#a lighter color makes him look so much younger

[misctf]

All Eyes on You

A trade for @axeeglitter

“Really?” Eric could feel his temper rising, “How many times have I told you I don’t like it when...”

“I don’t get the big deal.” Paul replied, putting his phone down, “You know I think you’re hot, right?” He continues, “So what if I like to look at hot guys on the internet?”

Eric caught a glimpse of another guy Eric with ogling. It was always the same- his boyfriend totally had a type. Another stupid, athletic, and musclebound jock. The guy doing some kind of stupid dance- swaying and rubbing his engorged muscles. How could Paul watch this kind of cringe content anyway?

“That’s what turns you on?” Eric mumbled, “You know it makes me uncomfortable.” He admitted, “I just don’t know what you keep turning to social media to get your dick hard.”

“It’s not that...” Paul replied, “Look, I’m not trying to...”

“Well you are.” Eric spat, “I’m done talking about this.” And before Paul could say another word, Eric stormed out of the room and to their shared bedroom.

As he shut the door, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. He paced back and forth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to process the hurt and anger coursing through his veins.

“Doesn't he understand how much it hurts?” Eric thought bitterly, “Seeing him drool over those perfect-looking jocks all the time. Like I'm not good enough for him anymore.”

He couldn't shake the image of the latest hunk Paul had been ogling - all rippling abs and bulging biceps, gyrating obscenely on screen. Compared to that Adonis, Eric felt small and inadequate. His own body, which he'd always considered average but attractive, now seemed soft and unappealing in his eyes.

“I wish...” Eric whispered under his breath, “I wish Paul would see me that way sometimes. That he’d look at me like he looks at those guys.”

As if in response to his heartfelt wish, Eric's phone began to vibrate and glow against the nightstand. He froze, staring at the pulsing screen in confusion. Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over him. Eric glanced down and gasped as he watched his chest hairs disappear before his very eyes, falling to the ground and disappearing. He reached up to touch the smooth skin that replaced it. He hadn’t been hairless since his early 20s and the sensation of his smooth skin felt unfamiliar.  

“What the fuck?” Eric breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart, “You don’t just lose your body hair.” He mumbles, watching as the hairs on his belly fell away, “Wait...” He held up his arm, watching as the darker hairs became lighter in color.

Eric approached his mirror cautiously, his eyes widening as he took in the changes reflected back at him. The dark hair on his head were gradually lightening, transforming into a rich, honey-brown, while his five o’clock shadow vanished. His gaze drifted lower, noting the subtle shift in skin tone. Blotches of sun-kissed warmth broke through his natural pallor, spreading across his body slowly but surely. It was as if he'd spent hours basking in the warm summer sun without actually stepping outside. As Eric gazed at his reflection, he noticed something even more astonishing - the lines etched into his face, the crow's feet around his eyes, the sagging skin beneath his chin - all seemed to be fading away. His skin appeared smoother, tighter, almost radiant. He looked... younger. Much younger than his actual thirty years.

“No, it can't be...” Eric muttered, feeling his youthful skin, “I...” He bites his lip. He hasn’t looked like this since he was at least 21. But even at 21 he wasn’t sporting this kind of tan, “I need to find Paul. I need to...”

A sharp intake of breath escaped Eric's lips as he felt an intense heat radiate through his chest. He watched in disbelief as his pecs began to swell, growing larger and more defined by the second. Muscles he never knew he possessed started to take shape, bunching and rippling beneath his skin.

“No, stop!” Eric cried out, panic lacing his voice as he frantically tried to halt the transformation.

But it only intensified, spreading to his arms and shoulders. His triceps ballooned, his biceps thickened, and his deltoids grew broad and powerful. Eric let out a strangled moan as the metamorphosis continued. His abdominal muscles tightened and hardened, forming a chiseled six-pack that flexed with every ragged breath. The once-flat plane of his stomach now boasted a deep, carved indent in the middle. His glutes, too, underwent a drastic makeover. The flesh compacted and reformed, molding itself into two perfectly rounded globes. His thighs thickened, his quadriceps bulging with raw power. Every inch of Eric's body was being reshaped, remade, reborn into a sculpted masterpiece of masculinity. 

“This isn't me. This can't be happening.” Eric gasped as he stared at himself in the mirror, “This is a dream... this doesn’t just happen to people.” He mumbles, drinking in the sight of his new muscles.

A sudden wave of prickling sensation assaulted Eric's armpits as coarse, dark hair sprouted. The air was thick with the acrid scent of sweat and musk, a potent aroma that filled his nostrils and made his stomach churn.

“Ugh, what the hell?” Eric groaned, clamping a hand over one armpit as he sniffed himself again, recoiling at the pungent odor, “I smell like a gym bag.”

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks - he now emitted the exact same stench as the muscular, gym-rat types Paul constantly ogled online. He reached his meatier hand to touch the mirror, and gasped. Eric's hands flew up to cover his face, trembling as he felt the contours of his features shift and morph. His nose narrowed, his jawline squared off, and his cheekbones sharpened into a chiseled, angular silhouette. His lips thinned into a smirk, and his eyes took on a cocky, confident glint.

“No...” Eric whispered, barely recognizing the stranger staring back at him.

Gone was the soft, rounded face of his thirty-year-old self; in its place sat the visage of a smug, arrogant young jock - the very archetype Paul seemed to worship. With a sense of dread, Eric watched as a pair of tight, athletic shorts emerged from thin air and slithered down his muscular thighs, settling snugly around his crotch. Embroidered on the side of the shorts in bold, white letters was the number '28'. At the same time, a pair of baseball cleats materialized on his feet, the stench of stale sweat and dirty socks wafting up to assault his nostrils. They fit perfectly, molded to the contours of his sizeable calves and ankles.

“This is insane.” Eric choked out, revulsion washing over him as he took in his new appearance, “What kind of sick joke is this? I don’t want this. I want Paul to love me for my looks, not some cocky asshole’s.” No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the cocky glint in his eyes. And his lips seemed to default to a smug smirk, “I need to...”

Before he could finish his thought, Eric's hips began to sway of their own accord, his movements fluid and sensual as he danced in front of the mirror. One hand roamed over his chiseled torso, tracing the dips and curves of his newly formed muscles. The smirk on his face grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger he didn't recognize.

“This isn't me.” Eric panted, but his body refused to obey, continuing its seductive dance, “Stop it! Get control of yourself!” But before he could say another word, his lips formed into a confident smirk. He realized that just like his dancing, he couldn’t control the smirk, “No please! I can’t talk.” He thought, “Stop! Stop this!”

In the mirror, he can see his newly athletic body move. His confident smirk. He can even still smell the masculine stench that wafts from his clothes and pits. Eric wanted to cry- feeling totally powerless. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t like those guys that Paul drooled over. He wasn’t...

“Wait, what’s that?!” Eric watches as his phone started to glow, basking him in a blue light, “Oh god it hurts! Stop!”

He could feel his body breaking down- simplifying. Every organic component of him being broken down and changed into a pattern of pixels and data. His body digitized and absorbed into the phone. And when the pain stopped, Eric realized he was no longer in his room. He was in a locker room. The smells from his own body still assaulting his nose. His body still moving against his will.

“Paul... Anyone...” Eric thought, “Help me...” 

But his plea was lost amidst the endless loop of his own mesmerizing form. Reduced to a looping GIF of his newly buff physique. His athletic shorts and baseball cleats remained, along with the arrogant smirk frozen on his face. Each time the animation played, his muscles rippled and flexed, his abs contracting hypnotically. And worst yet, he could feel eyes on him. All the users who viewed him in his digitalized prison. Comments flooded in, each one more enthusiastic than the last. “Holy shit, so hot!”, “Best thing I've seen all week!”, “Makes me wanna tap that!”

“No... please...” Eric's mind reeled in horror as the comments repeated in his mind, unable to comprehend his own degradation. Trapped inside this digital prison, forced to perpetuate the very objectification he despised.

He didn’t know how long it took until he felt his boyfriend’s gaze on him. For a moment, Eric dared to hope - perhaps his boyfriend could somehow hear him, free him from this living nightmare. But as Paul's fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing out a message, Eric's hopes dwindled.

“Yum.”

Eric's heart sank, his despair deepening as he realized Paul had no idea it was him trapped in this degrading digital form. To his boyfriend, he was just another hot piece of eye candy to admire and lust after. And after a few more minutes of watching, Paul moved on, leaving Eric to continue his eternal dance.

Hours passed, then days, and Eric's awareness persisted, forever confined within the looping GIF. Paul returned sporadically, devouring each iteration of his digitally rendered form with hungry eyes. As the weeks dragged on, Eric's initial shock gave way to a numb acceptance. This was his existence now - a perpetual spectacle, reduced to nothing more than a collection of pixels and motion. The irony was not lost on him. He had once envied the attention Paul gave to those jocks and their thirst traps. Now he was one- just a thirst trap, dancing in a smelly locker room- forever.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Lovely Mimibell with his painted nails

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The girl with the pearl necklace (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You marry Daemon to secure an alliance. But surprisingly, you find a haven in him.

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving) Talks of race, colorism, racism, and self-esteem issues.

A/N: This has to be my most personal fic. It might not be as universal because it is part of my personal experience with race as a mixed person living in what is essentially a mixed region. I hope I do not get a bad response, but I will remind you what the title of my blog says.

“YOUR HAIR IS ugly.” The girl says, displeased. She is trying to comb through your hair with some coconut oil, but instead of curling prettily, your hair just falls flat. She has been at it for at least half an hour, her tugs to your hair getting increasingly more painful.

This time, you cannot hide the flinch. Pain, you had excused with being her first day. Making a mess, with her being unused to your hair. But calling you ugly? She was but a serving girl, she had no right.

The girl looks horrified at what she has just said. She is barely fourteen. But yet again, you are too. You have never called anyone ugly to their faces. You keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.

“She is young, milady.” The older maid, the one that is supposed to supervise her, says. She smooths your hair back, trying to fix it. Her touch gets more and more desperate the more she tries. Your hair will simply not obey. The younger one has put so much product on your hair, it looks greasy and unwashed.

You stare at your features in the mirror. The lighter skin, the shock of unruly hair, not quite a wave, not quite a coil, but rather something in the middle. Bad hair, your previous maids called it. You wonder why you bothered trying with maids again.

It is your cousin’s wedding. A lovely young woman, with beautiful dark hair that you bet never reacts this way.

“I am sorry, milady.” The younger maid offers.

Your eyes are still fixated on your mirror. You wonder if your mother ever has these troubles too. With her sleek hair, and foreign features, you doubt anyone dares call her ugly. She may not have a title, as you do, but she was once regarded as the most beautiful woman in Lys.

But you. Oh, you. With your too wide nose, but too upturned to be a dornish one. With your high cheekbones in a short face. With dark eyelashes, purple eyes, and hair that is not quite right.

It screams outsider. It screams, not here, not there. Not a famed beauty in Lys, not quite the Sword of the Morning.

“Get out.” You say, to the serving girl. “Get out, both of you.”

You need to wash your hair three times for all the product to come out. You are late to the wedding.

The serving girl is relocated to the kitchens, where no one needs to talk to her. The older one is sent to tend to your father. You pass her sometimes, in the hallways of Starfall, and wonder if she is thinking your hair is ugly too.

You wonder the same thing on the day your fate changes. You are getting dressed when you see her, an ill omen in the middle of Starfall. Prince Qoren has summoned all the unwed noble ladies of Dorne to Sunspear, wishing to announce something. You think it can’t be anything good, considering he has refused to use a royal proclamation to do so.

The travel to Sunspear is taxing. You travel to the capital accompanied by your mother, a day before the actual meeting is set to take place. It allows the two of you to spend the night in a manse before having to meet the royal family.

She doesn’t know how to fix your hair. Your mother’s hair is pale silver, easy to manage and twist in the ways women up north prefer. She had tried hard to tame yours as a child, spraying it with water and stretching the curls with a brush so it laid flat. It never seemed to work as it did in hers.

You pin your hair up, a clip made of pearls and amethysts keeping it up. You do not have the same texture most women here have, that ensures gorgeous volume, so you play to your strengths, showcasing the deep color you have and using it as a backdrop for gorgeous accessories.

Your dress is chosen with great care. A deep lavender, with a tasteful cleavage, held at your shoulders by twin brooches of falling stars. Not even hearing your mother say you look beautiful eases your anxiety. You had seen her, the servant. She only appeared in your life when something was about to happen.

You are not the superstitious kind, but when you stand in a line in front of Prince Qoren’s throne with all the noble maidens of Dorne, you know you were right. That woman was a bad omen.

Prince Qoren smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I am glad all of you chose to accept my invitation.” He stands. All the women in the room drop into a curtsy. “When I look at you, I see the best this Kingdom has to offer. It makes me proud. And it makes me confident enough to know I can ask this of you.”

You tense. Whatever he is going to ask is something bad, you can already tell. Some of the more clueless girls in the room look flattered by the delicate compliment, but it is a tactic you know well. You have been mocked enough to know that when someone compliments you so elaborately, a but usually follows. And it tends to be devastating.

His kind demeanor isn’t fooling you. Not in the least.

“We have never coddled our women, as the other Kingdoms do. War is coming for us, and we need strong allies. The Iron Throne offers us their support, but as always, it comes with a price.”

War. Of course it comes down to it. You have heard your parents whispering about it when they think you cannot hear. How Prince Qoren is thinking of sending his troops, instead of his money. How he expects your brother or father to lead them, sometimes against the Triarchy, sometimes against the Iron Throne.

It seems he has made his choice. Against the Triarchy. Your heart is seized by the sudden terror of the thought of your father going to war and not coming home. His sword, Prince Qoren called him.

Your house has been Dorne’s sword for decades. Ever since the first Dayne picked up their sword from the heart of a flaming star, you have defended the Kingdom against their enemies. Your very home once burned because of it.

Amongst the tales of flaming swords and fallen stars, you had never thought war would touch your home. Your brother was the current wielder of Dawn. Your father the head of your house. They would have to fight.

“A marriage pact. From a daughter of Dorne, to a Targaryen Prince. To bind our kingdoms, to ensure peace in this new alliance we embark. Dorne must remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken. House Martell has no daughters of their own to offer, so we ask one of you to go on our stead. It’s us who will pay your dowry, and you shall always have a home here.”

His words barely register as you brood about the upcoming war. You have heard of the Crabfeeder, and his brutality. You think of your kind, kind brother, and his sweet smile. He is a few years younger than you, untested in battle yet.

Some girls cheer. You look at your mother and notice she has the same stricken look you must be sporting. Some of the other parents talk animatedly between themselves, calculating the potential such a match offers their daughters. None seem to realize what it means.

War. War will come for Dorne, and the situation might turn out so bad, proud Prince Qoren will need the dragons’ help. The once unbowed man is being made to bow so low his forehead is touching the floor.

Prince Qoren raises a hand, quieting the hall.

“I am not asking for volunteers. I simply wished to gaze upon you myself, and decide who will marry Daemon Targaryen.”

Mumbles start again, some girls sounding disgruntled. Others preen and titter, trying to attract the Prince’s gaze. You keep your eyes firmly trained on the wall in front of you.

You would rather not marry this Daemon Targaryen. The politics in the other kingdoms are not your forte, but you have a vague notion of him being the brother to the current King. He must have a dragon, of course. And you think he is the one who has been in the conflict at the Stepstones, so he must be some sort of warrior.

No matter how much of a catch he might be, you wish to stay. If war is truly coming, you cannot bear to think of being separated from your family. Your mother will need you, when your father and brother are called away. And you don’t imagine yourself in a foreign land, waiting for news about them on your own.

Prince Qoren makes his way down the line of maidens. You barely spare him a glance, your mind thousands of miles away. But he pauses in front of you, looking at the shooting stars in your shoulders, the deep lavender of your dress.

“I hear Daemon Targaryen likes his women fair.” He comments. “And you are the fairest of us all.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. It takes all of your willpower not to fidget under his gaze. You give him an awkward smile.

Prince Qoren reaches to touch the brooch. His hands are elegant, fingers long and lean. He is about your mother’s age, and wears it just as well.

“Lady Dayne, is it?”

“Yes, my Prince.” You say, meeting his eyes. You may not be a classic dornish beauty, but you were still raised by the most charming woman in Lys. There are hardly any other women with manners as refined as yours, and you know all about the games men in power enjoy playing.

You cannot fawn over him. You cannot show him weakness. Because if you do, you will be common in his eyes, unespecial. It is not about beauty. It never is. That thought has given you great comfort during the years.

“How fitting. My dearest sword will be the one to defend her kingdom.”

Your hands begin to sweat. His choice is predictable. It is the same thing you had been thinking about your father and brother, House Dayne is the sword of Dorne. And swords, even more feminine ones, are only useful when war comes.

It doesn’t make it easier, that you should have expected it. It only makes your chest hurt. You do not dare look at your mother.

Instead, you drop into a curtsy and look at Qoren Martell as if he has made you the happiest woman in the world.

“I will be honored, my Prince.”

He smiles.

“Please, call me Qoren. We are to be family now.”

You look at your mother, insides turning to ice. You wonder how long until he takes you away from her.

In the end, it only takes a month. Qoren had been eager to depart and fix the realm’s issues. You now know plenty about the war in the Stepstones. Apparently, your future husband had secured the victory, giving the killing blow to the leader of the opposing army. But while won, the threat to your Kingdom remains. The Triarchy shall always reform, and not even the death of the Crabfeeder can stop them. Like one of those awful serpents from myth, you cut off its head and two more appear.

Pulling your support as the Triarchy was losing had been a bad move. They blamed Dorne for their defeat, and the Iron Throne thought the dornish were cowardly, only making their choice when it was clear who would lose. To avoid petty revenges and more bloodshed, Dorne needed new allies. And you needed them fast.

“We negotiated a new title for you.” Qoren tells you, as the carriage takes you from the docks and towards the Red Keep. “When you marry, you will become a Princess too, instead of remaining a Lady.”

“That sounds exciting.” You give him a bright smile. It's a very genuine one. Hearing yourself announced in such a manner would please you. “It will be strange, of course, changing it.”

“Nonsense.” Qoren laughs. “Only the best for my daughter.”

You falter, and decide to peer out of the window to hide your expression from him. You do not want him to think you are ungrateful.

The night is awfully cold, but you barely feel it. You are dressed in a purple velvet dress, still amazed by the material. You had never worn something so expensive, or made of such a warm fabric. It has the traditional dornish cut, with a plunging cleavage, but you find the added long sleeves fascinating.

The royal family had spared no expense in preparing your trousseau. As a daughter of House Martell, only the best would do. Obviously, all in their colors. This purple velvet gown was one of the few purple items you had been allowed to bring. It saddened you, having to forsake the color. You had always felt pretty in purple, since it matched your eyes.

You weren’t too sure how you felt about everything. Being sent to protect your kingdom and, by extension, your family from war was a great thing. But you were also being asked to leave your identity behind.

Never having left Dorne before, the journey had excited you, but also made you feel acutely lonely. And the thought of having to let behind your family, your colors, and even your name, only served to make you feel worse.

Your father would not be the one giving you away during your wedding, nor would your maiden cloak be the one of House Dayne. Instead, you would wear the sun and spear of House Martell.

But at this moment, as Qoren gets out of the carriage and extends you a hand, you are a Dayne. The purple dress acts a beacon, attracting the gaze of every servant in the vicinity. You stand tall, a star pendant hanging between your breasts.

You will enter decked on your colors. You will greet your future husband as you are, dressed in royal purple. Be a Dayne one last time, before war takes even that from you.

You breathe in and out, the polluted night sky so different from the beautiful stars in Dorne. This is it, you think, a chance to start over. To be whoever you wish to be. These people do not know what a dornishwoman should look like, or how she should behave. They do not know your hair is odd, and so are your eyes. They will only know what you want them to know.

“Go change, my sword. Your maids have selected a dress.” Qoren places his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the Red Keep. Your smile falls. For a second, you had thought you could attend the feast as you were, draped in your familiar purple and silver. “Make us all proud.”

You should have known better. But it is no matter now. A new life awaits you. Not even Qoren can sour your mood. You square your shoulders and smile.

So focused you are on your inner motivational speech, you do not notice the man watching you, his features covered by a black hood.

The day of your marriage, Daemon presents you with a beautiful pearl necklace. It is made of the purest pearls, with the biggest one you have ever seen right in the middle. It is bigger than the fingertip of your thumb, a perfect circle, roughly the size of a gold dragon.

“My cousin helped me commission this.” He says, during the wedding feast. He presents it to you in a small box, insides lined with velvet. As you reach for it, Daemon closes it, nearly catching your fingers with it. You laugh, startled. He grins at you. “Ah, I want to help you put it on.”

Your fingers fiddle with the simple silver chain you wear, star pendant hanging between your breasts. The hesitation must show on your face because Qoren, at your side, answers for you.

“She is honored, I am sure. Such a gorgeous jewel, to sit in the neck of the greatest beauty Dorne has to offer.”

You smile, trying not to let the sudden flare up of bad memories the words bring you. You remember a young girl, calling your hair ugly. Your grandmother’s face, sneering as you passed her in the hallways. Half-breed, she says, after having too much wine. Not quite right.

The subtle, more hidden, cruelties of girlhood that made your heart ache. When you did not make the list of the most beautiful girls some page was making. How much of a late bloomer you were, by dornish standards. How you had to wait so long for your first kiss, when it seemed like all the other girls were having them already.

Will this be all your life will ever be? Looking for the poison dripping from each word? Doubting every compliment?

You give Daemon what you hope is a seductive look, from beneath dark lashes. You are not good at seduction, having been an observer most of your life. But you are good at pretending.

It has worked, so far. Your arrival, on Qoren’s arm and with an honor guard fit for a Queen, had made people look at you differently. Men, specially, look at you as something exotic. They whisper about your Lyseni mother, and the tricks you must know how to perform. It fills you with dread because once again your looks set you apart, and you don’t quite feel like a person. You had hoped things would be different here.

And they are. Their attention is different, but it’s still wrong and you don’t quite believe them. They only want you because of the novelty, because of rumors about dornishwomen, about how your mother trapped your father. Not because you are beautiful or desirable. It’s sickening.

“Come, husband. Take my necklace off.” And Daemon obeys you, coming to stand behind you. Before he can begin to fumble with your hair, you reach for your hair on your own and lift it to expose your nape. You twist it into a pretend up do, holding it up with your hand.

The gesture is as languid as you can make it, highlighting the curve of your arm, and the elegance of your movements. The cold air hits your neck, making the hairs there stand up.

You both feel and hear Daemon’s sigh. He blows a soft puff of air against your hair, the noise very loud in the small table that seats only Qoren, Daemon, and you. The Queen has already retired, her sickly husband in tow. The Princess and her husband are dancing merrily between the tables.

When you had met Daemon, your first impression of him had been that he was very Valyrian looking and surprisingly whole for someone fresh out of war. And then, he had looked at Princess Rhaenyra and you had understood what Qoren meant when he said he liked his women fair.

Your stomach had turned, back then. Valyrian indeed. Rhaenyra was all milk white skin, light lashes and soft features. You couldn’t compete, you had thought. But then, you had noticed how his eyes followed little Laena Velaryon and you had known there was a chance for you to succeed too. It wasn’t skin color, but Valyrian heritage.

You have been trying to seduce him, with various degrees of success. The attention men pay you is helping you, and so are your purple eyes. You hope tonight goes well. You think you have just about enough Lyseni blood in you to keep him hooked.

His hands gently unclasp your pendant. He pockets it, you think. A memento or because he intends to give it back to you? You feel as his fingers whisper against your collarbones, and this time it’s you who sighs.

You are dramatic about it. Your lips part, as if about to be kissed. Your head tilts back.

“Beautiful.” Daemon whispers, in your ear. He kisses the shell of it.

“It is a gorgeous necklace.” You reply, feeling your face heating up. You feel drunk already, and you have not drank a single goblet of wine yet.

“No. You.” And the kiss against your ear becomes open-mouthed, his heavy breath filling your hearing. His hips brush against the backrest of the chair, searching for closeness. This is something that cannot be faked, you think. Not this kind of desire.

He wants you. He wants you, and you only wish to close your eyes and let him take you right here at this table. You are no blushing maiden, for sure, but you still are new to intimacy. Too many hang-ups about your body and not quite pleasing attempts have not contributed to building a vast knowledge of it. The fact that he wants you so badly makes you wild.

“I think that is my cue.” Qoren says, breaking you out of your stupor. He drains his cup, clearly in preparation for leaving. You had never felt such a connection with someone, not even in Dorne, where pleasure was loud and open. You press your hands to your face, ashamed of having forgotten he was there. Daemon simply chuckles.

“You don’t have…”

“Dearest sword.” He says, as he plants a kiss to your forehead. “You are as tempting as your husband is selfish. He doesn’t seem in the mood to share you.”

“I am not.” Daemon agrees, squeezing your shoulder. He exchanges a look with Qoren over your head. You can only see Qoren’s answering smirk.

“I think I should call for the mummers early.”

You and Daemon slip away as a company of puppet masters from Dorne make their grand entrance, throwing colorful powders in the air.

Later that night, as he sleeps in your shared rooms, you slip on a robe and stand in front of the mirror. Daemon has a massive one, right at the foot of the bed. Mirrors have always scared you, and sleeping so comfortably as he does with one reflecting him is unfathomable. You only intend to cover it.

Mirrors are supposed to be portals to other worlds, your mother used to say. The thought is stuck in your head, so you have grabbed a linen and are ready to place it over it when something catches your attention.

Your reflection. She is glowing, barefoot and in a simple robe, but still wearing the necklace your husband has given you. It should look gauche. It should look too much. But somehow, the necklace looks just right in your neck. You remember Daemon’s eyes, filled with desire when you had bared your neck to him. The sensual way he had touched you tonight, cradling you in his arms, rolling around in his bed. The necklace on the nightstand.

You look at the way the pearls light up your face. For the first time, you feel beautiful.

You make your first mistake a few days after.

It’s the first day of the week, and the Queen has asked you to have tea with her. You go, happily. After Qoren’s and the guards left, you began to feel lonely. There is not much to do here, either. Most of your usual entertainments are considered too sinful or crass. You can not even go for a walk around the city because they deem it too dangerous.

The meeting with the Queen is sour. She is trying, you can tell, but you still hear the disdain in her voice when she talks about your customs, or your people. She eyes the necklace you wear with distaste.

You get the feeling she buys the tales about you. That you are some dornish beauty, exotic and trained in the arts of seducing men. She comments on your mother, on her luck for marrying up, and you have to remember yourself to bite your tongue.

From what Daemon tells you, she is very lucky herself. Going from Lady to Queen is almost as impressive as going from merchant’s daughter to Lady, and you know which one of them did not need to spread her legs for it, and it’s not her. Not if you judge by her plain face.

You look at her, scandalized and pious as she is, ranting about acceptance of bastards of all things, and you surprise yourself at your own cruelty. You should not have thought that. But you are just so angry…

You take a deep breath and look away, trying to calm down. It is then you notice. In the door of the solar, standing to attention, is a man who looks like you.

He has inky dark hair, and olive skin. His eyes are dark, and he has a light stubble, probably because when you have hair as dark as he does, it is difficult to hide body hair. He wears armor and a white cloak. Kingsguard, you think. Why hasn’t anyone told you there was someone else from Dorne here, too? How could you not know?

Queen Alicent follows your eyes, suddenly noticing you are not paying attention. Your eyes are glued to the knight. She frowns in disapproval.

“That’s Ser Criston Cole. My sworn shield.” She stresses the word my. You grab your teacup and take a sip, to hide your smile. Is the pious Queen in love with her knight? “And a member of the Kingsguard.”

She is reminding you of his vow of celibacy. You almost laugh. If she wasn’t so repressed, she would realize she is the one who wants to jump his bones. The only interest you have in him is the fact that he might become a friend.

“Do your guards always stand inside your rooms?” You ask her, doing your best to sound puzzled. “The King’s guards stand outside his, and so does the sworn shield of the Princess.”

“…” Queen Alicent blushes, and averts her gaze. There are no further invitations to have tea with her.

You spend a lot of time staring at Ser Criston. He never returns your gaze. You seek him at mealtimes, you greet him in the corridors, but he always manages to evade you before you can properly start a conversation.

Daemon notices. He always does. He is finely attuned to you, his perfect wife. His prize after the war, his star. A study in contradictions, brazen and bold one moment, shy the next. He seems to like you even more for it. What he doesn’t seem to like is your sudden fixation on Criston Cole.

“You should stay away from him, star.” Daemon whispers, when he catches you staring at him once more. His voice sounds irritated. Accusing. As if you have done something wrong. It makes you bristle immediately.

“I am doing nothing wrong.”

“No one said you are. But Cole is….” Daemon shakes his head. “It is unwise. That’s all I mean to say.”

“What is unwise?” You scowl. You are glad that the table is long enough that no one else overhears you. Knowing Daemon, things are about to get nasty. He will throw in so many insults, Ser Criston would beat him into a pulp if he heard. No matter how competent your husband is, you still worry. “Trying to talk to him?”

“He is a cunt.” He says, cutting your meat for you as if you were a child. From your place in the dais, you seek him once more. Ser Criston is standing on the entrance of the hall, watching carefully as his Queen dines with the King and the two of you.

As if sensing your gaze, he looks towards you. Then, he quickly averts his eyes.

“I merely wish to speak with him.” You say. “He is like me. Dornish.”

“Ser Crispin will only disappoint you. Both in personality and in prowess.” Daemon warns. He pushes his goblet closer to you. “Here, try this. Arbor gold. How does it compare to the swill you like to drink?”

You take a sip of his goblet. You scrunch up your nose, The wine is cloyingly sweet, lacking the strong notes Dornish Reds always have.

“Ugh.” Your lips pucker up in disgust. Daemon laughs, and steals a kiss from you, licking into your mouth for good measure. But before you can begin to properly enjoy it, Queen Alicent coughs. You push Daemon away, even though you are doing nothing scandalous. “You taste like it too.”

“And you taste of that swill you dornish call wine. Yet, I am not complaining.” He takes a sip of his goblet.

“Are you jealous of him?” You ask, suddenly. You have heard about the rivalry between the two of them. Everyone knew of how Cole had obtained his position. He had been a simple knight, until Daemon had lost to him during a tourney. The act had caught Princess Rhaenyra’s attention, and secured him a white cloak. “Ser Criston?”

The thought of Daemon thinking you want to invite Cole to your bed is enough to amuse you. While in Dorne, paramours are more common than here, you are finding monogamy pleasant. You had never been much for sex without love, after all. Only one taste had been enough to satiate your curiosity.

“You shouldn’t toy with fire.” He growls, perhaps confusing your amusement with a deliberate attempt to tease him. It only makes your smile widen.

“Did you know…?” You begin, with an airy tone. Daemon sets down his cutlery. He turns to look at you, licking his lips. “My ancestor, Ser Joffrey Dayne, crossed paths with Queen Visenya. She burned Starfall, after he attacked Oldtown.”

“House Targaryen has always defended the Highcunts, it seems.” Daemon’s brows furrow together. It is no surprise he knows about it. One of the things that have bonded the two of you together is the fact that both of you are obsessed with family history. What he doesn’t know is why you are referencing it now.

You smile. One of your hands goes to toy with the necklace he has given you and that has become your constant accessory, bringing attention to your neck. It is a deliberate move. You intend to be ravished tonight

“I do not fear fire. We Daynes got Dawn from the heart of a falling star. “

Daemon kisses your temple.

“Oh? And I cannot wait to see you burn.” And he is pulling you to your feet, and you are slipping outside with a hurried curtsy.

Despite Daemon’s warnings, you still decide to approach Criston Cole. It takes you almost a week to build up the courage to do it, and another more to mention it to Daemon.

You do not want him to feel blindsided, so you include him in your planning. It is only when he shows up at the Sept that you realize Daemon intends to go with you.

Even the Septon pauses when he sees the two of you enter the Sept. Considering the court thinks you a temptress, and him a rogue, you are not surprised.

You are not particularly pious. While you had been educated on the Faith of the Seven, Dorne practiced a much diluted version. You had not attended a service in quite some time, but you try to focus on it to keep your nervousness at bay.

The plan is to intercept Ser Criston when the service ends. Daemon is under strict instruction to remain sitting, as to not unnerve the other man. But of course, things do not go according to plan.

As soon as the Septon gives his last blessing, you sprung up and step closer to the knight.

“Ser Criston, a word?” You ask him, your voice soft and nonthreatening. It is not as if you want to impose your presence on him, but you are unsure of why he flees rooms when he sees you. Perhaps he is shy, or perhaps you have offended him, but you will never know if he doesn’t speak to you.

“Do not talk to me!” He snarls, getting up from the bench. You try to reach for his arm, but Cole is quicker than you, grabbing your wrist tightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Daemon getting up from the bench where he was waiting for you.

“Ser… I only wished you to invite you to have tea with me.”

“I will not get into your bed, Lady Targaryen.” The man snarls at you. “Perhaps it is allowed in Dorne, but I assure you, here we do things differently than your people. Propositioning a man is…”

“I am not propositioning you!” You say, hotly. The words he is spewing at you leave you bewildered. You have never heard another dornishman speak so. “What do you even mean by that? Your people! You are dornish too.”

“I am not.” But before he can give you an explanation, Daemon is stepping in, and unsheathing his sword. He places his body between Ser Criston and you.

“I would suggest you unhand my wife.” His voice is cold. “Or you will lose the hand.”

“And you! You support her… Her… She should be sent back to Dorne, but she doesn’t even belong there, does she?” And Ser Criston stomps off, clearly unwilling to engage Daemon in what would probably end up as a fight to death.

Daemon looks willing to go after him, but you make a pitiful noise that is a cross between a sob and a whine. The rejection hurt more than usual, having grown unused to cruelness during your stay on King’s Landing. And the remark about you not belonging in Dorne?

It stung. You had not heard that insult in ages. It made you think of the serving girl, and your grandmother muttering you had bad hair, of your odd little features and strange coloring. Not quite Andal, not quite Rhoynar, not quite Lyseni.

Ser Criston looked like you. Of everyone, you would have expected him to understand. To see you.

You had only wanted a reminder of home. Careful with what you wish for, indeed. Your eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“Oh, that cunt. I’ll cut off his dick and feed him to Caraxes…” Daemon mutters, a thunderous look in his purple eyes. He then presses his forehead to yours, giving you an impish grin. “Not that it would be much food, would it? Like a worm, I bet.”

It makes you laugh, despite yourself.

“There you are.” Daemon smiles, brushing your tears away. “Come. I need you to see something.”

He takes your hand and leads you towards your shared rooms. You frown, slightly. Does he have some sort of present to give you? It’s unusual to be going there so early in the morning.

When Daemon opens the door, a maid is still sweeping the room. He barely spares her a glance, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. The girl looks disgruntled. You offer her a silver dragon for her troubles as she leaves, noticeably cheering her up.

The bed is freshly made, and the room smells of lavender. Outside the windows, the birds chirp. You see nothing unusual.

“What was I supposed to see? You interrupting the maid? Poor girl.” You mutter, kicking off your shoes. “Do try to make her life easier.”

But he doesn’t answer, choosing instead to pull out the chair in your vanity. It is a rarity, the whole set a gift from Qoren to furnish your new rooms. It has a beautiful mirror attached that reflects you from the waist up when you sit in front of it.

“Come.” Daemon says, simply. So you do. You know better by now than to disagree with him when he is in one of his moods.

You sit in the chair, dutifully. Your reflection looks a fright, so you try to avoid looking at yourself too much. He stands behind you, hands caressing your shoulders lighty, prompting you to look up.

“I have noticed.” Daemon starts, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “That you are always self-conscious when I look at you for too long. Or when I take your clothes off.”

You avert your eyes. It is true. You feel strange when Daemon looks at your body. The awe he holds in his gaze is both exciting and humbling. You never feel worthy of such worship.

“I would say we are past the maiden’s modesty.” He chuckles. “We made sure of that, didn’t we?”

“I…”

Daemon begins to unlace your gown. The presence of the mirror is making you self-conscious, so you reach for your bodice, and hold it up with one hand.

He pauses. He studies your expression, before dropping a kiss to your curls.

“Don’t cover yourself, wife. I love looking at you.”

You take a deep breath. You want to tell him the truth, for once. Daemon has started to suspect that despite how much you enjoy intercourse with him, something is wrong with your self-esteem. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have staged this intervention.

“I just don’t like how I look much.” You keep your voice low. Shame begins to freeze you up, making you tense and unable to speak. Your heart beats loudly in your ears.

“Madness.” Daemon laughs. He kisses you, slow and sweet. His lips move tenderly against yours, coaxing you out of your shell. You wonder how such an impatient man can have such infinite patience when it comes to you.

The thought makes you melt. Daemon smiles against your mouth and pulls back. He comes back to standing behind you.

“Look.” He orders. And you, helpless under his spell, cannot disobey.

You look at your reflection. Your hair is in even more disarray than before. Your lips are red and kiss swollen. And your eyes… You look dazed.

“We are just getting started.” Daemon promises, his hand coming to caress your collarbones. This time, when he pulls down the bodice, you do not fight it.

He kisses your head.

“You asked me once, if I was jealous.” You turn towards him, confused at the sudden change of topic. Daemon shushes you, squeezing the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving pup. You look at yourself again, knowing there is no point in disobeying. Daemon always gets his way.

“I am jealous.” His voice is firm. He leans in, and kisses the top of your hair. His talented, skilled hands, take the pins off from it, so it frames your face once more. You fight the urge to fix it, to give more volume to your roots. You don’t like how limp it falls sometimes. Daemon presses a kiss to your earlobe, and whispers. “Of the very breeze against your hair.

Your eyes widen. You do not dare take them away from the mirror. On it, you watch as he presses a kiss behind your ear, as he mouths at your neck, just barely reaching the necklace that sits there.

“Of the pearls you wear, for holding on to your neck. “ You feel his words against your skin, making you shiver. He wraps it around one of his fingers, the pearls tensing just so to feel more restrictive against your neck.

Your lips part in a sigh. The tension of the pearls makes you think of a collar, and his deft handling of them a leash. Ownership.

“Sometimes, when I see you around court, I imagine this.” He tugs the pearls upwards, placing them between your lips. You watch, in a daze, as your reflection parts her lips more, welcoming him in.

He places the biggest pearl between your teeth. You find yourself mesmerized by this stranger you are watching, being turned into an artwork in front of your very eyes.

“You are exquisite.” Daemon gives the pearls a tug, pulling them slightly up. They catch on your hair, contrasting beautifully with the dark curls. There is something haunting about the image, something that tugs at you and makes you see yourself from his eyes.

Like this, with him calling you exquisite, pearls adorning your face and hair, you can almost believe it.

“Do you know what I think of more, when I see these pearls?” Daemon chuckles. It’s a dark, masculine sound. You are unable to form a word. “Hm. Perhaps I should show you.”

He finishes pulling the necklace from you. Over your head and out they go. Suddenly able to speak, you find yourself at a loss for words.

Daemon kneels behind you. He meets your eyes in the mirror, again.

“I am jealous of the moon, and the sky, and this damn mirror even.” It sounds like nonsense. It should sound like nonsense, but somehow, it is disarming, this newfound honesty of his. The one where he stumbles over words in his eagerness, in his need to call you beautiful, to call you his. “Because you want to gaze at them. Your eyes should be only for me.”

He cradles your face in his palm, forcing you to keep eye contact with your reflection. His thumb brushes over your lips. You just stare.

“And even of the wine you drink, when you wet your lips.”

You kiss his thumb. Your eyes sting. This is quickly turning unbearable.

“Daemon… Please…”

“Oh, but your eyes.” He praises, sounding almost drunk. He begins to kiss a path down your collarbones and towards your breasts. “I love your eyes. They are maddening to me.”

He continues to kiss your skin, inhaling deeply. The closer he gets to your breasts, the hungrier he becomes. Daemon is gorging himself on you, biting and nipping at your bosom, sucking at your nipples until you cannot help the moans coming out from your mouth.

Liquid, molten pleasure, begins accumulating at the base of your spine. Warming up your body, making you sweat with the exertion of keeping still.

“You are so beautiful, I fear anyone will want to steal you away.” Daemon whispers, grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. “And I fear if I don’t hold tight, it will be my fault.”

You look at yourself. At the half lidded eyes, the softness of your chest. At the attitude of surrender, as your thighs part, and you feel him bury his nose on the roses of your mound. As he inhales, trying to memorize your touch, your smell, your sounds. As he decides to drink from you, making your face go slack, brows pinched together, eyes glassy and absent.

Beautiful, you think, as you reach your peak with a scream so loud you fear the rest of the Red Keep might have heard.

Daemon laughs, doing his best attempt to suck a bruise on your thigh.

“And you haven’t even seen what I plan on doing with the pearls.”

[lovelyamarilala]

Can I call you mine?

"Can I call you mine?"

"HAHA! Get the fuck away from my sister."

"hm..what about..No!"

"Alastor calm down dear.."

Lucifer Morningstar x Older sister of alastor! Reader x Adam..(ish?????, NdYes it's female again..ahem but in future blogs it won't be " female!" Bare with me..) swearings, Alastor being a protective younger brother🤷🤷, flirty Lucifer, he's off character I guess? (Thank you so much, for enjoying my recent blog! I appreciate it!!) English is my first language, and I may have grammar issues

Part 1.

How are you a demon..? Well let's just say, you killed dozens of people in sadness and rage, after your younger brother died. you also killed the person who killed him.

"You are sentenced to be killed in the electric chair, Ms. Altruist." The judge looks at you with a heavy stare, you look back at him with a sweet smile, "Oh about time Mr judge." You knew about your brother's doings, but you still love him, and still think of him as your brother

You sat on the electric chair, with a small gentle smile, "It's terrifying to see ya still smilin, even if you're gonna die." You chuckled at the officer, "oh you! It's how I am~" the officer looked at you confusedly, "well uhm, are you ready?" You nodded,

He puts a bag in your head, you are starting to see darkness, as you start to feel electrified...

You feel the heavy floor, as you slowly open your eyes(your color palette is the same as alastor!) You were met by a red sky, you sat straight, and stood up, dusting your dress, and looking around your surroundings, it had a different feeling, you were still feeling bangs in your head, you walked down in the alleyway, and stumbled upon a store, you looked into the glass, you looked slightly different... (Your powers are lighting, due to you dying by the electric chair, but I also wanted you to be a deer, just like Alastor, I know it doesn't make sense, but bare with me please!) You had antlers, and ears, your nails were sharp, "Well would you look at that, seems like I'm in hell!" You laughed as the demons around you looked at you weirdly, you smiled back at them and started walking down the street, until you heard a girl singing...

"Today is gonna be a fucking happy d—"

"why hello there my dear!"

she jumped and looked around, she was wearing a suit, (hot pink? Or..pink Mix with red..?) She had long, blonde hair, with lighter blonde and pink highlights, which is tied into a twice-banded low ponytail. Her blonde bangs flip to her left with a curl with an untucked white, long-sleeved dress-shirt. Over this she usually wears a fitted red tuxedo jacket with dark-red lapels and a pair of red fitted pants. She wears black and white saddle shoes. (Found that in wiki..ahem..sorry..)

She looked at you, and laughed nervously "oh hey! Uh.." your smile reminded her of someone but she nudged it off.

"Quite an interesting song sweetheart! My name is _____! I'm quite pleased to be meeting you!"

Charlie softly smiled, "hey, I'm Charlie, Charlie Morningstar, I was heading for a meeting, would you care tooooo...go with me?"

You smiled wickedly, "Morningstar? My! I didn't know that was real, how shocking" you softly smiled, "I'd love to join you sweetheart!" She nods her head, and gestures to you to follow her, as you follow her, with a grave movement.

You both entered, a white looking room, it was a different feeling compared to when you guys were outside, you looked around while Charlie signed something, you looked back at her, and followed where she was going, you both now entered a room who is full of darkness, "Sup." then light suddenly filed the room as Charlie tripped, you helped her up and fixed her hair, "Hi! I-m charlie..uhh..my dad sent a meeting to Uhhh" (I actually forgot what she was saying so I'm really sorry if it's not interesting now) "Really nice to meet you!"

"Rightttt, nice to meet you too!" As the man held his hand out, Charlie went to it and to shake hands with him, only for her hand to go through it.

Timeskip (Really sorry, but I ran out of stuff to say in this part)

You were standing, all the time, you noticed The man kept looking at you, you looked back at him, as he winked at you, you sweat dropped and looked away,the man wore a smooth white and golden cloak that appears to have a large 'A' symbol emblazoned on the front. His visible hands were black in appearance, as well, and had golden tip spikes on the back of his collar. The mask also held a pair of horns similar to an exorcist, albeit longer, smoother, and with a golden ornamental attachment on the tips.

As Charlie talked about the hell population, about like..reducing.

"Oh Uhhh, ugly people?..math!..global warming wait no—"

Charlie talked about "BIGGEST PROBLEM"

"ohhh...yeah..well..that must've sucked for you!" Adam laughed, "Anyway, who's this chick beside ya?" Charlie came to the realization that you were still there, "ohh my gosh! ____! Really sorry, well Uhhh, Adam sir. This is ____!" You smiled widely "Adam is it? First man? Nice to be meeting you! I'm quite pleased!" You smiled even more, and fixed your hair, Adam smirked and got up from his seat and walked towards you, he took your hand and gave the back of your hand a kiss, you imagined alastor being here, you knew he would be fuming.

You chuckled, "how lovely!" You took away your hand, "thought you angels despise demons."

"well demon-tits you're an exception."

"how shocking! Don't call me that please."

"Call me Dick master first."

"hah! Never gonna happen."

Charlie dragged you away from him, she stared at you worriedly.

Adam spoke again "Whoops seems like we're outta time, guess we should get going."

Charlie smiled, "Oh well, I have a lot to go through!" She spawned papers with her hands, "and not a lot of time and I think you weren't hearing me before, so here it goes..

Timeskip after the song.

You already wanted to get out, as you saw Charlie being pushed out by Adam, you tried going to her then Adam grabbed you back, "hey babe, what about you give me a kiss before you go?"

"HAH! no."

You looked at him dumbfounded, as got out of the room, and helped Charlie up, the door closed, you and Adam held an eye contact.

"well how interesting!"

The grammar issues, I'm so sorry!!!

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

cherry on top

↖ navigation: seventeen masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: bf! seventeen ot13 x gn! reader

↬ tags: established relationship? yes!, kissing mentioned (hehe!), quite wholesome, my list my rules!, reader uses lipsticks (not implied, but a regular user of lipsticks/ tints/ gloss)

summary: seventeen buying reader lipstick!

𐙚 those who know which color suits you, even your favorite types 𐙚

ᯓ★ seungcheol, jeonghan, mingyu, myungho

the sister-havers are understandable: they have sisters for siblings so they would know a thing or two (before you jump at me, yes i do know vernon and seungkwan have sisters so hear me out); and whereas for minghao? i'm so sure my man is born a fashionista so makeup would be easy for him; and for seungcheol i think that clip of him explaining the different perfumes/ cologne is enough for me to put him here

you don't have to tell them: they would be able to pick a similar or the exact shade right off the bat just by looking at your lips; call it unexplained hidden knack or that special eye for choosing makeup products

purposely (sneakily) grabs you by the chin to kiss you full on the lips just to see how good the product works; love love loves to watch you put on makeup and would gaze at you as you went about your business

bonus if they know color theory, or suggest different shades they think might look good on you (and i'm certain it will)

"you like it?" you swiped a sheen layer of gloss on your lips, before turning to your smitten boyfriend for approval. he does a once over, smile widening at the sight of you. he pulls you in by the waist lovingly, "i like that very much. now, give me a kiss!"

"no! you're gonna ruin it!" he rolls his eyes, "i'll buy you another." he knows you couldn't resist, so before you open your mouth to retort, he yanks you towards him and captures your lips. "i'll buy you as many as you want, so long you keep letting me do this."

----

𐙚 those who has some clue and tries to buy something you like 𐙚

ᯓ★ joshua, soonyoung, jihoon, vernon, seungkwan

i know vernon has a younger sister and kwanie has sisters, but hear me out: i don't think they are that interested in makeup products at all hence they are here; for joshua because he is such a gentleman he would take pictures of your lipsticks to know which ones to get, similar for hosh and wooz i think they would make sure you're physically with them so they don't get the wrong ones

because they aren't sure of the exact type/ shade/ tint, he would make the effort to know your favorite brands and colors at least so that he could go get them when he goes out shopping for your gifts <3 !! he wants to surprise you too, and might throw in other skincare products they are more confident in getting

call it algorithm influencing, but he sometimes sees the targeted ads on your phone and makes a mental note to ask you about it

very much prefers you in your natural state, but loves it when you doll up for them/ yourself because you are beautiful in their eyes (have you seen them barefaced wts!!)

"you like this one?" he leans over, his taller frame standing out painfully in the makeup section. you nod your head, "yeah? looks good doesn't it?" you swatch another color on the back of his hands and he observes closely, "this one has sparkles in it, but it's a lot more lighter than the other other one."

"i can't decide which one to get though." you frowned the back of his hands are littered with various shades, matching yours. he shakes his head, sporting a silly grin, "it's okay! we can browse longer. let's get something you really like."

----

𐙚 those who don't know, but buys something anyways 𐙚:

ᯓ★ junhwi, wonwoo, seokmin, chan

dedicated to the brother-havers and single children: i feel that these bunch of people are the group of people who don't know much about makeup and are perhaps less interested in it as you are; might even be clueless about it

they seem like the type to ask many questions about why some products are matte or glossy or why are they so liquid-y or why has there got to be many shades (in the sweetest and non-annoying way)

very green forest behavior when they know not to mess with your makeup products and to keep them stored away neatly

call it algorithm influencing, but when he spots some makeup brand promoting items, he'd come and ask for your opinion (so that he could take you out and buy it for you uwu)

unexpectedly i think somewhat related to makeup, wonwoo or dino feels like the type to enjoy doing facials with you

"i'm not sure if you like this, but i overheard you telling your friends you were running out. thought this might make your day." his heart was beating out of his chest, but he plays it cool by gifting you a small bag. you excitedly take it from him, and he relishes in the way your eyes practically light up. looks like he bought the right one.

"oh baby, thank you!" you hug him tight and he reciprocates the gesture, an affectionate beam all over his face. "it's the one i told you about! no way! you got it!" he exhales dramatically, "anything for you my love."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[misscinnamonroll16]

Brozone headcanons

Clay and Floyd are the stunt men now that they're adults. Clay's always been a little bit of a daredevil, Floyd already died once, why not live a little.

Clay is nocturnal, like the rest of the Putt-putt trolls. His bros throw his sleep schedule off so when they're hanging out, it's not unusual for Clay to just be passed out somewhere or on someone. If they can, they get Clay to bed so he can properly sleep. If not, everyone's volume goes low.

Both Floyd and John Dory took bartending classes. And by took I mean, Floyd just so happened to be sleeping with a bartender who taught him some things. When making drinks, John's proper about it, Floyd is kind of messy. Floyd's over pouring and spilling.

Clay's handwriting is like a nice print. It's easy to read and looks good on paper.

John Dory is good at photography. He mostly uses this skill for taking nature shots but he's gotten good at candid shots of his brothers. He doesn't let them know about these pics bc they don't look the most photogenic but they look like themselves and that's what John loves to see.

JD has dimples

John Dory almost always has at least one weapon on him.

The brothers think JD has a death wish bc he's constantly going after animals that could literally kill him. "John! Don't touch that, it'll tear you to pieces!" "Psh, whatever. If we weren't supposed to pet it then why does look so fluffy?"

Floyd doesn't go into detail about his past. He'll tell snippets here and there but avoid questions. For one, because he's a bit embarrassed about it. He did a lot of things he isn't proud of, drugs, sleeping around, and drinking. For two, he knows that his older brothers still see him WAY younger than he actually is (like how they still see Branch as a baby) and it would just shatter that mentality. And he doesn't want to do that. For three, it's WAY more fun for him if they don't know and have to keep guessing. Floyd has heard them trying to figure out what he spent the last twenty years doing and starts fucking with them.

John Dory definitely has pictures from even when he was a baby and such. Even ones with their parents but he tries to keep those ones tucked away. Branch is going through them when he finds a picture that has been folded in one of the sleeves of the photo album. It's a picture of John and Bruce and their parents. JD quickly snatches the photo and shoves it his vest. Those people looked like strangers to Branch, that picture probably being the first time he's seen them

The brothers know they didn't have a good childhood but John did his best, despite being pretty much a child himself.

John Dory man spreads no matter who he is sitting next or if he's just sitting in a chair.

John Dory wears the one glove to hide an incredibly deep scar. He got into some trouble with some bounty hunters and needless to say, they drove a knife through his hand. He doesn't want his lil bros to know or worry about it so he hides it.

All the boys (like most trolls) are fuzzy. JD and Bruce have the most prominent facial hair and chest hair. They all have leg hair, arm hair, under arm hair, and a happy trail.

Clay and John have the Blond™️ gene (that's how I'm referring to it) where their hair goes through changes. That's why their hair is so much different from when they were kids. In the summer while spending a bunch of time outside, JD and Clay's hair gets lighter, Clay being a light yellow and John being a soft teal. The others convinced them to do one of those 'take a picture every day for a year' things and make it into a flip book to show how their hair changes color.

The boys really wanted a sister. John jokes that they kind of got one with Floyd

Floyd and John Dory are good gardeners. JD briefly grew his own food and Floyd just has a natural green thumb (not that John doesn't)

Floyd gets random nosebleeds

[raviosprovidence]

I already told some friends this but it makes me extremely mad seeing Lucifer's design in Hazbin because...vivzie already designed lucifer for zoophobia and he's *so much better*

Look at him! Like yeah it is all red but at least it's a nice muted red with lighter accents in the eyes and eyebrows. He's not 50 shades of blood.

The big horns that reference a broken halo are a wonderful touch. I love the grizzled face and hunched back that show he's Old and Has Seen Things. I like the cloak that adds an air of mystery as to what's behind it.

Compared to this...

This is just a White Onceler. He doesn't convey anything lucifer to me other than the snake and the apple on his top hat. He's just another generic triangle tooth twink.

Going back a bit, It also helps for zoophobia that he was supposed to be in a world of characters who WERE bright and colorful so he actually stood out in a good way

Look at these guys! Sure, it's busy, but I can actually tell which characters are what. They all feel like they have their own identity and aesthetic due to their different colors. It's what a cartoon cast is SUPPOSED to look like.

Old lucifer would have stood out in that cast because not everyone is fucking red. New lucifer barely stands out, only because he looks so much like Charlie. And even THEN, they look like siblings!

this isn't official art done by Vivienne but I couldn't find any other good screencaps showing them side by side. If someone didn't know shit about hazbin they'd think charlie and lucifer were twins. Nothing about new lucifer's design suggests that he's a father or even older than 25.

It's sad, honestly. I used to look up to vivienne when I was younger. Now, she's a shadow of her former self as an artist.

[project-sekai-facts]

what do you think the "Please forgive me and Purple" mean? considering the Miku (and Teto!) version it could be stand as a prayer like "Amen" yk? I always thought it said "please forgive me Empurple" as if "Empurple" was an entity

please forgive me and "purple", the wavering me dyed purple

So empurple means "to become purple", hence why in the official english lyrics "empurple" is replaced by "dyed purple". I think the 'and "purple" ' in the lyrics is representative of Mafuyu's emotional state, as in, her true and genuine self waiting to be found/freed. The real Mafuyu - her image color is purple after all. I think to understand what it means to Mafuyu at least, we need to look at the SEKAI ver instead of Harumaki Gohan's version. It was written for Mafuyu, so most likely Mafuyu is the origin of this lyric, which was then put into a different context with Harumaki Gohan's MV.

In the first verse where Mafuyu sings "the real me feeling stuck in my throat is empurpling", which gives us an image of Mafuyu struggling to open up about her feelings. The longer she feels stuck and keeps everything in the more purple it becomes. This is confirmation enough that the "purple" that she's asking for forgiveness for is just the things she kept hidden from her parents. It makes a lot more sense if you consider that this is the event where she starts to reconnect with her dad, and truly starts to trust him and open up to him. You don't have to read past this part, I have answered the question.

I think it's worth mentioning as well that we see these red and blue strings throughout the entire MV, obviously red and blue being the colors that make purple. We'll get more on what red and blue mean in the context of this song later, but just briefly I want to talk about this specific frame here. Strings have been a recurring motif for Mafuyu from as early as her first ever event, Captive Marionette. In that event, Mafuyu likens herself to a marionette doll, with the way she feels completely under the control of her mother and like she's being used for her mother's own performance (that will get its own analysis in due time). Her card for that event shows her dressed as a marionette doll bound by strings.

The strings come back for her aptly titled My True Feelings card in her fourth event, Saying Goodbye to my Masked Self. She's seen cutting the threads here, symbolising how she ran away from home and effectively cut off her mother. And now back to Empurple. In the opening shot of the MV, we see red and blue strings wrapped around Mafuyu's ankles, binding her to something offscreen. Behind her, towards the area she's being bound to, we see a bunny plushie and some apple slices cut into the shape of rabbits.

These are taken from her Memories of Warm Affection card, which shows kid Mafuyu being taken care of by her mother. The event Empurple was commissioned for, Reeling in the Lights, heavily calls back to Mirage of Lights, Mafuyu's second event and the event this card originates from. It's pretty clear here that Mafuyu is being bound to her mother, and her memories of her mother's care for her when she was younger. Continuing on with the actual song:

The next part of interest is the first pre-chorus. The first shot here is one of a child's hand holding an adult's, obviously meant to be Mafuyu and her father based on the card for this event (below). The next shot is of kid Mafuyu's eye, much brighter and with a far lighter blue color. These two shots are accompanied by the lyrics "Try to open my left hand and have a look? It's still embedded with blue eyes." (It is in fact her left hand that she uses to hold her dad's hand in her card). Now here's where we get to the meaning of blue in the song and MV.

The blue here is meant to represent Mafuyu's younger self. Her more genuine and innocent self before her parents started setting more pressure and expectations on her. The first line of the chorus is "If I saw that, would I be surprised", which I think perfectly encapsulates how Mafuyu feels when looking back at her childhood. In both of the "Lights" events focusing on her relationship with her parents, she looks back on these childhood memories that are so distant from her reality that she'd almost forgotten them, and yeah, it's surprising how different her life was and how she was when she was younger. The second line of the chorus "I just want to live once with genuine feelings only" plays into this too. And then we come back to the "purple".

If we hold hands, it would be great if you could understand, Please, Forgive me and "Purple", The wavering me is Empurpled

It's very clear here that this is all directed towards her father. In the event, we flash back to Mafuyu's dad comforting her during a thunderstorm, and although its one of her only memories of him because he was very absent from her childhood, she realises that she associates him with being a source of support, and decides to tell him more about how she really feels. She affirms her trust and comfort by holding his hand. In the context of the song, she's asking him to forgive her and all the things she's been hiding over the years.

The next point of interest is the second prechorus, which is very similar to the first, only this time, it's about the "red". Once again we get a shot of Mafuyu holding her dad's hand, only this time it shows the present day, and Mafuyu is using her right hand this time. Like how the first prechorus mentioned her left hand, this one mentions her right, with the precise lyric being "Try to open my right hand and have a look? You'll find a crimson sky.". An aside, her eyes aren't crimson here, I won't deny that, but they can't exactly just give Mafuyu red eyes, so for the sake of this analysis, pretend she has red eyes or something or that crimson and indigo are the same thing. We see the shot of teenage Mafuyu's dull indigo right eye over the lyric about the crimson sky, a direct contrast to her bright blue eyes from the first prechorus.

The "red" in this song references Mafuyu's current state of being. A girl struggling with expectations and appearances to the point she lost her sense of self, her emotions, and her will to live. All of this has been kept well hidden until the mask finally came off in her previous event, and now her father is seeing this completely new side to his daughter too. It's far more impactful though with the knowledge that he was an absent father, and never really got to spend any time with Mafuyu due to his work schedule. Like he never really knew Mafuyu to begin with in some ways. All he knew of her would've mainly come from how other people saw her, which is what caused this in the first place.

The first line of the second chorus is "If you see it, will you be shocked?", obviously referring to how she has her worries about telling her dad these things about herself. He is, in fact. shocked by the situation. He's completely stunned when he finds out Mafuyu can't even taste the food he's been buying her back in The Tone Played on that Day, because this is nothing like the Mafuyu he thought he knew. At that point he knew Mafuyu had been struggling, but he had no idea of the severity of it because Mafuyu had been holding these things in her throat.

The second line interests me quite a lot though. "The crimson sky is so beautiful, yet you'll never know." I've been trying to think about what quite we're looking at here for a few minutes, but here's what I've interpreted it as. Where we are right now in the story, the crimson is the closest we can get to the real Mafuyu. It's her true self as much as her current emotional state will allow, and obviously there's some beauty in that. It's far more authentic that the manufactured facade of blue that she'd been putting up for the previous few years. "yet you'll never know" could refer to three things in my opinion. Number one: Mafuyu's unwillingness to open up before the end of this event. No one gets to know her real self, because she won't let people see it. Number two: Mafuyu's father missed out on a huge amount of her childhood, and missed many of the signs that Mafuyu was going through mental anguish. Obviously, this ends up being remedied at the end of the event. And number three: This is aimed at Mafuyu's mother, who doesn't understand how this has happened and refuses to accept that this is who Mafuyu is.

And the last part of this chorus is "If we hold hands, it would be so warm... Please, Forgive me and 'Purple' ". Warmth is something that comes up a lot in Mafuyu's story. It's a sign of comfort for her. Her mother, or even just her presence, physical or not, is consistently described as cold and icy. It's unnerving and chilling. However, being around Niigo, holding their hands, brings her an unfamiliar warmth. Mafuyu associates this warmth with how she felt around her mother when she was younger. She can't quite place it, but it's a feeling of safety, comfort, and happiness. As I mentioned earlier, although Mafuyu has very few memories of her father from when she was a kid, what she does remember of him brings her that same feeling of warmth. And it's different to how her memories of her mother give her warmth, because he's still here, now, trying to help her.

I particularly like the bridge and final chorus too. There isn't much to say about the MV here aside from the fact it gets darker during the bridge, connecting with the "crimson sky that was hidden at all costs" lyric. Mafuyu is the last person to sing, and as expected it's darkest then, though it does get brighter as she finishes her line, probably because she's going to be more open from now on. I like the "still tinged with blue, these eyes" part too, because obviously, her happier and genuine "blue" side is still a part of her, she's just lost sight of the genuine manifestation of it over time. Blue and red make purple after all, and you can't get the true purple form of Mafuyu without combining her blue and red sides.

The final chorus refers to the event story again. "The important things, I'll keep them with me" obviously references the memories of her dad comforting her that she never let go of, "Inside my body, something is still broken" because Mafuyu isn't fully healed yet, and "If we hold hands, please fix me" because she is going to let her dad help her from now. Them holding hands was a sign of trust between the two of them, and a sign that Mafuyu is going to be genuine with her father because it is what's best for her, for real this time. He says in the event that he's been looking into getting her seen by a hospital (therapy), so he truly does want to help her.

The MV ends with the same shot as we started with, only this time, the camera has moved over to the left a bit, fitting with the fact that her "blue" childhood happiness was said to be on the left. The strings binding her also fade away, and allow her to step towards a new person whose feet have appeared in the frame, who is obviously meant to be her dad (Mr Asahina canonically wears sliders). We're finally seeing Mafuyu make some significant progress following her running away. Even after she ran away, she was still bound to her mother, and the warm memories she had of her, but now she's found someone who can give her that support and love for her genuine self in the present. She's freeing herself little by little.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Onesies | Lucien x Reader

Day 10: Unsanctioned Halloween Party w/ Lucien Vanserra

Summary: A girl’s night with Feyre, Elain and the Valkyries leads to your mate being stuffed into a onesie much too small for him.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: attempted demon summoning (average girl sleepover behavior), all fluff!!

A/N: we are so back (fall break is starting and I got a normal amount of sleep SHOCKING I know) hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It had meant to be a normal night home with some of your friends, just dressing up in onesies that matched them and that were comfortable. You’d all gotten them during a girl’s night out in Velaris where you and Lucien were temporarily staying on a business trip.

Because Night Court was, well, night-themed, most shops and restaurants were open well after dark, some were even open 24/7 with rotating staff or wraiths operating them, since they didn’t need sleep like Fae required. You, Feyre, Elain, and Nesta, an interesting group at midnight, had all wandered into a shop, looking for something cute to wear, or anything cozy for the Autumn season that would keep you warm.

It was Elain who’d spotted them first.

Fuzzy, warm onesies that were zip-up in the back, hood and everything, large pockets, generally perfect. And it made it all the better that they depicted the childhood characters of stories you’d all been told when you were younger.

Well, stories that the three Archerons had known, but you hadn’t learned, considering they were primarily human. It was a wonder that the shopkeeper, a crinkly old Illyrian that smelt like cinnamon, had even made them.

As Nesta browsed through the selection, choosing one for herself, and her fellow Valkyries, Elain and Feyre clutching the ones they wanted, Elain caught you up on the stories while you picked through them, trying to decide amongst the bright patterns.

“Oh, that one? Well, he was from…oh, what was it called, Feyre?”

The High Lady craned her neck to look and chuckled when she saw what you were holding up.

“That was from the one book, wasn’t it? With Pooh Bear?”

“Pooh Bear?”

You asked, raising a brow, and Nesta rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“With an ‘H’ after the ‘Poo’. But the one you’re holding…the donkey, isn’t it? I forget his name every time.”

She said, Elain and Feyre’s faces both crinkled in contemplation as they looked at the one you were holding, mostly blue fur with a purple belly, a tail with a pink bow and black fur, and a hood with long, donkey ears, a mouth and muzzle, and cartoonishly drooping eyes.

“I can’t put my finger on it.”

Feyre said, and Elain shrugged, holding her yellow onesie to her chest, hers had rounded ears, like bears, with friendly cartoonish eyes on the front and a smile with dots for the nostrils.

Feyre held a pink onesie that had stripes with a darker pink on the arm and leg areas. It slightly resembled a worm, and though you didn’t say it aloud, you must’ve been thinking it, because she burst out laughing not soon after.

Nesta looked very confused, and Elain just blinked, before Feyre wheezed out.

“She—she thinks Piglett looks like a worm.”

Nesta barked out a laugh at that while Elain giggled, before the former finally picked out one, pulling out three separate costumes, one being blue, the other pink, and another being a lighter pink, all having floppy ears and strange eyes.

“You’re telling me those were in your childhood stories? They look terrifying.”

You said, and Feyre rolled her eyes, mumbling something before a bright orange onesie caught her eye. It had black stripes, similar cartoonish eyes to Elain’s, and a tail and lighter-colored belly. Mildly resembling a tiger.

“You should make Lucien wear this,”

She said with a devilish grin, pulling it off of the rack, and displaying it in its full glory.

“It would complete the group.”

Elain said, clearly trying to convince you, and with a sigh, you obliged, taking the outfit from Feyre’s hand and walking over to pay for your selections.

Well, Feyre and Elain had arrived, Nesta soon after with Emerie and Gwyn in tow, the Illyrian proudly displaying her blue costume, and the priestess shyly wearing her light-colored one.

You’d set out a few bowls of food, such as pretzels, gummies, and small candy treats for anyone walking by who was hungry, and had your couch set away to the side so the six of you could sit in a circle in the living room, gossiping and chatting away as some worked on bracelets (mainly the Valkyries), Elain knitting, Feyre and you trying a supposed spell she’d found in her great-great grandma’s little trove hidden away in a floorboard beneath their original cabin.

So far, the ‘spell’ had only caused plenty of giggling as you poured salt in a circle on the floor, while Feyre set little candles out. Even if a demon or whatnot did happen to be summoned, you were quite confident that everyone would be perfectly fine, with Lady Death, Feyre Cursebreaker, the Valkyries, and Elain Sight-Seer all in this room.

You heard his familiar footsteps before he got too close, and glanced up to see your mate walk into the room, a warm smile on his lips as something in his eyes melted at the sight of the girl’s night you were having.

He walked over to you, stride familiar, before raising a brow at the old book you and Feyre had opened, and the range of things on the floor from a crow’s foot to sticks bound together, salt, and small candles.

“Having fun?”

He asked in a small murmur, pressing a little kiss against your cheek that made Feyre smirk, giving you a look.

“Mhm, thanks for helping me set everything up, Luci.”

You kissed him back, right on the tip of the nose, and watched the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he preened at the praise of having made you happy and helped you. Nesta snorted from the other end of the circle at the love-sick gaze he gave you, and he let out a little huff of amusement as Emerie gave a low ‘boooo’ at the male in the room.

“Anything for you, I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

He said, moving to stand upright, walking away after giving one last reassuring smile, and it was only then that like a chord being plucked on a harp, an idea struck.

“Wait!”

You said, and he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around and raising a brow. You hesitated, before turning to Nesta, mouthing something, and watching as a devilish grin twisted her lips upwards, murmuring into her girl’s ears, and they grinned too, before like a game of telephone, everyone quickly knew what was going on and turned to a very confused Lucien.

“Anything for me?”

You asked, a smirk pulling at your lips despite the faux-innocent tone you had, and you saw the moment that kernel of realization entered his eyes, slight panic filling them in an ‘oh shit’ sort of moment.

~

It barely fit.

Emerie was in the back, laughing her ass off while trying to get the back of it up and over his ass, which seemingly was impossible, even when Gwyn joined in, eventually Nesta too.

You were in the front, tugging up the front of the onesie, even though it wouldn’t go up over his pecs, which at this point was making you feel a bit insulted with how easily your onesie had fit over yours.

“Why won’t it—“

A round of grunting as Feyre started joining in, arms turning to spaghetti, limp as noodles once the laughing fits started, before you both tried again and got it up and over, only when some seams popped with a slight ripping noise, making the Valkyries bust out laughing even harder, even Elain giggling.

Elain eventually joined in with the effort to get the back over his ass, smoothing the bunched-up material out, before you put a palm over the cheeks of his ass and smushed them down while Nesta yanked the material up, finally getting it pulled up enough to where it could be halfway zipped.

The rest of the zipper simply refused to go, his back muscles not cooperating like his thin waist.

With a defeated sigh, you took the small victory that you’d even gotten him partly in it, pulling the hood over his head, all the girls stepping back and taking a glance at him in the comically small onesie, cheeks bright red as well as his ears while he stood there awkwardly, like a child who’d just been scolded. An upside-down mix between a frown and smile was on his face.

You all burst into little fits of giggles as he huffed, stepping forward, into your arms and leaning into you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while you laughed.

He sighed deeply, and you could practically feel his pout.

“Never again,”

He muttered, only furthering your laughing to the point where you were sure the whole neighborhood could hear it.

Tags:

@hawke1917

[bluesdesk]

My Spirit Tracks designs inspired by LinkedUniverse :)

And facts under the cut!

I made these for the weekly prompt on the server! I'm still unsure about their nicknames, I liked calling Zelda "Spirit" and Link "Tracks", but later I started calling her "Angel" and Link either "Tracks" or "Engie". Help XD

LEFT: Zelda's design before the adventure. She's the great-great-granddaughter of Tetra and Wind, and they're both black and have curly hair in my designs, with Tetra's skin being a little darker than Wind's. Angel's skin is lighter than Wind's due to having a couple white ancestors between her great-great-grandparents and her. She took her eye color and freckles from Tetra and her nose from Wind!

CENTER: Zelda's design after the adventure. When she got separated from her body, her spirit was pale and light, hwr hair got wavy and floating, and her body lost color due to being "lifeless". When Malladus possessed her, her eyes changed from dark blue to yellow. When Zelda got back into her body, it didn’t regain its original color, much to her desperation. However, she enjoyed helping Link and got an outfit she really loves.

RIGHT: Link! He's the great-great-grandson of Niko and Aryll, who dated Niko as an adult. He's tanned but his ancestors between Aryll and him are mostly white. His design is mostly taken from his engineer clothes, but with the green tshirt and belt from his hero clothes. I originally wanted to roll his sleeves up but noticed how in LU everyone has long sleeves! His eyes are brown, and his personality is pretty much like Aryll's.

Facts!

- Of course they have the same great-great-great-grandparents. This, however, makes them too distant relatives to be considered family.

- Aryll joined the crew a few years after WW. She enjoyed being on the ship and when she turned 12 she decided to join her brother, and later, as an adult, she dated Niko (I headcanon Niko to be at most as old as Wind, but maybe a couple of years younger).

- Zelda's ancestors are all travelers and adventurers. Her parents, in particular, are alive and well but on a journey across the seas to visit the old islands and ancient Hyrule. Link’s parents have done pretty much the same, but Link chose to live with Niko and be a train engineer rather than sailing.

- Zelda hates her new look. She can't stand it at all, and while some makeup helps, she doesn't feel good. She hopes to regain her original appearance some day, mostly her colors, but both colors and hair type would be the best. Link always tells her she's beautiful no matter what, and he's totally sincere. He fell in love with her when she was a spirit, so looks really don't matter, but he too hopes she'll het her original appearance back as he wants to see her truly happy.

- When Zelda got back to her body, she didn't notice she was still that pale. There were so many other things to do, consider, think of. Moreover, she had her glooves on. After defeating Malladus she and Link went back to the castle where they quickly fell asleep due to exhaustion. After some hours, Link woke up to Zelda screaming in terror from her room. He went upstairs and noticed her in tears, staring at a mirror. She saw herself as a monster. Link tried to help, to tell her she's beautiful anyway, and then distracting her talking about adventures and history. This helped her, other than make her order some new clothes based on her adventure.

- In my headcanon Tetra didn't become a white and elegant princess when the king told her she was Zelda. She didn't even get a dress. She just got the information, and was left thinking about her ancestors. All the events of WW happened with the exception of Tetra still being Tetra, dark skin and pirate clothes.

- Yes Zelda's body will slowly recover and she'll eventually regain her original colors! Happy ending :)

[senhorahiena]

I wrote this a while ago, inspired by @kyoshist videos

English is not my fluent language 🤝

-+-+-+-+-

— Hey, wait. — Korra catches everyone's attention. — Whether Aang can change his form, appearance... I don't know. When he wants, can you too? — She looks towards the other Avatars and at Aang in his adult form.

— Yes. Everyone stays in the way they feel most comfortable — Yangchen responds with a smile.

— Imagine spending eternity in only one way and that is how you died. — Wan says above, Roku looks at him with silence but judgment. — Not that it's bad... Just... — Roku continues looking at him. — Come on man, why an old man?

Before the argument can continue, Korra speaks again.

— So I can see Kyoshi's face?

- What? — Kyoshi says.

— Oh, I've never seen anything about you without your makeup.

— And it will continue like this.

- And truth. Not even on the Kyoshi Islands did I see any art of his face — Aang chimes in excitedly.

— Because you don't need it.

— They have a Kyoshi point. — Roku says, leaving Wan still trying to defend himself right behind. — You also didn't show me situations without your makeup when you were guiding me.

— I don't care what the three of you want. This is what you will see for the rest of eternity.

— To Suki you would show... — Aang whispers like a spoiled child, now in his younger appearance.

— What was it _Felas__? — Kuruk appears.

— Kuruk... How was Kyoshi younger? — Korra asks.

— Ah.... I think it's very calm — He seems to be trying to remember.

- Calm? — Roku, Korra and Aang say together.

— He was actually a sweet person. I remember... — Kuruk continues

— Kuruk if you keep talking I'll make you die again. — Kyoshi says in a threatening tone.

— Kyoshi, put an end to their curiosity soon. — Yangchen speaks out

- Even you?!

— Come on Kyoshi, you've been ages with that makeup.

- But ...

— Kyoshi, Kyoshi, Kyoshi, Kyoshi — Aang and Korra cheer together

- IT'S OK! I hate you.

In the blink of an eye, Kyoshi takes on his 16-year-old form. A little shorter than what everyone is used to, not that it makes much difference, her traditional war clothes give way to a similar one but in lighter colors, her hair is tied up in a kind of braid, her blue eyes disappear so that the jade greens shine and her face without makeup, just her thick eyebrows and freckles, attract everyone's attention.

The silence remains for a few seconds.

-WHAT IT WAS? — Kyoshi shouted in a voice much thinner than the big, powerless voice she's been carrying all this time.

- GREEN EYES? — Aang shouts excitedly, getting very close to that Kyoshi, a Kyoshi that doesn't give you the same fear and nervousness.

— Aang, I'm half Nomad. You still don't believe it? I had eyes like my father and over time... — Even with a thinner voice, there's still the same irony in the tone.

— I thought the gloves were exaggerated, but your hands are really exaggerated. — Korra says, holding Kyoshi's hand to compare it with hers, their approach makes Kyoshi's face heat up with embarrassment and his striking eyebrows highlight his features even more.

—Is Avatar Kyoshi shy around two excited teenagers? — Kuruk comments with a smile on his face, seeing Kyoshi like that is almost nostalgic for him.

— Shut up Kuruk.

— You have a lot of freckles. If they were in the sun would they become darker?

The nostalgia that runs through Kyoshi is too great for the lack of her makeup to disguise, her face burns and she knows it, she doesn't look at Aang so close to her and much less at Korra who still admires her hands.

— You two could stop touching me. Damn it ...

They both look at each other with the same evil, hugging Kyoshi, never knowing when they would have another opportunity to see her like that.

— This is nostalgic. — Wan says smiling.

Yangchen finally approaches, taking advantage of the chance, she touches Kyoshi's face who looks at her from the corner.

— I remember the day I saw you for the first time.

Kyoshi at that moment bursts throwing the two youngest Avatars away and going back to his makeup. She doesn't say anything, just the sound of a door slamming as she walks away from them.

— That was dirty. — Kuruk says towards Yangchen. Even if the two didn't get along, that was the kind of humor he enjoyed.

— We’ll never see her like this again — Yangchen says

- Not even. — Roku comments finally, the comments stuck in his head

[unnamed-axolotl]

HAAANDSS I've always prided myself on being able to draw them so HERES A FUN LITTLE THINGY I DID!!! Tried to get a good variety of hands here. With the humans, ranging from young child to older child to adult, plus a couple of skin tones and features. Then with the animatronics, what the difference is between a harshly-put-together robot vs. an actually well-put-together animatronic.

(AND AS A BONUS their handwriting and how I think they'd draw smilies!!!!)

HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT, written in the order I drew them in, not the order they appear.

I started with Michael. I was originally going to make him a lot more worn out, but just kept it simple probably for the sake of my sanity. A good few scars from the stuff he's went through. He probably has rather good handwriting because he's had a lot of practice both with legal documents and probably journaling. (Not really taking into account the Logbook here. It totally wasn't because I don't know what his handwriting looks like off the top of my head and was too lazy to get out of bed and get the book to reference.) He does a pretty generic smiley face, too.

Cassie was next. I don't really draw human hands with fingernails a lot so that was a challenge. The idea here was to make a hand that was that of an older kid, but obviously not as big or with fingers as long as Michael's are, for example. I played with her skin tone for a little bit, and I'm not too experienced with working in color, so please do let me know if there's anything I can improve upon when I do darker skin tones in the future! I was trying to get that lighter tone on her underhand but wasn't too positive about it. I also gave her some funky little bracelets, one of which is a direct copy of a bracelet that my lovely friend (@masquayla-the-splendid) for me. Cassie probably has fairly decent handwriting and definitely dots her i's with hearts when she writes her name. She tries to make the smiley faces look cute.

Evan's turn! I headcanon Evan to be much younger, so I made his hands smaller and stubbier. He's pretty pale because of the whole dying thing, and he's got some freckles and moles, sort of inspired by my own hand in a way! I've got little moles everywhere so I figured I'd incorporate that into his design, partly as a way to add more flair to an otherwise plain base. Other than that, not much going on here. He's got messier handwriting because he's a kid, and in my AU he didn't really get to go to school for all that long, so his siblings probably taught him how to write before he died. The brain damage probably doesn't help much either. He's trying his best.

For Sun and Moon, initially I couldn't decide which one of the two to color. As I was making the base I was thinking pretty hard about it, but ultimately figured out that I could probably just split it down the middle, and it worked! I've been trying to give the Daycare Attendants longer fingers to reflect how their hands look in the games. I couldn't make their hands too big because it either looked stupid to me or took up too much space, so I settled with this. I also gave them little scratches on their fingerpads. Sun and Moon have different signatures, with Moon's being a little more neat while Sun's is more fun and just a tad messier. He also overdecorates a bit. Moon stays simple with his smiley faces and Sun loves to express Big Happiness in his.

Ennard's hands (particularly their wrists where their wires tangle together like that) never look the same twice when I draw them, but I like to think the placement of their wires probably changes fairly frequently too, like a Double Rex Rat who has a new coat pattern every few days. Their wires have tarnished over time, but they try to maintain just a little bit of glint, despite the rusting, which is particularly noticeable in the spots where their fingertips brush against things most often. They've also got those little stray wires that poke out of each fingertip. Of course, holding any kind of writing utensil with those Big Meaty Claws has gotta be difficult, so even if they try their hardest, it's not gonna turn out great. Same with their smiley faces. They're doing their best.

[mistydeyes]

matching tattoos

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summary: What matching tattoos would you and the 141 get together?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n: got my first tattoo recently so while I was sitting in the chair, I came up with this idea :)

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price

Price, to me, would love delicate line work. To him, it's very clean and won't fade as easily as color. He might get a matching one a few years down the line, just when he knows you're here to stay. You both like the idea of matching objects, a paper crane, lighter/cigarette, or a satellite. I feel like the satellite idea would be great as you always bring Price back home when he's on deployment. Plus, on its own its an innocuous tattoo but when you're together it just makes so much sense.

soap

I feel like you both would get fun quirky tattoos together! It would be more of a spur-of-the moment decision and you would book the appointment either that day or as soon as possible. You would laugh as you both went under the needle and proudly showed your friends. If you didn't want a big piece, then I could see you getting the walkie talkies or the little gunshot on your arm/leg. If you were the opposite, then you and Soap would decide on the astronaut and diver piece, proudly showcasing them on your arm.

ghost

Okay he'll take some convincing! He only has one massive tattoo and wasn't looking for anymore. However, if he did indulge into your pleas then he would get something that fits the theme. I love the realistic skulls and I feel like he would go for that one more. But if he wanted something a little more silly (definitely have to beg him for it) then I like the idea of small dancing skeletons or the angel/devil. Originally, he wanted you to have the angel based on your personality but you convinced him otherwise saying, "Then you'll always have an angel on your side." He would nod, secretly knowing that you were the only angel for him.

gaz

Similar to Ghost, Gaz is a little bit younger so I feel like both of you would have some fun with it. I love love love the primary colors tattoo because I feel like it would offer an amazing contrast on your skin tones. The wishbone and dragon are also cute because they are paired together. The dragons are a little bit silly but he thinks the design is so cool and badass. Since he's mister test flights and falling out of helicopters, this would be a cute pick with a funny backstory on his part. With the small wishbones, I could imagine Gaz rubs his fingers on it when he's away from you, wishing for the best.

[bat-stuff]

Damian Wayne headcanons: “Totally can make girls swoon as long as he’s not standing next to Damian (we’ll talk about Damian’s body and pretty boy features in another post)”, can we get that post discussing Damian’s pretty boy features and how he most likely gets the most people coming after him thx to his perfect mix of Talia and Bruce’s genes (Talia’s brown skin color, her green cat shaped eyes w/long eyelashes, Bruce’s face (tho I headcanon the older dami gets the more he physically resembles Talia until the resemblance is uncanny, or he grows to become a perfect match of both his parents facial features), hairline (unless dami grows his hair out a little more in the future), the Wayne charm etc.)????????? Also how the others (Collin, Jon, & Billy) attractive looks attract others as well?????

Honestly, I totally forgot that Tumblr existed for a while so thess are way overdue. But here we go.

Also, excuse Damian's for being hella long but I've had a lot of time to think about Damian

Ok I also have a feeling that I haven't mentioned this before ...

All my content for these boys is aged up, which means they aren't a gaggle of 12 year olds. I'm imagining them between the ages of 16 and 18 unless otherwise stated.

DAMIAN WAYNE, JON KENT, COLIN WILKES, AND BILLY BATSON FEATURES HEADCANONS

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DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian has green eyes, I know people will argue and say he has blue but his eyes are definitely a dark mossy green.

Though they definitely have the capability of changing color in the sunlight, they light up and turn into lighter shades depending on the lighting and time of day, but personally I think they are a dark mossy green.

I don't want to spend too much time on Damian's eyes but for example, in Gotham they tend to be darker because of the atmosphere, whereas when Damian goes to see Jon in Metropolis, they'll be lighter shades because of the sunlight

He 100% has Talia's eyes, and facial structure. I can see him having more of Bruce's features, but his facial and body structure is closer to Talia.

Strong jawline but softer than Bruce's. Damian looks a bit like Bruce but not as sharp, so to speak. His face is slimmer and more rounded, his eyes are more pointed and are sharper but Bruce's are wider.

Bruce is ruggedly handsome, Damian is flawlessly pretty.

Damian's body structure is closer to Talia's too.

I don't see Damian really being able to pack on muscle mass in the future like Bruce. As Damian gets older his body structure looks a lot like Dick's, he's very well fitted.

He does have nice biceps tho. To the point where when he moves you could feel the muscle flex underneath if you were touching them

(If you haven't experienced this personally with anyone, I highly suggest it. Biceps are hot.)

He doesn't have thick thighs like Jason, but he's still very muscular. Sometimes it's hard to tell unless he's flexing, he's not busting out of his clothes, but he is quite strong.

On to other features, Damian isn't white.

I think we've all established it by now but just to make sure.

His skin is a lot like Talia's, light olive skin. Though, in the summer, if Damian gets even the smallest ounce of light he tans instantly. I'm the winters in Gotham, one might mistake him for white because his skin is lighter but once he's put next to Tim it's easy to see that he's not.

Damian has perfect eyebrows. Nothing else needs to accompany this. His eyebrows are flawless.

Ok, so hair. Another thing I've seen some disagreement on.

I believe Damian's hair is Black, like Bruce. But unlike Bruce it's not coarse and heavy. It's light, wispy and soft. When he was younger at the manor he used to gel it up, but now that he's older he's come to realize that it'll just go wherever he wants and it will be fine.

Damian's voice, which I've kinda already covered, is wide range. He can sound like a little girl or Corpse. He generally leans towards a deeper voice, it vibrates a little so if he's talking while you're touching him in some way you can feel the grumble.

He hums a lot. Not musically, but in response to things. He's taken up a habit of humming into words, like saying "mkay" instead of "okay".

I strongly believe that Damian doesn't laugh, he chuckles. Deep, hearty chuckles that make anyone whose near stop and listen to him laugh. He also snickers and sharply exhales through his nose to make that snorting/snickering sound, I don't know what it's called but I think you can guess what I'm talking about.

Damian doesn't have veiny hands, sorry to disappoint. But his hands are very soft for being a swordsman. His skin is very smooth and he doesn't have many imperfections. No birthmarks because of the Artificial Womb, courtesy of Talia.

Not me going back to his eyes, but he squints a lot. Out of confusion, anger, just looking at something, disgust. His eyes generally take the shape of siren eyes, so it doesn't look unnatural that he gives people sharp looks unintentionally.

His lips are on the thinner side but are still soft. Boy definitely uses chapstick. He doesn't have a big mouth or a little one, he's very well proportioned.

Probably has a plump bottom lip tho

Many know this but he frowns a lot. It's not because he's upset, but it's his thinking face. His eyebrows scrunch together when he's doing this too. If he's thinking about something unpleasant his nose with wrinkle. When Damian's thinking hard he looks very confused and upset.

Nicely shaped abs. He has a long torso

HELLA PRETTY SHOULDERS AND BACK MUSCLES MY GUY

Smells like pine needles and sandalwood. Definitely a rich person scent that's strong but not overpowering.

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BILLY BATSON

Figured I would start with Billy because if we're ranking them, he's the second prettiest.

Personal opinion but you'll see what I mean.

So Billy's eyes are brown. Like a dark, chocolate brown.

Some people might say "Well in the dcau and Young Justice they're blue" but I have a personal belief that they're brown. How many blue eyed superheroes and children of superheroes are there? Too many. They're brown.

In the sun they turn into a dark honey color

DEFINITELY has light freckles across his cheeks, I mean really light tho. You would have to be pretty close to him to see them

Billy's hair is soft, and medium brunette.

it's sort of straight, but kinda wavy

the length of it depends on the season, for instance in the summer he has it cut shorter in the back. But in the winter he lets it grow out a bit more

The skinniest of the bunch but it suits him

He's not SKINNY tho, I mean he's being compared to Superboy, Batman's son, and a Gym Rat Gothamite, cut the little guy some slack

Billy has very slender, lean build. Most likely doesn't have Damian-level muscle but he's still easy on the eyes shirtless

Billy has a a bit of a lopsided smile that sometimes expresses laziness

Teeth smile 100%

He has that sort of soft handsome look

Where Damian is very sharp and defined Billy is smooth

He has softer cheek bones (squishy cheeks) and a defined yet round jawline

Billy has thinner lips

I'm not sure how to describe them honestly

Very calm deep voice, deepest voice of the bunch, adding on to this I imagine that he likes to sing and is the best vocalist in the group

His laugh, contrast to Damian, is boisterous and very open mouthed. He's loud and sometimes it sounds like a cackle, but most of the time Billy has a charming laugh that fills the room

Billy almost smells sugary with a hint of linen. Like warm bed sheets but they were washed next to a bakery.

(He once accidentally stole Mary's Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and now has this sort of addiction to cherry scented things)

Honestly, Billy smells like a lot of things all the time, so the best description is that he smells very warm and sweet

Boy is part of the super soft hands club

Long. Freaking. Eyelashes.

Like, they might tickle you when you kiss him long

(This isn't a romance headcannon but he would be a great person to kiss, OOOH NEXT POST IDEA)

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JON KENT

Ok so on to Jonathan

So our boys eyes are a sky blue

An open sky in the country, and where some eyes have grey tones, Jon's don't

Dark, black hair that has a loose curl to it

A lot of times it hangs down in his eyes so he developed a tendency to play with his hair

He has one of those headbands that comb/hold back your hair, and he wears it a lot

Wouldn't wear it around the guys, there's no way Colin wouldn't make a little fun of him for it. Damian honestly wouldn't care and Billy would probably buy one once he sees Jon wear it

He has pretty fair skin, but tans often due to being in the Sun at the farm a lot.

Has tan lines on his wrist and ankles from bracelets, he's that kind of guy

I mentioned in a previous post that Jon isn't really big on sweating so our boy probably always smells very clean

His scent is lemony with a hint of linen.

Not that the other boys don't smell clean, Jon is just less musky

Jon us bulkier than Damian and Billy, but smaller than Colin.

Another member of the super soft hands club, as well as the pretty shoulders club

he has a soft voice, but it also holds a lot of energy. He talks fast

the highest pitched voice of the bunch, and for the longest time was slightly squeaky.

lovely sounding voice, can't sing for shit tho. Hes a bit tone deaf.

has DEFINED dimples, the king of dimples

always has a content look on his face, looks and is incredibly friendly

I have a feeling Jon doesn't have completely straight teeth, but still a beautiful, toothy smile

he isn't a mouth breather but has a habit of staring at people with his mouth open a bit.

kinda like a goldfish

lip biter (In the cute/hot way)

(ok so my best comparison for Jon is Dave Lizewski from Kick-Ass. I feel like they would have similar energy. I feel like he and Jon would sound similar as well.)

Toned abs. He doesn't even try, they just happen

nice arms, not super huge but you can visibly see the muscle

His entire vibe is secretly buff nerd boy

loves his glasses, only takes them off when he suits up

they're the round-ish square ones with the iron rim (Dave Lizewski glasses)

sharp jawline, but has a square face

Pouty, thick lips

Jon has fairly big hands, and skinny fingers.

Slightly veiny hands

Has never had a lick of acne in his life so incredibly clean face

Definitely a pretty boy

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COLIN WILKES

Colin is definitely the scraggiliest of the 4

Silly ginger boy

Has straight-ish hair but probably got a perm at some point and it kinda worked for him so he's recently discovered that if he puts stuff in his hair and takes care of it right he has some natural wave

Puppy dog brown eyes that look like melted chocolate

Used to have freckles but they faded as he got older so you only see them if you're extra close

Colin had the widest smile of the group

Never had braces because he couldn't afford it so his teeth are a bit uneven

But they were significantly worse when he was a middle schooler so he's glad they figured themselves out a bit

BIG BOY

THE BIGGEST BOY

This dude has the broadest shoulders of the group, the thickest thighs, the meatiest arms.

Colin is built like a tank

Has the veiniest hands, and they never go away. Just constant veins

Is ALWAYS smirking/smiling.

Has a look on his face that always makes it seem like he'd done something bad and he's proud of it

Obviously he hasn't but it somehow lands him in trouble 9/10 times

Colin is the palest of the group, not just because he roasts like a turkey in the son but because he obviously lives in Gotham, where sunlight doesn't exist

Like Billy, his lips are on the thinner side, but they're NEVER chapped. Loves chapstick, probably would eat it

Colin has a fairly round face, when he was younger he had huge gigantinormous ears, but by 15 he had grown into them

If any of the boys had a glow up it was Colin, he went from Kiddo to Daddy within a summer

Smells like grass and mahogany. Also lysol. Sometimes leather. It depends on what time of day it is.

In the morning, it's lysol and leather because that's when he goes to the gym. But after he showers it's mahogany and like Irish spring. But by the end of the day, for some reason he smells like grass and no one can figure out why

Colin's just kinda strange

His voice is lower than Jon's, but slightly higher than Billy's. (When he's Abuse his voice is much, much deeper)

It's rumbly

Has the best morning voice

When Colin laughs, it's a cackle. He sounds like a hyena

Definitely has toned muscles. The most defined muscles of the group

Has ENORMOUS hands

Rough and calloused from weightlifting but the rest of him is fairly soft

Rougher face because he shaves, puberty hit him HARD

He's not pretty, he's hot

[tumbleweed-run]

Hello! I love your writing <3 May I ask, do you have any headcanons for Gale? I have a few (eg: his mother raised him alone - he's an only child - as much as he enjoys homecooked meals he's very well known in Waterdeep's fine dining establishments) I'm interested in hearing what you imagine about Gale outside what the game tells us!

Lighter stuff

I agree with you on pretty much all points

Gale might appreciate wine but he strikes me as a fancy whiskey boy. It's a vibe I get

His mother hates the beard, which is why he didn't grow it out until the hermit stage

He loves all books. Magical tomes, history of Faerun, tawdry bodice rippers. And he has a system to his library but it makes no sense to anyone who is not Gale

Personally, I think he's well-known in all Waterdeep's dining establishments. He's in the Yawning Portal at some point as an adult but I also feel like he visits the finer restaurants- probably with his mother

he was raised wealthy, I know he like "oh I haven't dabbled in wealth" but my dear boy was Top Teir middle class at best. I don't think they were 'own the world wealthy' but I believe he grew up with more than just a housekeeper, not having to worry about money. Mama's got Sea Ward money

And of course (because I pointed out his 'tower' is in the Dock Ward) I think as an adult Gale moved to the "rough and tumble" part of town to prove himself. (which is probably why they know him in the poorer establishments )

His tower is a freaking row home, maybe its like two floors taller. But it is a house. Gale is just a fanciful man. Or he's manifesting that shit, idk

I also think he goes home to mama in the sea ward at least 2x a week

Gale is a sorcerer

Gale is 300% a sorcerer whose mother(not magic) was fed up with her shit being set on fire, so she sent him to train in magics the way she was most familiar - Wizard Apprenticing

Less Light Stuff

Gale mentions 'parents' once (I think during the I was denied a kitten speech) I think his father was there at first and then left. Maybe he couldn't handle Gale, or he was just a shitty guy. I think that was the road to Gales "I'm not enough, I must prove I'm enough" syndrome.

I also believe he first encountered Mystra in the Sea Ward at the 'House of Wonder' which is a temple devoted to her. I believe he was young like 13/14 but my guess is she was aware of him from a younger age. (Most wizards apprentice starting at 13... and usually have no spellcasting abilities which is...)

I don't think his favorite color is purple. I think it was Mystra's color and therefor it became his favorite (which is why I like dying all his clothes NOT Purple). Judging by the only room we saw, it's red/maroon/burgundy- but he doesn't know that

I think some of his stunts at Blackstaff were not just his own hubris though he sees it that way, but also at "hey mystra look at me" thing. Which I think she encouraged

I also believe that he was a young adult when the muse-to-lover transition took place. Maybe a few years after he left his apprenticeship, he was old enough to be a 'man' but it was definitely a product of grooming.

I don't think he was ever truly her Chosen. Most gods bestow cool powers (look at the dead 3) or at least protections. She just... screwed him? Taunted him with stuff she knew was going to keep him hooked on her?

When he saw Mystra's interest waning he panicked because he didn't have very many friends (his only named or mentioned friend is Elminster who has the most messed up history with Mystra) and he'd certainly not taken a lover once she 'chose' him. And I assume this was years before the netherese orb disaster. He probably did increasingly dangerous things/adventures to keep her attention, just like he did as a boy.

[samonroegf]

⠀dealer!sam monroe x cheerleader!reader

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ epilogue : dinner party

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ series masterlist

“do i have to wear this?” sam complained as you fixed his tie for him, and straightened his jacket. it was just a simple suit, something you went out and got for him. it was navy blue almost black, and complimented his color palette beautifully.

“yes, it was my mom's one condition. that you have to dress up.” you sighed, and finished eith his buttons. you straightened a few things and then admired your hard work. he barely looked like himself if you were honest, no rips, holes, chains, nothing like that. but this was your sam, and he looked so handsome. you left his hair alone, knowing that would be the biggest fight.

“i think she's out to get me,” he huffed, and flopped onto your bed. you fixed up your hair, makeup, and smoothed out your own dress. you couldn't help but giggle at his comment. “she’s not out to get you, that's silly.”

you had about ten minutes or so, until you were expected to come downstairs. that's when sam's mother and brothers would be showing up too. you thought it was a little crazy of your mother to want an elaborate dinner party, but if it gets the job done, whatever.

you sat down next to sam on the bed, just letting the time pass as you set your head on his shoulder. he leaned to press a soft kiss to your forehead, the action makes you smile. after everything the two of you have been through, you were happy for the peaceful moments like these.

the ten minutes passed by faster than you would have liked, and your dad knocked on the door to let you know it was time. sam stood and helped you to your feet, he couldn't help but admire how cute you looked in this moment.

you descended the stairs together, a smile on your face. your families were mending and blending together. this was exactly what you needed, even with the harsh words from your mother. she was still your mom, and you wanted her acceptance.

it didn't take very long for sam's family to show up, his mother wore a beautiful satin dress, and the boys almost matched sam. with lighter blue suits on them. you couldn't help but think moments like these were what life were meant for, even with the uncomfortable heels hugging your feet.

you all sat at the table, your father at the head, your mother and you to each of his sides. sam sat next to you, oppsite to his mother. his younger brothers, adam next to him, and ryan next to robin.

your mother brought out all the foods, special recipes that had been passed down for generations in your family. silence passed over the group, but it wasn't necessarily tense. it wasn't exactly comfortable either though, no one really sure of how they should act.

sam's knee knocked against yours, a clue-in that he thought you should start the conversation. you take a deep breath, anxiety peaking out from your ribcage.

“you know, sam, our girl is quite the dramatic, you think you can handle her?” your dad got to it before you could. while you could've been embarrassed, you weren't. this felt like the most natural way for the conversation to go. less pressure on your shoulders.

sam's laugh eased your nerves, he chuckled, a hand coming down to rub your thigh comfortingly.

“now that you mention it, i think I've noticed it a time or two.” he smiled at your dad, and he smiled back. sam's retort even made your mother chuckle.

“like you have any room to talk,” robin eyed sam, and his face reddened. she didn't want to say too much, but she winked at you.

it was proof everyone wanted this to go smoothly, not just you. you giggled in response.

“thanks for throwing me under the bus,” sam said jokingly.

things continued to pass like that, soft conversations. along with the random outbursts of his brothers telling everyone about their school days, or the latest cartoon they had watched. before you knew it, the dinner party was coming to a close.

you and sam offered to clean up the table. while the parents shared a drink, the boys played on your old swing set in the backyard.

you washed plates, and sam dried them off and put them away. it was a nice moment of complete domestication.

“you know tonight wasn't so bad, i think your mom is starting to like me.” sam spoke triumphantly, smirking at you as he did. like it was this great mission he had completed.

“i told you, she isn't that bad. she's just an aquired taste.” you laughed and sam did too. after you finished the last plate you just leaned against the counter watching him.

he looked so handsome in the rolled up sleeves of his button down, jacket discarded on the back of his chair.

he came to craddle your face in his hands, “i love you so much, baby. don't know what I'd do with out you. best thing that ever happened to me.” his smile was so sweet, so genuine and full of love.

your fingers held his wrists, just looking at him with the same amount of love.

“i love you.” you breathed, it was all you could get put before he pressed his lips to yours. softly holding you to him, like he was afraid if he let go you'd disappear.

“i’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you.”