knows better. Not to reach your hand into the silvery pool of light or to bargain with a soul. You don’t know where they’re from, who they’ve worked for, why they’re here. Though, if they’re in the river to Hel, you know it mustn’t be good.

The beast beats against the wall of the crock frantically as you lower it toward the glowing river. Your hands are ready to twist the lid off and spill its soul into the weeping waters.

The shadows of night fracture like cracking ice.

The air around you drops to sub-zero and you freeze, arms outstretched over the silky waters. You can see your warm breath mingling with the cool air and something tingling at the back of your neck. Your heart thunders in your chest.

Even the souls fall silent.

Like an ink droplet falling into the clear waters, the Psychē bleeds black. The center of it grows with a fountain of darkness, quickly spreading over the surface of the river. The onyx shadows swallow the light and the screeches of souls within grow louder, more frantic as they try to slide away from the entity that’s overtaking their path.

You tighten the lid of the jar, tucking it quickly beneath your robes as you fumble desperately for your weapon.

Fingers circling the hilt, you’re just about to pull it out from its holster when your muscles spasm to a halt, freezing in place. You wince, or, you would wince at the thing clawing your head inside out, stiffening your muscles against your will as it spears your mind. The power is strong, much too strong for you to break its hold, even with your years of practice.

It makes your throat bob and your chest hurt.

You can’t even blink, can’t scream as onyx talons split through your skull, searching, learning. It looks at all of the secrets in your head, even the ones you’ve thought you’d buried deep down inside your wounded soul.

A bead of sweat rolls down your cheek and you itch to swipe it away.

Shadows seep in from all around, slinking their way down trunks of trees and sliding through the tall grass like snakes. It’s so dark that you can hardly see, the moonlit pool offering no light with its inky covering. The seething darkness is unmistakable, as the shadows gather and curl in the center of the smoky river that once was, brushing away to reveal a male you’ve only heard of from horror stories.

The riverkeeper.

The sight of him is terrifying in itself. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is pounding. You can’t even blink or huff out a breath to dispel his dark shadows around you. There’s no air in your lungs to scream or room in them to gulp down the death-coated air. You are completely under his lock.

The passing tales you’ve been taught spin in your head. Those of a youthful male, the youngest of the shadowsinger of the Night Court, a starless entity much stronger than any living creature in Prythian.

Death incarnate. 

And it is your judgment day.

Some have said that he deserves to live in the deepest depths of the Prison. Others rally for a public death of Hel’s keeper, the population terrified of his abilities. He lives in all darkness and is made from it.

Most of what you know about him is lore. You’d heard of powerful beings but none with magic quite like this. How he’s able to manipulate the night into your deepest fears. A child’s trick for him. You’ve been told that nothing and no one has heard the crow of his call, his true voice, for the day that if you do, it will be the last thing you ever hear, his baritone tone projecting into your head like the sweet call of death, unable to resist its song. His face will be the last thing you ever see.

The hiss is caught in your throat as you struggle futility against his mental holds. It’s pointless, you know, but you try to escape the iron grip he has on your mind anyway.

They’d told you of the monsters roaming in the shadows, but never the ones made from them. 

Nevertheless, as the tall male shrouded over you pulls his dark hood back, you’ve frozen again of your own accord, but still his doing. 

You didn’t expect the monster to be so…handsome.

Silky black hair sweeps across his brow on the wind his shadows create. They twirl around him like bloodthirsty snakes, eager to reach out and constrict your body and drag you into the river of souls before you. His thick brows are curved downward over narrowed golden eyes that are the only light source in the clearing. His angular features are set into an impassive glare, staring directly into your soul.

His stalk looks more like a glide, like he’s an ethereal being all of his own. He is, when you catch sight of his large wings poised tightly to his back, talons sharp like the tip of a sword. They’re just as dark, silky smooth skin absorbing the night.

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He forces a patch of shadows to disperse and you squint against the sudden light of the glowing pool he’s opened up. Whatever he’s doing, it doesn’t look good, and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. 

Instead of pulling you into the Psychē like you thought he might do, a tendril of darkness dips into the light. It’s exquisite, the black against the white waters and you’re mesmerized, staring on with awe.

Until his shadow plucks up a soul.

The contour of black carries the soul to him where it settles by his side, a pet delivering its toy to its master. The soul in its icy death grip shouts vulgarly as it struggles desperately in the shadows' grasp.

With a sweep of the riverkeeper's hand, the soul goes limp, glowing eyes fogging over with an unfocused look. It stares directly at you.

Your spine tingles as his shadowy purr settles into your bones.

“Are you on your knees because you knew you’d be begging for my mercy?”

Your brows itch, aching to pull into a furrow. The voice isn’t coming from the riverkeeper, instead, it comes from the soul clutched in the grasp of his shadow. He mustn’t be able to speak or doesn’t want you to hear his true voice.

If it does incite your last moments alive, you’re thankful.

His words are amused but his tone is deathly serious as it fills the clearing with a powerful boom as if he’s unaware of how loud he’s being. There is no mirth to his features to let you know that he means anything other than business.

He is the riverkeeper, after all.

You choke on a breath as he releases his hold on your mouth. The rest of your body stays still as stone beneath his strong power.

“You,” you choke on the word. Your surprise is clear, as is the shake of your voice.

His golden eyes gleam.

“Me.”

His voice is its own whisper of death, even though it isn’t even coming from him but from the soul beside him. It’s rough like the shadows twirling around him like guard dogs. One circles closer to you, swimming in front of your face as if interested, so you do the only thing that you can do with your unrestrained mouth; curse and blow at it like a child.

He cocks his head slightly, intrigued by your response.

“What are you doing at my river, sweet creature?”

Your mouth pulls into a frown at the name.

“Don’t call me that,” you grit and his gaze flickers brighter. His hold on you turns near painful, your spine popping as he forces it to straighten. A warning to you, knowing that he can tear you apart at any given moment.

“What shall I call you then?” He’ll give you this mercy, so you better answer.

“(Y/N),” you choke, gasping a heaving breath once he relaxes his hold and lets you settle back into the earthy ground. You glare at him with all of your might but it doesn’t seem to affect the male.

“(Y/N),” the soul purrs. You know that it isn’t his voice but it sends shivers up your spine nonetheless.

“You have a name, don’t you?” you question.

“We all have names,” he answers bluntly.

You bite back a curse. “What’s yours?”

His wings twitch at his back and his shadows crackle, scattering around the clearing. They look like they’re hissing but you don’t know for sure. Apparently, he doesn’t get questioned much.

“My name need not be known by murderous, sweet creatures,” he answers, voice like cold death. There’s that word again. Sweet. No one’s ever called you that before.

It makes something in your chest flutter.

The glass crock tucked against your side pings as the creature’s soul makes another attempt to escape, uncaring of the literal devil you’re staring down.

His dark brows furrowed. A shadow curls around his rounded ear, whispering something to him that makes his gold eyes sparkle and his fingers twitch with interest.

“What is it you’ve got down there?” he asks.

A muscle in your jaw twitches with effort. “It’s the soul of an Alphrachne. I was feeding it to you.”

Silky smooth laughter echoes throughout the clearing. It startles you, the sound of anything other than threats and violence coming from the soul he’s controlling. You remember then that he’s young, hardly a few years older than yourself, and that he seems to have a wicked sense of humor.

“I do not eat souls,” his gravelly voice is amused, “I see them to their final destinations.”

“And where might that be?” you grit, struggling against his hold. You’d thought that while he was laughing his grip on your mind might slip and you could free yourself. No such luck.

“It will take a lot more than a bit of struggling to get out,” he responds. Goosebumps rise on your arms as he continues simply, “Hel.”

You knew it.

He seems interested in the creature’s soul you’ve brought forth anyway, golden eyes flickering down to your robes as if he can see through the thick material.

“An Alphrachne, you say?” the soul questions, unfocused eyes glimmering under his power. The voice sounds intrigued almost. 

Of course, he knows what the beast you’ve brought is. His brother Jax has taught him everything there is to know about the creatures crawling the lands in this realm and the next.

He’s heard that they are enormous. Bigger than Uncle Cassian. With sharp pincers and long talons. And you’ve captured one’s soul all on your own, armed with only a single knife and a healing spell around your neck.

His mouth twitches, impressed.

“Let’s see it then,” he reaches a hand out and you glare, limbs still obeying his commands. They don’t move from your sides.

“I’ll let you see it if you tell me your name.”

The amusement flees from his gaze. 

“Is that a bargain, (Y/N)?”

Your throat dries and your swallow catches, “No.”

He laughs again and your thighs quiver at the sight of his sinful smirk, the way his fascinating glimmering eyes glow with something else. Something akin to curiosity but warmer.

“Clever girl.”

His words are paired with a caress of razor-sharp claws against your mind. They’re much sharper than the Alphrachne’s, a tease of a scratch to let you know that it won’t take much else for him to break you completely.

You don’t deign to respond.

“And what happens if I take it from you?” he asks, and it's nearly playful. He wants to banter with you, he wants to see what you’re capable of.

“I’ll kill you.”

“And I’ll drown you in the river. Maybe I’ll even use that jar to keep your soul in like a little pet. I’m sure my brother would be more than happy to dissect your soul.” His voice slides like ice down your limbs and your breath puffs out in front of your face. You shudder.

You nearly fall forward into the shadowy abyss that is the river when he releases you from his hold. You pitch forward but shadows sweep upwards from their murky depths, righting you on your haunches.

Every muscle in your body aches from trying to escape his grasp. You gulp down heaving breaths of air as you stare up at him, his handsome face stoic but gold eyes focused, watching as you grab fistfuls of your deep emerald robes and clutch them tightly to yourself.

The soul beside him lets out a huff of impatience and you scramble for the jar. You pull it from your robe and offer it to him with a shaky hand. Even lifting the lightweight jar seems difficult with how tired your limbs suddenly are.

He uses his shadows to carry the jar on a dark wind to him as if he’s afraid to come closer to you. Surely death himself isn’t scared of a girl like you, but he stays in the center of the pool on his throne of darkness.

The crock looks humorously small in his hand and it’s only now that you notice the swirling tattoos inked upon his tanned skin. They look like his shadows, rivers of black circling his fingers and crawling up his arms. If you squint you think they may be moving.

He admires your capture with bright eyes, twisting and turning the jar. The soul inside quivers, pressing itself against the glass as far away as it can, cowering in fear, knowing its fate now.

Should’ve been quiet then, you think to yourself, having no mercy for the beast.

The riverkeeper's mouth quirks up at your words and you’d forgotten for a moment that he’s inside of your head, listening to all of your thoughts.

Your eyes go wide with realization. If he can hear your thoughts that means that he knows you were thinking about how handsome he is. 

Fuck.

His lips pull high into a wicked smile. One side curls higher than the other and it’s the first imperfect thing you’ve noticed about him, yet it still makes your breath hitch.

Those shining eyes snap back to yours.

The darkness moves, pulling in from all corners of the clearing like a tidal wave of black. They sweep around him and you throw an arm up to shield your eyes as they draw from the river, its metallic moonlit waters shining full force.

“Do not let me catch you here again, (Y/N),” the soul’s eerie voice says. You lower your arm and squint against the brightness to see him one last time. “I will not be so nice next time.”

“Wait,” you blurt frantically. You don’t know why you’re calling for him, why a part of you doesn’t want him to leave. His shadows falter, coming to a stop and it feels like they’re all staring at you, along with the soul in his grasp and his molten golden eyes. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

He studies you for so long, shadows sweeping around him that you’re afraid he may not answer after all.

But his harsh gaze softens as the soul speaks one last time before disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“My name is Knox.”

“My name is Knox.”

[grumpy-beetle]

Hey!! So I’ve come to tumblr for help with preserving/pinning bugs!! I’m a major taxidermy nerd but this feels very different so I’m not sure where to begin.

I found this dragonfly while cleaning my house and would love to preserve them for photography and display. Just have no idea what to do or wear to begin. Any advice would be amazing!!

Hi there!! What a GORGEOUS dragonfly you found! And big one too! I'm jealous

You've come to the right place though! I've done a good bit of hobby taxidermy in the past and can give you some pointers!

Get yourself some insect pins. You can find these on ebay or amazon I assume. Don't get super long ones, most frames are only about 1-2 inches wide. They're special pins that are thin and sharp. Your choice which ones! (I still have to cut mine down lol)

Find a frame! The term you'll be searching for is going to be 'shadowbox' when looking online. You'll want a fabric backing inside it and enough space between it and the glass to fit your bug. There's special bug frames you can get. I usually go to my local store and get a fabric back crafting frame with a magnetic hinge door.

While you wait to get your pins, your bug is already dry so just keep it away from dust and fracturing. You can clean it with isopropyl on q-tips. Until then! Store in a dry place. (Unless it's a bug that freshly died for you- in that case, off they go into the fridge until they can be pinned.)

You got your pins. Great! Get yourself a container big enough to fit it. Paper towel at the bottom soaked in alcohol/isopropyl. Put another layer between that. Put your bug on top. Put the lid on. This will soften your bug so you can manipulate it. Leave for 24 hours or more.

Now your bug is soft. It won't be nearly as easy as it'd be with a fresh one- so you'll have to be careful with that abdomen. One pin goes through the thorax. That's your main holding pin. Manipulate your bug into place with the rest of the pins.

DO NOT PIN THROUGH THE WINGS. You will want to get a few pieces of cardboard or more styrofoam and stack em under the wings until they can lay flat. Clear piece of plastic (from a box or laminating sheet or something clear) over the wings, and you pin through THAT until it holds the wing tightly in place.

Now just to leave it to dry again! Not in the sun, not over a pure radiator, not anywhere humid. It will take a few weeks. Your bug is dry when you can't move their legs, leave longer for Thiccer bugs. I like to put mine near/atop my geckos heatlamp.

That's pretty much it!

Some bugs need different methods- like millipedes, or stickbugs that need to be gutted and stuffed. But a dragonfly should be good with just drying! Most bugs are.

Here's a picture of my current beetle drying.

Hope that helps!

[brella-boi]

Building Dango: Part 14

At last!!

Sewed the green-blue fur blend onto the neck, and put the liner in as well and ooooh goodness it looks so dang good pinned together. Wowowowow. Incredible.

For the neck lining i. Well i ran out of the liner fabric lol. So I got this new liner that is 4 way stretch purple glitter lycra that Im also going to use for the lining of paws. Its so nice to the touch...

Next up, the paws!!

I got this 2 way stretch red vinyl. And Ive had it for quite a bit since I ordered it a couple months early in case it took a really long time to ship from Poland. And it was shoved in my fabric box for a couple weeks, constantly skrunked and unskruned until the skrunk was too much and there were CREASES.

Since this is vinyl/pvc that also stretches, I was EXTREMELY hesitant to iron it in case it melts. Even if the back is woven, its still a gamble. So after reading for advice online I came to the age ole trick: have a hot fucking shower and let the steam uncrease it.

So off it went into the bathroom with me- I needed a scrub anyway LOL

And honestly!! It did work! I left it hanging for a good few hours and it became mostly crease free where I needed it to be :)

This fabric is going to be our claws. Machine sewed. After making so many beetle plushies this was child's play at this point.

The overall jist of the paws is to make the underside fluffy as well as the knuckles, to hide where the vinyl meets with the real fabric because I know that wasnt going to be super neat with the way theyre made.

The first part is easily machine sewed! All the claws, and the palms. But actually sewing the fingers together? Boy thats a challenge for hand sewing only.

Blanket stitched together. And homestly??? Honestly??? Im fucking in love. And they FIT

Still not done though! Continuing paws soon...