#Let's see if I get to them :3c

[vargaslovinghours]

Happy Vargas Day! Stop saying 100%

They are truly Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-ing it up around the Institute ♥ The role(s) was made for them!

Doctor meme!Edgar is here to assist! Scriabin is also here, to make quips at Edgar’s expense, equally important

He’s swooning! Catch him! Hold him in your weak noodle big strong arms!

Not an MD. Maybe. The text on his certificate is blurry, it must’ve been printed weirdly. It’s totally legit, don’t bother checking, just trust him

[triglycercule]

happy birthday horror sans :D ‼️🎉

"should i list them in alphabetical order? aggravated assault, child abuse, contempt of court, harassment, first-degree murder... wait, what comes after that?"

"oh, it doesn't matter. horror's as every bit as guilty as the rest of us. doesn't this seem like fitting retribution for his spite?"

"hm, you bring up a good point. i suppose it was long overdue for him to be judged anyways."

"aww, look at that, he's panicking so hard he's dead silent. ehe, i can't wait to watch his head roll."

"good one. ew, did he just throw up? off with his head."

1 | 2 | 3

[hiimtryingtounderfell]

Expect a new page every monday from now on everyone :)

(I'm sorry if you have to re-read everything to remember but you can definitely start here)

[kalosian-woods]

Clemont is just really funny in general i think. he's just like that, realistically theres so much to unpack about him;

he made an entire invention where he spoke to the mayor and was spread out across the town of the uni he was in which he got in at the age of maybe like 8.

he's a gym leader. he lost his gym to his invention,

there was the slightest chance he could've been mind controlled.

his bag is a bag of holding

he can't run

his entire mental state is the way it is because of a single mistake that wasn't even his fault

There's so much to unpack about him and the creators were like; "yeah anyways!"

okay but seriously, i think we as a fandom neglect the fact that if it wasn't for Clemont's anxious(???) paranoid(???) quick thinking(???) overly prepared(???) he probably he would've gotten mind controlled. like what was up with that.

-⚡(you can call me clem anon! its also just really funny and the fact that i've so far only exclusively talked about him makes it even funnier. electric anon is okay too !)

Clemont is his own bag of holding lol, there really is SO MUCH with him and I'm shaking you on the shoulders rn clem nonnie. Please. How is it possible that there is so much to him as it is. I need to study him under a microscope.

With the first point, that always made me laugh in a way lol. Him at the age of possibly eight created a power source slash Electric Pokemon recharger for a whole town/city. The mayor has noticed his efforts. This is before he is a Gym Leader, and this is the place where he made the promise to Shinx (a promise that he broke, not by any fault of his own, but by the very thing that brought them together in the first place).

The way he actually just straight up lived in Prism Tower, or at least that's how it felt, along with Bonnie. Their father is in the same city with a house but they won't bother with that and he doesn't bother them until they are MIA for at the very least a few weeks if not months. His reasoning for being a Gym Leader is to wield Electric Types from every region and become an Electric-Type Trainer that the world has never seen. The fact that he can be this ambitious with battling gets me (and also his learning from school carrying over c':)

His bag is also a mechanical marvel (not Volcanion, sorry). His Aipom Arm has only malfunctioned once (1 time), and he's easily able to lift Bonnie into the air with it. Also we never see this beyond the first ep but it has an inflatable airbag??? That is actually safe and comfortable to land on even with the everything in his bag as it is.

Even after the whole series and after everything they've ever went through, he still cannot run. Only one time he has ever sprinted ahead (in this realm/dimension) and that was to get to a festival about Zapdos of all Pokemon (and maybe that inventing fair as well??). No one comments on it beyond that one moment. He's also tried to make shoes to help him go up hills quicker but he never tried that one again lol (he forgot he even had it until Serena mentions the monorail, in which also, wow. this gang i swear).

That's actually one of the saddest parts (and something I can totally relate with). The way that we see him so happy and open with Shinx beforehand, ready to learn and be hands on and playing outside even with all the work that he had. And then we hear about how he lost his Gym, how his Pokemon disregard his words and his invention doesn't see him as worthy or strong enough, and it really is him just living out a nightmare of his own making in a way. His fear from back then keeps haunting him with the mistakes that he makes now, and even after meeting with Luxio again you can see the way he just... accepts that he's no longer wanted or forgiven. He's fine with it. He rather everyone have a better life than he does. Just,, he needs a hug. Lots of them.

HELP PLS you've said exactly what I've been thinking off this whole time!! Geez, I thought I was alone in thinking that we brush off whatever happened to Clemont in 'The Needs of Many!' like I get that we lose Greninja, but hello? He got straight-up kidnapped right in front of our eyes! He was going to be made into a superhuman (which has some very very worrying connotations beyond what is already happening). He too was blasted by the Mega Evo Energy, and even if he did resist the mind control, there's got to be other effects as well. If his friends weren't OP and reckless as they were he would've actually been carted away to who knows where and it would've been a matter of time until his preventive measures were found out. And the way he already had a counter against it, against the beam specifically (and for it to be able to work without any issues) is also so sad and worrying in a way?? It's definitely paranoia to me, it was very specific (more than usual, anyways), small enough to hide and easy enough for him to grab. Poor boy :(( I need to just sit down and think every time I remember this is an ep that exists because they just went ham with it, didn't they??

[summer-oil]

kenny and sugu who thinks ur both adorable and stupid for showing him the soft underbelly of ur emotions aMEN,,, sorry this has been haunting my brain ever since u posted abt it

AMENNNNNNN 🙏🙏🙏 it does make me insane anon it does ………. HONESTLY THOUGH i think suguru is a lot more reverent when it comes to this and that sets him apart from kenjaku ……. when you let him see such a vulnerable part of you he finds it precious above all else . he’s a little religious about it. with kenjaku it’s more like they’re poking & prodding and greedy to see inside every narrow of your brain... has no issue pushing you far beyond your comfort zone to reach that ’core.’ suguru is a lot more patient. he cherishes the time it takes to get you to trust him.

basically suguru is tenderly peeling your heart like an orange and kenny is cutting it open with a pocket knife and eating a slice while they’re at it <3

[shimp-heaven]

🤑

[cyandelightz]

what form of love do you embody?

LOVE AS BEING KNOWN

[ love is knowing all of someone and loving them anyway ] when tim kreider said "if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" and when joe wright said "The idea that these two people know each other, knew each other when they first saw each other. That they recognized each other from their future" and when micah nemerever said "it was a relief and a horror to be known so perfectly"

[autism-corner]

shaking beast time

[wilburs-hibana]

getting the animatic itches again

might have to do what i did in my early rise days- just do bits of songs so i can actually make them without burning out over a whole 5 minute song lasfjlsdkj (looks at my 6 mini animatics i made before-- wait was saturn before dt??? i forgor-- the devil town one and 5 of those were for the same au aldjfalj)

to be fair i managed to make tsob weekly while making the itte animatic and working my full time job,,,, i can probably make a few little animatics that are probably gonna be shorter than that one-

,,, if i wake up in less pain than i did today i might start thumbnailing because the brainworms are so real <333

[noblebynura]

People need people

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x teacher!Reader

Synopsis: Moving to Brooklyn for a new job has landed you in the presence of a peculiar neighbour with a cat.

Genre & warnings: Strangers to neighbours to friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, domestic Bucky because we all need him

Word count: 7.6k | masterlist

a/n: Follows TFATWS timeline VERY loosely and Alpine is in here! (I also don't know if she's a rescue but for the sake of this, she is) andd it rains a lot because it was raining when I drafted this. Enjoy <3

It was raining.

Of course it was.

The kind of steady drizzle that soaked through everything slowly, until even your bones felt tired. You weren’t even surprised. Not after the kind of week you'd had. One that was chaotic, rushed, uncertain in ways that left your nerves frayed and your back aching. And now, standing in the narrow, dimly lit lobby of your new apartment building, you stared at the final insult: your couch, lots of boxes, still downstairs. Along with everything else.

The movers had dropped it all off and left without so much as a grunt. Something about “upstairs fees” and “not included” and “policy.” You could barely remember the specifics. Just the tight, sour twist in your stomach when you realized what it meant.

You were on your own.

The elevator was broken. Of course it was.

Now you were two trips in, shoulders screaming, breath short, arms trembling as you clutched a stack of boxes. They tilted in your grip, one on top threatening to slide with every uneven step. You couldn’t see. You didn’t care. You just needed to make it to the third floor and unlock your apartment without crying.

“Careful there.”

A voice, unexpected, drifted down from the landing above.

It was calm. Amused.

You froze mid-step, heart leaping slightly. Didn't know whether from surprise or imbalance, you weren’t sure. A moment later, a pair of boots appeared in your limited line of sight. Black. Worn. Slow, steady footsteps descending toward you.

“You losing a fight with gravity,” the voice said again, closer now, “or should I mind my business?”

You huffed out something between a laugh and a groan. “Little bit of both, honestly.”

Then the weight shifted. Hands, gentle and sure, lifted the top box from your arms. Your breath eased slightly, the burden less impossible. You blinked up, finally getting a glimpse.

He was tall. Quiet in movement. Hair short and neat. Stubble catching the low hallway light. A black duffel bag slung over one shoulder. You noticed that he was wearing gloves. The leather gave a dull shine under the low light.

You straightened instinctively. “I can handle it.”

His eyes found yours then, an unreadable blue, tired in a way that felt older than he looked. But something flickered in them. Dry amusement, maybe. Or a kind of silent understanding.

“Sure,” he said. “In another three hours. I’ve got time.”

He waited. Letting you decide.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks.”

Hey, you're more than capable of doing everything on your own, but if a man offered to help then… why not?

“Bucky,” he introduced his name as he followed you to your door. You replied your name back as you unlocked your brand new home.

And that was the first real moment—the one that would replay later in your mind, quiet and odd and meaningful in a way you didn’t fully understand yet. 

Together, you climbed the stairs. Neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It just… settled. 

Your door was the corner unit. 3C. When you reached it, your arms ached and your lungs burned, but you turned to him anyway.

“I’d offer you dinner or something as a thank-you,” you said, voice breathy, “but I haven’t cooked yet. There’s a suspicious amount of instant noodles in my cupboard, and not much else.”

His expression didn’t change, but something softened. “Rain check. Consider this a neighbor thing.”

You smiled. “Okay. Thanks again, Bucky. See you… around?”

It came out awkward. A little hopeful.

He just nodded once, no smile but not cold. “Yeah. See ya.”

Then he turned, keys already in hand, and disappeared into the apartment across yours. 3B. A meow can be heard with the soft jingles of a bell. He’s got a cat?

You watched the door shut behind him. Stared at it for a moment longer than necessary. Then leaned back against your own with a sigh.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “The hot neighbor helps you move in, and you sound like a middle schooler with a crush.”

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

You didn’t see him much after that.

Not really.

There were glimpses. Fragments. Faint silhouette of presence that slipped between the folds of your day like pages in a worn book. Sometimes you thought you'd imagined him entirely, like a figure that belonged to the shadows.

Your mornings were early—too early but it came with the job. You’d shuffle out with coffee in one hand and a stack of lesson plans in the other, shoes half-tied and clothes a little wrinkled because you didn’t push down the iron hard enough sometimes. The hallway would always be quiet. Still. Like the building hadn’t quite woken up yet. And his door, just across the way, would be closed. Silent.

You didn’t know what he did for work. Or if he even worked at all. His hours seemed... sporadic. Untethered. Sometimes, when you returned in the late afternoon, arms full of groceries and finger-painted crafts from class earlier, the hallway would still be empty. His door unchanged. Even the cat was silent. You thought you had imagined that white feline. 

But other times, quietly, in the hush between night and sleep, only then you’d hear it.

A door closing softly. The low click of a lock. Footsteps in boots, measured, unhurried moving down the hall. The whisper of movement just beyond your wall.

It was strange, how you began to notice his rhythm without ever sharing a schedule.

Occasionally, your paths would cross in the laundry room. Or on the front steps. A murmured “Hey.” A small nod in passing. No more than that.

Yet somehow, it stayed with you.

The way he moved—carefully, like someone used to measuring space. The way his eyes flicked to every corner before they rested on you. Like he was always bracing for something. Or maybe trying not to be seen at all.

You found yourself thinking about him more than you should.

Wondering. Noticing. The quiet apartment with the lights rarely on. The absence of sound. No music. No television. No signs of life that should have trickled through the walls of shared space.

You didn’t hear phone calls. You didn’t hear laughter.

Once, you saw a shadow move past the bottom gap of his door, and for a second you stood there, frozen. Just listening.

And it hit you.

Maybe he was lonely.

Or maybe you were just projecting.

You didn’t know which would be worse.

At least he has a pet. You didn’t have anything.

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

It had been raining for hours. The weather now is unpredictable. 

A soft, relentless kind of downpour—the kind that turned the city quiet, like it was wrapped in a blanket of gray. The kind that made everything ache just a little more. Petrichor strong in the air. 

You hadn’t expected the delivery to arrive so late. The text from the courier had come just as you were settling in, socks pulled high and a mug of tea steaming at your side. But the bedframe had finally come. Two weeks of sleeping on a mattress on the floor, and now it was here. A future piece of stability, currently boxed in soggy cardboard at the front door.

You pulled on your coat again and went to retrieve it.

It was heavier than you’d thought.

You wrestled it awkwardly down the narrow hallway, trying not to scrape the walls, your arms burning beneath the weight. Your breath fogged in the cool stairwell air, the box threatening to tip from your grip.

And then—his voice.

“Need a hand?”

You froze, the box slipping slightly. You looked up.

There he was again.

Bucky.

Standing at the top of the landing, hair a little damp from the rain, tiny curls formed at the end of each strand. Did he just get back? You didn't see him at the front door.  His eyes caught the dull light in a way that made the whole stairwell feel smaller. His duffle bag slung over one shoulder again like it always was, as if he was never staying, always just arriving or leaving. Like he didn’t really live here, rather just paused here sometimes. Maybe the house belonged to the cat, and he was just paying rent to live in it.

You smiled, breathless. “What gave it away?”

He didn’t answer. Just took the box from you like it weighed nothing and started walking.

You followed, unlocking the door as he waited behind you. He stepped inside first, carrying the frame like it was just another thing he was used to lifting.

You weren’t sure what you expected—but the way he paused just inside your apartment surprised you.

He didn’t speak at first. Just looked around.

The room was small but lived-in. Books stacked on the coffee table. Two mismatched mugs by the sink. A candle burned quietly near the window. There were little things everywhere—things that told stories. A photo from college. A crocheted blanket your mother made. A houseplant already starting to lean toward the light.

And something shifted in his face.

“Wow,” he said quietly.

You bit your lip. “Too much?”

His gaze landed on a tulip shaped light sitting on a table in the corner. Then on the throw blanket. Then on you.

“No,” he said. “It’s warm. Cozy.”

You relaxed. Just a little. “I like cozy.”

He helped you unpack the frame without being asked. Tools in one hand, quiet strength in the other. The gloved hands moved expertly as he held the pieces steady. You worked in tandem, falling into rhythm, your bodies moving easily in the tight space. 

Huh, you never questioned why he always wears gloves, but you guessed it was just a personal styling choice. It did look good on him. Maybe he's a detective? You never asked what he does.

He didn’t talk much, but it didn’t feel like silence. More like... ease. Like he was someone who’d learned how to be quiet without making it feel cold.

When it was finally done, you flopped backward onto the mattress, sighing dramatically.

He smirked faintly, wiping his hands with a towel from your kitchen counter.

“You okay there?” he asked.

You grinned up at the ceiling. “Better now that I won’t be waking up on the floor with a sore neck.”

He knew that ache.

He nodded, stepping back toward the door, and you sat up quickly.

“Hey,” you said. “Stay for dinner?”

He paused, halfway through slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I made gochujang chicken,” you added. “And mango sticky rice for dessert. Kind of a weird combo, but—”

“I’ll stay,” he said quietly.

Your smile lingered longer than it should’ve.

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

The kitchen was small with barely enough room for one person to move comfortably, let alone two but it had good light during the day, and at night, it glowed soft under the warm bulb above the stove.

Tonight, it was filled with the faint crackle of oil in the pan, the scent of garlic and gochujang lifting gently into the air. The rain outside had slowed to a whisper, tapping faintly against the window like it, too, was listening in.

Bucky sat quietly at the little table tucked against the wall, his hands resting on the edge, fingers curled loosely. He didn’t say much, just watched. You could feel his gaze, steady but not heavy, following the slow movements of your hands as you stirred the sauce.

There was music playing from your vinyl player, something low, jazzy, soft with a little swing in it. The kind of music that filled space without demanding attention.

“I don’t usually cook for guests, I only cook to my own taste” you said, glancing over your shoulder with a crooked smile. “So if this turns out terrible, just lie to me.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was small, but real. “Noted.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was… familiar, in a way. Like you were both pretending this wasn’t the first time he’d been here for something like this. Like it could be normal. Like it already was.

To be true to yourself, you missed having human interaction other than the utter chaos at work. Him being here made you miss home, your friends, your family. His presence was a comfort but it brought you a fresh wave of emotions.

Dinner was simple, but there was something about the way he ate that made it feel like more. He didn’t rush. He took small bites, chewed slowly, set his utensils down between each one. Like he was cataloguing the taste of it. Like it was something he hadn’t had in a long time. Homecooked. 

You took a sip of water and leaned back. “So,” you said, “what do you do?” An attempt at getting to know him better.

He looked up, just a flick of his eyes, like the question had pulled him from somewhere far away.

“Odd jobs. Freelance stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

He smirked faintly. “It’s all I got.”

You didn’t push. There was something in his tone that told you not to, not yet. So you pivoted.

“I work with kids,” you offered. “Preschool. Lots of glitter. Too many tiny sticky fingers. More snack-time drama than you’d think humanly possible.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

He gave a low chuckle. It was the kind of sound that came from deep in his chest, like it had to travel a long way to reach the surface.

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” you admitted. “But… they’re good kids. They say weird things. They care about stuff like dinosaurs and whether or not the moon has feelings.”

Another smile from him—faster this time, easier. Like you’d surprised him.

“I have a cat,” he said. Trying to keep the conversation going. 

“I noticed on the first day I got here,” your face lit up with joy, “What’s the name?”

“Alpine. She’s a rescue.” The corner of his eyes softened as he looked at the spoon in his hand, a fond memory replayed in his mind you assumed.

“I should introduce you to her sometimes,” he continued, “I think she’s getting tired of me.” That earned a laugh from you.

You kept talking, the two of you sliding into a rhythm. You told him about your move, your hometown, how strange the city still felt sometimes. He didn’t say much about himself, but every now and then, something in his expression shifted, as if he recognized what you were describing, like he knew the feeling too well.

At one point, he leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the books on your shelf. His eyes lingered there.

“I know the feeling,” he said softly.

You looked up, fork paused halfway to your mouth. “What feeling?”

He shook his head once, slow. “Being new. Not really knowing where you’re supposed to fit. I was like that too when I first moved here.”

You didn’t say anything. But you saw him then—not just the way he looked, not just the tired blue eyes or the careful way he moved—but something deeper. The quiet gravity of someone who’d seen too much.

“Yeah…”

Later, he helped you wash the dishes. You stood side by side at the sink, hands brushing once, twice. Neither of you mentioned it.

When the last plate was on the rack, he dried his hands on a kitchen towel and looked toward the door.

“I should go,” he said, but not like he wanted to. No urgency in his voice.

You nodded, trying not to let your disappointment show. “Thanks again… for everything.”

He turned to you then, and there was something in his face, unspoken and unreadable, but it lingered just a moment before he nodded.

“You’re welcome.”

He stepped out into the hallway, quiet as ever. You watched the door close behind him and stayed there for a long moment, leaning lightly against the frame, fingers curled around the edge of it.

It was quiet again.

Still.

But the space around you felt different now, warmer somehow, even after he’d gone.

That night, you lay in your newly built bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft tick of the rain against the windows.

And you didn’t sleep much at all.

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

The hallway was dim in the early evening. That golden window of light had already passed, and now it sat in that quiet in-between where things turned grey and blue and the shadows started stretching long across the walls.

You were running late.

Typical.

Dinner plans with friends from back home had been on the calendar for weeks, and yet here you were, still checking your reflection in the mirror, still second-guessing your outfit. Not quite casual. Not quite dressy. You had finally thrown on something comfortable and a leather jacket, touched up your lip balm and grabbed your bag.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you slipped out of your apartment. A sharp breeze moved down the stairwell, stirring your jacket. You were halfway to locking your door when you nearly ran into someone.

Someone standing right outside 3B.

“Oh—! Sorry,” you blurted, stepping back.

The man turned, hand halfway raised like he’d been about to knock. He was tall, shoulders broad under a leather jacket, smile warm and easy in a way that disarmed you almost instantly.

“Didn’t realize Bucky had a neighbour,” he said.

You blinked. “I just moved in. Couple months ago.”

“Sam,” he offered, sticking out a hand.

You shook it, replied with your own. His grip was firm, and his energy was… well, different. Lighter. Like someone who knew exactly who he was, and didn’t mind sharing pieces of it with you.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” you said, smiling.

Before either of you could say more, the door to 3B opened.

Bucky stepped into the hallway, brows furrowed like he’d expected someone else—or no one at all. Alpine followed him, twisting between his legs.

His gaze found you first, held for a second too long. Then shifted.

Sam raised both eyebrows, grin slowly and knowing. “You didn’t tell me you had a neighbour now.”

Bucky looked vaguely irritated. “Didn’t come up.”

You tried not to smile. He looked… awkward, flustered even. It was endearing.

“I’m headed out,” you said, slipping your keys into your pocket. “Dinner with some friends. I’ll be back late.”

Bucky gave a small nod, one hand still braced on the doorframe. His eyes lingered. “Take care.”

“I will,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “See you guys later. Bye Alpine!”

You didn’t look back as you stepped past them. But you heard the pause in the air behind you—felt it more than heard it. The brief silence that follows after someone’s gone, but not quite.

And then—

Muffled, like they thought you were already too far to catch it.

“She’s cute,” Sam said, voice carrying just enough to reach you.

You paused at the top of the stairs, lips tugging up before you could stop them.

“Shut up, Sam,” came Bucky’s reply, gruff and low.

“You sound like a concerned boyfriend.”

“She lives alone,” Bucky muttered. “And I'm trying to be polite.”

Another beat.

Then, quieter still—like something pulled from a thought he didn’t want to say aloud.

“What about her?”

“Shut up, Sam.”

You stood there a moment longer, one hand resting on the stairwell rail. The sounds of the hallway faded behind you—door hinges, low voices, the soft thunk of it closing.

And as you made your way down the stairs, out into the city night, your pulse was a little lighter. Your steps just a little slower. Like maybe you weren’t in such a rush after all.

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

The office was too bright.

Not in a harsh way. It was more like artificial warmth, like someone had tried to make it feel safe with soft lighting and strategically placed throw pillows. There was a plant in the corner. A small diffuser humming quietly on the shelf. A clock ticked somewhere, steady and slow, marking time like it was waiting for something to break. Maybe that something was him. Bucky felt like he was suffocating sometimes in here.

Bucky stared at the floor. A single scuff in the carpet. He’d been looking at it for ten minutes.

Dr. Raynor leaned back in her chair, a pad in her lap that she wasn’t writing on. Nothing more to add by the end of their session. However, a question popped up. One he disliked.

“So,” she said at last, like the silence had finished breathing, “any developments in your personal life?”

Her voice was even. Measured. Not judging—just watching.

He said nothing.

This time, he didn’t actually resent the question as much.

But in his head, it was already happening.

The smell of lavender when he stepped into your apartment. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, unguarded. The faint sound of music playing while you stirred something on the stove. You humming under your breath as you do your laundry one day.

You didn’t notice him entering the room because you had your headphones on. He remembered pausing in the doorway, his laundry basket in his arms, Alpine in it. It took Alpine to meow once before he broke out of his reverie. As if the cat was saying to him, “Snap out of it. Don’t be a creep.” 

You turned at the sound too. He remembered your quick raise of the brows before your lips formed into a sweet smile. 

He almost smiled to himself. Then he remembered where he was.

“No one,” he said aloud.

He didn’t look up, but he could feel her expression shift. Not in disbelief exactly, but in recognition. The kind of pause that said, I know when someone’s lying, and I’m letting you lie anyway.

She didn’t push it.

Instead, she crossed one leg over the other and said, “People need people, Bucky. You can’t keep pretending otherwise.”

He didn’t respond.

But the words echoed long after he’d left the office. They followed him down the hall. Sat with him at red lights. Tugged at the corners of his memory while he sat at home and tried not to think too much.

He didn’t plan to knock the next morning. 

He told himself he was just passing by your door. Just checking. No reason.

But there he was anyway, standing outside 3C, fist raised halfway before he even realized it. He knew your routine by heart.

You opened the door after one knock—surprised, hair pulled back as you were getting ready, the sleeves of your sweatshirt pushed to your elbows like you’d been in the middle of something. You blinked up at him.

He held up the spare helmet.

“Need a ride to work?”

You paused. Not in confusion. Just… processing. Your eyes softened.

A breath, then, “Sure.”

The morning air was crisp and clear after a night of fading rain. He waited downstairs, bike rumbling quietly as he leaned on it. You walked toward him with your bag slung over one shoulder and a look on your face like you couldn’t quite believe it was real.

He helped you with the helmet. Your fingers held onto his shoulder when you climbed on behind him.

Your arms wrapped around him awkwardly at first, like you weren’t sure where to hold. But then he took hold of your hands in his, guiding it to hold onto his waist. Your heart jumped in your chest, suddenly thankful that the cold air cooled your heating face.

He dropped you off in front of the preschool, early light spilling across the pavement. He didn’t say anything as you climbed off—just watched, quietly, like he was tucking the image away for later.

You turned back once. Smiled.

“Thanks again,” you said, breath visible in the morning air.

And then you disappeared inside, one step at a time.

He didn’t linger long. Just enough. Just until you were gone from view.

And you spent the entire day smiling like you couldn’t remember the last time the world felt that simple.

And outside, Bucky smiled to himself, before pulling away. 

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

It had been drizzling since dawn, soft mist clinging to the air like breath on glass. Rain tapped against the fire escape, gentle and persistent, and clouds loomed heavy above Brooklyn.

You hadn’t planned to linger in the kitchen, but there was something comforting about the slow mornings of a weekend and the chill that made you wrap your cardigan tighter. Steam curled from your coffee mug as you padded toward the fire escape window, then—on impulse—opened it.

You didn’t expect him to already be sitting there.

Bucky looked over his shoulder, startled just enough to blink. He was in a hoodie today, dark gray and too big on him in the way that meant it was probably worn for comfort more than style. His hands were curled around a chipped old thermos, and his hair was pulled back loosely, it was longer now, some strands already escaping. He didn’t look like the guy who made you blush on the back of a motorcycle. He looked like a man who didn’t sleep well and needed a quiet morning.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He scooted to the side wordlessly, making room on the metal grate.

You sat beside him. The fire escape creaked but held, rain pooling slightly at your feet.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” you added.

“You’re not.” He sipped. “It’s… nice. Not being alone out here.”

You smiled at that. Your fingers curled around the warm ceramic of your mug. For a while, neither of you said anything. The street below was quiet. The air smelled like concrete and clouds. His knee barely brushed yours, and neither of you moved away.

“You’re always up early,” you said eventually. 

“Habit,” he said simply. “And you’re always up late. One the weekends.”

You chuckled. “Kindergarten paperwork is no joke. You’d think finger painting wouldn’t come with so many reports.”

He tilted his head. “Sounds taxing."

“It’s not. Just… lonely sometimes,” it came out of nowhere but it slipped out of your lips, “Moving to a new place is harder than I thought even if I had been here for like what? Six months now?”

He nodded like he understood. “Yeah. It takes time. But you’re doing good.”

You looked at him. “You think so?”

He met your eyes, and the honesty there made your breath hitch. “Yeah. I do.”

“I guess having a nice neighbour like you makes it bearable.”

People need people. That phrase crossed Bucky’s mind.

You needed someone, and that someone had been him. And it was hard for him to admit that he needed you. Maybe not yet.

For the past six months, you have been a constant in his life. Someone who fits into his roster without even meaning too. But he had to admit that it was easy with you.

Your presence wasn’t something that bothered him. It was warm, gentle, and soothing. 

Sometimes, when he had to go away for a long time, he would ask you to take care of Alpine, to which you were more than happy to. After he got back, he would offer to cook for you at your place as a thank-you before picking Alpine up to go next door. But he always stayed longer into the night. You didn’t seem to mind him being there in your space.

He always noticed your blush though. It was captivating to him to have it replayed in his mind every now and then, how your face turns red whenever he compliments your looks or anything that you do.

The comfortable silence returned. Rain whispered around you.

You shifted, your arm brushing his. “Do you want some coffee? Mine’s sweeter than most people like.”

He held out his thermos, exchanging it for your mug. You sipped his black brew. He tasted yours.

You laughed. “Too sweet?”

His nose scrunched, and he grinned. “You trying to give me a sugar rush?”

“That’s what the kids say. Life’s better with a sugar rush.”

He huffed a soft laugh, and the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full—of something you didn’t dare name yet, but welcomed the ever growing presence.

 ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

The storm rolled in without warning—thick, void-coloured clouds swallowing the horizon by mid-afternoon. You’d barely noticed it at first, too busy organizing preschool worksheets at the kitchen table, but then the wind picked up, rattling the windows with a sharp insistence. By evening, the sky cracked open.

Rain slammed down in sheets, drumming against the fire escape like a warning. You flicked on the living room light just in time to see it blink—once, twice—before the entire apartment was cloaked in silence.

The power was out.

You stood there for a long second, adjusting to the sudden darkness. The heater sighed its last breath. The fridge clicked off. The silence felt heavier than it should have.

With a quiet sigh, you reached for your phone and flicked on the flashlight, casting a cone of harsh white light against your familiar, cozy furniture. You padded barefoot to the kitchen, pulling open the drawer where you kept random odds and ends. Batteries, loose rubber bands, and—yes—a single tealight candle.

Not nearly enough.

You lit it anyway, crouched on your knees by the counter, watching the small flame flicker weakly. It wasn’t the darkness that bothered you so much. It was the stillness. It made the apartment feel unfamiliar. And the lack of sound filled your ears with a loud ringing.

Your eyes drifted to the front door.

The hallway would be dark too, but maybe—just maybe—he would have something. A candle. A flashlight. Anything.

You hesitated only a moment before opening the door and stepping out, the soft creak of the hinges muffled by the storm’s howl outside. The corridor was pitch black, illuminated only by your phone screen. You padded two steps to the next door and knocked gently.

The sound of footsteps reached you a few moments later—bare, slow. Then his voice low, steady.

“Coming.”

The door opened with a soft groan, revealing Bucky standing in the warm glow of candlelight. Alpine with him. He held the melting wax in his hand, the flame casting gentle shadows across his face. His hair looked slightly damp, curling near his temples like he’d only just come out of the shower. He wore a soft red henley, clinging to his frame in a way you tried not to notice, and a pair of well-worn gray sweats.

You blinked at him.

“Hey,” you said. “Power’s out.”

“I noticed,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked down at the candle in his hand, then back at you. A lighting cracked outside, “You okay?”

You held up your phone flashlight, giving a sheepish grin. “I’ve got this and one sad little tealight. That’s about it.”

Bucky nodded, then extended the candle toward you. “Here. Take this one.”

Your fingers brushed his as you took it. It was warm, comforting.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, but didn’t turn to leave.

After a moment, he stepped back from the door. “You can wait it out in here if you want. It might be better than sitting in the dark alone.”

You hesitated. You hadn’t expected the offer. But the thought of being in your quiet, dark apartment alone, while the storm thrashed outside, wasn’t exactly comforting either, as much as you love the rain.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Alpine can use more company too.” An excuse. 

You stepped past him into his apartment, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the glow of three more candles scattered across the living room. The soft light warmed the space, flickering against the bare walls and reflecting off the polished vibranium of his arm, which he rested casually at his side. It was well into the year where some things about him were revealed.

You didn’t look at him differently when you first noticed it.

It had been on a random day. One of those quiet Sundays. You were over for your monthly duty of taking care of Alpine. He had asked you to come over first for lunch. Usually, he’d just knock on your door with everything ready to go—but today, he had time to kill.

You were playing with Alpine in the living room, dragging a mouse-on-a-string across the carpet while she pounced and skittered like a kitten despite her age. From the kitchen, the smell of garlic and something warm drifted through the apartment. It was the same layout as yours—same counters, same scuffed floors—but it felt different. Quieter. Sparser. Lived in, but not full.

That’s when you noticed it.

He’d rolled up his sleeves while chopping something, and the light caught on the curve of metal where flesh should’ve been. It wasn’t showy. Wasn’t something he was drawing attention to. It was just… there. His left arm. Sleek, burnished. Glinting where the sun snuck through the blinds.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t flinch or shift to hide it. Just kept working, but truthfully, that day, he just didn’t notice it. It felt like it wasn’t a secret anymore.

And maybe it wasn’t. At least not with you.

You watched for a moment, quiet. Not out of shock. Not fear. Just curiosity.

“Cool arm,” you said casually, leaning back on your elbows while Alpine gnawed ferociously on her toy mouse.

That made him glance over.

You shrugged. “Not that I’m surprised. I mean—there are gods flying around and portals above cities every other month. A cybernetic arm barely cracks the top ten. Gives you kind of… an interesting backstory.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, “It’s vibranium.” eyes dropping back to the cutting board. But there was something softer about the way his shoulders eased.

“You didn’t ask,” he said after a moment.

“Didn’t need to.”

You stretched out beside the cat. “You’d tell me if you wanted to.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Just finished chopping, slid the veggies into a pan, and reached for the seasoning with that same vibranium hand.

Comfortable. Unbothered.

Trusted.

And maybe that was the part that stayed with you more than anything else. Not the arm. Not the mystery. But the fact that he didn’t hide it from you.

Like maybe, for once, he didn’t feel like he had to.

Back to the thunderous night, you cross into his threshold. 

It was minimal, but not empty. A mug of half-finished tea sat on the coffee table, steam curling from it slowly. An open book rested beside it, a pen on top.

You sank onto the edge of his couch, the spot familiar. “It’s… quieter in here.”

“Quieter than your place?” he asked, settling down across from you.

“No,” you smiled. “Just quieter than the last time I was here.”

“That was three days ago.”

“I know, but with no electricity it feels even more.”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgment, watching you with that curious, assessing gaze he always seemed to carry. It never felt invasive but just… observant.

“You’ve made yours cozy,” he said after a beat. “Warm. Like a real home.”

You tilted your head. “That surprises you?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Most places don’t feel like anything. Yours does.”

The compliment settled over you gently, like a blanket.

You studied him for a moment, then braved the question that had been pressing at the back of your mind since that first evening on the stairs.

“What do you do, Bucky? The freelancing…”

His jaw tightened just slightly, the flame dancing in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I help people,” he said finally. “It’s... different from what I used to do. But it matters.”

You could hear the weight in his voice, even if you didn’t know the full story.

You nodded. “You seem like someone who cares a lot.”

That made him look up. His gaze softened. “I try.”

There was a long stretch of quiet after that. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. The rain softened against the windows, thunder rumbling farther away now.

You glanced at him again, your heart beating a little faster. There was something about the way the candlelight painted his features, how the shadows curved along his jaw and softened the hard lines of his face.

But he didn’t look at you.

Not yet.

He was staring out the window instead, where the storm had settled into a steady rhythm. The kind that made everything feel farther away. Softer. Safer.

“Storm’s not letting up anytime soon,” you said quietly, voice barely above the hum of the rain.

He nodded, leaning back against the couch, arm resting over the backrest. You were close, but not quite touching.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” you asked.

He glanced at you then. “Not at all.”

Silence stretched out. Not awkward, just full of things neither of you had said yet.

You pulled the blanket higher over your knees, fidgeting with the corner. “You always this quiet?”

His mouth twitched, just a little. “Not always.”

You tilted your head. “Just with me?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Not because of you.”

Your eyes lingered on him, tracing the edge of his silhouette in the low light. There was a gravity to him when he let himself relax. Like the room shifted around it. Around him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t do this a lot.”

“What’s this?”

“Sitting around. Talking. Letting someone in.”

You didn’t answer at first. Instead, you reached for the mug on the coffee table—lukewarm now, but comforting. You held it in both hands.

“I’m glad you did,” you said finally.

He was quiet again, and you thought maybe the moment had passed.

But then—

“I like your place,” he said, voice low. “It feels… lived in. Like it has a heartbeat.”

You smiled. “It’s just a lot of mismatched furniture and impulse buys.”

“That’s what I mean.” He looked at you. Really looked. “Feels like you.”

That made your breath catch a little. You weren’t used to being seen like that. Not just observed—but understood.

“Yours is quiet,” you said. “Not empty. Just… waiting.”

He blinked, surprised. “Waiting?”

You nodded, fingers still wrapped around your mug. “Like it's making room for something. Or someone. Like it’s still figuring out what it wants to be.”

He let out a soft exhale, almost a laugh, like you’d touched something he hadn’t realized was there. “You sound like you talk to your furniture.”

“Only the stubborn ones.”

He smiled again, more visible this time. The kind that made the candlelight feel warmer.

Outside, the storm didn’t let up. But in here, the silence turned companionable. Easy.

Eventually, you both leaned back on the couch, shoulders close.

What came next was a story.

One of his. Just a small one—about an old bookstore down the block that let him read for hours when he was new in the city. He told you about the smell of the paper, the owner who never asked questions, and the corner chair that creaked every time someone sat in it.

You told him about your favorite coffee shop. The one with the terrible playlists and the indoor tabby cat named Pluto. You said you liked it because they always remembered your name—even when you wished they wouldn’t.

And just like that, the minutes slipped by.

Not filled with declarations or grand gestures—but with slow, quiet things. With a kind of closeness that wasn’t looking to rush anywhere.

It would be later—after the power came back, after you both stayed up too late talking, after Alpine came to curl between your feet—that you had accidentally fallen asleep beside him. Your weight leaning on his side made him tense at first, but he relaxed once he reminded himself that it was just you. He let himself drift to sleep too, because to move, he would wake you up, but he didn’t want to.

 ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

It was late afternoon when he knocked — not in a rush, not with food, not even with Alpine. Just him.

You opened the door, confused for half a second because this wasn’t one of the usual drop-ins. His leather jacket was unzipped, gloves off, and his expression… unreadable in that familiar, Bucky Barnes kind of way. Thoughtful. Still. A little unresolved.

“Hey,” you said, stepping aside instinctively. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping inside. “Just got back from a session. Needed some air.”

There was something in the way he stood. A weight behind his eyes, like he’d been walking with it all day.

“Wanna come in?”

He nodded once, stepping into your apartment like it was a space he knew well. Which he did, by now after a year.

You made him tea. You always did. He never asked, but you always put honey in it because you’d noticed, early on, that he took his time drinking it otherwise.

You both sat down. The light through the window was warm and lazy, casting dappled shapes against the floor. A quiet breeze stirred the curtains. For a while, you just sat in the soft domestic stillness.

Then he spoke.

“I saw my therapist today.”

You glanced up. “Yeah?”

He nodded, staring into the tea he hadn’t touched yet. “She said that thing again.”

You waited.

“‘People need people,’” he murmured. “She says it every time. Like she’s trying to convince me.”

You smiled a little. “And? Is it working?”

He gave a small shrug, but it wasn’t indifferent but more like he wasn’t sure how to put it into words yet. You didn’t push. You just let the moment breathe. Giving him space.

After a while, he said, “Back then... I didn’t really believe that. I thought if I needed anyone, it meant I couldn’t survive on my own. And if I couldn’t survive on my own, I wasn’t safe. I wasn’t strong.”

You turned slightly, giving him your full attention. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring ahead, like tracing thoughts across invisible paper.

“I’ve had to rebuild myself more times than I can count,” he continued, voice low. “Sometimes I still don’t know who I am when I wake up. But this… this has been the most time I’ve spent just… existing without needing to watch my back.”

You were quiet. Listening.

“I didn’t expect that from Brooklyn,” he said with a soft breath of amusement. “Didn’t expect it from a neighbor who talks to cats like they’re tiny roommates.”

That made you chuckle. “She is a roommate.”

He smiled, briefly. Then it faded.

“It’s weird,” he said, staring down at his vibranium fingers. “I used to hide this arm like it was a warning label. People always saw it first. Like it already explained what I am without me speaking. But you didn’t even blink when I had it out that day.”

You shrugged, gently. “Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

He looked at you then — really looked. His eyes didn’t move away this time.

“Exactly,” he said. “You didn’t make it a big deal. You treated me like… I wasn’t a stranger. Just a guy with a cat and a weird arm.”

You grinned. “Hey. You’re also a pretty good cook.”

He gave a short, quiet laugh. “That too, apparently.”

The moment stretched. You could feel something shifting — not dramatic or sudden, just quiet and inevitable. Like a tide changing directions.

“I think…” he said slowly, fingers drumming once against his mug, “…maybe I get it now. What she meant. People needing people. It’s not about being weak.”

He paused, trying to steady something in himself.

“It’s about choosing to stay. About deciding that it’s worth it. That someone is worth it.”

He looked down, then back up. There was something naked in his voice when he said, “And maybe… I found my person. Without realizing it.”

You didn’t speak. Your throat was tight.

He glanced away again, suddenly unsure. “I’m not great at this. And I don’t want to screw it up. But if there’s a chance you feel the same… I’d like to try.”

“Try what?” you asked gently.

“Us,” he said. “For real. Not just neighbours who hang out with a cat and share tea. I want to take you out. Date you. Learn everything I don’t know yet.”

You blinked, and something inside you went very, very still. And then it warmed. The feeling spreading in your chest.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” you said softly.

He let out a breath like he’d been holding it all this time, “Sorry it took so long.”

You reached for his hand. Flesh, not metal. He let you take it, and held on.

“Don’t be. I was always here.”

Outside, the world moved on — cars passed, someone’s music filtered in through the walls, life hummed as it always did. But here, in the quiet of a tiny Brooklyn apartment warmed by a fading afternoon, something had settled.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. Just a slow, steady understanding that anchored itself in his chest.

After all the noise, after all the years of pretending he didn’t need anyone—

He looked at you. The way you smiled at him like he wasn’t broken. The way you were just there, again and again, without asking him to be anything more than himself.

And in that moment, he realized what his therapist had meant.

That people need people.

And his… was you.

[zeka-maki]

HMMMMM….i have an idea :3c

Soooo…could you write about how Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Aventurine, and/or Phainon would react to their partner…shyly asking them to marry them? :3c

ʚɞ Love me, love me, say that you love me ʚɞ

Pairings: Jing Yuan x Reader, Anaxa x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Dr. Veritas Ratio x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Phainon x Reader

Summary: Shyly, you ask them to marry you, they reaction you receive from the love of your life is the sweetest thing you've witnessed.

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal

A/N: TYSM FOR THE REQ!! LOVE THE IDEAAA, i also added anaxa bc i love him and want to marry him, THAT PIC OF RATIO VROO AGHHHHH, ANYWAYS, hope you enjoy!

⚘ Jing Yuan:

You stammer it out in the quiet of the night, your voice barely above a whisper as he strokes your hair lazily.

“Would you… ever want to marry me? I-I mean—only if you want to. You don’t have to! I just—” The words spill out of your mouth uncontrollably as you try to save yourself from embarrassment. What if he isn't ready for that?

“Yes.” Jing Yuan responds immediately. You blink. He’s smiling, but not in amusement—in complete, overwhelming warmth.

“You could’ve asked with your eyes, and I still would’ve said yes. But hearing it? I think my heart just surrendered.” He pulls you into his chest, his touch as tender and gentle as it can be.

“So… when do I get to call you my spouse, hm?” He questions wistfully. After all, he's spent years dreaming of a marriage with you.

⚘ Anaxa:

You haven't planned it. You don't even have a ring. But the way he stands there — still, towering, the cold glint of the tools in his hand dimmed by the soft artificial dusk of the orbital lights — it just… slipped out.

“Would you… ever marry me?” You ask the question before you can stop yourself.

You barely whispered it. It wasn’t even meant to be heard. A passing, nervous flutter of a thought made real by your breath. But he hears it. Of course he does.

He turns slowly, like the words themselves carried gravity. His expression is unreadable for a moment — the kind of stillness he wears when he's around his students. But then...

Then he kneels. Not out of protocol. Not duty. He lowers himself before you like gravity has betrayed him. One knee to the floor. His hand — trembling — reaches for yours. Slowly. Carefully. Like he might break something sacred.

“You would entrust your future… to me?” His voice is quiet. No booming declarations. No knightly oaths. Just the disbelief of a man who was never taught to want anything for himself — and now, you’re offering him everything.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours, “but if you ask it of me… I will spend the rest of my life becoming someone who does.” His grip tightens, not in force — but in anchor. As if to say: don’t take it back.

⚘ Aventurine:

You’re a stuttering mess, barely getting the words out. His eyes widen—but not because he’s shocked. He’s stunned speechless.

“…Are you proposing to me?” He looks like a deer caught in headlights. Even though he's expected this, the feeling of you actually asking it is something he can't describe.

“I—yes? Unless you don’t want to—” You don't get to finish your sentence before Aventurine pulls you into a tight embrace. It's a strategy to not let you see his misty eyes, it's not even an official proposal and he's at the verge of crying. Never in his life has he thought the love of his life would want to marry him.

“Sweetheart. You just gave me the highest-value offer I’ve ever received.” He smiles wryly, slipping something shiny onto your finger.

“Did you really think I didn’t have a ring ready just in case?” Of course he did.

⚘ Dr. Veritas Ratio:

You try to play it cool. You really do. But your hands are shaking, and you’re hiding behind your words. “S-So, hypothetically… what would your statistical probability be of… marrying me?”

He looks up from his tablet. Quiet. Calculating. “Interesting hypothesis.” He comments but he doesn't sound so surprised. From outside, at least.

He stands and walks over, tilting your chin up. “Let’s test it.”

“Wait, you mean—?” You're shocked to say the least. The question was in your head for months but the fear of rejection held you back from wording it, this isn't the reaction you anticipated.

“Yes.” He affirms quite immediately. You can't see it but Veritas is at the edge of trembling, crying from joy. At a time like this, he wishes he had his plaster head on, to conceal the flood of emotions going through him.

“Even without the numbers… I’d say the odds were always in your favor.” And just like that, Veritas' got you in his arms. The equation of love: solved.

⚘ Dan Heng:

You’re so nervous you can’t meet his eyes. You’re fiddling with your sleeve, voice soft. “Dan Heng… would you, um… maybe want to marry me? If that’s not too weird—"

He goes still. Processing. Blinking. Then— “Are you sure?” His way of asking is the gentlest thing anyone can ever witness. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of discomfort, studying your body language to see if you're being honest or not.

You nod furiously, blushing. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

He exhales, slow and trembling, like he’s been holding his breath for years. “Then yes. Of course yes. I’ve dreamed of it. I just never thought I was allowed to want something so—permanent.” He cups your cheek like you’re glass. But you’ve never felt stronger.

⚘ Phainon:

It’s late. You’re both looking up at the sky at the Grove of Epiphany. You turn to them and quietly ask, “Do you… want to get married someday? With me, I mean?”

Phainon turns slowly, eyes soft with something celestial. “You always ask such beautiful questions.” His tone is saccharine, laced with excitement and love as if you've just brought the dawn he craves so much. If he could, he'd hug you so tight you'd merge with him but to his disappointment, he can't, it almost brings him to tears.

“S-So that’s a no?” You stammer, unsure how to react. That wasn't even an answer!

“No, dawnlight. That’s a yes. In every tongue. In every lifetime. A thousand yeses.” You can practically hear him holding in an endeared chuckle. He practically beamed out at your question but he held it down, he can't make a fool of himself now! (As if he isn't already a lovesick fool for you.)

Phainon press his forehead to yours. His arms circle your waist, whispering softly, “I'm starting to see the first ray of the dawn, and it's in the ring on your finger.”

[himasgod]

can I request the overblot boys (hcs) with a fem reader who has curly hair. but when she went to twst she didn't get any products (Crowley would NOT give us shit) so she didn't do her curls until she got products and got to do her routine again and actually wear her curls for the first time in NRC

(if u don't do multiple ppl then can I js get Vil with this)

OVERBLOTS X READER

Where you have curly hair and you start to do your curls properly

Vil definitely noticed when your curls weren't defined, but he assumed it was a stylistic choice or a wash-and-go day.

When you walk into the hall with your curls fully revived and styled, he slowly raises an eyebrow.

"Oh? Darling, is that your natural curl pattern?"

When you tell him you finally got your products and could do your routine again, he's intrigued, and a little horrified that you had to go without proper haircare.

"Ugh. Typical of that insufferable man. No understanding of maintenance. None."

Vil goes into mentor mode.

"What's your curl type? 3A? 3C? Do you use heat? What's your drying method?"

He's already sketching a custom hair regimen in his mind.

He pulls a few strings and suddenly you have access to top-tier products from Pomefiore’s exclusive inventory.

You try to refuse, but he won't let you settle for “bargain-bin conditioner.”

"You were already beautiful, but now you're radiant. Your curls frame your face like a crown, and I expect you to treat them as such."

He'll teach you how to preserve them overnight, how to pineapple your hair, and even offer to silk-wrap your pillow if you stay over at Pomefiore.

Jamil has sharp eyes—you know he noticed your hair before, but he didn't comment.

He probably assumed the frizz or undefined curls were just how your hair always looked… until one day you walk into Scarabia with your full routine done, curls defined.

"… You did something different. Not that I was watching—I mean, I wasn't—well, I was, but not like—"

sighs internally

He's flustered.

It's cute.

You explain the whole “no products until now” thing and he’s immediately sympathetic.

"That's rough. Honestly, not surprised Crowley wouldn't think to provide that."

He offers to help you track down specific ingredients or oils if you want to DIY your routine—Scarabia’s got access to spices and natural oils you could definitely use.

He won't admit it directly, but your curls? Devastating to him.

He likes the way they bounce when you laugh and how your silhouette changes in the sunlight.

Occasionally brushes your curls out of your face without saying a word.

Kalim bursts in like: “You look AMAZING today!!”

Jamil mutters under his breath: “She looks amazing every day…”

Riddle is baffled the first time he sees you with your curls.

“You look… different today,” he says, trying to maintain composure.

He is staring. He does not mean to stare. But he is staring.

You explain it's your natural hair texture and that you couldn't do your curly hair routine before now because you didn't have the products.

"That is unacceptable. As a dorm leader, I demand that Crowley provide proper grooming necessities for all students. I'll write him an official complaint."

Once he realizes that this is how your hair looks when it's healthy and cared for, he starts complimenting it—awkwardly, but sweetly.

"Your curls suit you… No, I mean they frame your face well. Er, aesthetically pleasing… That's what I meant."

He secretly memorizes what products you tell like and restores them without you.

Leona notices the change immediately.

One afternoon, you walk into the botanical garden with your curls out and his eyes visibly track you from head to toe.

"Damn. That's what your hair actually looks like?"

He is shook.

He asks if he can touch it. Not in a weird way—he's just genuinely fascinated.

He's never seen curls like yours before and he's very tactile, so he'll run his fingers through a curl and let it bounce back, amused.

"You've been hiding this the whole time? Tch. Waste."

When you tell him you couldn't do your curls because you didn't have products, he gets pissed.

"That damn Crowley. Of course he'd dump a herbivore in here without even the bare minimum."

He will absolutely have stuff delivered from Sunset Savanna (or just swipe from someone's shipment).

Compliments your curls like it's no big deal.

"You look hot. Curls work for you. Keep it that way."

Refuses to admit he's been glancing at you more than usual.

Azul pretends he didn't notice the drastic change, but his reaction gives him away.

"Welcome to the Lou—uh, I mean—Yuu. You look… different. Not bad. I mean—good. You look good. Yes. That."

You explain the situation about not having curly hair products and its entire meaning shifts.

"I see. How inconsiderate of the Headmage not to equip you with proper grooming tools."

Azul offers to source imported hair products for you at a discounted rate. (You say no—he tries again.)

When he realizes how important this is to you, he tries a different approach: "For you, I could offer them for free. Consider it… good PR."

Lowkey develops a huge weakness for your curls.

He will deny it if Floyd teases him about it, but he definitely stars longer than he should when you play with them.

Secretly imagines you in a mermaid form with curls flowing in water like seafoam.

He doesn't even realize how romantic that is until later.

Idia is on his tablet as usual when you walk into Ignihyde, bouncing hair, curls finally in their full glory.

He looks up once—and then goes completely red.

His hair flares up in pink flames and he nearly drops his tablet.

"Is that… a new skin of yours?!"

You explain the curl care thing and the lack of products, and he just stares at you, like,

“They let you suffer like, without item drops?? That's current villain behavior.”

He goes into researching curly hair routines and Amazon-equivalents in Twisted Wonderland.

Next thing you know, there's a care package outside your door

Every time you wear your curls out, he turns into a stammering mess who can't look you in the eye.

Worships the curls but cannot verbalize it.

Ortho ends up saying it for him:

"Big Brother says you look great! Especially when your hair spirals like this!"

Malleus is so used to be excluded that when you come with your curls defined and radiant, he thinks it must be some kind of costume he wasn't informed about.

"Child of man… your hair is… glowing today"

You explain it's just your natural curls and that you couldn't do your routine before now because of the lack of products.

"So you had to wait to reveal your true hair form. Hm… I understand. Many dragons shed their scales to grow stronger."

He absolutely romanticizes your curls

“They remind me of the curling mist over Briar Valley’s hills at dawn… Spiraling, elegant~”

He offers to send servants to fetch “whatever oils or enchanted waters” you require.

You try to explain it's just gel and leave-in conditioner, but he insists on going above and beyond.

Touches a curl with curiosity.

“So soft…”

(he says it in awe, not creepily, promise.)

He's not shy about admiring you.

He will walk beside you proudly, staring at your curls as they blow in the wind, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

[rae-dabae]

LOA + VOID STATE SUCCESS

HEY 👋🏾

so i lowkey overcomplicated, overthought, and overfucked everything about Loa + the Void and bitch i was so tired….but i literally dont have to be cuz everything i want is mine when i decide it is? Dw im locked in now 🙏🏾

No seriously your literally in control of your entire reality and you can just decide u have everything you want now and your correct, YOU DO!!!!! YOU RUN THIS SHIT STOP FUCKING AROUND!! Also the void state/ pure consciousness is just you. It is ALL JUST US!! We are LITERALLY EVERYTHING!! When you manifest in the void state its instant and SO is manifesting in GENERAL the moment you decide u have you do you now have it. AND ALSO since everything-( also i HATE the use of 3D/4D its like segregation- separating whats the same- and it made my journey TEWWW confusing and i dont have time to confuse myself about what i alr know-) we decided in our mind will show in the physical regardless why the fuck would i look in the PHYSICAL for something when it all comee from MY MIND- AKA ✨ THE SOURCE ✨ like we are the proof gang ,thats like trying to make chocolate without using the source- Cacao beans DUH how ELSE would u make chocolate?

ANWAYS WHATS I MANIFESTED WITH LOA/ IN GENERAL

• made my eyes go from dark brown to a caramel amber, i get startled everytime i see my eyes now CUZ THEYRE SO PRETTTY- i always saw peoole change their eye color snd i never got the hype- I GET THE HYPE NOW

• free $20

• since we give everything meaning and power, i made it that whenevee i see angel numbers it means i have what i want/ all my desires, guess what ive been seeing lately ✌🏾

• pretty feet/ smaller feet size, went from like 10-11 womens( IM 5’7 LAY OFF- also blame my mom but shes short so how does that make sense?🤔) to 9-8 womens THANK GOD also pretty feet cuz who wanna look at shriveled up bunion nasty funky fungus toes? NOT ME 🫡

• ok listen up for this: so i got really into winx club this summer so i made up this sparkle power where i take my finger and imagine im drawing an orb made of fairydust and whatever i say to that orb it comes true, for ex if i want to get my enemies jumped id take my finger, imagine any color of fairy dust( dark red for this one) and id say “ this orb that i cast upon so and so will punish them and get them jumped for bullying me” then id stop, imagine the orb fully formed, take my hand snd grab it, pull it back with my hand then shoot it forward and imagine that orb reaching that person( when the orb reaches that person it explodes into fairy dust) and BOOM, not only is it fun but it WORKS, i used it to give me a certain type of beauty, healed myself, etc WINX INSPIRED 🧚‍♀️

• my pidgin( im Cameroonian btw 🇨🇲) getting better, i love speaking in pidgin i feel like a real african woman fr, next is my native language fs

• protection for my parents- this i used my my enchantix magic i cast upon” protection orbs “ on them so they come back safe

• body tea/ 3c/4a hair( i made a hair oil and enchanted it so itd not only grow my hair but change the texture as well-)

• MY PERIOD BACK THANK MERCY 🙏🏾 after may it just disappeared and my mom said if i dont see it this month we’re going to the hospital i said FFUCK no so i decided id see it this month and BOOM saw it this month lasted a whole week, was i scared i wouldnt see it? Yea but i shut that shit down cux i already decided id see it august so tf r u getting “scared” for its done hello?

And SO MUCH MORE

WHAT I MANIFESTED WITH THE VOID:

• my missing glasses HERES THE STORY: after I manifested my mom letting me stay home from school, I was doing my research on Lupus( im gonna cure that shit one day watch me) i fell asleep listening to a woman talk about her experience with having Lupus, i remember being very relaxed and calm in a black nothingness, but at the same tike i felt semi conscious semi asleep idk ts is trippy asf i cant lie, i suddenly thought about my glasses that i had lost a while ago and about how i wanted them back, nownits foggy but i remember feeling like i had them like it felt already done ig? When i woke up another Lupus video was playing, i got up from bed and went to my dresser and opened my drawer BAM, MY GLASSES WERE THERE SITTING PRETTY, mind you i hadnt seen these bitches in about 4 months+ cuz i had lost them( they fell behind my bed then disappeared, TRUST ME i lifted the entire bed AND swept it and i still didnt see them, i searched the entire house, MIA 🤷🏾‍♀️ so i know if they were there i wouldve found them) i was lowkey freaked out i mean bro how would u feel if something you had lost months ago suddenly appeared infront of you after you tap into the void? Yall werent kidding it IS trippy to wake up with what you want cuz that was scary…but at the same time i was hype cuz yes i really just did that 🙂‍↕️🤏🏾

These people deserve to get they ass ate they’ll set u straight

@salemlunaa( love uu sis ❤️ all ur posts helped me so bad) @itsrlymine( love u as well also take the hate as a compliment that means your advice is so good it makes haters MAD and JEALOUS HAHA) @catherineaboutlife( so sweet and made the void state easy to understand)

Heres my glasses that I manifested back thru the void ⬇️

( as im writing this little part its 2:22 pm…iktr 🤏🏾 😛)

Kay talk to yall soon byeee 💕

[plethorawrites]

How would the vampire Batboys react if their GN human partner/reader offers them their blood? Maybe reader offers because the boys aren’t lookin’ good/aren’t drinking enough as they should, or maybe reader offers as a way to show them their trust, or build intimacy? :3c

Yes!! I did something similar with Dick previously, but I can totally see this concept with the others as well. (TW: Mention of blood)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

Bruce: Deep down, I think he'd always imagined feeding from you one day. Maybe as some fantasy or maybe a part of him just knew you well enough to know you'd offer. It wouldn't phase him much, but he'd be elated internally. Still tender, though. He'd make sure you had a glass of wine or tea or something beforehand and sit you in his lap, having you lean your head against his shoulder to expose your neck and he'd definitely hold it firmly the entire time, even when you started to squirm in pain.

Dick: Like in a previous post, I think he'd limit his use of drinking from his partner because he's worried about losing control/getting addicted. It's a treat or a desperate measure and he has to really focus on your heartbeat and how hard you're gripping his arm to make sure you're not starting to panic or lose too much blood. Afterwards, it would just be continuous praise, thanking you over and over and muttering how much he loves you and how he promises to never take too much from you.

Jason: Is terrified when you suggest it. He's spent his whole life being viewed as a monster, even in his own eyes and once finding someone who doesn't immediately fear him, he doesn't want to ever risk making you change your mind. But he's lethargic, out of blood bags in the fridge, and too tired to go find a fresh source. You're right there; of course it makes sense. He's still apprehensive the entire time, physically in pain when he keeps himself from indulging but refuses to let himself. Instead, every single sharp inhale or slight whimper of pain makes him stop, even if it hurts, to check on you.

Tim: Has to do a double take, making sure he'd heard you correctly. But when you nod a second time, his open jaw closes, turning into a grin. He wouldn't pounce right away, not wanting to seem too eager, even if he was. But a few days later, when you're over, cuddling in his bed, he'd be tracing your neck like he often did, imagining how it would taste. His breath would be warm when he whispers in your ear, asking you if you would let him have a snack. Of course you would nod. And of course he would take your hand, letting you squeeze it as tightly as you needed to when he sunk his fangs into your neck, humming in content, just leaving them there for a moment. He adored the puncture marks that lingered for a week.

Damian: Would be confused, at first. He'd stop in the middle of whatever he was doing— training, getting ready for bed, etc. and just stare. You were his partner, not his blood bag. Why would he put you in a position where he could hurt you when he was meant to protect you? It takes some explaining from you, telling him how you want to know what it feels like and for him to know you trust him, that he even entertains the thought. He's still hesitant, but at your request and his own hunger, he tries. He has to pause when you make a sound of pain, but doesn't stop until he's satisfied and you're dizzy. Then, he just wraps his arms around you, kissing the puncture marks to erase the remaining blood.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Even More Doki Doki Battle Academy OP AU

One Piece Fighting Game AU Master Post

Some more~ i had a lot of fun with these designs <3 (a break down for them under the cut)

Kid and Killer would be two Gym leaders who introduce the idea of Duo battling in the story mode of this hypothetical game. They'd probably be one of the first gym leaders the player would face.

They would enjoy their job of getting to beat up teenagers thoroughly even though they'd have to hold back for the sake of not killing them. (for legal purposes obviously). They Profight on the side to let loose sometimes. To make sure people still know they're dont

Carrot: @majestick-posts-op's design for carrot inspired my design for her, the elbow pads and leg warmers gave me the idea of a roller skater and ideas took off from there! the silhouette of the helmet to match her original silhouette from her bob is a perfect way to keep her original silhouette and have her suLONG hair. For her hearts, i know its obvious but she loves her tutu, she loves her roller skates so the hearts are on those. but if you look closely, there are also hearts on the carrots on her helmet!

Shirahoshi: i was having trouble with her design at first, but then i looked up what kind of fish she's supposed to be and a vision immediately appeared in my head

look at this thing. look at those pathetic eyes. what a creeeeaturee.... so i made her a crereeeaturrreee. The silhouette of her hair loopies and her head is supposed to look like a fish, and the bottom part of her sweater is supposed to also evoke fins/a tail! Her top is meant to reference H2O Just Add Water mermaid tops, and she is all around kinda loosely inspired by MLP:FIS Fluttershy <3 I really tried to make her look kind of regal, with her sheer sweater and long flowing hair. But also i wanted her to have elements pulling her down to earth, like having heir hair all dirty from walking in nature and flip flops to tie in her whole beachy feel. The heart on her design is on her big ol' Nature Club pin on her left chest, even over her heart.

Kid: There's a lot with him that i felt i needed to scrap (Pun Intended.) because i just had no way of incorporating his powers into the power system i have. So i'm thinking instead of metal he can repel and attract, he throws and absorbs cactus's into/from his Big Cactus arm with his Growth, Absorbing, and elastic powers. You can vaguely see his hearts in the pinks of his cactus hand! but the real ting indicating his heart is probably his belt buckle and his neck bandana ;3c

Killer: The whole reason i got the idea to make these two Plants That Hurt is because when i was sketching out the silhouette for killer, i thought i had make his hair kinda sorta look like the mouth of a venus fly trap and my mind was like "Wait. Say That again." so i went off from there! I got the help from my friend @zethsdumpster and their friend who's the local Kid & Killer Thirster and we came up with the idea of them being punk cowboys too! and now here we are <3 Killer's boots are meant to look like terracotta pots and his hat is meant to look like a venus fly trap about to munch on a fly (the white and yellow sash around it). The blades on his gauntlet things, i added a handle part to them to make them look like sickles because sickles are used for gardening and that was really the only way i could tie in whatever the hell those things are to the motifs these two have. Killer's heart if you squint is in the negative space from his choker and open buttoned shirt, the color of the choker being Kid's color EHE HEHEHE EHE EHEH EH EH

YEAH I MADE THEM HOMOSEXUALS WHAT ABOUT IT?!?!??!!? AND WHAT ABOUT IT?!??!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!? DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT HUH?!!!!!!!!!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! thats what i THOUGht. its hard to NOT make them homosexuals when what they got going on is what they have going on. ehehehehh hehehh ehehe hHHEHHE h H HA AH AH AH H AHAAAAAA anyway

I bought the game Tiny Glade to make this building layout LOL and i really havent played it since <3 its a lot of fun though, i enjoy their ducks and their sheep :3 though i would appreciate if they added in a copy building option.

The building is inspired by the school buildings in Card Captor Sakura and Ouran High School Host Club! I wanted a really romantic design like a castle to contrast heavily with the Full Colosseum Structure behind it. Though if i could do it differently, i think i would instead put the arena where the track field is instead. but like theres only so much room on a Tiny Glade workspace.

I have been working on inside setting images too but it is. life draining. This is why I'm a character artist not a background designer.

The middle school Carrot and Shirahoshi would go to would be a sister school to the DDBA and would be close by but in a different location.

I think! that's just about it..... thanks for reading if you got this far!!

[silkentine]

All I could think while drawing Nami was, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” And, of course, with Robin I was thinking, “save a horse… 🥵”

Design Notes and other opining below the cut:

For Nami, I wanted to go for a mix of cocky Jersey mafia newbie and surfer boy. I like to think that some of the horrendous outfit choices that Sanji makes (especially in the movies) were actually picked out by Nami. She’s the shopper!!! But yeah, the vibrant swim trunks and graphic tees just scream Nami. I also wanted to put him in a wetsuit/rash guard because I think that’s a sexy look so sue me if you hate it. You cannot argue with me that Nami doesn’t wear swimsuits as clothes.

He’s toned but not as muscular as Robin or Luffy (for example) because he isn’t a front-line fighter, I want him to maintain the same kind of role that Nami has in the animanga. He’s the best navigator in the world!! I couldn’t decide if I wanted to change the violent tendencies that Nami has, but ultimately I think he’d still give the more deserving members of the crew a healthy wallop (although I might portray it more cartoonishly). Boy Piece!Nami still grew up under Arlong’s authority so he spent a lot of his childhood walking on eggshells to protect his village and his brother, Nojiko, so I think he never really got to learn “you’re not supposed to hit people just because they frustrate you” lesson. I gave him a shark-tooth necklace because surely Arlong had a few loose teeth to spare once Luffy took her down. Victory spoils LOL

If he can get the girls to stop wrestling and sit down quietly for a while, he likes to host card games (with betting, of course) or watch the clouds while sipping whatever fruity cocktail Sanji whips up. I believe that Canon!Nami is a total lesbian, and I can’t possibly envision a Nami who doesn’t like women so Boy Piece!Nami is bi. I am, of course, a Namivivi truther and Vivi is also a man in this AU. I don’t hate Sanami within this dynamic though… lots to think about.

Okay!!! All-shipper mindset aside, let’s talk Robin. I gave him long hair because 1) it’s hot and 2) I think it makes him look like Dragon. Yeahhh, I subscribe to the Luffy and Robin are half-siblings theory because I think it’s funny and makes some sense. Crocodile is 100% Luffy’s Mom in this AU and I think Robin knows it LOL

For his outfits, I wanted to lean a bit more Indiana Jones where I could; he’s still primarily cowboy inspired though. For the main look, I went with the Skypeia color palette hehe, I think Robin looks good in yellow. I did some flower-petal shaped color blocking on his chaps because I think it’s cute and subtle. I really love that the powers of the Hana-Hana-no-mi are like… unexpected for a “flower flower” fruit and I think Robin would be more aware that juxtaposition as a guy. You might also be wondering about the gloves and I initially just had it for his cowboy look but I decided to put them on all the outfits up until the events of Enies Lobby. Canon!Robin has a really difficult childhood and I think it’s exacerbated by the fact that she’s a girl on her own. If Robin was a boy, he’d probably have an easier time living on his own but would be a lot less emotionally open. All of these elements combine to make him want that physical barrier between his real hands and the world. Once he can trust that the Strawhats will always be there for him, he’s more willing to be more physically open.

I also think it’d be cute if he was much more of a coffee drinker :3c I see Canon!Robin as a connoisseur who likes a well-brewed espresso but Boy Piece!Robin needs a cup of joe (no matter its quality) every chance he can get. So I drew him with his special #1 ARCHAEOLOGIST mug.

It would make me so happy if you left your thoughts in the tags or replies!! Even if you hate everything about them, I just really like engagement hahaha. I’m thinking girl Usopp is next despite the poll results because she’s on my mind rn (don’t hold me to this, LOL I’m fickle). I’m making these for fun so I just wanna make designs in the order that interests me the most. Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog to see all the genderbends I have so far. And happy pride!!!