#Like new we have Love! Mostly their skin is very similar to the texture of peach. in fact. If you touch her without her realizing it you

[shylittlefrogg]

Something small I made from some Fae design ideas for some precure.

the first one is Nagisa's, followed by Love, Honoka, Mana, Yukari, Miyuki and Hana and then it is repeated but in Fae version.

[heizlut]

Hallo! I am very new to tumblr, so please excuse any mistakes i may make qwq

I really enjoyed your Venti and Kaeya story(ies)! Could you do something similar for Lyney with the addition of a breeking kink? He doesnt have cat ears or a tail like his sister- instead, the feline side of him shows through his obsessive need to breed :x

jshdhdhd i’ve been thinking about this like crazy and i’m so glad we got to clarify a few details over messages before i wrote this! again, welcome to tumblr! i’m so glad you stumbled across my page🫶🏼 (was also totally inspired by the yaoi when writing this lmfao)

Jinx

cw: breeding kink, textured feline tongue, hypnosis, rope-play, mentions of pregnancy

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!lyney with recessive feline traits, mostly proofread

a/n: here's a lil translation for the pet names- "mon chaton"= my kitten; "mon cherie"= my beloved; "bonne fille"= good girl; “ma bonne fille”= my good girl

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.

When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”

Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”

You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.

Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.

Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.

He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.

Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."

Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.

Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.

Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.

Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.

Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.

His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”

You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.

As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."

"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,

And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

a/n: i turned myself on just writing this lol also plz if you’ve read the yaoi i referenced, let’s be friends lmao

[urinarythreatinfection]

Aight bet-

Can i get Shanks paired with a female reader (romatically) who is also missing an arm and/or has red hair.

Thank you v.v

Not my bestest work but I thought it was funny and warm.

Narcissistic Romance

Shanks x Fem!Reader. Reader has red hair and missing arm. Miku is Miku even if she looks different so skin color or hair texture can be anything else. Small angst(?) but mostly fluff. Drabble + Headcanons

“I get we have the same hair and stump but did you really need to go this far? You even drew the scar on me.” You touch your eye where some friends had drawn Shanks’s signature scar on.

“This fits so well! You might as well be his female form.” You’re all near a bar, one of your friends got the idea to dress you up as Red Haired Shanks after getting drunk. “Strike a pose or somethin-” They’re interrupted when yelling is heard.

“C-CAPTAIN!?” You hear from behind you, turning to see a group of men staring at you.

‘Captain?’ You think to yourself, confused before it clicks. These must be Red Hair Pirates, but how? This is a crazy coincidence that they’re here right as you’re dressed up. Your mind runs at a million miles a second and you clamp a hand over your friend’s mouth before they speak. “Well, I got caught by a devil fruit. Changed my looks a bit but I look good as a woman too, right?” You smirk, going along with it. Unfortunately, your cover is blown almost immediately when a head peeks over your shoulder to look at you.

“Hmm. I do look good as a woman, don’t I?” It’s Red Haired Shanks, another coincidence and you jolt with a yelp. “Freaking out, Miss Red Hair? Not very Emperor-like.” He teases with a grin. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to go with the joke considering how quickly you got caught, and by the man himself. “What’s my female doppelganger doing here?” He looks at your friends with a wink, this is so embarrassing. “Popular as a woman too?”

That was how the two of you met, a funny cosplay of a funny guy.

You were scared at first you were going to get in trouble for impersonating him, even if it was a joke and you were caught immediately.

Shanks isn’t a sore sport though and he actually found it really funny.

He had stayed at the island and you were good company, proving to be a good fighter as well.

He couldn’t just leave an attractive and strong woman alone, right?

You ended up joining his crew along with a few of your other friends that could fight and wanted to go, the rest you all sending letters to any others often.

The official number of redheads in the Red Hair Pirates is now two.

The two of you two hit it off, cracking similar arm jokes and having fun together, it was perfect.

It really wasn’t long until you both ended up dating, then came new jokes.

“Narcissist.” That’s what people like to tease you both about.

Dating a person that can look like a genderbent version of you with the right clothes and makeup is definitely narcissistic.

Of course, you both take it with pride.

Shanks even likes to show you off, calling himself the luckiest man ever to find the most beautiful woman ever to play into the narcissist joke.

Something on a more personal level is that the two of you can relate to missing an arm, helping each other with phantom pain and insecurities.

After all, when the person you love has the same imperfection as you it’s hard to be insecure about it.

You’re perfect to him and him to you, despite your disabilities.

It’s nice to have someone that understands, that knows how hard it is to deal with losing a limb.

When you’re feeling insecure sometimes Shanks puts his stump on yours, smiling and calling you both “stump buddies” before kissing you.

If the weather is bad and you’re both struggling with pains you can hold each other, finding comfort in the warmth of your lover.

Shanks holds you tight, even if he’s clenching his jaw, always trying to put your pain above his no matter how much you try and tell him he matters too.

It makes you feel insecure, he should have a partner that would be able to help him without struggling themselves, but to him you’re everything.

He’d rather hold you while shaking from pain himself than be comforted by anyone else.

These bad moments with you are more precious to him than the best with anyone else.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: sexism, dehumanization, fantasy illness

Mistress had braided her hair and put it in a bun, which was quite nice on her. She also added some red paint on her lips and gold dust on her eyelids. Kit wasn’t too sure about that.

He looked away before she caught him staring, but:

“What do you think?” she turned her head a bit, showing off her weaving.

“Pretty,” he said. She hummed a bit, looking into the mirror on her vanity. 

“I suppose you couldn’t say it if it weren’t true. What time is it?”

“Nine fifty-two am.” She looked at her watch.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.” She picked out a pair of black shoes from her closet. Flat ones, not one of the pairs of tall shoes, and Kit realized he was a bit taller than her. Huh. He didn’t feel like he was, and he certainly wasn’t yesterday.

Maybe she was wearing tall shoes then.

They stepped out of Iris’s rooms. 

“Everything alright, your majesty?” asked Sir Brennan, as polite as could be.

“Of course. Ms. Mira will be here in a few minutes; we’ll be in Kit’s rooms.”

“Understood, your grace.”

It seemed a bit silly to move across the hall for very little reason, but Kit supposed Mistress valued her privacy.

Ms. Mira was right on time, at one minute past ten. She was tall, and blond, with brown stern eyes and a strong jaw. 

“Good morning, your grace.” Her voice was low in pitch and volume.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about her.

“Hello, Mira. How are you? And how’s your sister?”

“I’m wonderful, darling, and Mina is obnoxious as usual. Something about a muse, she won’t shut up about it.” Mira rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were turned upwards.

“And who are you?” Mira turned on him. “Are you my model for today?”

“He is,” said Mistress.

Mira stepped closer. She cupped his face, a thumb on his chin and two fingers under his jaw. He willed himself not to flinch, but the grip was firm, not painful.

She tilted his face back and forth, her eyes studying him. He averted his eyes, trying to be good, but she tsked.

“Look at me,” she said.

He met her gaze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” She let go of him, and pulled out a notebook and pencil from her pocket.

“Do you always look so pale?”

“No ma’am.”

“He’s ill,” explained Iris, “recovering from poisoning.”

“I see.” Kit opened his mouth to explain, but Mira held up a finger. “No, no,” she said. “Don’t tell me. I’ll have to make a new wardrobe for you again anyway.”

She scribbled into her book. “Might as well work with what we have. Have you ever had your measurements taken before?”

Kit shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. Right then. First things first, name?”

He tensed. The audacious rudeness of asking for it so blatantly made his nerves buzz. “You may call me Kit.”

“Mhm. Height?” Kit shrugged. She raised a brow, and shut her book with a snap. “I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

Mira pulled out a length of.. not quite rope but something similar.

“Stand up straight, shoulders back. No, don’t puff out your chest- here.” She maneuvered him like a doll, and he stood as still as possible.

Mira bent by his foot and slowly straightened, holding the measuring tool to him. She squinted at the number. “Adequate,” she muttered, and Kit didn’t think she was actually talking to anyone but herself.

Mira stepped back a bit, looking him up and down. “Despite the color, your skin is a shockingly good texture and even tone,” she jotted it down. “I’m sure once you’re well, we could do some lovely things with color. Are you wearing makeup?” 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Like this, Kit,” Mistress gestured to her face. “You saw me put it on.”

“Oh. No, then.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mira. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmph. And what do you do day-to-day?”

“He’ll be with me,” interrupted Iris, “as… a companion.”

“So nothing athletic? Good. I assume we’re not talking servant-wear because otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” she chuckled a bit, mostly to herself.

Mira started measuring around his head, then his neck, from shoulder-to-shoulder; it went on. She constantly adjusted his posture- “no slouching, my dear”- but she was gentle in her firmness.

“I’m thinking subtlety, less look-at-me and more tasteful I-belong-here. Thoughts?”

Iris smiled, “Perfect.” 

Kit agreed with her. The less flashy the better. 

“Modest, or do we want to show off a little skin?” Mira turned to him, expecting an answer.

“Modest, please. But, um, I don’t mind skirts above my knees.”

Mira gave him a blank stare. “Skirts?” 

Kit had the sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. 

“Kit,” frowned Iris, “We can’t have you wearing skirts or dresses. Men don’t do that here.”

“I- I didn’t know.”

“Fascinating, but no matter,” said Mira, dismissive. “We can get experimental another time. Do you know your shoe size?”

Kit shifted. “Do I need shoes?” They looked uncomfortable and rigid. Like they would bite into him every time he kneeled.

Mira opened her mouth, her brow furrowed, but Iris intercepted her objection.

“I suppose not,” she said, “but at least wear socks.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Mira wrote something in her notebook, underlining it twice.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Mira, suddenly more polite, “What do fae normally wear?”

“Um, there’s not... rules. Some don’t wear clothes at all.”

“Incredible. And you like skirts?”

“They’re easy to sew when I wanted something new. I did have some pants and shirts. It’s the gentry that wear complicated things like lace or silver thread.”

“Amazing. Well, I’ll make some mock-ups for formal wear and send you some altered clothes I already have on hand.”

Mistress Iris and Mira said their goodbyes, and she was gone.

“I think she likes you,” said Iris. 

___________________

Just as Mistress predicted, Chef Christine did want to talk to him. The walk to the kitchen was somewhat familiar, and he took comfort in the fact that he might be able to actually find his way around at some point.

The kitchen wasn’t particularly busy, a few people cleaning and prepping for lunch.

“Ah, there you are!” A woman with a white coat that said ‘Executive Chef Christine’ on the breast came towards them.

“You must be Kit,” she smiled. “How was breakfast?” 

“Good,” he said, mildly bewildered. Too many people were asking for his opinion today.

“Wonderful. Let’s talk.” Chirstine led them further into the large kitchen, and Kit suddenly felt a bit cold despite the ovens and lit fires. He shrugged it off. There might be a draft somewhere.

Christine brought them to a small table crammed into the corner, pulling out a chair for Mistress.

Kit sat heavily, his legs a bit tired. It must have been the long walk.

The table had a huge binder on it, full of papers. Christine flipped through the pages until she landed on ‘KIT’.

“So I have ‘no iron or steel’ and ‘no salt’, but I don’t have your preferences.” Christine picked up her pencil. “Anything you don’t eat?”

“Songbirds.” Christine’s eyes widened. Kit flushed a bit. “I, uh, feel bad eating them. They just sing so nice.”

“Oh, um, okay. Anything else?”

“Uh, deer? I have, I mean, had, a friend who's a deer-man so it feels wrong to hunt them. And snakes, for a similar reason.” Christine stared at him, and he fidgeted. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m just surprised! We don’t cook any of those animals anyway.” She smiled, and Kit felt a little better about being so obviously soft-hearted.

“Although I’m a bit curious,” said Iris, “what did you hunt before? No deer seems a bit restrictive.”

Kit looked down at his hands. They were shaking, and his head felt a bit light. 

“Um, pheasant. Turkey. Fish. Boar, if I could get it.”

“How did you manage hunting boar?” asked Christine.

“It’s easier if you have a partner, but a spear works fine if you can drop from above. Just aim for the neck.”

Christine glanced at Iris. “Okay, well, is there anything else you want to tell me? Likes, dislikes?”

A headache was forming between his eyes, the light of the kitchen becoming harsh.

“I could do with less honey… it’s like… drinking wine…” 

“Kit, are you alright?”

“I’m fi-” his throat closed up, and he wheezed, choking on the lie. It hurt, and he grabbed his throat.

Through his blurry vision, he could see the pots and pans on the counters, hanging from the ceiling. All gray steel.

Steel cake pans, cast iron pots, knives, muffin tins. All steel or iron. He needed to get out.

He tried to get up, but his legs fell out from under him.

“Kit!” Iris grabbed him by the arm, and he slumped towards the floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?!” said Christine, and her voice was jarringly loud.

“I- I don’t know!” Iris shook him, and he tried to tell her that it hurt, but he couldn’t.

“Kit, what’s happening?!” 

The room wouldn’t stop spinning, and there were so many people talking now, all the other cooks staring staring staring.

“Dizzy,” he slurred, which was not what he meant to say.

“Get him some water,” Iris barked at Christine. “Stay with me,” she said, and where else would he be going?

“Here,” Christine handed Iris the glass, and she held it to his lips. He shook his head the best he could. He’d choke on it; his tongue was heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” said Iris as fuzzy black spots drifted across his vision. “It’s the metal! Help me get him out!”

Kit stumbled as they pushed and pulled him out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“I’m so sorry,” said Iris, letting him lie down and pant on the cool wood. “I should have known.”

“Don’ wor’ ‘bout it,” he mumbled. Kit closed his eyes. He could feel and hear Iris sit down on the floor next to him.

“Is it always this bad?” she asked. “Every time?”

“Nooo. ‘M just really sick. Won’t… be so… hard ‘n stuff,” he waved a hand, “soon.”

“Very reassuring, thanks,” said Mistress, dry as a bone. 

Kit smiled a bit into the wood. It made his face hurt, so he dropped it.

It was a half hour later when he could finally push himself off the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Iris, helping him up. “It’s my fault. I knew you were ill. Sunlight and fresh air helps, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then I’ll show you the gardens.”

“Gardens?”

“Mhm. Come on.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[six-costume-refs]

Why did Roxanne, Erin and Kelsey all switch from the side pony tail to the braid and back pony tail? Roxanne's old Parr wig was one of the best of any production, and to switch out both Erin and Kelsey's wigs when they're different from what Gabriella wore or what they used to wear just feels bizarre

Wig design is basically about trying to take the typical standardized styles and translate them to the individual actors’ faces, hair/skin tones, and textures. (Here’s a great in-depth post Sofia did that goes into more detail about this and talks about Roxanne Couch’s change too). In this case, the mid-ponytails are more flattering on them than the side.

Some styles just work better than others for different facial shapes - some people look better with a high up do, with a low, half pulled back, all down, bangs, whatever. In Roxanne’s case, the side ponytail was a little too harsh; the new wig softens and flatters her face more subtly. Similar reason for Erin Ramirez/Marilyn Caserta/Kelsee Kimmel as well. The old styles weren’t bad on them, and it was nice on Roxanne particularly! But the new styling is a better fit for all of them.

It’s also pretty heavily based on hair texture. The initial side Parr styling was based on a style sometimes worn by Alicia Keys, and the hairstyle is primarily worn by Black women. As such it's based on a range of hair types and textures that we mostly see in (some) Black women: defined, soft, loose curls with a lot of volume. If you're familiar with hair typing, it's going to work best with hair in the type 3 categories (here's a good introductory article with examples). It's a gorgeous style that can look lovely! It was very flattering on Maiya Quansah-Breed and has continued to work well for queens with similar hair styles. But Six has struggled from the start with adapting it to other hair types and textures. Most of the other Six hairstyles are generic enough that they can be adapted to different textures with minimal change to the overall aesthetic. The original Parr not so much, because it really needs that specific combo of qualities for the hairstyle to work. If you have the looseness but don't have the right curl or the volume it looks too flat and asymmetrical, which we saw with Gabriela Carrillo's initial hairstyle; if you go for the curl but go too short or structured it's just not going to flatter as many of the actors and you've lost that really lovely softness, which we've seen with quite a few of the non-Black actors' styles. Many of the Black actors naturally have the hair texture(s) and type(s) that lend itself well to the hairstyle, so they've generally had a lot of success with those. For the Black actors that don't, they've generally A. adapted the hairstyle to work with their natural hair (usually for queens with enough volume that it still translates well, like Viquichele Cross or Danielle Steers), OR B. given them a wig that may not quite match their natural hair texture, but still looks natural and allows for the right texture/structure. (Generally queens in both camps have a type 4 hair texture and which they go for has depended on budget and hair care for the individual actor.) But for the non-Black actors, that's much more difficult. Very few non-Black actors have hair that's even remotely the right texture for this hairstyle: actors like Gabriela Carrillo and Roxanne Couch have some texture but not enough of the curl and volume needed, while actors like Erin Ramirez and Kelsee Kimmel have natural hair textures that are much closer to working but still don't quite work. They could give these actors a wig with a texture different than their own that would be more conducive to the style, but while doing so generally reads as natural on the Black queens, doing so for non-Black queens would often make the wig read as unnatural or even outright inappropriate. The UK has historically gotten around all that by doing the curly side ponytail. It does work fairly well, but it's still not flattering on everyone and the style they go for is visibly unnaturally curled, which isn't inherently bad but doesn't work as well for Parr as it does for some of the other queens (her whole vibe is very low fuss, or as low as it can be given the spectacle that is Six costumes). It's not a bad choice, and like you said Roxanne's was one of the best! But it's not going to work well for everyone, and for Roxanne specifically the switch to a back ponytail is a slightly better fit, and of course they've continued that trend since.

In the US (and NCL) there's been a whole lot of experimentation. The Aragon Tour alone has gone through multiple different hairstyles. Think Gabriela Carrillo's original Aragon Tour side-swept to her loose low side ponytail, compared to Kelsee Kimmel and Erin Ramirez's loose curly updos piled more directly on top of their heads. Over on the Boleyn Tour we've seen Tay Pearlstein with a smaller and more structured side updo, and then Sydney Parra with a looser and relatively longer side ponytail (which is one of my personal favorites, actually!). For Gabi and Sydney they experimented until they got to styles they ultimately were happy with, and now they're standardized to the current back ponytail iteration, but Erin/Kelsee/Tay never quite had that. TL;DR: Back ponytail is both more flattering on most of them + an easier style adaptation for some of the queens whose hair doesn't lend itself as well to the side ponytails.

Also quick note that there’s also nothing saying the alternates’ hairstyles have to be remotely identical to the principals! Six has never really gone for that anyway, beyond the usual standardization. Like I said, they experimented with Gabi's wig (over a longgg period of time) until they got to something they were happy with, but it seems like they just never got to that point with Erin/Kelsee/Tay/etc!

[udo0stories]

  Presenting our newest and favorite way to consume greens: tamari, sesame, and garlic-seasoned sautéed Swiss chard. These salad greens are so simple to prepare, but they taste as good as they would at a restaurant. It only takes one pan, five ingredients, and fifteen minutes. When paired with Asian-inspired entrées, this adaptable and nutrient-dense side dish works well as a simple meal when combined with rice and your preferred protein. Let us cook some luscious greens! To make these easy, savory greens, first sauté garlic until fragrant in toasted sesame oil. For an extra spicy, gingery kick, feel free to add ginger and red pepper flakes! We endorse them. The leaves of the Swiss chard are then chopped. You can use the stems as well, adding them sooner to ensure they become tender, but using just the leaves yields a more tender, delectable result. Tamari and water are the last ingredients. These greens have an Asian-inspired flavor profile that is enhanced by the addition of tamarind, and cooking them for a longer period of time makes them very tender and fully absorbs the flavors. Although the ingredients in this recipe are frequently found in Chinese and Japanese cuisine, it should be noted that it is not specifically inspired by any one dish. We would be delighted to hear about any similar dishes you may know of in the comments section! We sincerely hope you enjoy our sautéed Swiss chard! It's TentativesavoryGingery and garlickymildly hotEasy & quick& incredibly adaptable! We love these greens with rice and tofu for a quick dinner (a new recipe is on the way!). They would also taste great with our Easy Baked Chicken Breasts, Crispy Skin Salmon (Perfect Every Time), or Crispy Baked Gochujang Tofu (Korean-Inspired). More Delicious Ways to Prepare Greens Tell us if you give this recipe a try! Do not forget to rate it, comment, and tag @minimalistbaker on Instagram. Salutations, companions! Time for Preparation: 5 minutesminutes Cooking Duration: 10 minutesminutes 15 in total time minutesminutes There are two servings. Course-Side Asian-Inspired Cuisine Not Freezer Friendly Does it hold up? Two to three days Cook Mode Prevent your screen from going dark 2–3 tsp. oil from toasted seeds Two minced or pressed garlic cloves 1 tsp. finely chopped (optional) ginger 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (do not add if you are not a spicy person) 1 bunch (about 5–6 cups or 180 g) of Swiss chard leaves*, stems removed and leaves coarsely chopped 2 to 3 tsp tamari (check for gluten if necessary) one-fourth cup water Place a big skillet with a rim over low to medium heat. Cook the garlic, ginger (if using), and red pepper flakes in the sesame oil (starting at the lower end of the range) for 2-3 minutes, or until fragrant and lightly sizzling, taking care not to burn. Reapply the extra oil as necessary. Turn the heat up to medium and add the Swiss chard. In order to coat the greens in the oil and garlic mixture evenly, mix well. Add the tamari and toss to coat the slightly wilted greens. To prevent sticking or burning, add the water, cover, and reduce the heat to low. Simmer for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the greens are soft and dark in color and the water has mostly evaporated. Taste and adjust, adding more water if the greens need to cook longer, or more tamari for saltiness and flavor in general. Eat it warm with rice and your preferred protein or with Asian-inspired main courses. Though leftovers keep in the refrigerator for two to three days, they are best when fresh. Here, the greens would work! Cooking spinach will happen more quickly. You may need to cook kale, mustard greens, or collard greens longer and with more water.*If you would like to use the stems, add them in step 1 and increase the cook time in step 3. We found that the texture of the chard leaves was better without them.*Nutrition data is an approximate calculation made with less sesame oil and without optional ingredients. One serving is provided.

66 calories: fat: 4.8 g, protein: 2.5 g, and carbohydrates: 4.8 g 0.7 g of saturated fat 2 g of polyunsaturated fat 1.8 grams of monounsaturated fat Trans Fat: N/A Zero milligrams of cholesterol 528 mg of sodium, 369 mg of potassium 1.6 g of fiber 1.2 g of sugar, 929 IU of vitamin A 28 milligrams of vitamin C 53 mg of calcium 1.8 mg of iron  

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[deancodedcastielenby]

It started out with a XX

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I am putting Tags first so I don’t forget like the horrible trash panda I am: @casmick-consequences , @proudcasgirl , & @paintdriesfaster You have asked to be tagged, or for Casmick you are the reason this is here. The Date Continues  This is 100% unbeta’d and I am litterally on my work computer writing in between phone calls so. I apologize for any spelling errors or punctuation since I am a trash panda. XX love you all, enjoy

Castiel is under the impression that Mick Davies is an interesting human. The man seems charmed by many of the words that Castiel uses, and has no problems showing his obvious interest. There have been other humans in his time in this vessel that have shown a reaction to his person, and now that this body is his and no longer Jimmy’s it is an interesting notion that he would be coveted carnally from anyone. Still, Mick is interesting and the conversation that he engages in with Castiel over a shared dinner have kept Castiel enthralled at least. The dinner was odd, it still tasted like molecules, but Mick made a point to have him try a bite or two of everything and explain how he found the flavors. 

The white sauce on the noodles, for example, Castiel knew was called Alfredo sauce, but Mick described it much better before he had Castiel try a bite off his fork. There was flavor that he hadn’t expected, on top of the molecules, but perhaps being described before eating was the difference. No one had ever thought to try that before. The breaded mushrooms were an odd texture that Castiel was not sure that he liked, but Mick did say that sometimes the dipping sauces made them better, and the sweet dessert was delicious, and tasted faintly of coffee. That was a beverage he missed from being human. 

As far as humans go, Mick was charming and rather handsome, though at this point Castiel realized he had a type. Claire had pointed it out when he described Mick to her before the date. His eyes may not be the right shade of green that he prefers, but they are quite beautiful none the less. In fairness Mick had also dressed up for the occasion and was wearing an outfit similar to his own, though he was wearing brown. That was a brown slacks and waistcoat over a light blue shirt and a matching brown blazer. The overall effect was very charming, and very appealing. Castiel had on occasion browsed through different magazines and had seen similar outfits on different models, so he assumed it was a fashion thing, but Mick was able to pull it off nicely.  Of course there was a few glasses of wine with dinner, and Castiel was able to sip them carefully during conversation. It was true he had a rather high tolerance for alcohol, so it wasn’t that he needed to, but he had tried to keep pace with Mick to make sure that he blended in. Over all Castiel would say that the date was a success. Many times throughout the conversation he was able to pick up on the different flirtations that Mick was sending his way, and apparently he was sending back. Once or twice he was able to say something that made Mick laugh loudly and give him a wide smile that made his face mirror one in return. To say that dinner was pleasant would be an understatement.  After dinner Mick asked if he would like to take a walk and continue their conversation. It was getting darker outside, but still there was plenty of light with the street lamps and there was such a quaint little park they could walk around. It was simple to agree, and so they left hand in hand after Mick paid for their meal. “I insist Castiel, honestly it was mostly my meal anyway.” That was another strange feeling, being hand in hand with Mick. There was a brief moment where he remembered Daphne, she would hold his hand sometimes when they were out and about, but he never had this strange intimacy with another person after his memories came back. The hand in his own was not a dainty one, it was on the larger side with blunt fingers and the cool metal of a ring on his pinky finger. Over all he experience was new.  At one point Mick had released his hand, and of course Castiel frowned when he missed it immediately, only to have him slip Castiel’s hand in the crook of his elbow and seemingly step closer. “I am honestly surprised that you came out with me this evening.” They were on their second loop of the small park, their gait was slow and measured to eat up more time. Almost as if neither one was quite ready for the evening to end. “It seemed as though you were very much in the Winchester’s pockets and that they did not like me very much.”  “They do have a negative disposition to the British Men of Letters, Arthur Ketch left a rather bad taste in their mouths and I do not blame them for that, however they are not my keepers and I am free to make opinions on other humans.” Ever the peace keeper, or so it seemed, Castiel tried for a neutral ground. That was until Mick barked out a bit of a laugh. 

“I would suppose so, though not all of us Brits are quite like Ketch. I am hoping you would have a better opinion of me after our date. Perhaps I should inquire as to another?” It seemed the man was looking at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, which was odd, but it only took a moment to realize that he was asking Castiel out on another outing. This was courting wasn’t it? The odd human custom? 

“I would not be against another outing, though I had thought you were to return to England soon.” The words were out before Castiel could reel them back, but they were true none the less. Mick did not know that Castiel could travel to England with just a thought, so it wasn’t that the distance was a problem. Castiel would just like to know where he stood, it was so hard to gage with Dean where exactly things lay between them when Dean was in denial and never spoke. Perhaps this was Castiel’s way of making sure that whatever this was with Mick, it was different.   “I will have to return home eventually of course, but I would very much enjoy spending time with you whilst I can. Your conversation skills are spectacular, it is rather hard to have meaningful conversations about things anymore, and you are quite a sight to look at as well so that is a bonus for me.” These words were said with a smile and a pat to Castiel’s shoulder, “I am aware that our engagement here is limited, not just by time. I have eyes, I know I am not your first choice and that is fine with me, honestly. I just think that while I am here, I can show you what a relationship should be like, so that you know.” Stopping their circle of the park, they were in a bit of shadow of a corpse of trees but they could still see the stars if they were to look up. They didn’t.  “I will not take advantage of you, or your kindness. I want us to be open and honest with each other, so that when I do have to return to England, we could still walk away as friends and you can come to me with anything. Though right now, I would very much like to kiss you if you would be amenable?” The words were honest and open, much like the expression that Mick was wearing. Mick wanted a relationship, in what ever capacity that he could while he was here that could translate to a great friendship when he left, and honestly what did Castiel have to loose? The want to experience something good and meaningful after watching the one he wanted jump into bed with countless others....  “I am amenable.” The response was gruff and quiet, almost an afterthought, though Mick had heard it if the wide smile on his face was anything to go by. Oh so gently one of Mick’s hands cupped the side of Castiel’s head and guided their lips together in a sweet and soft touch. The kiss itself was chaste, but it seemed to cause an ache somewhere in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. It was genuine intimacy and affection, something he never knew he honestly needed, but with the gentle press of lips it was something that he was honestly going to crave. After a moment or two of soft pressure Mick pulled back to gage the reaction on the angel’s face.  “Well, no fireworks which is a shame, but I can live with that.” A slightly cocky smile lit the side of his mouth, “Unless you’d like another?”  “I always expected that kisses would be... more than just a press of lips.” It wasn’t that Castiel hadn’t experienced kisses, because he had on a few occasions, namely with women. Though the thought made him tilt his head slightly and squint in confusion. 

“Ah, you were expecting more passion and enthusiasm perhaps? What kind of Brit do you take me for, a savage? This is a first date after all, need to keep you on your toes and coming back for a second one.” There was something akin to mischief in Mick’s eyes before he laughed, “well I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.” With that he did pull Castiel’s head down once again to meet his lips, this time with a bit more of a firmer touch. The scrape of stubble against his skin was a bit firmer now, and he could actually feel it. After some maneuvering to fit their lips just so, a hint of a tongue pressed against the seam of the angel’s lips and he opened to the onslaught of Mick’s rather talented tongue. 

Unsure of exactly how long they stood there, in the slight shadow of the trees kissing quite like teenagers, they broke apart. A soft flush to Mick’s features made him more endearing in a way as he seemed to shiver and attempt to take a step back. It was a strange sensation feeling Mick release him, as it seemed that the hand that was not tangled into his hair had found his hip, not that he had noticed at the time. “Well now, that was... something else. Shall I return you home then Cinderella? Or is there a night in shining muscle around here somewhere waiting to whisk you away?”  “I do know how to drive.” Something about the way that Mick said the words was unsettling, though Dean did tell him to call when he was ready to be picked up. Castiel was an angel of the lord and he could take care of himself. 

“Of course you do, I never said you couldn’t. Perhaps you could walk me to my car then?” Mick gave a soft chuff and a slight bow of an apology holding out his elbow again. Castiel missed that strange closeness so he nodded and tucked his hand into the crook and walked Mick back to the restaurant and to his car. Luckily he did not see the Impala anywhere on their walk, and Castiel indulged Mick with another kiss at the car before watching him climb inside. “Do let me know when you are free for another Date.” Mick said after yet another soft press of lips before driving off and down the street.  It was a few moments before Castiel moved and headed back to the park, keeping himself invisible from any kind of eyes until he was standing where he and Mick had been only a little while before. Pulling out his phone he sent off a text to Dean, letting him know that he was not going to need a ride home, nor would he be back that evening. There was far too much for the angel to think about at that moment, and far to much for him to replay to even attempt to be near Dean right now. Instead he found himself sitting on a bench in that park, staring at the emptiness of the night, not getting a reply from Dean at all, but that was fine. The hunter had probably fallen asleep anyway, it was better for him to get the rest than worry about Castiel.  

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[ushijimas-koibito]

request no. 1

request: clingy ushiwaka. the partner has the same haircut as him and is trying to get their work done.

author’s note: thank you so much @im-cold-so-gimme-your-hoodie​! i appreciate your request and will give it my best. i hope you enjoy and i look forward to hearing your feedback. 

title: toshi comes home.

warnings: suggestive behavior, kissing, nudity, cheese, fluff

listening: crush on you by elijah who; it’s finally raining again by elijah who; sincerely, yours by nohidea; my new love by elijah who; frozen by sabrina claudio; wanna know by sabrina claudio; this town by ama lou; could’ve been by H.E.R and bryson tyler; i fall in love too easily by caleb belkin; wild by dijon; goodbye, good luck by sad face; laundry day by joey pecorano; monday loop by tomppabeats; give me something by joey pecorano

5:30; his flight should land soon and he would be back in your arms. ushijima wakatoshi, your partner, was returning home today after a very long national press tour. the two of you had video chatted every night, but it wasn’t the same as having him here with you. you felt a little guilty as you wait there in the airport lobby answering emails. you thought you timed everything right. you were sure you would finish everything for work by tuesday; and you would… but today is monday. how you got the dates confused, you will never know as you are an extremely punctual, efficient, and timely person. you had to be as a project manager for a major up-and-coming tech company. you and ushijima were something of a power couple. two of the youngest but most powerful people in your respective fields. you were each a force to be reckoned with.

 you looked around the airport a moment, although mostly empty, you still managed to turn heads. you turned towards the windows looking out over the parking deck and caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection. you adjusted the collar of your shirt and curled a face framing hair around your finger to smooth out the little bit of frizz. you hoped he liked it on you. you usually kept your hair quite long, at least to your shoulders, but the notion of having to style it and losing minutes to your hair was something you couldn’t take anymore. it looked very similar to ushijima’s hair, save for your hair being a different color and texture. the slight wave of your hair annoyed you but it was one of ushijima’s favorite things. the more you thought about it the more you realized almost everything that annoyed you about yourself was something he loved. he was always picking up on your quirks and insecurities and he found a way to romanticize them. he was just that way, seeing beauty in strange things, glamor in the mundane, and depth in simplicity. you checked your watch and turned to the gate. he was landing shortly. 

you noticed a few paparazzi scuttle in and you tighten your jaw. couldn’t they leave him alone for just one day? you thought to yourself as you pulled the front hem of your blazer. you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose and straighten your posture and walk closer to the gate. ushijima would be in a much better mood if you were the first to intercept him instead of the paparazzi. as you walk toward the gate you hear the sound of a shutter click and a flash go off. you whip your head towards the young cameraman who has been stopped by an older journalist, “what are you doing? that’s not him.” the cameraman looks at you a moment longer before turning away under the pressure of your icy gaze. you check your reflection in your phone, my hair isn’t exactly like his, you ponder, is it?

at that moment you get a text from ushijima, be there soon. waiting for bags. can’t wait to see you. missed you, my dear. you smile and open your emails to squeeze in some more work. you always miss wakatoshi when he leaves and you hate that your first day back together will be spent with you working. if you don’t finish the work tonight, it will cut into your time together with the few days you have before he leaves again. the sooner you both get home, the sooner you could finish your work, the sooner you could be together with no distractions. he was sure to be frustrated but understanding.

 the doors opened and there he was walking toward you. his usually serious expression faded away and a smile crept its way across his face. he walked directly up to you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “hello, my dove,” he rested his forehead against yours for a moment before taking a step back, “your hair,” he said quietly. “do you like it?” you squeezed his hand a little. “of course I do.” he pushed a tendril out of your eyes and pushed up your glasses with his knuckle, not releasing your hand to do so. you took his bag in your other hand, “the car is waiting for us outside.” you walked hand in hand without a glance to the paparazzi. you handed the bags to the driver and opened the back door for ushijima. he tilted his head back against the head rest and you slid in. he reached his arm across the seats and patted his hand against his chest to gesture you to give him a cuddle. you slid across the seats and he leaned his cheek against the top of your head as you draped your arm across his torso. he let out a long breath, “it’s good to be home.” you nuzzled his cheek and pulled him closer. you enjoy this simple moment; the rise and fall of his broad chest, the warmth of his body radiating through his thin cashmere sweater, the quiet inhale and exhale of breath against your skin, “you must be tired, darling.” he shook his head, “not really. i slept a bit on the plane. i made sure to get sleep so i could spend as much time as possible with you.” you can feel him smile against your head, “about that,” you say hesitantly as you pull away to look at him, “uh oh,” he whispers with a smirk, “i’m sorry,” you begin, “I just have a few things to finish up and then i’m all yours for the next five days,” he smiles and ruffles your hair, “you’re always mine.. but I understand.” he pulls you into his strong arms and holds you tight all the way to your apartment.

just as you arrive, your phone buzzes with a call from your business partner, “hello shimizu, i just picked up ushijima from the airport and i’m about to head upstairs.” ushijima waves his hand before picking up his bag, “he says ‘hello’,” you laugh softly while you fumble with your keys and head toward the entrance. you walk in and get on the elevator as she preps you for the video meeting. you look at ushijima and whisper, “kiyoko says hello back, she’s prepping me for the meeting.” he nods, “we’ll have to have her and ryu over for dinner this week.” you nod back. you both enter the elevator and he puts his arm around you as you listen carefully to the instructions; another pang of guilt washes over you as you catch him studying your face. he always looks at you like you’re going to disappear, as if you’re going to be a figment of his imagination, or like he’s afraid that one day he might forget. “alright, shimizu, i’m almost inside. i’ll be settled soon and we can jump on to finish prepping before the meeting.” you hang up and slip your phone in your blazer pocket. you have a few floors to enjoy the quiet with wakatoshi. he leans his head against yours and kisses your cheek. he lingers a moment and then tenderly kisses just behind your ear, “your haircut makes it easier for me to kiss your neck,” he whispers, “i like it.” you blush slightly and jump when the floor bell rings. he laughs picking up his bags and walking onto your floor, “come on,” he says with a smile, “wouldn’t want you to be late for your meeting.” you hesitate letting the guilt wash over you once more before walking up the hall and unlocking the door to your pristine corner apartment. 

the apartment was very calming and soothing to be in. deep, cool colors and lots of open space with many beautiful plants. “i swear, (y/n), the orchids thrive when you take care of them.” ushijima delicately cradled the white and purple bloom in his fingers and craned down to take in it’s fragrance. the apartment always feels more like a home when he’s here. despite having floor to ceiling walls of windows, the place never fills with light until he comes home. you walk into the kitchen and turn on the kettle, “tea?” you asked, ushijima runs his hands through his hair and comes behind the counter, “i’ll make it, you go on ahead. don’t keep kiyoko waiting.” he bumps you out of the way with his hip and takes the tea bags out of your hands. you kiss his shoulder before heading towards your desk and taking off your blazer. 

you sit at your desk and prepare yourself for the meeting. shimizu is already logged on and waiting. you open your documents and sign on to the video chat, “sorry to keep you waiting, shimizu.” over the next few minutes, you put the final touches on your project proposal. ushijima comes up with two teas for you both. he comes behind the desk and hunches down to be in frame of the camera, “hello kiyoko,” he says while setting down your tea. “i’m not sure if (y/n) has offered yet, but we would love to have you and ryu over for dinner this week.” she smiles and agrees that she will have to speak to ryu and hopefully you lot can work something out. “i certainly hope so,” he says before turning to you, “let me know if it needs more sugar,” he waves to the camera and then sits in the chair in front of your desk. you feel his feet touch yours as he stretches out reading an article from his press tour in a magazine. “ushijima, please don’t feel obligated to stay in the apartment, i’d hate for you to just be bored all-,” he cuts you off, “all I want to do is spend the day with you. i can handle sitting here for awhile.” you shake your head and log into your meeting. the meeting goes on for a couple hours. during your meeting ushijima refilled your tea, played footsie with you under the desk, and drew little plants and hearts on your sticky pad. he was very sweet and you felt bad that you couldn’t give him the attention he deserved. 

after another hour of meetings and presentations passes, ushijima wonders into the kitchen and makes you both lunch. every so often, he looks up from his work and looks at you. he loves seeing you at work. he can only hope that you receive the same thrill he gets when he sees you at one of his matches. although, to be honest, he makes you nervous. you are so aware of his intense gaze and his deep eyes following your every move, that you become more aware of what you’re doing and that makes you uneasy. you’ve never been the best at handling the pressure of being observed and watched. the first half of your meeting wraps up and you all sign off to take a break for lunch. 

ushijima has set up your lunches and waves you over. it’s a simple and nutritious lunch with vegetables, rice, and fish. he was a very good cook. everything he makes is simple but delicious. it’s an easy meal to finish quickly. you take the dishes to the kitchen and hear ushijima walk up behind you. he wraps his arms around you and plants airy kisses from your ear, down your neck, and to your shoulder. he slides his hands down your sides and grabs your hips, “please tell me you’re almost done with work,” he pleads in your ear and grazes his teeth across your skin. “ju-just a little while longer, toshi," you gulp as you hear his breath shudder and he pushes against you causing you to lean against the counter. he runs his hand from your hip, down your thigh and drags his fingers up your leg digging his fingers in, “promise?” he asks. “i-i promise.” you say feeling your heart slam against your chest. you wriggle away, “but i can’t think when you do stuff like that.” he laughs softly, “like what?” he asks coyly. you wave your hand towards where you just were in the kitchen, “like that, don’t be coy.” he saunters toward you, “i don’t know what you mean.” you back up until your back hits the wall, “yes you do. we’ll have plenty of time for that sort of thing after i’m done working,” he stands in front of you and his eyes seem to undress you, “but I missed you, dove,” you turn to walk away but he places his hand against the wall blocking your path and his face is inches from yours. he places his other hand on the opposite side of you, “and i’m taking my opportunity now to show you how much,” he nudges your nose with his and rocks his hips into yours. although you are flustered, you know what you must do. you stand up straight and look into his eyes, “ushijima,” you say flatly, “i have work to do and there is no amount of kabedon tomfoolery that can distract me.” he drops his arms and takes a step back and for a moment you think you’ve finally intimidated the great ushiwaka, until he erupts into laughter. “well, well, well, have I lost my touch then?” you roll your eyes and turn to walk away but he grabs your arm and spins you into an embrace. his eyes are very intense and serious, “do i really have no effect on you?” your breath hitches in your throat, “don’t be dramatic,” you say through a slight pout, “i just need to finish my work and then we can do this all day!” you push against his chest and stumble toward your desk. he chuckles and plops down in the chair in front of your desk, “fine,” he says, “i can behave.” you start to log back on, “for now.” he smirks and flicks open the magazine. 

when ushijima gets clingy, it excites him when he can’t immediately get attention. it becomes a competition and he wants nothing more than to win. all throughout the remainder of your video meeting he was watching, sighing, stretching, and pushing his hands through his hair in the way he knows you like. you could hardly pay attention. this wasn’t the hard part. you knew he wouldn’t try too hard as long as you were on video chat, but the moment you got off and did your independent work, you knew it would be a real challenge. 

you signed off for the day and began finishing up your work before you had to reply to emails. ushijima stood up and came around the back of the desk. “i don’t know how you’re able to sit all day. i’d be far too restless,” he pushed down on your shoulders and began to massage them. he spends a little extra time on the nape of your neck, now easily accessible thanks to your new haircut. you roll your shoulders back and hear a small pop, “you’ve been working so hard, maybe you can take a little break?” you sigh as he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “i’m almost done, toshi.” he sighs and squeezes your shoulders, “let me finish this and then i don’t have to do this again until sunday.” he groans in frustration and slips his hand underneath your shirt to trace circles on your chest, “how much longer?” he asks like a child waiting to open presents on their birthday. you look at the clock, “about an hour.” he huffs and sighs again, raking his fingers across your chest, “alright.” he pulls away reluctantly and stands in front of your desk. you continue to work on your computer and watch him out of the corner of your eye. at first he plops into the chair, stands up, paces back and forth, and then repeats the cycle. after about half an hour of this, he stands and looks at the clock, “you have much left?” you nod, not looking from your work, “at least another half hour.” he mumbles under his breath and paces a few more times. “i suppose i’ll have a quick shower,” he says forlornly, “alright, dear,” you say concentrating on your last few emails. suddenly, your vision goes dark and cashmere rubs across your face, ushijima has taken off his sweater and thrown it at your head. you slowly pull it off and look at him as he folds his trousers over his arm. he smiles wryly and saunters over to you, “how clumsy of me, slipped right through my fingers.” he stands very close to you and gathers the sweater up. you look up at him, “this will only take longer if you keep tempting me.” he laughs softly and curls a finger under your chin, “at least you are tempted,” he says with a sigh and walks off to the bathroom. hopefully you can finish up. he is so distracting. how you managed this long without giving in is astonishing. 

the half hour of no distractions passes like a flash. you turn off your computer, take off your glasses, and rub the bridge of your nose. he has been awfully quiet since you heard the shower turn off. you get up from your desk and start to unbutton your shirt. you round the corner and look into your bedroom to find ushijima sleeping on the bed, hair wet, still wrapped in his towel. you smile, i knew he was more tired than he let on. you finish getting undressed and hear him snore a little. before heading to the shower you grab the blanket and go to cover him up. as you go to adjust his pillow, his eyes open with a glint and he traps you in his arms, rolling and pulling you on the bed. he peppers your face and neck with kisses as you both laugh together, rolling back and forth across the bed. “did you think i would really lose sight of my goal?” he smirks. “of course not, you’re ushijima wakatoshi,” you say seriously. you both erupt into hearty laughter before settling into each others arms. “so,” he begins, pulling you closer, “all mine now, (y/n)?” you smile and plant a sweet kiss on his lips, “i am always yours, wakatoshi.” 

[hoodwinkd1]

the stars that shine - Ch 1

Fic Summary: “Eva, darling, Dorian has a few questions for you,” Lysandra interrupted. She tilted her head as she looked Hollin over, an eerily animalistic quality in her gaze. “Will you be attending the same classes?”

He turned his head to Dorian. “Will I be what?”

His brother took a sip of wine. “I’m sure I told you about this. Evangeline will be staying with us for the next few months to expand her education.” Placing the glass down, he looked at the girl in question with clear affection in his eyes. ------ Coming of age in a post-war world could never be easy. Growing up under the watchful eye of Erilea's most powerful and famous heroes is just a little bit harder. Figuring out what the hell they're supposed to do in this big, wide world might require a little more teamwork than either of them realize.

Ch 2 here.

Chapter 1: just two kids

The first time they met, neither of them knew what the hell was going on. The adults spoke in whispers and shed tears that they couldn’t understand, being only eleven years old. Evangeline grew tired of hiding behind Lysandra and clinging to Aedion; she wanted to explore this massive palace that served as her temporary home. Aelin had insisted that they all remain together for a few weeks after her coronation, giving them all some time to figure out how to be a court and a family.

For once, Evangeline’s short stature helped her as she ducked behind people and columns until she found the exit. She picked a direction at random, happy to wander around the hallways and take in the décor, even if some of it looked worse for wear. She hummed to herself as she walked, so focused on absorbing every piece of Terrasen that she could glean from the paintings that hung proudly (if not a bit slanted).

Terrasen. Her new kingdom. Evangeline had never felt any sort of connection to Adarlan. No one had ever held her hand at a celebratory parade or taught her the national song, if there even was such a thing. Her childhood contained no memories of pride or patriotism, nothing beyond a lingering resentment for what her parents did to survive.

“Evangeline! What are you doing away from the party?” She nearly jumped out of her skin at that cheery voice, her eyes darting up to meet the King’s kind smile. Dorian might have deserved her patriotism, if Lysandra and her had remained in Rifthold.

“I was exploring.” She shifted her weight a couple times. Although his face was kind, she really didn’t know him that well. And grown men, especially those with power, cause her to clam up. She remembered her manners just in time to add: “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Your Majesty.”

He waved a hand. “Please, just Dorian. We’ve all been through too much for fancy titles, don’t you think? We were just about to say our goodbyes and head out.”

At his statement, Evangeline finally noticed the boy sulking behind Dorian. Hollin didn’t acknowledge her at all, never even looked at her despite their similar age and forced proximity. She shoved down her irritation, choosing to be the mature and polite one.

“Are you excited to go home?” she asked sweetly, staring directly at the prince. He continued to study the wall next to him, ignoring her yet again, until Dorian shoved his shoulder lightly.

Hollin sighed in a way that made Evangeline’s blood boil. “I cannot wait to sleep in a chamber that doesn’t look like it might collapse on me in my sleep,” he answered, scrunching his nose in disgust.

Her eyes widened. She could have died, not a full two weeks ago, during the final battle against the Valg and Hollin was complaining about the state of his bedroom? Hundreds of replies ran through her mind, most of them including telling him where he could shove that selfish opinion--

“What my brother means to say, is that he wishes Terrasen a speedy recovery after so many trials,” Dorian interjected, placing his hand on Hollin’s shoulder. His grip tightened as he steered his younger brother around Evangeline, mouthing a quick “sorry” as they passed. “I hope you know that you’re welcome in Adarlan at any time. Until next time!”

“Thank you,” Evangeline replied uncertainly, spinning on her heel to watch them walk away. She still couldn’t truly say how she felt about Dorian, but she had never been more grateful for the crown on his head. At the very least, it kept that nasty little boy from having any sort of power he would surely abuse.

She kept walking. Sparing a glance over her shoulder to make sure they no longer lingered, Evangeline pushed into the chambers the royals had just vacated. She wasn’t snooping, just curious if their bed was bigger than hers.

The room was in perfectly fine condition, maybe lacking some of the over-the-top amenities that the former conquering nation of Adarlan could afford. She peeked into the first bedroom and let out a small gasp. So Aelin had given them nicer accommodations. The bed was massive, even bigger than Aedion’s bed (which Lysandra snuck into every night when she thought Evangeline was asleep). Logically, the larger man deserved the larger bed, right?

She looked into the next bedroom. This one was much more comparable to her room, only containing a queen-size mattress and a dresser. Evangeline ran her fingers along the silk sheets, wondering if it would be selfish to ask for these chambers for herself. She might enjoy having the space to herself, and Lysandra might not feel so guilty about spending time with her beloved.

A ray of the setting sun cut through the curtains, reflecting sharply off something in the corner of her eye. There, mostly hidden beneath the dresser, was a small piece of metal. Evangeline dropped to her knees and reached for it, fingers closing around the wiry texture.

It was a ship. Fashioned out of a long piece of aluminum that may have once been a large kitchen utensil. She examined the trinket, trying to imagine how one might have bent the shape hundreds of times to form a tiny replica of the boats that floated in the docks of Ilium.

Evangeline happened to love trinkets and tiny things, so she shoved it in her pocket, considering today’s exploration a wonderful success.

---

Hollin stared at the feast in front of him, wanting nothing more than to snatch up a plate full of food and run to his rooms to devour it in peace. Unfortunately, if he vacated his hiding spot behind one of the larger ice chests, the kitchen staff would surely see him and report his location to Queen Mother Georgina. And then she would surely force him back into the dining room to rejoin the most boring conversation he had ever had to sit through.

As part of his education, Hollin’s tutor taught him the importance of treating guests with civility and respect through proper socialization. While the prince normally managed to suffer through an entire dinner without running away, Hollin simply couldn’t pretend any longer. Not after he stayed up almost until dawn the night before, completely caught up in a new research project.

And although the prince had managed great strides in the two years since the war, shedding some of his more immature and selfish tendencies, he had never learned how to love a crowd the way his brother could. Dorian positively thrived in front of an audience, telling witty stories and navigating even the trickiest of topics with an easy smile.

He watched the head chef finish plating the soups, adding a fried green leek to each bowl. Hollin’s stomach growled, hidden by the noise of crashing plates and rolling carts.

“Hollin!” A sharp voice cut through the clatter. “If you’re in here, come out at once before you embarrass us any further.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. His mother had caught on to his hiding spot far too quickly. Rather than facing the indignation of getting literally dragged out of the corner by the indignant queen, he stood and brushed the lint of his pants.

Walking towards where Georgina stood, her arms crossed, Hollin searched his mind for any excuse that might explain his absence. “I wasn’t feeling well?”

“I planned on serving dinner as soon as the last guest arrived, but now everyone had to wait. Does that make you happy?” she demanded, reaching over to shove some of his hair back. “Remind me to send Donya your way tomorrow. This is getting out of hand.”

Hollin preferred his hair long, brushing his forehead and the back of his neck, but there was no arguing with her. “The dinner?” he prompted, warding off any further complaints about his appearance.

“Go, now. I need to run a final check on everything.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. Hollin ran out the door at that point, marveling at how much better the dinner party sounded after one simple interaction with his mother.

Pushing through the swinging doors, he was relieved to find most people standing around, finishing up their chatter and their drinks. Darting past a couple of particularly dull nobles and keeping his head down to avoid detection, Hollin scanned the table for his name card.

“Your Highness!” He winced at the nasally voice of Lord Ramdon and the impending doom of yet another economic lecture. “I was just telling your brother about the effects of his new trade agreement on the price of coal over the next five--”

“Please take your seats. Dinner will be served momentarily.” The voice rang out through the room, giving Hollin the opportunity to escape and finally sink into his seat, two chairs away from the head of the table.

Dorian slipped into the massive chair a moment later. “Mother tracked you down?” he asked, offering Hollin a sympathetic look.

“Obviously.” Hollin grabbed his napkin and threw it on his lap, a bit forcefully. “Enjoying the stimulating conversation tonight?”

Dorian laughed. “It was getting a bit dull for awhile there. Thankfully, some more exciting guests showed up at the last minute-oh, speak of the devil!” He stood up, waving to someone over Hollin’s shoulder.

The prince stifled a groan. He glanced at the nametag to his right, at the same time as the person in question filled the seat.

“Hello,” Evangeline smiled at him. “I didn’t notice you when we first arrived.”

Aedion Ashryver and Lysandra Ennar took their places across the table, also smiling warmly at him. Hollin never understood how these people managed to be so happy all of the damned time. Something like jealousy always churned in his stomach when he saw the familiarity and love shared between them, as if a devastating war hadn’t almost ripped them apart.

“I had a...prince thing to do.” He winced at how weak the words sounded. “I hope the journey was easy for you.”

“It was! We travelled quite light for this visit, since it’s much more informal and last-minute” Evangeline perked up as she spoke, starting on a tangent about the route they had taken. In all his fourteen years, Hollin had never met a group of people who talked quite as much as Queen Aelin’s court.

At least he grew out of his snark and pettiness since he left Terrasen for the last time. He forced a polite smile on his face as she rambled.

“Eva, darling, Dorian has a few questions for you,” Lysandra interrupted. She tilted her head as she looked Hollin over, an eerily animalistic quality in her gaze. “Will you be attending the same classes?”

He turned his head to Dorian. “Will I be what?”

His brother took a sip of wine. “I’m sure I told you about this. Evangeline will be staying with us for the next few months to expand her education.” Placing the glass down, he looked at the girl in question with clear affection in his eyes. “I wanted to know, are there any additional activities you’d like to pursue while in Rifthold? Perhaps something in the arts?”

“Oh goodness, I’d love that,” Evangeline gushed. “I know that the theater here is beyond what we have in Terrasen; I’m sure there’s so much to learn from the actors and writers there.”

Hollin’s head hurt. He knew that Dorian would try to force them to get along while she stayed with them, in some bizarre attempt to expose him to so-called good people.

Even after the king had dedicated his time to being an older brother, even though Hollin tried so hard to avoid being another problem Dorian had to handle, he would never garner the look of affection that Evangeline did. He would never be Dorian’s friend in a way the Terrasen court was.

“Hollin attended one of the performances last week.” Dorian leaned forward, catching his brother’s eye with a meaningful look. “Perhaps you could take a look at the upcoming schedule, recommend something for her.”

The meddling had begun a whooping five minutes into the first course.

“I would be happy to,” Hollin replied. “Do you have any particular interests?”

For better or for worse, that question set Evangaline off on another tangent. Dorian gave him a subtle thumbs up as she chattered away, returning his focus to Lysandra and Aedion.

Hollin took the reprieve gratefully, digging into his soup. He mentally calculated how many minutes stood between him and the final course, already considering the night a massive failure.

[thestraggletag]

Creature Comforts, a Dragon!Rumbelle Sequel

Summary: The morning after the storm. Sequel to Creature Instincts.

Rating: PG-13

He woke up some time during the night, disoriented from having fallen asleep somewhere other than his bed. He noticed idly that there was light coming from the kitchen, which meant the power was back. But the heating would take time warming up the house, big and old as it was, so he tried to disentangle himself from Belle to tend to the fire. 

“Let me, I’m closer.”

Belle rose, unselfconscious of her nudity, and pecked him on the cheek before reaching out to the neat stack of firewood and tossing a couple of logs into the dying embers of the fire. He watched in fascination as she reared back, taking a deep breath before blowing a steady blue plume of fire, setting the wood aflame. He noticed her eyes shone greater as she breathed fire. He had noticed his do the same. He marvelled at how small she was, how dainty and fragile-looking, and yet how it was all a ruse, well-crafted lie. She was a creature of power, with more strength and stamina that a human could ever hope to have.

‘A perfect match for us.’ The creature inside him was curled up, still seemingly satisfied by their recent rough coupling. It had never felt so before after sex, quite the contrary. It disliked being constrained and limited, being told to hold back, to be softer, or gentler or altogether less. He hadn’t had to hold back with Belle, with her thick skin and brute force. His muscles ached in a way they never had before. She had given him as good as she got and it felt wonderful, to be so tired, so spent.

“You look at me like I’m unreal, it’s very flattering, but strange. Haven’t you met any of our kind before?”

Belle shifted till she was draped over him, arms folded on his chest and chin propped up over them, peering at him curiously with sleepy eyes. She felt soft and loose above him, not an ounce of tension in her body. 

‘We tucked her out. How lovely.’ The creature purred, pressing against the edges of his consciousness. ‘Let’s do it again.’

It was possibly giddy, like a child, and it made him giddy too. He shook his head, telling her his only encounters with those of his kind were from far away and long ago, people in passing that had smelt a bit like him from a distance. 

“I’ve heard tales, and tracked down stories. I have come across antiques that were obviously once part of another dragon’s hoard, by the smell and feel of them. But that’s about as close as I’ve gotten.” He stroked her back, loving the sleek texture of her scales, and how warm she was. A furnace, just like him. “What about you?”

“Mom died when I was little, but her family kept in touch, helped me growing up. Introduced me to a small community of dragons in Australia. Mostly male dragons, I think everyone was hoping for a bit of matchmaking since females are rare, or so I’m told. Didn’t quite work out. I wanted… love. Settling for ‘someone of my own species’ felt like short-changing myself. Gave in to my urge to see the world partly to get away from a persistent jerk who didn’t know the meaning of the word no.” She wrinkled her nose, which he found adorable. Vaguely he tried to make himself adopt a less dopey expression, but his face would not budge.  

Suddenly she frowned, as if a new, puzzling thought had crossed her mind.

“Did you even know I was like you?”

He shook his head, seeing no point in lying, as much as it embarrassed him that he had not put the clues together before. Her eyes softened even more, a dreamy expression in them.

“I thought for sure you knew. That it was why you first paid attention to me, why you enjoyed sparring with me. It’s a very traditional courting practice amongst our kind, and it was the first time I found myself wanting to participate. I found our fights… stimulating.” The heated look in her eyes, coupled with her words, sent a jolt of sudden, scorching pleasure down his spine.

“Oh, it is safe to say I enjoyed them as well. I just didn’t know how much. My son and my daughter-in-law, I’m afraid to say, cottoned on to my interest in you before I did. The creature in me always knew, though, tried to tell me. I wasn’t listening. We… we don’t always get along.”

It was an understatement. Growing up inhuman had been difficult. He had been alone in a world full of people. He had had to figure everything out on his own, about what he was, and what it meant. How to survive. How to live around people without hurting them, and without them hurting him in return. He had never quite figured that part out, truthfully. It had been hard, and painful, and… lonely. So, so lonely.

“I’ve seen it looking at me.” Belle smiled, reaching out to pet his hair. “I would be fighting with you over extra funds to expand the selection of Latin American authors at the library and it would flash across your eyes. It always thrilled me.”

The creature preened, clearly not immune to flattery. It was strange but pleasant to feel in sync with it, it happened so rarely. Her look darkened, her own pupils becoming slits as her eyes shone unnaturally blue. He had but a moment to brace himself before she pounced on him, her inhuman strength still taking him by surprise in spite of it all, thrilling him as if it was a new discovery. They were rougher with each other, more comfortable now that they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they could not hurt each other easily. It was the sort of uninhibited, passionate coupling he had always restrained himself from and it felt wonderful. She had certainly ruined him for other women. And he hoped that her loud moans and her many orgasms meant he had had a similar impact on her.

When they woke up again it was close to eleven o’clock, a shockingly late hour to be waking up. Reluctantly they left the comfort of their improvised nest and donned their clothes, if only to keep themselves in check long enough to eat something. It was Saturday, as rent-day always fell on a Friday, and though he usually opened his shop for a half workday he always took off Saturdays after rent-day, usually to recover enough to don his human facade again. It was a day he usually enjoyed, with a hearty breakfast and, if the weather permitted, some time outside lazing in the sun, or if not taking care of his treasures, and browsing antique websites to see what caught his fancy.

It was strange not to feel a frisson of excitement at the prospect of growing his hoard, but he reasoned that greater biological impulses were at play. Instincts he had never had a chance to explore. 

‘And given how she’s looking at us we’re not the only ones with a one-track mind.’

The creature thrilled happily, its unbridled joy mixing with his own as they both stared at Belle, who was idly whisking a few egg-whites into a merengue and shooting covert looks their way. In the light of the morning her silver skin took a soft pink undertone, barely perceptible. He was fascinated by it, by the sleek feel of her scales and their warmth. She was so tiny, and so kind, and so gentle. He had seen her interact with children, soothe irritated elderly library patrons who could not find the book they were looking for, and evade the advances of slimy men like Keith Nott a couple of times at Granny’s. And yet there was this whole other part of her, a part she didn’t show others, could never show. He alone would know her, all of her, and the possessiveness he felt at the prospect was heady.

‘Ours. Mate.’

The creature rumbled, clearly pleased, and nudged Rowan forward, telling him that surely food could wait for later. He was about to reach out and snag the librarian about the waist, her smell letting him know she would not shoo him away, when he caught the sound of his Facetime ringer. Bae sometimes called on Saturday mornings to check on him, if rent-day had seemed like it had worn him out a bit much, and there was a chance he might have heard about the blackout from Emma’s foster sister, who lived in Storybrooke. He whispered against her lips that he would be quick and moved the tablet to face away from where Belle was, swiping to take the call with the practiced ease of someone used to manipulating touch technology with claws.

“Hey, Bae. How’s everyone?”

“Hi, pops! Emma is still asleep, she came home only a few hours ago. Little Henry is watching The Dragon Prince on her tablet. Keeps him quiet.”

It seemed to amuse Bae a little bit too much that Henry’s favourite TV shows usually were about dragons, as before he had been obsessed with Jake Long and Dragon Booster before that. Rowan had learned to pretend he didn’t notice, though he had to admit that it did please him a bit. He was hoping to let Emma in on his secret so it would be easier to tell Henry, when the time came.

“I heard about the blackout from Emma, and wanted to check in. The storm yesterday was pretty bad, and that old Queen Anne gets cold really fast without electricity.”

He couldn’t help but be warmed by Bae’s worry, even and he cursed his timing. He assured him that he was alright, having spent the night by the fire in the living-room, and that the power was back on and the house was properly heated once more.

“I’m glad, pop. Hope your favourite librarian is okay too. Perhaps you could go over to her house with a bottle of wine and check up on her.”

He waggled his eyebrows, which Rowan was glad Belle could not see. She could, however, hear everything, made all the more evident by the amused smile on her face, and her raised eyebrows. Fucking Baden.

“Let’s not start this again, I-”

“No, pops, come on. You’re gaga over that woman. You talk about her so much I sometimes feel like I know her more than I know my own wife. Emma agrees. Hell, even little Henry could name at least three of her favourite outfits. Including her heels, which I gotta tell you gives me a glimpse into you that I would rather not have.”

He was too busy turning an almost orangey shade of gold out of embarrassment to register at first that Belle had broken into peals of laughter, which she tried in vain to suppress. Bae, however, heard right away, his eyes turning round and panicky on the screen.

“Oh my God, pops, is someone there?! Is Belle there?! Do you know that you’re-I mean, that you look-”

Bae had gone through a terrified phase in adolescence after he had become acutely aware of the danger his father faced if his nature was exposed. It had broken his heart to see it, but he had thankfully grown out of it once it had become clear that it was unlikely to happen. Clearly, though, he wasn’t as unbothered by the notion as he seemed. He was trying to figure out how to reassure him when Belle took a few steps towards him, pausing to give him a significant look. At his surprised nod she crossed the remaining distance until she was snuggling against his side, smiling shyly and looking distinctly non-human.

“Hi, I’m Belle. Rowan has told me so much about you. Can I call you Bae?”

From inside the tablet his son let out a surprised “eep” that his sensitive ears objected to loudly. He looked at Belle, clearly taking in her silver skin and glowing eyes, and then at his papa, going back and forth with an air of shock and surprise that was almost insulting. Then, slowly, a lopsided smile formed across his unshaven face.

“Pop, you lucky dog!” He started slow-clapping, which made him wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole. “I mean, what are to odds! And the implications. I wanna know everything. Well, not everything. Definitely not everything. Like, please, no. But still, I have questions. So many questions.”

Rowan eyed the end call button, trying to imagine just how mad Bae would be if he pressed it.

“Buuuuuut I can see I interrupted something so I’m just gonna get Henry dressed and go with him to the park. You know, give you two crazy kids some time.” Okay, perhaps Bae was not the worst son ever. “But I will be expecting a call later. And for you to send Emma a message confirming the relationship so she’s forced to fork over the fifty bucks she lost. Don’t forget about that, pops, love you, talk to you soon!”

He was gone a second later, leaving him feeling Belle trembling with laughter against him. He marvelled at how at ease she felt, even though he knew exposing one’s true nature to someone was a huge thing. A sign of trust, of intimacy, of-

Commitment. 

‘Yes. Ours. Always.’

The creature said it matter of factly, as if he was stating the obvious to a particularly thick-headed individual. He shushed it, though half-heartedly, and pressed a kiss against Belle’s hair, whispering a quick “thank you” before going over to where his French press was, determined to make a mockery out of Granny’s lattes. The sooner Belle saw the benefits of breakfasting at his house the better.

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 003

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey all! Enjoy the chapter. Billy trying again to woo Evie. They strike up a bet. TW: Pica. Light fatphobia. Taglist open :)

Chapter 3: To The Devil

   “Hey, Karen, here for the two o’clock?” Evie was jotting down slanted notes at reception, crossing the name off. Mona’s salon smelled of mousse and hairspray. Fans blared to keep the air moving. Karen beamed back.

   “I am. Need a touch up.” She touched her waves to give them a flick. "I'm so jealous of your curls, how do you get them to sit like that?"

   "Genetics, I'm afraid. Ah, I just dip myself in water and pray for the best." The dry humor she was known for. "Mom has them too, if only she didn't inject a gallon of product into her hair every morning."

   "Water. Innovative. Your secret is safe with me." Karen paused to laugh when Evie grinned, nodding as she finished the notes.

   “Seat four, Claudia’s getting your stuff ready now.” A smile beamed.

   “Thanks, sweetie. You’re mom in back too?”

   “Yeah, fixing the music, she’ll be out in a sec.” Evie flicked a page and peered around. Yellow walls with baby blue trim. Similar to a dollhouse her mother made once. Too many plants to count, but that was Evie's fault. 

   She did rounds and cared for each one. Even the new bloom of begonias in one of the back rooms hanging just out a window. Twisting silk petals all blushed and unfurled.

   Evie watered them, let the soil grow damp. Listened to the thumping of a dryer full of towels behind her in the cramped space. A rhythm she could write a song to. She saw a fallen petal and plucked it up. Felt the baby smooth texture between her finger pads.

   Lifted it idly to her cheek. Let it caress her skin in one graze. It comforted, the mere touch of it. And the calm stillness that followed as if someone was holding her welled euphoria. The petal ran her lips, she felt in control of her senses. This touch that was warm and ticklish. Evie gave a shuddered breath and just wondered. 

   Wondered.

   Evie spent too much of her life wondering.

   The petal touched her tongue and she half expected it to melt like a chocolate. Rich and silky. She rolled it damp around her mouth. Chewed for an earthy twang. Looking at the flowers. Feeling them across her running palms. Gently bouncing into place before she swallowed. Evie turned quick, jolting back into her skin for one fleeting moment.

   She was aware again. She was here. Still patting her cheek to stay grounded. Maybe the flowers would bloom a dainty beauty inside her. A delicate sensibility that’s evaded her all this life. Another flower petal plucked.

   He loves me.

   He loves me not.

   Fingers pulled a begonia clean. Chanted the little game in her head.

   He loves me.

   Swallowed. There was a slight of guilt. She’d stolen the power from this living thing and brought it into her own being. That washed away. She was carrying it now. Patting her cheek again to console herself.

   No one noticed Evie hidden in the back room. Indulging in control. It felt like a dirty school girl secret.  Evie dipped her fingers into the wet soil. Sighed and let the earth fall back into the plot. She brought them up to see the filth. Thought to lick herself clean.

   “Evie, can you bring the broom out?” A voice had her heart bursting. Evie yanked the watering can close, feeling the weight of liquid slosh. Her mother was next door fussing with music still. Blissfully unaware. Their usual relationship.

   “Y-Yes!” She felt this shame etch her spine. The rush of being caught doing something she shouldn’t have. Which Evie Fenny was already no stranger to. She washed the evidence away and snatched a broom handle. “Coming!” 

   “Thanks, honey.” Claudia took it and let Evie go about her business. Watering the last few pots at reception.

   The bell dinged right behind her as she stretched to water a pot above the door hanging from the ceiling, tip toeing upon a wooden stool. 

   Billy stood there, face at ass level and didn’t stop her. Not that he minded the view. A pink frilly apron over her violet dress. Black tights and belt to match. Big shiny hoops dangling caught the light above her, illuminating dark hair with a halo. Curls shifted and she eyed Billy Hargrove at the same time the music blasted back up. Dolly Parton of course.

   Here you come again

   Just when I've begun to get myself together

   "Angel...what a view." His bright eyes scanned, full of glittery stars. Tongue crossing pink lips in a vaguely obscene way.

   “Billy?” She hitched a breathy gasp and stumbled. Braced to fall on her ass before an arm swooped out to stop her. Muscles pulled Evie into a chest. A very cologned, hard chest. Those damn stars danced like she was in a movie, draped into Billy with the watering can clutched tight. Shifting around. Air sent their hair up and the door shut.

   Dolly’s lyric timing was really the worst. 

   You waltz right in the door

   Just like you've done before

   And wrap my heart 'round your little finger...

   Billy and his long lashes. Fluttering so pretty at her. Pulling her flush into the metalwork of his hot body. Evie lost herself.

   Swept up in his arms with no words. No synapses obeying her body’s commands. She choked there looking like the cover of a romance novel. Blushed at him. Flowers in full bloom.

   “You won’t soak my head if I make a joke about you falling from heaven, will you?”

   There he is. Evie rolled her eyes and found her footing.

   “Oh, but I will.” Hands pushed him to arm's length. No thank you followed.

   “Hon, you alright?” Claudia had dropped her shampoo bottle. Few women echoed the call, eyes on the gorgeous boy who just strode in. Evie was quick to step from him.

   “Fine, fine, I’m…” Evie brushed herself awkwardly and went around the reception counter. Mostly to put distance between them, setting the can aside. Billy followed after to lean against the wood so she kept her voice low. “What are you doing here?”

   “I got bored.” He crossed his arms there to shrug, dressed to the nines and hair all done up. Eyes flicking. “Nice apron.”

   Evie scowled at him.

   “If you’re asking me to that party again, the answer is still-”

   “Billy! How nice of you to visit, I hope I see Susan in here again soon.” Mona swept toward them. Both teens leaned out from each other. Billy flashed his teeth, all charm.

   “She’s never felt better since coming in for the new do. Made my old man crazy.” He ignored Evie glaring at him.

   “That’s what I love to hear.” Mona came up to pat his cheek. Billy slid his eyes to her daughter. “What can we do for you?” She touched golden hair to sweep it aside. Mona was just the friendly sort. “You know, we do boy’s hair too. All the time. You look like you take care of these darling curls.”

   “I’ll keep that in mind, but actually I was just walking by and I saw Evie in her apron and thought we’d hit that burger joint for lunch.” His shiny teeth flashed to smile so Evie cut in.

   “And,” her voice rose, “I was just carefully explaining to Billy that we’re super swamped today. I couldn’t possibly go. Shucks.”

   Both Mona and Billy peered to see exactly three customers getting their hair done. No one outside. The appointment book near empty too.

   “So busy.” Evie pressed her teeth, eyebrows lifting for her mother to get the hint. "Extremely."

   She didn’t.

   “Oh, no, Evie. It’s your winter break." Arms waved at her daughter. Near ready to give Billy Evie's hand in marriage. "Go have some fun with the nice young man.”

   What a laugh.

   “Are you sure? I can stay...literally all day here. I can move in here and never have to leave ever. Never. Ever.” Evie was getting her apron snatched off by her mother. A couple shoves got her around the counter.

   “No, no. Go, shoo, have fun with a boy. Good to see you, Billy. Tell your parents that I said, hi. Have Susan bring your little sister in next time. What I wouldn’t give to style that pretty red hair she has.”

   “I’ll let them know.” Billy actually held the door for Evie as she shrugged on her coat. Another heated expression before she huffed and went out. Ire. He can work with that. “Bye, ladies.” A wink.

   “Bye, Billy.” Came the chorus. Both teens grinned all the way to the end of the window before hands snatched Billy’s collar when they were out of sight.

   “What the hell are you doing, Billy?” Evie shook him by the leather jacket. Even the scrunching snarl at him was cute. Actually had his taller, broad frame pressed into a brick wall. Made Billy pause to observe her face. Mauve lips frowned deeper.

   This was a cruel thing and she couldn’t stand it. This back and forth. These sides of Billy that only came out when it suited him best.

   “Making it up to you. Christ, just fucking let me. Easy...” He shrugged off, going around her. She was being difficult about this, maybe rightfully so, but it still gnawed at him. 

   “C’mon.” Billy went on. Not bothered by the cold in his white button up shirt and jeans. Tucked and tight. The gold saint chain bounced against his chest as he walked. Hard, intent steps with a lazy wave. “You like burgers? Who doesn’t, I’m hungry.”

   “I don’t need you to make it up to me, Billy.” She trailed after him. “This weird game you’re playing really doesn’t interest me.”

   “This town is so fucking boring. You know that?” He spoke instead, clicking his tongue and looking beyond them. “Got nothing to do, why not hang out? We’re neighbors.”

   “When have you acted like a neighbor?”

   “Right fucking now, Angel.” Blue eyes shifted to spot the right building.

   He was such an ass and she was still willingly walking beside him.

   “Ask Tommy or Carol to hang out.”

   “No one likes Tommy or Carol, would you want to hang out with them in your free time? Fucking annoying. Carol wants to fuck me and Tommy? ...You know, he might want to fuck me too. I'm the whole package.”

   “So, you’re with me because I’m not annoying like them and I don’t want to fuck you?”

   Billy turned sharp to see her at the crosswalk. Golden curls swept up. Almost offended.

   “Who said you didn’t want to fuck me?” The shit asked it so genuinely too. "I never said that."

   “Literally me, just now.” She pressed the walk button because he had her under a spell and Billy went before it changed. “Ugh.” Evie, ignoring her better judgment, paced after him. Street was empty.

   “You’re plenty annoying, Fenny.” Billy strode inside the diner and didn’t wait before he grabbed a table. Slapped a plastic menu down across the way until she moved to take the offered seat. A waitress appeared from nothing, but Evie figured Billy just had that effect.

   “Know what you want, sugar?”

   “Number three. Coke. Cheese Fries. Jalapenos on the burger and on the fries. And whatever the lady wants.” He stole an ashtray and dug for a smoke, not looking at either girl. Few people eyed them and Evie gave in.

   They were both still pretty hungover and she didn’t want to make a scene. Which Billy knew well and used to his advantage.

   “I will have the exact same thing.”

   “Are you sure?” The waitress looked Evie up and down as she said that. Oh, so carefully. Evie paused to tense up, acutely aware that she didn’t look right across from this gorgeous, golden boy. 

   The thought hadn’t even struck her until it was pointed out, that’s what sobered it painfully.

   “Yeah, she’s sure. We’ll take a large chocolate milkshake also. Two straws.” Billy snapped, flicking his menu up. The waitress bowed her head and hurried away. Evie’s jaw hung open while he played with his lighter distractedly. Eyes flicked up. “What, are you catching flies over there?” He lit a cigarette and her mouth shut.

   “I’m in the fucking Twilight Zone.” Elbows hit the table

   “That stuff you said Heather liked...” Billy tapped his ashes. Ignored the waitress when she set Cokes down. “That was about you, wasn’t it?”

   “Yeah, so?”

   “Museums and horror flicks. Noted.” He shrugged. “You into that poetry shit? Always writing.”

   “Song lyrics.” Evie took a breath and answered slower. This was weird. It was weird that...it wasn’t so weird all the sudden. Billy did what suited him. Blue eyes lingering on her then darting all over. He sat back with one boot up on the seat. Actually listening. Smoking. Present. “I play guitar and sing."

   Yeah, he heard her guitar from his window every other night if it was open.

   "You're always writing too," she went on, "I know it isn't school work." Observant.

   "I'd rather write some shitty story than listen to a lecture about nothing in class." Billy's ashes hit the tray again. “Are you going to be the next Dolly?”

   “My mom would love that.” She broke to laugh at herself and sip. “More Kate Bush or Stevie Nicks.”

   “Thank fuck, one Dolly is enough.” He snuffed his smoke out. “Why won’t you go to the party with me?”

   “Why do you suck with rejection?” She asked it bolder than intended. Half expected Billy to get upset and walk out. Smoke etched out his pink lips when he chuckled, catching his tongue between teeth. This girl was all four seasons in one spitting firecracker.

   “You got a wall up bigger than your mom’s hair, Evangeline.”

   “I built it myself, William, thanks.” Evie smiled sweetly that time, gazes locked. He twitched at the use of his birth name. A beat of staring before food arrived. 

   “Will that be-?”

   “Yeah, we’re good.” Billy plucked a fry up, watched melted cheese string from it before he chewed and the waitress saw herself off. “Don’t tell me you’re not gonna eat like normal in front of me.”

   He caught Evie picking up a knife and fork. She shot him a look. Dropped them and stole the milkshake to sip. Passed it over for him before she went for the burger.

   “There you go.”

   “Stuff it.” She grabbed a fry and watched him take the biggest bite he could. Cheese drooped out the bottom. “Hangover miracle, huh.”

   “Hmm.” Billy was too busy chewing. Evie took a bite, sipped more coke and decided to engage this. 

   “Can I ask why your dad moved you across the country during your last year of high school?”

   “New bullshit job.” He went at his fries, smearing them around cheese to eat with crunching jalapenos. “Wanted to start his white picket fence over since it didn’t work the first time and he thought he could spite me in the process.”

   Billy licked his thumb, eyes elsewhere.

   “I’ll bet he just wanted away from memories of my mom.”

   Evie paused carefully. It was the first he’d spoken of her.

   “Oh.” She pulled for a napkin, eyes on her food. Peculiar how quick he got real with her here. Billy Hargrove was usually putting up thick layers of artificial bullshit. Plastic cheese on greasy fries.

   “Didn’t help that I was in and out of fights.”

   “That changed?” She reached for the milkshake. “So, your mom-”

   “Did you really get into a fight last year?” Billy had finished the burger and was now going at his fries again, gestured so she slid the milkshake back.

   “I don’t remember it well.”

   “Bullshit, Fenny.” He smirked to himself. “I’d know. You see red and you remember how it tastes every single time.”

   “You’re the expert.” She shrugged, wiping her greasy fingers on napkins. Left a few bites of burger because a voice drilled to do so. Same with the fries. “He was a jerk and...my parents just got divorced. I was upset. I let him have it. Everyone got dramatic about it because I’m Evie Fenny and not Randy Savage.”

   "So, how'd it taste?" Billy looked at her eyes and saw them flash.

   He’s had enough! Students kept chanting that in her ear. Pulling Evie and her clawing talons out of the huge football player under her knees. She breathed pure smoke. Hair flying all directions. Felt the coolness of dewy grass and warmth of blood crusting her fingers.

   "It was like..."

   Descending upon Tannen like thunder. Heavy rain and cracks of lightning followed by a boom. Thunderous applause too. She stared back at Billy with a dreamy expression. Recalled cowering through rainstorms as a little girl. Into the closet where she felt safer.

   Her father, Jack, always found her. He’d sit next to her in there and bring her close under one arm.

   “Don’t be scared, little mouse.” Never could make out his smile in darkness.

   "It's...hot metal. Lava pouring down your throat trying to harden inside you." She got real too and Billy's lip lifted. Soft as can be. "Like it's making a cast of you in that specific moment of rage."

   Evie blinked out of the memory. Watched Billy stare again before he pushed the milkshake back to her side. A peace offering. She accepted and drank, let lipstick print on the candy cane colored straw.

   “I’m going to ask you out.” He decided gentler. Intent. “New Years Eve. Seven on the dot. You can show up in a nice dress when I knock and we’ll go. Or not.”

   “You might want a back up girl.” Evie sucked in her cheeks, eyes had to leave his to see the table. Thighs pressing. He'd definitely just undressed her.

   “No need.” Billy crossed his arms to shrug. “Don’t want one. Already asked the girl I want to take. C’mon, Fenny, quit hiding and get out. What are you waiting for?”

   “I’m not hiding.” Evie shook her head, chest sinking. “You’re the one hiding.”

   “Me?” His shoulders rose. Got all puffy like a peacock.

   “Hawkins High King. Billy Hargrove.” She lifted her hands for dramatic effect. Leaned forward to match him in intensity. “Thrashing forth in a billow of hairspray and cigarette smoke. Sun left in your wake along with a trail of broken hearts. You pose for them and they eat you up. There won’t be much left..."

   That sentiment kicked Billy in the chest.

   "...Everything you say is layered in rage and cheese. It’s mind numbing. I have a wall up, but you put up this flashy front that just blinds everyone. You want their eyes to bleed for you. Get real, Hargrove.”

   “I’ll get as real as you want. Ask me anything.” Came the challenge.

   “Okay. Why’d you beat up Steve Harrington?”

   “Cause he was lying to me and because I hated him.” Billy shrugged, eyes averting. "Because I wanted to taste hot metal. It's home to me."

   “Lying? About what?”

   “Still don’t know and frankly, I don’t care anymore.” A quick sip from his coke. “Go to the party with me.”

   “You just don’t give up.” She peered into her glass. Wanted to eat the ice cubes clicking there.

   “Maybe I’m asking you not to give up on me.” There was something almost sincere there like Billy was touching the earth for the first time.

   “Why are you trying to trick me?” Evie pushed her cup aside even though her teeth chattered to crunch.

   “Trick you?”

   “This party thing.” She paused when the waitress returned to clear the table. Leaving the check face down. “You’ve been nothing but an ass to me since you moved in. Ignored me. Probably can’t even recall what I was wearing when we met.”

   “Your mom’s hair kinda got in the way when she brought you over.” He joked and didn’t miss her stifle amusement, eyes rolling. “It’s not a trick, we might actually have something in common.”

   “What’s that?”

   “The people in this hell town aren’t very interesting. Maybe I find you interesting.” His brow quirked. Fingers tapped the lacquer table.

   “I don’t find you all that interesting.” Evie smiled that time and Billy matched it.

   “That’s fine. You will."

   "So certain?"

   "Give me a chance.” Billy’s eyes flicked over her before he sat up. Didn’t miss a damn beat. “You wore red button up shirt tucked into a little denim skirt with suspenders. Black tights. Grey shoes. Sunglasses with big white cat frames. That same gold necklace with the music note and dangle earrings to match. You introduced yourself with your mom. Took the sunglasses off and even had gold on your eyelids too. I remember it.”

   "Yeah?" Her lips parted with the audible breath he stole. And oh so easily. Evie leaned closer so he followed. Hooded eyes all aflutter.

   "Made your eyes look..." Billy searched. "Molten. Volcanic like."

   "Molten?" Evie wasn't even hearing herself anymore.

   "Just, I don't fucking know, warm like..." The beach. California. Home. Billy lost the thought and licked his lips. "You just looked painted."

   "Painted?" Evie had mused then. Entertained now at his odd way of description. Tried not to think about Billy running a wet paintbrush down her bare neck.

   "Yeah." Billy breathed slower. Painted. With the autumn breeze and sun in her hair, slowly brushing curls around those full, tinting cheeks. A subject the fucking Pre Raphaelites would have lost their shit over and painted all seasons. He could picture Evie floating in an endless pool being kissed by fallen flower petals. Draped in miles of iridescent chiffon reclined in emerald green grass. Looking straight at the viewer with intensity and still dreaming all the same.

   "You had on a black tee. Jeans. Your saint chain. A pair of aviators tucked into your denim coat pocket." Evie peered under the table. "Same boots... You looked like you wanted to be literally anywhere else."

   "That'd be the truth. Wasn't you or your mom's chipper greeting." Billy was looking down now. "Just realized I couldn't see the ocean anymore is all. You held out your hand and I ignored it because I'm an asshole. We established that this morning and now I'm making it up to you."

   “And you still peeked at my chest." Evie flashed a cheekier smile. "Said your name only after Neil gave you this hard stare. Max sped by on a skateboard, you must have thought I was distracted. But, I caught you.”

   “I did check your tits out, sue me. I have eyes. You have tits. The world spins.” He smacked a couple bills down as she went through her pockets. The spell on them both shattered to rain. “Already paid. Let’s go, the waitress is staring at us. We'll make a grand exit, huh?”

   “But-” Evie stopped when he grasped her wrist and pulled her up into his side. Spied the waitress scowling as he held her hip and they went out. Got away from the window before she pulled from him. “Get your mitts off me, Hargrove.”

   “Still open for questions.” He sniffed and they went back down the street. Another smoke was lit.

   “Okay. I'll go for the obvious. Do you think we look funny together?” She crossed her arms when Billy leaned against the side of his car.

   “Who cares. You’re making a big deal over nothing. It’s just a party.”

   “The world cares. That waitress back there. Kids at school.” She shrugged. 

   “You.” He clicked his tongue, head tilting.

   “I don’t care.”

   “That’s why you don’t want to go to the party with me, you’re stuck on what they’ll think.” He pointed with the red hot cherry of his cigarette. “Fuck ‘em. As your Louisiana folk would say: to the devil with false modesty.” He mocked her mother's accent with that.

   “Maybe, it’s because you’ve been a jerk to me. That reason enough?” Evie dropped her arms and Billy paused to nod, inhaling. “I don’t know what this is, Billy, but...just stop it. Ask someone else.” She eyed her mom’s salon and took a few steps back. “Thanks for lunch. I gotta go, my mom won’t turn this place over to the evening girl unless forced.”

   “Can’t tell me what to do, Angel.” He stood taller. “I’ll bet you another Coke that Mona invites me to dinner tonight. TV included.”

   Evie gaped at him.

   “A Coke?”

   “I’m easy to please. I’m gonna come to your house for dinner. Hour of TV at least.” He cocked his head. So full of pride.

   “Why are you dragging this day out?” She turned to face him again.

   “I want to meet your cat.” Billy wrapped his lips around the smoke. Exhaled after. “That little creep stares at me from your window day in and out.”

   “He doesn’t like boys.”

   “Bet he’ll like me.”

   “I bet he won’t. He’ll stay in his bed and not spare you the time. It'll hurt your ego.” Evie came to Billy with her own certainty.

   Bourbon was old. He liked to sleep, have his ears scratched, and purr. A lot. He hid when company came and keeps a safe distance once wandering out.

   “Oh, another challenge. Okay, Fenny. We’re doing this.” Billy came to her, flicking his smoke to crush it under the toe of his boot. Cold wind blew. “When I come to dinner tonight-”

   “If.” She corrected.

   “When Mona invites me with her beat to hell Louisiana accent,” Billy insisted, “you get to play hostess. If that cat takes a liking to me, you’re going to the New Years party with a Hargrove.” He towered there and studied her.

   “And that’s if you can even set foot into my house... It’s not a date. The dance.”

   “What do you have to lose here?” Billy offered his hand and Evie eyed him suspiciously. Lips pursed before she reached to take it. His other broad palm came up to prolong it, engulfed hers before he leaned in even closer. Whispering and sultry. “Oh, and literally everyone in that place is already staring at us. We look just fine together, Evangeline. To the devil.”

   Evie hitched a breath. Inhaled his cologne and twisted to see many eyes snap aside behind the glass.

   “Ah, shit.” She tugged from his warm palms and went inside. Billy, cool and collected, trailed after. He cleared his throat and spoke up.

   “I just really don’t want to impose, Angel.” The tone changed and her body locked, turning to question it before her mother replied at reception first.

   “Impose?” Mona blinked, snapping a book shut.

   “I-”

   “Your daughter kindly invited me to dinner, I figured it was too short notice for her lovely mother." Billy made a thing of it to sigh with longing. "Any other day, I’d-”

   Evie's entire face scrunched at him. Cheeks red like strawberries when her jaw set.

   “Oh, no! You’re always welcome. We’re having Swedish meatballs. Easy thing to whip up. I always make so much extra, don’t I, Evie?”

   Evie Fenny hated Billy Hargrove. Officially and totally. Hated his smug little face.

   Her tongue clicked at him.

   “Mm hm.”  

   Billy only smiled, winking. Too easy.

   “What a wonderful idea to invite him, baby. I’m going to be headed home soon. We might have a late meal. Is eight alright for you?” Mona tucked Evie’s curls behind her ear and flashed a hundred watt grin.

   “Eight is perfect, Ms. Fenny.” Billy charmed the entire room. Except the painted, plush storm cloud in front of him. “I also have to say, has anyone ever told you that you look like a brunette Dolly Parton?”

   The woman about squealed at him.

   “You know, I get it sometimes.” She touched her collar with one hand and pushed at him. “Does your family want to come over for dinner?”

   “Unfortunately, no. My dad is taking Susan out. You know, date night. Max is spending the night at a friend’s house. Police Chief’s new kid. So, I’m all alone tonight.”

   “Well, not anymore, come over and I’ll get you fed. My door is always open, Billy.” Mona tapped his chin. “Eight o’clock sharp.”

   “I’ll be there.” He turned to Evie. Speechless. Voice lowered as he leaned in to brush one knuckle along her jawline. “And I’ll be seeing you, Angel.”

   Billy seemed to linger for her to say something more, finger curling into unruly locks.

   "To the devil." She uttered with pointed brown eyes. Unable to leave him.

   The curl bounced back into place. Billy heard her lungs sputter with need and bit his lip, sly. A final wink just for Evie.

   One bell and he was gone.  

   “Mom.” Evie broke to moan and pull herself back together, following. “Why?”

   “Why, what? Let the boy come over for dinner.” She plucked up a comb to put some finishing touches on a woman’s hairdo, nodding to her stylist.

   “He’s trouble, you know about him. The whole town does.”

   “Sweetheart, we’re always going to be hospitable. Especially to troubled souls. It’s what Dolly and the Bible would have wanted.” That was always Mona's sound advice.

   “Christ.”

   “Evangeline.” Mona shot her a look. Fussed. “Do not take that tone with the Lord, young lady.”

   “I’m sorry, just,” she blew air out her lips and whined, “I can’t stand him.”

   “Seemed awful cozy out there or have I gone blind now? All the smiles and nicknames.”

   Evie bit her tongue at that because there was plenty Mona chose not to see.

   “Billy does that, he tricks you and then steps on you because it’s a game to him.”

   “Maybe he’s trying to do better. I know he gotten into some trouble, but what do I always tell you?”

   Evie crossed her arms tight, hip cocked. Monotone.

   “You’d tell me Dolly would want us to see the light of a clear blue morning.”

   “And has Dolly ever steered me wrong?” Mona pointed with the comb before she fluffed the locks up. “Perfect, go ahead and finish this. Good work, dear.”

   “Thanks, Miss Mona.” A new hire moved to finish, pushing large glasses up her nose. Mona went around them and Evie followed.

   “I know, I know. Be brave and kind. Honest and always open your heart. Blah. I’ll be civil if he is.”

   “Oh honey, let a boy be nice to you once in awhile. You might like it.”

   “Pssh. Find me one first.” Evie passed her mom to get her bag. “They only get nice when they’re older and mature.”

   “I wouldn’t always bet on that, baby.” Mona replied softer than intended. “Cruelty takes so many forms, that’s how it seeps into our lives so easily. It’s a comfort.”

   Evie didn’t find something to argue with there. Just watched her mother’s back tense.

   Let the words flutter like silken petals on the wind.

   To the damn devil.

~~~~~~~

Thanks everyone xoxo! Askbox is open. TAGGED:: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​​ @orxhidshavana​  @alagalaska​ @alongcamedolly​

[smmahamazing]

Inukag Week 2020 - Loyalty

This is a mostly direct part two of yesterdays prompt, Acceptance.

I would like you all to know that I had to look up the name for a "gear shift", because I just call in the PRNDL (Suite Life fans anyone?). I'm still not sure if that's even the correct term, but after several google searches I just went for "gear shift", although I almost just said screw it and called it a PRDNL LOL.

FFN or AO3

Restaurant kitchens are noisy places. The bubble of the fryers as fries and onion rings are cooked to golden perfection. Peppers and mushrooms sizzling in a saute pan. Belted vocal announcements of “Behind!” and “Coming down!” bouncing off the walls, drowned out by the roaring of the industrial dishwasher.

Today though, there was nothing louder than the sound of a sharp chef’s knife whacking away at the cutting board, sharp thuds cutting through the air. It was definitely not how you were supposed to use the tool, and the cutting board sure wasn't faring any better, but Kagome could have cared less about that in the moment.

Kagome was furious.

She didn't think there was ever a time that'd she felt angrier than she did now; which said something because the event that made her completely fly off the handle happened almost a week ago.

Several weeks had passed since the incident at Inuyasha's auto shop. Things had been going very well for the couple; Kagome's declaration of acceptance had put Inuyasha in a most loving mood. The following weekend, they visited a hot spring together, washing away the stress from the previous week. On top of that, Mama had called Inuyasha and personally asked if he could help her love things around the shrine for jii-chan, with the promise of a lunch date 'with her future son-in-law'. The term of endearment was a little embarrassing for them both, seeing as they had only been dating for a few months and obviously haven't talked about that, but Inuyasha had swelled up with pride at the thought that Kagome's mother labels him as family. Kagome would have bet three for three with all the good happening to them.

If only she had cut her losses sooner. Kagome's girlfriends from high school had been messaging her about hanging out. Apparently, there was a new bistro bar that just opened up downtown with great reviews, so Yuka and Eri thought it would be a good idea to check it out. Ayame ended up cancelling due to some work responsibilities, but hoped that she and Hojo would be able to go next time.

Kagome was a little nervous at first when she suggested to Inuyasha about going out with the girls. 'The Hojo Incident' was still a little fresh in the mind, and although Hojo wouldn't actually be there this time, Kagome remembered that he didn't leave the best impression to the girls that night either. Suffice to say, she was surprised when Inuyasha was all for going out, even if he seemed a little nervous. He really seemed like he wanted to start over with Yuka and Eri.

Things would be awkward at first, but Kagome was sure Inuyasha would win them over. There was no way they couldn't walk away from the night with a newly reinforced friendship.

Hell, she would have taken acquaintanceship over what actually happened. Kagome guessed that her first mistake was assuming Inuyasha was invited at all. Usually when they have a group outing and Hojo accompanies them, boyfriends are also invited; so when Ayumi messaged everyone about her and Hojo not being able to make it, Kagome assumed that this was not a girl's only night. When they arrived at the bistro, the daggering looks they shot at Inuyasha told Kagome all she needed to know. Unfortunately for them, Inuyasha was already there, and Kagome certainly wasn't going to tell him to just go home. They would just have to get over it. Besides, Inuyasha promised her he was going to keep a cool head when it came to Yuka and Eri so she could have a nice night with her girlfriends, and Kagome had all the faith in the world of her hanyou.

The evening started out okay, despite the obvious irritated looks from the girls. They ordered some drinks and appetizers, politely chatting about the goings on in everyone's life. Eri was talkative - although definitely more muted than her normal self - while Yuka was mostly silent, giving straightforward answers to most questions geared towards her. Neither of them spoke to Inuyasha at first, which Kagome found odd but decided not to make too big a deal out of it. Instead, she constantly drove the conversation Inuyasha's way, opening up segways for him to add his own two cents in when the moment was right. By the time the server arrived with their meals, the girls had at least started to acknowledge his presence at the table and no one had yelled at one another. The night might not have been perfect, but Kagome could be content with that.

It wasn't until Inuyasha went to the bathroom that the night took a dive for the worst, when Kagome made her second mistake: confronting her friends.

"What the hell is your guys' problem?"  Kagome hissed, hoping Inuyasha was far enough away that he couldn't pick up what she was saying.

"What problem?" Yuka asked, although Kagome wasn't fooled by her sarcastic innocence.

"You guys have barely spoken a word to Inuyasha all night, and when you have said something, you've been stiff as a board about it. Could you maybe lighten up a little?"

"We're just trying not to provoke your hot-headed boyfriend over there," Eri chimed in.

"Ugh," Kagome covered her face with her hands. "Look, I know our last get together was...a lot, but Inuyasha really feels bad about his temper that night. If you let him, I know he'd apologize to you guys. He's trying really hard to be in good spirits tonight."

"Are you serious right now Kagome?" Eri shot back at her. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're telling us to give him a chance when he has to actually think about being nice to people?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Inuyasha isn't used to going out and interacting with other people. I know he's got a hard shell, but once you crack it, you’ll see he's a really great guy once you get to know him, and it would mean a lot to me if you could try to do just that."

"We tried that last time Kagome, and he got angrier with every question we asked." Yuka argued.

"Well, in his defense, you guys come off really strong. He just felt a little smothered with the back-and-forth you two are so good at. I'm sure if you just tone it down a little, you'll have a great conversation together."

"Oh, so now we're supposed to change who we are every time your boyfriend is around?" Yuka yelled, getting louder with every response.

"N-no, that's not what I'm saying at all! I want you all to meet somewhere in the middle so you can get to know each other, Inuyasha included. Which he is trying to do!" Kagome didn't know what was happening. This isn't how the night was supposed to go. She knew that the last time they all got together, tempers were a little high, but she really hoped tonight would help cool everything down. Inuyasha was trying his best to settle between being a part of the conversation and letting the Kagome and the girls have their own time, she wanted him to be able to make amends so they could move on. Ayumi and Hojo were both extremely forgiving people, and Kagome knew that Inuyasha would have an easier time making things right with them when the time comes. It was Yuka and Eri that needed to be handled with care. And unfortunately, they seemed to be making that task especially difficult for Inuyasha.

Just when Kagome thought things possibly couldn't get any worse, Yuka effectively set off a bomb.

"The only thing he's capable of is being a hot-headed, impetuous jerk, just like most hanyous."

Yuka had continued talking after that, but Kagome didn't hear what it was, her words drowned out by the blood that pumped through her ears. In her mind, she recalled that day not even two weeks ago, when that man refused to have his car looked at by Inuyasha. How dejected Inuyasha looked knowing how people looked down on him, even if he tried to downplay how it made him feel. She remembered how angry she felt, that someone could think so terribly of him because of something he couldn't help. Yet, as soon as the words spilled from her mouth, Yuka and Eri - people that had been her friends since childhood, people who were kind despite their boldness - had become no different than the man who couldn't stand to do business with a hanyou.

"Excuse me?" Kagome asked, interrupting whatever Yuka was blabbering on about. "How dare you!"

"Kagome - "

"No!" She shouted. "You had no right to say something so awful! Inuyasha can be brash and grumpy, and doesn't always say the right thing, but being a hanyou has nothing to do with anything. How about you guys. Can you hear yourselves right now? I can't believe that two of my closest friends could say something so rude about him. He's been trying so hard tonight to get on your good side - for ME - and all you can do is talk down to him like he's beneath you!"

Yuka and Eri's eyes became as wide as dinner plates, but not just because of the verbal jabs they were being dealt. As Kagome started becoming more expressive by talking with her hands, a faint violet aura was starting to coalesce around her hands. The aura had a texture similar to fog, yet it appeared almost like steam pouring from her skin, slightly see through. The angrier she got, the clearer the wisps became. Kagome didn't seem to notice the change.

"You know what, we're not doing this," Kagome stood up from her chair and gathered up her purse. She looked up just enough to see Inuyasha walking back up to the table and grabbed his jacket.

"I am not going to sit here and make Inuyasha have to go through this. As far as you're now concerned, Inuyasha and I are a packaged deal. So if you want to see me, you'll have to see him, too. But let me be clear, I am not going to let you talk down to the man I love. You can call me back when you're ready to talk like adults. ”

Kagome turned on the spot and grabbed his arm, muttering a small 'let's go', before dragging him back to the car with her. Kagome had still not talked to Inuyasha about what happened that night. Not that he didn't try to bring the subject up, but she was quick to change the subject each time. Kagome didn't trust herself to not blow a gasket if she was forced to relive how angry she had become that night.

Yuka and Eri had blown up her phone with texts, but Kagome ignored all of them. She even went as far as to delete them. Of course they felt bad and wanted to apologize for how they acted, but they were trying to apologize to the wrong person. Inuyasha was the one who deserved their apologies. He was the one who had to sit through dinner with two people who thought nothing good of him. She could eventually forgive them, but only if they squared up with Inuyasha. It was the least they could do.

And, if causing a huge scene at a busy restaurant wasn't enough, Kagome, in her blind fury, had just blurted out to everyone who was in hearing distance that she loved Inuyasha. She groaned as she finally brought her cutting board to the dish pit to start cleaning up. She was almost a hundred percent sure Inuyasha had heard her declaration of love, which only made her feel worse. This was most definitely not the way she wanted to tell him that she loved him. They had only been dating a few months; what if she scared him off? Would he think she was clingy because of it? Or worse, what if he didn't feel the same way? She couldn't ask him to tell her right at this moment if he also loved her, too. That would be asking for far too much. So, Kagome had kept busy the past week, either with work or meaningless activities so they couldn't hash their feelings out.

Kagome spent the next half hour cleaning and taking a quick inventory of the walk-in cooler before clocking out. Inuyasha was waiting for her at the hostess stand. He had taken an early day to hopefully help put Kagome in a better mood than she had been all week.

He had been thinking about that night all week. Inuyasha had just been coming back from the bathroom when he felt a strong aura brush against his youki. At first, he was afraid a rogue youkai was about to start a rampage and became increasingly worried about Kagome. The aura didn't seem like it came from a youkai, but Inuyasha didn't know what else could produce such a sturdy aura. It wasn't until he could properly see their table that he realized what it was. Kagome looked like she was arguing with the two girls; her hands were glowing, purple wisps dancing around her wrists.

'Is that...reiki?' Inuyasha thought. True mikos and monk's were rare nowadays, and Inuyasha had never met one with enough power to be able to summon it. Kagome didn't seem like she noticed, putting all her emotion into her hands as she started waving them towards her friends. At first, he could barely make out what she was saying, but by the time he got to the table, Kagome was practically shouting.

The subsequent car ride home was silent. The energy around Kagome continued to crackle, keeping Inuyasha on edge until they had arrived home; only then did she calm down enough to rear her reiki back, which Kagome still didn't seem to notice. It was as if everyone could see it but her. Inuyasha was perplexed about her sudden burst of spiritual energy, but decided to table his thoughts on the subject; perhaps he would talk to Kagome's mother about it the next time he went to help over at the shrine. They spent the rest of their night watching television and still not talking about what happened at the restaurant before drifting off to sleep.

Inuyasha was still surprised at what he heard that night, to say the least. It was one thing for Kagome to tell him that he had value as a person in private , but to shout it to a whole section of a busy restaurant during the dinner rush was something completely different. Inuyasha didn't hear what her friends had said about him, but whatsoever it was must have been really bad for her to completely freak out like that. Then again, Inuyasha was pretty sure that the worst thing Kagome could think of was probably pretty tame compared to some of the things he's heard. It didn't really matter what they said though. Inuyasha couldn't deny how she felt about him now. Especially after hearing how she loved him.

He had expected her to bring at least that part up in conversation, but Kagome had been doing all she could to not have a sincere conversation with him. He had a feeling that was partly because of how angry she was. Kagome had been pretty tense the first three or four days after - tension, especially in the shoulders, was a sure sign of anger in that woman. But Kagome was the type of girl to get all her feelings out in the open, so not talking about it was extremely out of character for her. Inuyasha was confused by her behavior. Did she think he didn't love her? How could she not; Inuyasha spent almost all his free time with her. Kagome had even started joining his sporadic lunches with Sango, his only other friend, going as far to hang out with the girl without him. Hell, she even got the damn 'seal of approval' from Sesshomaru himself! Inuyasha had let her figure out her emotions all week, but it was time he put her back on the track.

"Inuyasha!" Kagome called out, a little surprised to see him there. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd come and pick up my favourite girl for the day."

"You know I drove to work, right?" She snickered at the small grin that had appeared in his face.

"Well, then it's a good thing I didn't drive here, isn't it?" He replied, rewarded with a small snort from Kagome. He walked them out the front door, grabbing her purse from her and wrapping his left arm around her shoulder.

"Wouldn't that be me picking you up then?"

"A technicality. It ain't like I'm letting you drive." Their laughter floated all the way to the back parking lot where Kagome's car was parked. Inuyasha made a spectacle out of adjusting her driver's seat, causing her to playfully slap him on the arm. Once they were on the road, and Inuyasha was sure that she wouldn't be able to roll out of the car if the urge came to her, he brought up Yuka and Eri.

"So, have you talked to them?" He asked carefully. Inuyasha could see her stiffen as soon as the words had left his mouth. She pulled up some random social media app on her phone and began to mindlessly scroll.

"Talked to who?"

"You know what I'm talking about wench. Don't play innocent with me."

"What's there to talk about Yash? I'm sure they're sorry and all, but until you get a heartfelt apology from them, then my hands are tied."

"Kagome, they're your friends - "

"Not if they're going to talk down to you! They've acted just like that horrible man from your job almost a month ago. We don't need people like that in our life."

"Kagome���" Inuyasha didn't really know what to say. The thought of asking Kagome to give up anything so that they could be together was almost sickening; it was something he could, and would, never do. Yet, here she was, adamant about completely cutting ties with two people who she had known almost all her life, simply because of him. Inuyasha could feel his throat closing up, a myriad of emotions threatening to explode from his body. Kagome was so loyal to him, so good to him, and so out of his league. He grabbed her hand and held it over the gearshift, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He would do whatever it took to fix her relationship with those girls. But even if nothing could be salvaged, Kagome would always have him. He was content to serve her however she needed, and that’s when it clicked for him. What they had was more than a passing encounter, or just a spring fling.

“I love you, Kagome,” he muttered softly, bringing her hand up to kiss it tenderly. He heard a small gasp come from the woman beside him. Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic way he could have told her that, but it felt right. All he felt for Kagome in that moment was pure, unadulterated love. Kagome’s grip on his hand tightened as they continued the drive home, the salty scent of unshed tears filling his senses. Inuyasha would have lots of plans to make, but none of that was important right now; it was nothing that couldn’t wait another day. For now, he would take her home, and tonight would be just for the two of them.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Autistic Magnus headcanons

ok so i got this big submission on autistic magnus which i absolutely love and i ended up breaking it down into parts so i would remember to address it all so uh, here we go. this is long lmao

submission made by @hasenfu

oof this got long lol

before i forget: i always saw Magnus as autistic. (or rather there was a post how Alec is obv autistic but Magnus could be, too?? address that?!?!) so i thought about it and… i guess he’s had longer to adapt and do smaller fidgets, unnoticeable, more healthy -if he allows himself to do such- and other things idk. i took a break of the show+fandom shortly after and never came back to the thought much.

it was mostly being hyposensitive to pressure, which is why he has those tight vests or flowy shirts with heavy necklaces and his array of rings. (definitely a hug person and should own a weighted blanket)

but also, opposed to this, being hypersensitive to touch, so all his shirts and his bedsheets are silk. (weighted blanket can go on top or be a spell)

that truly makes so much sense to me tbh like i’ve always envisioned magnus that way as well, especially the hyposensitive to pressure part. especially considering that at the point of show canon he’s so touch starved? like he’s been keeping away from most people and kinda trying to hide and i think that only added to that. i definitely agree with what you said about the vests/corsets:

you might have a full inbox once this is done lol # idk who figured this out first but one of Magnus/Raphael found out about vests, maybe Magnus wore corsets first (yes even as cis/amab demiman/gnc cis man, people wore corsets because fashion) and then opted for vests. or Raphael wore them first because Business Man and Important Stuff and told Magnus to stop wearing flowy shit with a million necklaces and just wear tight clothing like Proper Human Beings. amazing word count is full again.

(also don’t worry i’m well aware that cis men used to wear corsets lmao i even have an old post about it lying somewhere. not that i envision magnus as a cis man but anyway) and also want to add: tight pants. like the pants he wears are always slim fit and i think that has a lot to do with that too? just feeling grounded by the pressure, like he’s more steady in his steps. especially when he’s wearing the silky shirts and etc because those have barely any pressure (esp the open shirts and stuff. i mean obviously like you said the necklaces help make up for that, but like. it’s not enough imho) 

but also just like, nothing is as good as the good olde hugs tbh. i mean obviously the clothes are good and help him function and not have meltdowns or feel overwhelmed (because he’s had a lot of time to prevent having meltdowns, and tbh probably uses unhealthy tactics to avoid that) and he isn’t comfortable with just anyone touching him (we know that very well. also invasion of space not safe invasion of space not safe invasion of space not safe-) but the people he trusts? somehow they always feel right

i love magnus and the immortal squad being into cuddle piles, particularly magnus&raphael (who’s also hyposensitive to pressure, plus he’s a latino immigrant so he’s used to quite a lot of casual touching, but once he got to the US that was suddenly Not Allowed anymore and god that must have fucked him up so much, the cultural shock mixed in with the hyposensitivity and then he lost his whole support network on top of that. like he feels absolutely smothered by the lack of pressure all the time and it makes his skin prickle and he wants to just. scratch it off just to get some relief from the constant feeling of deprivation. and magnus of course feels a similar way, since from what i looked up quickly indonesian people are also used to overcrowded spaces and casual touching, plus again, touch starved) 

like they’re both. kind of just functioning with this constant feeling of emptiness all around them, and they can’t really afford to be as touchy as they’d like because they’d be looked down on because of that, especially as downworlders, moc, etc. but when they’re in magnus’ loft and they’re alone? cuddling all the time. constant cuddling. not a single second goes by cuddleless. legs entangled, weight blanket over them, they might switch positions a lot because they might get fidgety - especially magnus, i feel like he needs to stim and etc a lot more than Raphael does - so at one second they’re lying down, the next they’re sitting, raphael is on top of magnus, magnus is on top of raphael, they’re side by side, only their legs are intertwined, raphael is lying across magnus….. it just keeps going and after like years of doing this they just do it effortlessly? 

one of my exes called this “dynamic cuddling” cuz yeah he was a huge cuddler but also kinda fidgety and so was i and most of his other partners (i Cannot lie in the same position for a long time which is why im usually not big on cuddling, and also prefer to be the big spoon) and i definitely see it for them. just, every time one of them (again, usually magnus) moves the other moves along and they’re just adjusting to a new position together, instead of the awkward “person A starts to move so person B waits and then they do a little adjustment afterwards” thing. ragnor in particular is appalled (especially since you know, british, so used to No casual touching whatsoever, also he clearly gets overwhelmed easily considering how isolated he lives, oh look at me casually throwing in autistic ragnor lmao i need to calm tf down) at how easily they do it but that’s just years of practice, knowing each other very well, and having very similar sensory issues for you

the one downside is that since they’re too similar they both want to like, be the little spoon diahdsiah so that’s why weighted blanket is a must, even if obviously they switch - magnus is perfect for raphael because he’s bigger and taller so he can envelop him pretty easily and cover like His Whole Back and just really crowd him in the best possible way? obviously that means that raphael being small is not as good for magnus but he can be in like fetal position and hug his knees and have raphael spoon him that way, and there’s the added Compression (?) of that. plus raphael always runs his hands over magnus’ arms particularly and that adds to the good pressure and feeling. he also definitely likes playing with magnus’ hair, which magnus is delighted by (btw it’s a huge sign of closeness in indonesian culture). the scalp is sensitive, okay. it’s perfect

with alec it’s perfect for magnus because i see alec as the opposite, he does not like a lot of pressure and particularly having things on his back (he needs to be able to Move) so he likes being the big spoon. also he’s one of the few ppl who’s taller than magnus and can envelop him perfectly, just like magnus does raphael 

also going briefly back to the vests thing, i really like the idea that it was raphael’s suggestion for some reason? i mean i kind of hc that magnus has had a huge influence on raphael’s style, but i also like it as the other way around. i especially like raphael helping magnus out with Autistic Problems™ because like you said magnus has had a lot of time to learn how to cope and hide his traits in order to be taken seriously, but he’s definitely foregone his own comfort in that proccess, and probably has a few coping mechanisms that aren’t really healthy. whereas raphael has a different perspective and grew up with a supportive family when it comes to that (i particularly hc rosa as being a great support in that sense, not letting anyone give him shit, giving him hugs when he needed, keeping people away when he didn’t want to be touched, speaking for him when he went nonverbal, etc) so he has a lot of better mechanisms. and i really dig him teaching those to magnus and helping him find better alternatives. like magnus knows about vests, has used corsets in that way before, why tf didn’t he think of that? because he’s used to ignoring his own needs :) but raphael helps him find good vests that make him feel, like, perfectly hugged and grounded and it’s Very Good. they probably share a lot during the time when raphael lives with him, since magnus can just magically adjust them anyway

plus other things such as not caring if magnus stims, and whatnot

i also think that he sometimes uses magic to handle the hyposensitivity problem, cause i mean, why not? especially when he’s in the flowy open shirts and whatnot, cuz again, like, the necklaces are good and they help a lot but they are Not Good Enough. but magic can make him feel more pressure and help him out with that, he can spell himself to have this kind of… constriction? that he likes. plus his magic kind of takes care of him on its own so i can definitely see it like, enhancing his sensitivity when he needs it, running over his arms and torso to keep him grounded, and whatnot. very useful, especially because he can do that unnoticed

that’s only what i had to say on hyposensitivity to pressure dear lord someone help me daiojdsoadjasodjadijaidoaj 

onto hypersensitivity to textures! again strongly agree. i kind of headcanon that all of magnus’ clothes are lined with silk underneath because they always look just a little stuffy when they aren’t silky and again it’s clearly his favorite texture - for his sheets, his shirts, just everything he can is silky. i know he can probably magick them up but i like to think he has a tailor tbh, maybe some other old warlock who never really wanted to give up that work? idk it sounds more authentic and even connected to his roots this way so i like to headcanon that. anyway yeah silk everywhere and all the way. pretty much every other texture other than that and the People He Likes is kinda overwhelming for him, imo. which can be a Huge Problem and is probably connected to why he hates people he doesn’t like getting into his personal space - he’s perfected the personal space distancing so he’s kept away from the Bad Textures and anyone getting into it uninvited is definitely unwelcome and perceived as a threat to his safety and wellbeing - and effectively is

same goes for jewelry, like, he pretty much only wears silver stuff? i think it’s his preferred texture as well, which is why we don’t see him wearing a lot of different things. that might also be related to the thing you said about colors:

maybe being hypersensitive to colours/visual influence but this might be a jab at smol book!magnus with his neon leggings and crop tops. but all his surroundings are either dark: dark red, dark blue, or black, or medium brown (wood) or smallll golden accents. nothing harsh.

like golden can be too much visually and non-metal textures aren’t really welcome. this is also related to the pressure thing - metal is great for weight, whereas every other accessory material is Not - but texture also plays a good part

(also ur so valid for wanting to jab @ book magnus tbh lmao i don’t acknowledge that bitch)

but i could see him hyperfocusing on translations. oof idk i haven’t interacted with canon in months or maybe years. i’ve mostly thought about his stims. like also the scratching on paper, his tai chi exercises, making/drinking tea, brewing potions.

i also dig that? i think most of what we’ve seen in Genius Magnus Bane is related to that in some capacity - being his hyperfocus/hyperfixation/special interest. like the portal thing? definitely a result of him hyperfixating. and he just goes on and on, which is why he isn’t particularly known for like, One Area He Expertises On (okay i do realize this is more ADHD than autism but look he’s been alive for centuries okay his special interests are gonna pile up) but rather a lot of very specific things that he knows a lot about and that end up broaching a thousand different and wildly unrelated topics

and whenever he’s working on a magical thing, it’s just- hyperfocus all the way, baby. sometimes when he needs a distraction or is feeling overwhelmed he just goes straight to brewing because it’s guaranteed hyperfocus and like, silence in his head, you know? and he can just get away from whatever’s overwhelming/upsetting him for a while. not always healthy to do, but. still a thing that he does. translating, brewing potions, summoning things, even tracking - it immediately takes his undivided attention and suddenly he looks up and realizes that ah yes, he is in a place and has surroundings, and has a name lmao. even if it’s something like tracking which is really quick, while he’s at it he doesn’t think about absolutely anything else. then he kind of has to blink after a few seconds and remember why he was doing it in the first place lmao

this is probably deeply intertwined with his magic - like it is related to how he interacts and perceives the world, so when he’s using it, he’s effectively channeling all of his attention into one of his senses, and directing it to a single specific purpose. it’s like inhaling deeply. everything else shuts down and he’s just focused and directed into this action, and then that mixes up with autism/ADHD and you’ve got guaranteed hyperfocus. it can be both good and bad, but it’s definitely grounding and something that helps him cope with a lot of things - like, sensorial overload? just feeling overwhelmed in general? too angry or tired? needing a distraction. magic time! even if it’s just making a small ball of light, it definitely helps him focus a lot

which of course leads up to stimming! which you already mentioned up there and also in here

(obv he stimmt with his rings and ear piece thingy all the time because it cool. i don’t think he’d disturb the necklaces because they make up for not wearing a vest so playing with them would do not enough good to make up for the loss of pressure)

again completely agree with the necklace thing, he’s never really seen playing with those, but the earpieces/earlobes/rings? hoo boy. all the damn time, definitely a good way to stim. plus yeah, magic like i just said, but not only in the sense of hyperfocusing on purpose, but also that he just stims magically? like keeps making sparks with his fingers, or making and reshaping a ball like we’ve seen him do in that scene where him and alec fight in s2, some light hand twisting that comes mostly in the form of an almost imperceptible rub of his fingers together, did i mention random sparks? or just having like, invisible tendons of magic running over his arms, focusing on how they feel and making them keep twisting over him like a snake or something? dadiahias idk if i can describe that very well but you know what i mean, it’s just wrapped around his arm and moving and he’s stimming that way, focusing on its motions (plus again good pressure!) and whatnot

i also think he clicks his tongue to make up for rarely ever verbally stimming, but sometimes he can verbally stim with like specific spells that feel good on the tongue when he’s alone - it takes him centuries to ever allow himself to do that one in front of anyone, even if it’s pretty innocuous

I’m very interested in reading more on your posts and how Magnus is ADHD in things that don’t overlap with either ASD or (c-?)PTSD!

doijadoadsoaj and now that i’ve written this huge ass disconnected manifesto on a bunch of shit i realize that that was your question all along. great great great. this is fine

if you’re interested in ADHD magnus as a whole i definitely recommend reading @thesorrowoflizards‘s fantastic ADHD Magnus Manifesto which already features a lot of my headcanons anyway daoisjdaojdsaoi also i have both an adhd magnus tag and a general meta as well as a magnus meta tag (shut up i like keeping things organized okay) so you can read more stuff ive written on/that includes the subject if you want. but anyway! let me scramble up some particular headcanons out of my little peanut brain

ok i guess i can start with what i said about him having like, a lot of expertise on a bunch of unrelated topics that ends up on him having a curriculum that’s like. invented the portal, fluent in 14th century albanian, specialist in rattlesnake venom, healing magic, and endocrinology, knows how to build one (1) highly specific model of plane, PHD in the javanese herbal flora and a master’s in wormholes… and it just keeps going lmao 

i kind of envision magnus having the type of adhd where his hyperfixations last a long time and are usually related to like, Solving A Problem or Figuring Out Something - take the portal for example. he set his mind to it, right, he wants to create teleportion! and he’s gonna hyperfocus on that and learn everything there is to learn until he figures out how to do that, and then he blinks and 10 years have passed and he’s just, like, been doing that. but now that it’s done, great! onto the next topic! and it begins again daoids

i mean over time he probably got better at managing hyperfixations and still like functioning, especially because you know, as high warlock he can’t go around getting distracted and immersed in whatever the fuck he finds fitting, but that’s definitely his natural state, so to speak. he’s naturaly curious and he likes to create and alter the world around him, so he’s drawn to sciences and inventions, but pretty much everything inside that is fair game. also languages! they are useful, especially but not just for a warlock, and uncover so much about a culture and their worldview. i can definitely see him hyperfixating on translations and languages and getting absolutely immersed in those, not stopping studying until he’s absolutely fluent, even if only in a specific dialect from a specific time lmao. it’s not like it’s a problem because as a warlock he reads a lot of ancient texts. and understanding the language means understanding the exact workings of whatever spell he’s using, so again, very useful! 

also like, this is 100% projection, but jesus, time blindness. like i’m time blind as all fuck i’m the time blindest bitch i know it’s incredible, and i hc magnus as having a huge problem with that. and as an immortal, it only gets trickier. was this yesterday? was it in the 18th century? who knows! certainly not him. and after a while of immortality your notion of time is bound to get thwarped, in the same way that a year seemed like a long time when i was a kid and seems like nothing to current me - the more you live, the shorter any length of time seems to last. so he’s going to be like “this was two weeks ago” when in reality it was in the 30s. it might get him some pretty bad shocks, too, like for instance when one of his cats dies of old age - they already live so little, and the more time passes, the less that seems to be to magnus. and he might even feel guilty over that, like, i didn’t even enjoy that cat’s life, it felt to me like i found them yesterday, and now they’re gone, what kind of person am i 

that’s not true of course, he’s always taken care of his cats wonderfully, but it might feel that way for him sometimes, feel like he barely registered they were there and it all passed so quickly even if that’s not really what happened 

and sometimes panicking, like, how long has it been since i met (mortal)? are they close to dying? how much time do we have? how long did i spend worrying about the portal instead of being with them? and just spiralling into anxiety because he can’t trust his own perception of time and it’s like, suddenly, he doesn’t know

not gonna think about magnus waking up in the middle of the night before alec becomes immortal worried that it’s been longer than he thinks, that he thinks it’s been a few years but it’s actually been decades, and what if he turns around and finds that alec is greying and dying and he’s going to lose him without even noticing? is this going to slip through his fingers before he notices, because magnus will never forgive himself if it does. haha yeah definitely not gonna think about that, nope. i’m fine

but also just stupider things with time blindness, like being like “oh wow, did that restaurant i liked close? has it really been this long since i’ve last been here?” “hm. it says here that this has been a residential building for the last 30 years.” “has it???” 

getting centuries mixed up, even if he has very obvious cues to figure out where something took place (like clothing and whatnot) but sometimes he doesn’t think of doing that and just spits out however long it feels like it has been (because like idk about other people but for me time blindness comes with a very clear sense of certainty? like i’ll be like i am absolutely, completely sure that this was a week ago. but then i look and it was two months ago or last year or when i was a kid) and it’s just wildly wrong

over time he learns to always do actual calculations in his head instead of trusting his gut so as to avoid embarrassment and even scorn - oh look i’m making myself sad again god damn it - and he becomes very quick at calculating and figuring it out from cues, like “ah this clothing is from the victorian era, this material wasn’t invented before (x year), i met this person on that year…. so it’s year x”. he kind of has annotations on that so he can keep up. he doesn’t know the years and dates because of his own memories, but from like, a history-studying standpoint lmao it’s a little wack but he manages

every once in a while tho, especially when he’s with alec or his friends, he slips up, and it’s funny. especially because alec has like. an annoyingly good memory, especially with dates, so he can say the exact date that they had a specific conversation without even thinking. so magnus will be like “alexander remember last week when you made me soto ayam?” and alec will give him that shit eating grin and be like “the last time i made you soto ayam was 3 months and 12 days ago” and magnus is just like UGGGHHH and alec makes fun of him for it lmao 

but hey at least they can make up for each other’s weaknesses when it comes to that duahsda but it’s frustrating because it’s one thing that alec is effortlessly good at while magnus is very bad at, and there aren’t a lot of these - especially since magnus has had so much time and so many interests, he’s way more likely to know his way and be good with something than alec, who’s been raised in a military society where interests of any kind weren’t welcome. so it’s frustrating and by god is alec smug about it

and okay i think that’s big enough for now doaijdsaodaj i apologize for the huge incoherent ramble and also for taking so long to reply, i’m just Like This. i hope you liked my answer anyway doauhdaihdsa and thank you again for this wonderful submission, few things make me happier than getting lengthy headcanons shared with me :) 

[unfragilelove]

when all is lost, then all is found.  (1/1)

This is the idea that’s been knocking around in my head and refusing to let me rest until I spat it out on paper.   I hope you all enjoy.  <3 (begins post-Frozen 1, and ends post-Frozen 2.)

Frohana/Kristanna    ||   No warnings/rating    ||    ao3 link

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you travel with ice harvesters as a child?   Why didn’t you live in an Arendelle orphanage?” Kristoff just shrugs.  “Because there isn’t one.”

aka:   The royal family establishes the first orphanage in Arendelle, and the children are not the only ones who find a home within it's walls.

Arendelle has always prided itself on being well-run kingdom, fortunate enough to have an abundance of resources, plenty of trade, a fairly stable economy, and residents who rarely disturb the peace.

Which is why it comes as such a shock to Anna and Elsa when, in a conversation with Kristoff, full of quiet admissions and tales of their childhood, the topic comes up:

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you travel with ice harvesters as a child?   Why didn’t you live in an Arendelle orphanage?”

  Kristoff just shrugs.  “Because there isn’t one.”

  Anna’s jaw drops and Elsa looks a combination of surprised and uncomfortable, both of the women falling silent for several long moments, seemingly at a loss for words.

  “There isn’t one?”  Anna speaks up first, her voice incredulous, “Not anywhere in our entire kingdom?”

  “No.   But, to be fair, it’s not like there are a lot of displaced kids in Arendelle.”

  “But when there are,”  Anna says, her voice rising with her building emotions,  “When it does come up, and there are parents who can’t take care of their baby, or a kid whose parents die,”  Elsa and Kristoff both wince a bit at that, and the waver in Anna’s voice speaks for itself,  “We don’t have anywhere for them to go?”

  Kristoff presses his lips together in a tight frown, unable to find the words to ease her mind.  Admittedly, it does bother him, too— the thought of other children growing up without homes, and perhaps not ending up as fortunate as he did.  (Trolls they may be, but they’re his family, all the same.)

  “I feel awful, for not even knowing.”  Elsa says, her voice quiet and eyes pensive. 

  “Up until a few months ago, you two spent your entire lives inside the castle walls.  It’s not your fault that you don’t know every inch of Arendelle yet.”  Kristoff says, looking at the two downtrodden sisters, and hoping to assuage some of their guilt.

  “But we can change that, right?”  Anna asks, though her voice leaves little room for argument.  “We could create a place where kids can be safe.  Somewhere that they can stay until they find home and families, somewhere they don’t have to be alone anymore.”

  None of them seem inclined to disagree.

  It’s a fairly small thing, Arendelle’s Home for Children, but it’s plenty homey, with plush blankets on warm beds, and boxes full of toys, and a view of the fjord through the dining room window.   It’s located right outside the castle gates, too, which makes overseeing the building process all the easier.   (They all play a role in it’s creation, Kristoff helps with a lot of the hands-on work, Elsa oversees the plans, and Anna is the creative force behind it all, offering ideas and helping in any way she can.)

  The demand for an orphanage was not immense, but it's a cause that proves itself more than necessary.

  This rings particularly true, when it hasn't even been a week after they finish painting the outer walls, and they are approached by a woman, tears rolling down her face, a young toddler in her arms.   A child that is not hers, but her brother’s, who went out for what was supposed to be a two-day trek into the mountains and failed to return alive, and she simply can’t raise the boy herself anymore, she’s sorry, so sorry--

  (It isn't long at all before a couple-- two lovely women, both skilled blacksmiths-- tentatively come into the Home.   They’ve wanted a child of their own for years now, and considering the way the couple’s eyes well up with tears when the two tiny hands reach up toward them,  Anna, Elsa and Kristoff all have no doubt they made the right decision.)

  As time passes, the amount of children in the Home ebbs and flows— thankfully, they’ve rarely had more than five residents at any given time, and in the two whole years since it’s been open, they’ve said tearful farewells to almost a dozen children who’ve found happy homes with new parents.

  Turns out, there are kids in Arendelle who need a safe place to live, but there are also plenty of couples--  same-sex couples, or ones who cannot bear children, or individuals who simply want to adopt a child into their life--  who are equally grateful for the opportunity to expand their family.

  It may be far from a lucrative business, but it’s brought them far more fulfillment than any amount of coin could.

   When they first opened Arendelle’s Home for Children, Gerda had offered her assistance in running the place.   Anna, who remembered how kind she was to her as a child, knew she’d be as good a fit as any.   And now, coming up on two and a half years into the endeavor, it still rings true.    However, while Gerda remains the primary live-in caretaker, the royal family’s presence has been far from absent.

  Kristoff spends a fair amount of time down in the Home, often bringing Sven, who happily brays and lets the kids hang off his antlers, or ride on his back.   He can’t help but talk for Sven, too, which almost always makes the younger children giggle and squeal in delight.    

  There’s one little girl there, Sylvi, with pale skin and tangled blonde hair, who mostly keeps to herself— she’s nonverbal, and hasn’t quite warmed up to any of them yet, curling away from any sort of physical contact. 

(They’re not sure if she was born that way, or if it’s a coping mechanism, or some combination of both. They know next to nothing about her past, but they’ll do everything they can to ensure her a happy future.)    

  She still remains rather closed-off, despite being at the Home for a few months now.   But then, on a crisp Spring morning, something incredible happens-- Kristoff breaks out in Sven’s voice, and Sylvi’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.   She smiles-- the very first smile they’ve seen cross her face in all the time she’s been there-- and she wanders over to bury her hands happily in the thick texture of the reindeer’s fur.   It’s the most progress they’ve seen her make thus far, and Kristoff has never felt prouder.

      Meanwhile, Anna spends any free time she has at the Home, too-- enthusiastically telling the kids stories of her adventures, (usually with Olaf at her side, reenacting the scenes with equal enthusiasm.)   And she’s almost always bringing the kids more toys. (“Your highness, how many times must I insist there are already too many toys to keep the place tidy!”   “Oh, come on Gerda, how am I supposed to be considered a kind and generous princess if I don’t spoil my favorite little Arendellians!   Plus, Kristoff and I already started building them bigger toy boxes, don’t worry.”)   

  There’s a boy there, Fredrik, with wild curly locks and a gap-toothed grin, who always runs and flings himself into Anna’s arms.  He, too, always has a new story to tell— of he and the other kids playing pirates, or this baby rabbit he saw in the woods, or the way he swears there’s a sea monster in the fjord.    Sometimes he’ll stop himself mid-sentence, as though realizing he’s rambling, and stumbles over an apology-- in a way that feels painfully familiar to Anna.   But she’ll be damned if she makes a child feel any of the same inadequacy she did.    With a shake of her head and a smile, she’ll urge him on, “Well, don’t leave me hanging!   You’ve gotta tell me what happened next!”   

The way his face always brightens in response is worth more than anything in the world.   

    Elsa stops by frequently, as well— though at first it had taken her a bit longer to get used to being around children, mostly due to the fear she still wasn’t fully in control of her powers.     Once she had begun to visit, though, the children quickly grew on her, and she’ll often make them little flurries and piles of snow to play in during the hot summer months.   There’s an older girl in her late teens, named Runa— who starts to sit next to Elsa while the younger children play.   Runa is mostly blind, but she often requests little ice sculptures from Elsa, a smile always gracing her face as she runs her fingers along the frigid curves of each figurine.    Of course, they have plenty of wooden toys that could serve the same purpose.  So one day, Elsa can't help but to ask, “Doesn’t the cold bother you?”  

Runa shrugs,  “I’ve never minded it.”  

  Perhaps it’s not so much the ice figurines she enjoys, as much as it is the company and kindness of another.

   Of course, all the children who have come into the Home hold special places in each of their hearts.   It’s a complicated sort of love, as every farewell they have is a bittersweet one (it means they’ll see the child far less, if at all--  but it means they've found a real home, which is so, so good.)   

  And on a similar vein, every child they watch get passed up by potential families breaks their hearts.   

  It's Autumn when a lot changes in an incredibly short span of time.   By the time the dust fully settles in Arendelle, Anna’s both engaged and coronated as Queen, Elsa lives in the Enchanted Forest with the Northuldra, and there’s an entire chunk of their kingdom’s history that needs retelling.    For Anna, in particular, the queendom comes incredibly natural to her— but the journey it took to get there, the mass of secrets their family kept, holding Olaf as he perished, the gripping fear that she was truly alone , followed by nearly dying on the dam--  well, that all is a bit harder to come to terms with.  

  Eventually, though, things calm down enough for them to fall back in to a mostly normal routine, and they waste no time visiting the Home regularly once more.   There, they find a couple new residents, and, unfortunately-- three familiar faces who’ve yet to find homes.

Sylvi, despite most families passing her by, makes great strides-- she warms up to Kristoff through her comfort around Sven, and begins to trust the sisters, too.   Elsa, with her calm and composed demeanor, seems to put her at ease.   And Anna, though far more excitable than her sister in nature, is always careful to not to overstimulate or stress the child out.   Eventually, the first time Sylvi makes proper eye contact with someone is with Anna, her curious little eyes becoming absolutely fixated on the princess’s face as she tells her a story.    The little one doesn’t even seem to realize she’s doing it, and yet it takes Anna all the willpower she can muster to stay focused on the tale she’s weaving, and not start to cry right then and there.

  Fredrik, meanwhile, is a lovebug with just about everyone, as outgoing as ever and never seeming to run low on energy.   He loves nature, always asking to ride Sven, or picking up little snails off the cobblestone path and moving them to safety, or doodling different plants he finds throughout the town.   He can almost always be found running around playing with Olaf, or dragging the other children into games, or asking Kristoff and Anna to take him on hikes, or running headfirst into a snow pile Elsa made-- (to which she quickly has to add extra snow to cushion him from hitting the ground beneath, and dear gods , these children will never fail to keep their reflexes sharp.) 

  Elsa, although no longer living there, still visits Arendelle rather frequently.   While it’s their family game night that keeps her coming back weekly, she makes time to visit the Home, as well.    Despite it being a regular occurrence, Runa’s face never fails to light up when she hears Elsa’s voice.   It always makes her heart feel full-- that is, until the day Gerda pulls her aside and shares that they haven’t had many potential adopters, lately, and those that do visit are almost never interested in Runa.   

“Beyond being blind, she’s nearly an adult, in most people’s eyes.” Gerda tells her in a whisper, her voice thick with sadness.  “And I fear she may not find a family before that day comes.”    

  It sticks with Elsa, the words ringing in her ears and refusing to grant her peace.   She feels like it’s the siren’s call all over again, something nagging in the back of her mind, except instead of being mysterious and exciting, it’s an echo of a far more grim reality.   She returns to the Enchanted Forest that night, and it’s several weeks before she visits the orphanage again.

  “You came back!”  Runa exclaims when she returns, “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

  “Quite the opposite, actually, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.   There’s something I need to speak to you about.”  A sharp breath, and then:  “How would you feel about coming to live with me and the Northuldra?”

  A few more months pass, and while the newest children have come and gone from their system in nearly record time, Sylvi and Fredrik still remain.   It’s just the two of them in the Home now, and with the holidays only days away, it doesn’t appear they’ll find homes before the new year.

  As a result, Kristoff and Anna, in addition to the time they spend with them during the day, have taken to inviting the kids for dinner with them in the castle, most nights. (“They deserve to eat in a proper home, you know?” “Of course, and I’m sure Gerda will enjoy having the afternoon off--”  “Right, and Fredrik didn’t get a chance to finish telling us about how he saved that baby bird!”

“And really, no child deserves to feel alone this time of year.”)

It’s not the first time they’ve all eaten in the castle together, but there’s something about the way Sylvi erupts into a fit of loud giggles when Fredrik puts a carrot up his nose to imitate Olaf,  or the way Kristoff feigns shock to amuse the kids each time he looks away only to find more and more brussel sprouts being snuck onto his plate,  or the way Fredrik, with a belly already full of hearty food, looks at the dessert tray being brought in and says, “Man, I love you guys.”   

  The moments are happy ones, and yet Anna’s chest aches  while watching how well these two children seem to settle into their everyday life.  The Home would continue to keep them safe and comfortable, yes, but it’s still not… well, a home .

  The short trek back to the orphanage that night is a heavy one, as they know the kids need to be back in their own beds, but find that it’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye each time.   Sylvi tucks her nose into the crook of Anna’s neck as she carries her, no longer terrified of touch as she once was (at least, not from Kristoff and Anna.)    And Fredrik sits on Kristoff’s shoulders, his boundless energy finally waning as his eyes droop closed.  

  They tuck them in and say their goodnights, returning home to a castle that suddenly feels far too empty.

    It’s only a few hours later, when Kristoff and Anna decide to retire to their room for the night.  The two of them are quietly getting ready for bed when Kristoff speaks up, his voice tentative.  

  “Anna, do you, uh-- do you still want to have kids?” 

  “I do.   Why?  Wait, are you having second thoughts—“

  “No, no, definitely not!   I still do too.  I really do.”

  Anna watches him, her fingers playing absent-mindedly with his hair as she waits patiently for him to get to the point he’s clearly trying to build toward.   He takes a deep breath, and then:

  “Do you want only... biological children?”

  Her heart swells as it occurs to her where he’s heading with this, and she wonders how she got so lucky, to find someone whose soul aligns so perfectly with her own.

  “Not at all," Anna says, and oh, she can already feel the tears building in her eyes,  "I’d be happy raising a child with you, however they come into our life.” 

   “So say there was a boy with curly hair and a kind heart, as feisty as you, to slide down the bannisters with--”

  “Or maybe a little blonde like you, who trusts us more than anyone, quiet but brave as can be, who comes out of her shell more and more every day--”

  “Or both?”   He asks with a sheepish, yet oh-so radiant grin, and Anna mirrors it tenfold.  

  “Yeah.  Both sounds good to me.”