#and i do some mini painting on rare occasion

[apocalypticdemon]

If my brain could focus on learning one new hobby at a time that'd be great!

[ineffableoutpost]

Spa Night

Fluffy steddie thread

It was a dumb idea, and Steve knew how silly he probably looked right now, but everyone else could fuck right off, ‘cause he deserved some relaxation.

As a little kid, he remembers seeing his mom in the evenings with some sort of creamy substance over her face and two cucumber slices over her eyes as she relaxed after coming home from work. During the brief six months that Steve’s dad was fucking his assistant at night and said he was staying late at work, Steve and his mom would have mini spa nights.

Safe to say that when his father got the girl pregnant and paid her to get an abortion, his mood soured and he took it out on little ten year old Steve. But alas, he grew up and forgot about it, until he met Nancy and caught her doing the same thing.

One night after he tried sneaking in through the window. She applied what was left of the concoction on his face and placed two cucumber slices over his eyes, and they laid down on her bed listening to music. It was a memory he cherished deeply.

Then the upside down happened and everything went to shit, literally. And then it happened a few more times. And for the most part, Steve would forget about it and only do it on a rare occasion when he felt like he could actually relax.

He got Robin to join him a few times, but her skin turned out to be very sensitive and it would give her an allergy or cause her to break out. Still, she sometimes would accompany him and even paint his nails with a glittery pink varnish she had.

Nancy and Robin were the only two people who knew about this, that is, except for Eddie.

Eddie who had decided to pay Steve a little visit unannounced and caught him lying on the couch, eating chips with a face mask on, cucumber slices and his hair wrapped up in a towel.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, letting his mouth hang open. Steve flicked and lifted one of the cucumber slices to get a better look, still squinting his eyes to try and focus his shitty sight. “Fuck, shit,” he cursed, starting to move from his comfortable spot.

“Nah, don’t move! you look comfy.” Even with the pink cream over his face, he still felt his cheeks glow red at the comment. “Were we supposed to meet up?”

Eddie shook his head, kicking off his shoes and dropping his keys on the little dish Steve had on the coffee table. “I was bored, and thought we could some joints, but this seems much more interesting,” he smirked.

“Don’t make fun of me,“he pouted

“Would never dream of doing so.” Steve rolled his eyes and sat up, letting the towel he had on his head drop down, revealing his damp hair. “Are you gonna keep me in suspense Stevie?”

Steve sighed and crossed his legs leaving room for Eddie to sit next to him on the couch. “I like to put on face masks and have a spa night to decompress and relax.” Eddie nodded, clearly amused at the big jock in front of him.

“Can I try?” Steve’s eyes opened in delight, excited to have someone to share this with. He nodded and got the little bowl with left over mixture from the table, mixing it a few times. Eddie tied his hair up in a loose ponytail and motioned his face towards Steve, closing his eyes. He flinched at the cool feeling and Steve’s fingers.

“Smells nice, what’s in it?”

“Lavender oil, avocado, honey and coconut oil.” Steve covered Eddie’s skin, enjoying the opportunity to touch him so up-close.

“Now what?” Eddie asked once Steve was done.

"Now we relax.”

They started off by closing their eyes and resting their heads against the back of the couch, passing the bowl of chips to each other and gossiping about people’s rentals from Family Video.

About an hour in, they both started to yawn, getting sleepy, even though it was only 9 pm. Steve led Eddie into his bathroom, where they both washed their face. Steve didn’t even have to work too hard to convince Eddie to sleep over.

In the end, he knew that they would be repeating this again, seeing as they fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow, and woke up tangled in each other’s arms. Thought at first a little awkward, they kept repeating the tradition at least once a week, and it lasted even when they started dating.

Tag list:

@redlegumes

[heartfullofleeches]

Idk how it'll work tbh but...Clown reader and yandere mime?? Would they make puppets together?? Clown reader goofs around and mime just watches them admiringly?? Cute af duo??

And... done!

Snipping the stray strings off its cloth body, you raise your masterpiece up into the light for better view. Its little head dips awkwardly to one side due to how stuffed it was and lack of support. You try it on to make up for the imbalance. It's a little snug, but you had enough wiggle room to clap its tiny hands together and wave to a nonexistent crowd.

You beam with pride for your craft; testing its mobility a bit more in preparation for its debut. You couldn't wait to see the look on your partner's face when you showed it off.

The mime had always been a reserved and mysterious character. They just sorta appeared one day and has been hanging around since. The former half was understandable given their aesthetic, but they've never really opened up to you even off stage. It's not like they avoid you. Heck, you're probably the only person they interact with.

Your co-worker follows you from show curtain to tent and sometimes walks you home on occasion. You have reason to believe these walks aren't as rare as you think since you've caught them out the corner of your eye more times than you can admit, but you could never imagine that big softie doing you or anyone harm. You also suspect them being behind the sudden increase of flowers and other gifts in your tent, but that's a secret you'd happily take to your grave.

You hardly knew much about them, due to obvious facts, but what you were aware of was their love for puppets. When they weren't watching you practice or scampering away from your room, you could easily find the mime hauled away in some corner working on a new friend. They always had one stashed on them, typically their breast pocket. You figure they're a comfort item as the mime can hardly function when ones missing. Seeing an opportunity to get closer to them and potentially start a new hobby, you began making your very own puppet in your downtime which you have now finished.

You clean off your workspace and rush off to find them. It doesn't take long to locate them; hiding away in their own tent as usual. They sit with their back to the door, crouched over the chest they kept their puppets in. It seems they were working on another puppet as well as they set a sewing needle and thread on the trunk's roof. They pick the doll up as if it were glass, hesitantly slipping its glove over their large fingers. You enter the tent.

Keep up the good work.

A voice? You've never heard them speak before. It's nothing like what you thought their voice would sound. It's... far more familiar than you imagined. It and the words it muttered.

You were able face the crowd today. I'm so proud of you.

That's definitely something you heard before, but where?

I love you.. V-

"Ventri?"

The mime whips around to face you like they've been caught in the middle of a crime scene. It's the most expression you've ever seen from them. Brows raised in surprise, lips twisted into a grimace as apposed to their usual droopy nature. The little puppet on their hand trembles while covering its eyes and-

It's you.

From the silly hat you wore down to the missing button on your shirt, the puppet mirrors you to the smallest detail. There's even a burn on the uncovered part of your arm from an incident with a popcorn machine a month prior to their arrival. Any question alluding to what you walked in on goes out the door as you reach for it.

"Aww, is that me? Can I hold it?"

Ventri reluctantly hands you the puppet. They hide their face in their collar as you inspect it with glee. It really was a mini you. The face paint is a little smudged on one cheek, but it was all there. They wipe at their lips as you thumb your finger over the blemish. You almost forget about your own puppet till it comes tumbling out your pocket.

"Oh! Right, almost left you behind, didn't I?" You pick it up and hold it out to Ventri. "I guess this was a good start afterall. What do you think?"

If you thought they were careful with the you puppet, they treated yours like it'd break on contact. You can't even hear them breath as they inspect it - not that you heard much from them anyway. They frame its plush cheek in their hand. The right eye bulged out of its head and the seams were pulled from when you shoved your hand inside, but it was the cutest thing they'd ever seen.

Ventri looks down at you. They tap the hood of their trunk.

"You wanna keep it?"

A nod.

"Well of course you can! I think it's too small for you, but if you want it then I'm more than happy to let you have it."

Ventri unlocks the trunk and places it down atop the pile. You never never they had such a love for red, but a few of the other puppets in there were pretty much drenched in the color. You recognize one of an old coworker. Shame they didn't get to show it to them before they left.

Ventri quickly shuts and locks the trunk. They drum their fingers against it, this time in thought. They then point over to their mountain of supplies and mimics a sewing gesture with their hands.

You don't have to ask to know what they mean. Together, you waste the rest of the afternoon together designing and creating puppets. They're over your shoulder the entire time, insisting you wear a thimble and expressing fear for the second time when you drop your needle into your lap.

Heading home that evening, you walk the streets hand in hand - your puppets doing all the communication for you.

[thelostrainbowthenovel]

Makeup Looks: Main Characters

Since I did this on one of my other blogs already, I thought I would make a post for this blog! This is the start of a new mini series of mine, of exploring some makeup looks for my characters! I expanded on these a little bit in their fashion posts, but this post is to just explore and showcase their makeup looks more since their visuals weren’t included in the fashion ones(as those were focused on their clothes). I hope you enjoy~ ^^

=============================================================

- Nate

. Nate has a surprisingly steady hand and skill at doing makeup, but he does not wear it often himself, only really doing his sister's or his younger brothers' face paint for special events whenever they ask him to

. Though, he will wear a light layer of foundation for royal and other important events if he needs to cover up any scars or other imperfections, and a little eyeliner to make his eyes sharper, but other than that he keeps everything natural in terms of makeup

. For nails, he keeps them neatly filed and is usually a little apprehensive about painting them, but he will sometimes apply simple black polish

- Tia

. Tia prefers a simple look when it comes to makeup on a daily basis, since her priority when it comes to her appearance(aside from clothes) is her hair, and she tends to find it not worth it to wear it if she is going to be doing a lot of training or physical activity as it would just sweat off

. Her main everyday look consists of light foundation, natural eyeshadow, mascara, a little eyeliner, and sometimes a light or clear lip gloss if it is a more casual day for her

. When she does go for bolder looks, it is only for royal events and usually just consists of adding dark red eyeshadow and more noticeable sharp eyeliner

. She also quite likes it whenever her brother does her makeup for her, as it is a chill bonding moment for the siblings and also gives them an opportunity to talk about whatever is on their minds

. For nails, she does not like getting them manicured often as she does not want to break them while training, but she does keep them neatly filed and will apply simple polish in either black or red shades

- Maya

. Maya usually only wears makeup lightly, save for royal events or whenever her girlfriend, Iris, wants to do it for her

. Her usual look consists of soft pink shades of both eyeshadow and lip gloss, mascara, and light eyeliner to highlight her narrower eyes, and despite liking a simple yet elegant look, she is quite partial to some shimmering products that sparkle

. For nails, she likes to keep them medium-length and neatly filed, often getting them done in glittery or ombre designs

- Brooke

. Brooke does not mind makeup, since he tends to wear light foundation and concealer to cover up any scars or other imperfections on his face

. Other than that he goes for a natural look, but he does also like wearing a little mascara and eyeliner to make his eyes ‘pop’ more

. For nails, he loves getting them done to even further rebel from what is expected of him

. Usually just keeps them short, but he loves having them painted in bright blues and even some fun designs on occasion

- Gaia

. Gaia rarely wears makeup on her own, but she is not totally against it

. She will only use organic brands, and her daily look consists only of mascara and natural eyeshadow

. However, for royal events and other special occasions, or simply whenever Rosia wants to do her makeup, she’ll wear more bright and bold looks, mostly in rich earth shades but she does like a nice, dark red or pink lipstick

. For her nails, she likes letting them grow long but does make sure they are neat, preferring simple polish or whatever Rosia wants, which usually consists of bright colors and cute little flower designs

[jeannahas]

1: Coba Kai, The DND movie, Spider Man Across the Spiderverse.

2:i posess a pair of brown socks that are very comfy, but not too thick or fluffy. I wear them when I am cold or in the rare occasions I actually have to wear shoes.

3:no- oddly I don’t really like fruit, but I love milkshakes.

4:when I get to dress nicely I go for a white shirt, vest of ne of three colors, a tie that fits the occasion, and when I have a pair a set of nice black slacks - usually with brown shoes perfectly polished as an affront to fashion, and one of any number of simple leather belts. Occasionally, I allow add an Aguayo sash to the mix, this depends on the vest color and tie color.

5: scrambled. And tasty.

6: Page number. When I close a book I have the habit of checking the page number before it closes- upon opening the book I flip to that number, find my place, and continue reading. This is due to the fact that my brand of ADHD leads to me instantly misplacing any bookmark while reading as it wanders from one hand, to the other, to behind my ear, to heaven only knows where on earth before will have even turned the page.

7:black.

8:warhammer! And swords. I love painting small things, and I like swords. 😄

9:fire. I love fire. Candles, campfires, fireplaces, before brides, raging infernos, very soothing. My meditation app thingies are all set to sounds of campfires because I find it soothing.

10:I did not understand this question.

11:I do not. I have 20-10 vision, and my eye doctor always tells me I should have been a pilot.

12:hm. My best friend is my wife- many things.

13: Pen. I don’t like the way pencils vibrate in my fingers- end have a much smoother texture, and older quill style pens have a more satisfying scratch- pencils just kind of annoy me.

14:a. In front of a fire, b. Among Rock formation sun a desert, c. In the middle of a forest in the middle of no where- pine forests preferred.

15: I do- fiddle leaf figs, keep the air cleaner and survive my horrible inside houspkant skills. I somehow killed an Aloe plant.

16: I do not wear hoodies- used to, stopped once I descovered a preference for jackets.

17:A pommel for a sword I am currently rebuilding.

18:hm. The arrival of my ancestors on the American continent. Curious to know what they looked like.

19: I dressed up as a Roman soldier/knight thing when I was six - they still sell that same costume nowadays, and It makes me irrationally happy.

20:ni idea. Simple math. Daily use.

21: English realism- specifically the works of Luke Feilds, closely followed by some of the artists and their work from Magic the Tathering within the past 10 or so years- a lot of modern artwork is really well made! Enjoying the current environment of artists. I hate “Modern” art with a firey passion and see no value in it. Everything since Dadaism is…just sad.

22:cold- except for hot chicken late during winter.

23: hm. I actually don’t sing in the shower. None?

24: No. I am aware of this, so I drive as cautiously as I can.

25: Nope. I’m too indecisive and I know that ti would chang emu mind immediatley after getting one or I would get bored of it. Knowing this about myself, I’ll occasionally decorate my right forearm with Henna.

26: Kind of. I have a book of family recipients, I can follow the instructions, but it takes me a while. I will someday make a siccessful puff pasty.

I have not yet succeeded.

27:yea- I have a mini- black belt piece with my Dan Number embroidered on it. (2010-02)

28: I swim decently well- nothing fancy, but I know the major strokes and can make the whole length of a swimming pool underwater.

29:yes!! My favorite set was a dwarves castle my brothers and I got for Christmas 🎅 ne year- we actually managed to Keep It intact while playing with it too! Much fun- we would hold wars with all the mini figs, this likely led me into Warhammer.

30: No.

31: Hm. Hm………..apparently, Cheeleader- but specifically the Lumity animatic. Other than that- Vampair- all of them frequently. Raised by Bats is my favorite.

32: silver.

33: Earbuds.

34: yep. Without too much trouble.

35: a stuffed black cat I got as a kid I named Teto. He was an excelent swordsman.

36: Air Hockey- I am not good at any other arcade games. However, I don’t get VR sick at all, so I can outlast people when arcades have VR games. 🤣

37: Nope- I prefer it actually!

38: Vampair and Voltaire. 🫠

39: I was teaching a martial arts class and had several kids have some good “Aha!” Moments. Very satisfying.

40: Oooh- Either Ponderosa Pines or Juniper- ponderosa because they smell absolutely FANTASTIC and there were several forests of the trees close to where I gre up, and Junioers because those trees were EVERYWHERE growing up, and the wood was super dense, and made carving and whittling it super satisfying, as you could get it to such a fine polish when you were done.

41: I do not remember- a scent. (My nose doesn’t work, so I let my wife pick my deoderant)

42: I do- but I never really play them. The one I turn on most of them is WorldBox- I like to some funny little civilizations and make them fight each other for survival.

43: on.

44: collect! Collect and make into my dragon hoard! ( occasionally use it to buy soda from gas stations)

45: NO. It is horrible despite my best efforts. I am left handed, and my writing has been described as “if cursive were created by an eldritch being”

46: a random anime called “The Vision of EscaFlowne” I was expecting not to like it, but ended up thoroughly enjoying it and being sad that there was only one season and that they had to fit the entire back half of the story into the last few episodes- I’ve head there is a movie, I have not watched it yet.

47: Yes- but getting the motivation to actually get OUT THE DOOR is really hard.

48: Not really. I grab what’s available. I do have favorite silver ware- silverware with a rose on the handle- we called them “ Robber” silverware because we would steal them from each other at the dinner table, and when my parents moved I was able to snag them (with permission) and I have the Robber spoons! (This is a triumph roughly as significant as attaining my 3rd degree black belt was)

49: 1. Run one lap around my domic le laughing like a maniac while getting drenched with the first rain of the season: 2. Get as warm as possible, read a book, and take a nap while it rains. Lately; my favorite part is calling my oldest daughter to the door so she can see the rain- she gets SO excited, and it is just the best thing ever.

50: they vary with mood: sometimes- all the pillows three blankets (as heavy as possible) creating a little cave / nest where I can hide untill Morning. Other items- give me a blanket, a pillow, and a hardwood floor. 10/10 will recomend, especially if you are prone to overheating.

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[chvnnie]

Masterpiece

hwang hyunjin x reader

word count: 5.1k

genre: smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: non idol au, artist hyunjin, mean (like really) dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, pet names: love, baby, beautiful, dirty talk, a dash of degradation, shibari (v poorly detailed - i’m so sorry) so bondage, use of vibrator, slight objectification, multiple orgasms (f receiving), choking, slaps to genitals (2 to be exact), unprotected sex - pls don’t, incorrect use of paint. if i missed anything - PLEASE LET ME KNOW. 

summary: hyunjin has the perfect idea to create a masterpiece

a/n: just want to shout out the ever so lovely @cariadchan, who definitely fueled this idea. you are a gem and a wonderful human, so thankful that you always listen to the filth i spill. also, i hope you all enjoy my first fic after a mini hiatus (the concerts and traveling and moving really took a toll on me). i’m so excited to share this fic with y’all!

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents hwang hyunjin as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess

Dating Hyunjin is nothing less than adventure. You lost count of the amount of times you’ve been woken up by him, whisked away on some sort of last minute trip - typically fueled by passion for his craft and too many cups of coffee. Sometimes it’s down the street (“The stars are brighter in this neighborhood.”), sometimes it’s car rides to different cities to see specific buildings or mountains, and on the rare occasion, it’s red eye planes to different countries because he just can’t shake the idea of the Great Wall.

When you moved in together, the adventures became more domestic. You went from waking up to calls to pack a bag, to waking up to the autumn breeze flowing through the open balcony doors. It was one of his preferred places to paint, feet on the top of the stool and knees pulled to his chest as he painted whatever pulled him out of sleep that evening. Sometimes it was five minutes before he was back in bed with you; sometimes he spent hours out there, the morning sun highlighting his light brown hair in a way that made him look otherworldly.

You never really know what to expect with Hyunjin, and quickly learn not to be surprised by what you’re woken up to. Going with the flow of his inspiration proved to work out in your favor, Hyunjin repaying your support in ways that make you swoon just to think about.

“What would I do without you?” Whispers accompanied by soft brushes of his lips, kisses so gentle they’re almost nonexistent. Whatever you did for him, he made sure to repay tenfold. Not that you ever did so for the praise or reward - supporting Hyunjin was simple when loving him was as easy as breathing. You couldn’t even fathom not standing by his side, watching as his eyes fill with wonder before he grabs your hands and drags you along with him.

Hyunjin was never afraid to push boundaries with his art - using mediums that aren’t typical, supports that aren’t normal. That’s what made his art so unique, so exciting - Hyunjin was unpredictable, more than just paint on a blank canvas or charcoal on paper. It was thrilling to see where his mind would go next.

It was the day a black box arrived at your house that you realized how terrifying the thrills could be.

The box was lightweight, making you question if anything was actually inside it. You carefully flipped it, fingers tracing the edges. It was smooth, not a scratch on it as if it was simply placed at your doorstep instead of being handled by multiple people multiple times. The label was handwritten, slanted Japanese detailing both the return and delivery address. Hyunjin’s name were the only words not in Japanese.

Not thinking anything of the strange, black box, you took it upstairs to his studio. Knocking once, you let yourself in, finding your boyfriend huddled over a flat canvas-like tarp. Brown hair held back by a ponytail and headband, he studied the progress he had made before your arrival.

“Hi.” He said lightly, eyes still bouncing between the strokes on the tarp.

“Hi.” You responded, dropping the box on his work table. It didn’t make a sound when it landed. “You got something.”

“Hm?” He hummed, head turning in your direction while his eyes stayed on his project. “What is it?”

As if he could see you, you shrugged. “Not sure. I think it’s from Japan?”

Finally looking at you, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Japan? What-“ When his eyes landed on the box, they widened, an all too familiar excitement sparkling in them. Hyunjin dropped his paintbrush, long legs helping him move quickly to the table. He wiped his paint stained hands on his white shirt before grabbing the box, flipping it the same way you did earlier. Unlike you, however, Hyunjin spent more time studying the box, more time tracing the smooth edges and reading the Japanese characters. It was almost like he was mesmerized by the box itself, no interest as to what could be inside.

“Well?” You asked, tearing his focus away. “What is it?”

His eyes darkened for half a second, and if you hadn’t had been looking at him, you would’ve missed the look that crossed his face that sent chills down your spine. With a blink, the look was gone, normal Hyunjin returning to you. “Nothing. Well. Something. I have this idea that won’t leave.” He said, removing one hand from the box to tap his forehead. “I’ve had it for weeks. It’s been keeping me up, stealing my focus, and now I can finally do something about it.”

The way Hyunjin spoke about the material inside the box piqued your interest more. He was brilliant, the way his mind creates magic without even trying leaves you in awe of him. “What’s the idea?”

Hyunjin paused, jaw clenching as if he had said too much. He typically wasn’t private about his art, especially with you - the sheer number of adventures he took you on to chase inspiration was proof enough. To say his reaction to your question was odd would be an understatement. “I’m not ready to share yet.”

The look he gave you left no room for argument. Meekly, you nod your head, softly agreeing to drop any questions that were bubbling to the surface.

“Actually, would you mind giving me some time alone with this? I need to…plan.” Breaking eye contact, he turned back to the table and dropped the box. You watched him move across the room, dropping into a squat as he dug through a box of mannequin parts. “Lock the door behind you.”

You backed out of the room, willing your body to move at a normal pace so you didn’t seem so alarmed by his sudden change in demeanor. Once the door was shut and locked did you let yourself feel what had been tugging at you since his eyes darkened.

You had thought you learned not to be surprised by Hyunjin, but the eerie feeling he and the box left you with was something you never saw coming.

Thuds of various volumes came from his studio throughout the rest of the evening, some accompanied by a string of low curses. He had only emerged from the room twice; once to grab an energy drink, the other to dig through the shared dresser in the bedroom. A delighted hum left his lips when he was buried in the dresser, quickly concealing whatever he found before retreating to this studio. He refused dinner, telling you he had enough snacks in there to keep the hunger at bay while he worked.

It wasn’t until around midnight that you began to get concerned. Even on the days he got lost in his work, he always found time to break away before you went to sleep, reassuringly kissing you and promising that he would be in bed soon. Most of the time, the promise was empty, but you didn’t mind, so long as he came to say goodnight.

Considering that you could still hear the thuds, it would be awhile before his attention broke.

Robe clutched around your body, you loudly knocked on the studio door. Something fell, followed by more curses and the sound of footsteps before Hyunjin cracked the door open. Red paint streaked his right cheek, some of it crusting on his hair. His brown eyes were blown out, wide awake while the rest of his face screamed exhaustion. “What?” He asked gently, tone laced with slight irritation.

“Just wanted to say goodnight.” You whined softly, reaching towards him. “And wondering when you’ll be in bed.”

The sight of your grabby hands made Hyunjin’s face soften, stepping out of the room briefly to hug you. As soon as his arms wrapped around you, you immediately relaxed, the lingering eerie feeling from earlier practically nonexistent at his touch. He smelled of sweat and paint, a slight burning scent lingering on his button up. It was a combination far too familiar, immediately comforting you.

“Just need a bit longer, then I’ll be there.” He whispered, peppering kisses across your head.

“Come to me soon, okay?” You ask, bunching his shirt up in your hands to keep him close.

“So soon.” Hands cupping your cheeks, he pulled your face out of his chest. When your eyes met, he smiled sweetly, making his tired eyes light. “Don’t wait up, ‘kay?”

Soft “I love you”s were exchanged in the dim hallway before Hyunjin slipped back into his studio, quickly shutting the door to keep his project hidden. From inside the room, you heard him hum a song, light thuds continuing the music they’ve been making all evening. He was out of reach again, the eerie feeling creeping up your spine again now that his touch was gone. You tried shaking it off, swiftly walking to the bedroom and burying yourself in the covers to try and subdue it.

It didn’t help, the feeling only growing stronger the closer you inched towards sleep.

///

The clock read 3:30 when Hyunjin woke you up.

“Love?” He whispered, long fingers brushing back the hair that covered your waking face. “Come on, wake up for me.”

You mumbled his name, leaning into his gentle touch. Butterflies filled your tummy at the feeling of his cold hands on your face, sleepy moans leaving your lips the more he touched you. “Bed time?”

His chuckle was airy, matching the gentle way he continued to touch you. “Not yet. Wanna see what was in the box?”

You had almost forgotten about the box, about how secretive your boyfriend had been with it since it arrived. Your eyes shot open, looking up at Hyunjin. He’s showered since you last saw him; the paint that was on his face gone, hair still damp and pushed back with a headband. A tight black shirt has replaced his paint-stained button up, short gym shorts riding up his muscular thighs. When your eyes meet his, the sparkle in his burning with excitement and pride, it’s obvious that whatever was in that black box helped him accomplish something big.

That was enough to ease the feeling that’s plagued all evening.

Hyunjin helped you out of bed, fingers lacing with yours as he walks you down to his studio. Every step felt like a mile, anticipation bubbling in your chest the closer you got. When the two of you arrived at the closed door, Hyunjin brought the hand he held to his lips, planting a firm kiss on the back of it.

“I love you.” He whispers, then opens the door.

The studio, once cluttered with various art supplies, had been organized since you last stepped in; paints neatly tucked away on wall shelves, canvases piled in corners. The curtains were drawn, which to a stranger would seem normal, but you know how Hyunjin’s brain works. He can’t focus unless he can see the sky, so the fact that the curtains were closed was enough to make you question just what he had in mind.

All the lights were off except for a single lamp, warm yellow spreading across Hyunjin’s work table in the center of the room. The lamp was high enough to not impose on his work, but also to give him a clear view of what his hands were doing. A white cloth was spread across the table, protecting the wood table from the paint he was bound to drop on it. In the center of the table, atop of the white barrier, sat a bundle of black ropes that, at the right angle, sparkled under the light.

Was that it? Was that the secret Hyunjin kept tucked away all evening?

Your body moved before you could fully process what you were looking at. Ropes? Why was he being so weird about ropes? It wasn’t the first time he’s incorporated them into his art; you were recruited more than once to help him tie pieces of his projects together. What was so important about these ropes?

It wasn’t until you touched them, the lightweight material slipping through your fingers, that everything began to click in your head.

Hyunjin’s hands softly gripped your hips, body pressing against yours from behind. “Pretty, right?”

You swallowed, continuing to rub the soft ropes. “What are they for?” The room suddenly felt very cold, your mouth dry as you asked the obvious question.

“To tie you up.”

The ropes slipped from your hands, landing on the table with a light thud as Hyunjin began to kiss your neck. It wasn’t a surprise - you were never surprised when it came to him - but, nevertheless, it set you on edge. Goosebumps covered your skin, stilling at the idea of those smooth ropes against your body.

“I thought it was for a project.” You stated, voice barely above a whisper.

“It is.” His words followed by a nip on your neck, and you had to bite back the whimper that threatened to release. “You’re the project.”

Before you could ask him to clarify, his large palms pushed up your body, bringing your shirt along with them. Stomach exposed to the cold room, Hyunjin’s kisses became more aggressive. More desperate, more demanding.

“I had a dream about you.” One palm kept your shirt up, while the other returned to your hips, pointer finger twisting around the hem of your lace panties. “Bound for me, letting me explore every inch of you between the knotted ropes. God, you looked so pretty, so helpless at my disposal. The way you whimpered under my touch was heavenly. When I woke up, I tried to paint the scene, writing every detail I could remember. That’s when it hit me - why paint you when I could paint you?”

You blinked, trying to process the last few words. It was impossible to think as it was, Hyunjin’s hand sneaking closer to your core not helping anything. “What? Hyunjin-“

In a flash, he spun you around, cornering you between his body and the table. The look he was giving you was the same one you had caught on his face earlier - dark, twisted with the glint of wonder shining through. It was in that moment that the eerie feeling from before came back, this time bringing along an excitement that had your knees buckling together. You were terrified - the look on his face was enough to make you want to break eye contact and hide. But the thrill of his touch in ways you’ve yet to experience overpowered every last drop of fear.

“Let me tie you up.” His voice was low, raspy with a desire that went straight to your core. “I want you bound and pretty for me, a willing canvas to create a masterpiece.”

And though you weren’t sure if your body was trembling with fear or excitement, you nodded your head, a light “okay” leaving your lips. You would never not support Hyunjin in his passion - especially if it included you.

The most genuine, beautiful smile spread across his face, cheeks dimpling as he leaned in and caught your lips. Hands cradling your face, he tilts your head back, allowing his tongue to slip inside with ease. The acidic taste of coffee and chocolate danced across your tongue, distracting you from the movement of hands down to your underwear. Swiftly, your core was exposed, cold air hitting your wet mound and making you shiver. The chill only lasted a second before Hyunjin’s warm fingers were on your clit, teasingly slow circles matching the pace of his tongue.

With a pinch to your sensitive bud, your lips disconnected, head rolling back and hips arching forward. Fingers found the nape of his neck, pulling at his hair as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

“Beautiful, beautiful girl.” He mumbled, eyes raking your shaky form. “I can’t wait to paint you.”

Hyunjin slowly released your clit, hands moving upward and removing your shirt. Body now bare, he reached behind you, gathering his supplies to ready you for him.

///

He took his time tying you up

Every time the rope tightened around a different section of your body, he kissed the area between, worshipping you as he worked. You were laying on his work table, Hyunjin hovering over you with a focused look on his face. Only once your wrists were bound and above your head, feet tied to the ends of the table, did he pause his movements.

He studied you from above, long fingers dancing over the knots he had so diligently tied. Your legs were sectioned off into thirds; thighs squeezed into two sections while your calves were one. Rope wrapped around your hips, creating a barrier between the top thigh knots and your stomach, your core exposed to him. Hyunjin had toyed with the idea of a crotch tie, but didn’t like the idea of not having access to you.

Which didn’t make sense to you - wasn’t the purpose of this to paint you? That’s what you thought, until Hyunjin reached under the table and pulled out your favorite bullet vibrator, or rather, his favorite.

This toy was only really used when he requested it; often when he was away or if he wanted to push boundaries in public with you. It was a fine toy - multiple settings and intensities, long battery life, quiet. Nothing too different than the rest of your collection, but what made it special was the bluetooth setting. The app that let Hyunjin have control, even when he wasn’t close by.

After running the vibrator up and down your folds, and adding a drop of his spit for extra lubrication, he worked the small toy inside on you, pressing the power button to leave it on standby. Nothing would happen until Hyunjin made it happen - and that made this whole experience much more nerve racking than you anticipated.

Double checking every knot, pulling on the ropes to make sure you couldn’t escape, he climbed off the table and began to mix paints on his palette. “No matter what happens, stay still for me.” He lifts a paintbrush, the slick orange paint sparkling in the light. Gently, the tip touches your left nipple, brushing down to where the rope sectioned off that breast. “Don’t mess up my art.”

It was much easier said than done; he had just started and the chill of the paint was already tempting you to arch your back. You bit your bottom lip, hissing as Hyunjin slowly moved the brush around the base of your breast. His brushstrokes were always meticulous; he was precise and patient, each stroke just as important as the last. It was something you had always admired as a watcher; his devotion obvious in the obsessive way he works. But now, as the art, you felt your sanity slipping with each stoke.

Hyunjin pulled back to coat the brush with more paint, giving you time to release the breath you were holding. This was only the beginning - how were you going to stay still as he painted your entire body if just one of your breasts was making you so-

A yelp slipped from your lips as the vibrator activated, mildly humming inside your walls. You barely had time to process the new sensation before Hyunjin’s brush was on you again, painting over the skin he missed earlier. Mind fuzzy, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to regulate your breathing. The tickling brush of paint on your breast and the speed of the vibrator that was just fast enough set you on edge. This was absolutely evil, and you’re sure if you looked over at your boyfriend, he would have a smug smile on his face. Teasing you was just too easy.

Once your left breast was completely covered, Hyunjin leaned in, blowing cool air over the paint. Gasping, you couldn’t stop your back from arching this time, erect nipple brushing over his chin.

Oh, no.

Clicking his tongue, one hand found your stomach, shoving your hips flush against the table while the other grabbed the paintbrush, fixing the smudge you made. “What did I just say?” Hyunjin said. His tone was soft, but was laced with a warning that he wouldn’t take much more of this. “Don’t. Move.”

Your lips quivered, whimpering as you apologized. “Sorry, Hyunjin.”

Standing up, Hyunjin put the dirty brush on a cloth and grabbed a new one, dipping it in a pale yellow paint. Orange paint glistened on his chin, eyes bouncing from the palette to your right breast. The tip of his tongue stuck out, slowly licking his bottom lip as he leaned across your body to paint the other breast.

You kept your body as still as you could as he worked, nails digging into your palm anytime you felt the urge to move. Though no easy feat, you made it through the second breast painting. When Hyunjin blew on your skin this time, you used every ounce of strength you had to keep still.

“Good job, baby.” He hummed happily, stretching after being hunched over for long. “You’re behaving so well.”

The praise goes right to your core, only adding to the pleasure of the vibrations. You had almost forgotten the toy was there - so focused on the brushstrokes that the vibrations were the last thing on your mind. But you were quickly reminded as Hyunjin picked up his phone, a wicked smile on his face.

“I’m sure you can handle more, right?”

It was a rhetorical question, an answer not required as he switched the setting to a pulse and upped the speed. You squirmed, trying to force your legs together but were, of course, unsuccessful. Hyunjin’s laugh echoed through the room, the depravity of it making you shake.

“What’s wrong? Too much?”

Wide eyed, you looked up at him, helpless eyes scanning his for an ounce of compassion. There was none to be found. “I-it-Hyunjin-“

“Shhh.” Hyunjin shushed you as he leaned in, lips pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. Wanting more, you nudge your nose up, the tip barely brushing his plump lips before he pulled away. “Good canvases don’t talk.”

With that, he moved on, grabbing a thicker brush and dipping it in maroon paint. You lifted your head up, eyes watering both from his cruel words and the intense sensation between your legs. He was treating you like nothing more than an object, and as much as it broke you, it also sent a wave of arousal through you. You were nothing but a tool for him to work with - and you loved it.

He focused on your right side this time, thick brush tip pressing down on your inner thigh. You gasped as he dragged it up, the bristles dangerously close to your core. His lips quirked up in a smirk, bringing his brush closer to the edge of the barrier. Your chest was rising rapidly, panting as you tried to control yourself. This was getting dangerous - the more Hyunjin’s brush grazed your thigh, the closer your orgasm got. It had been moving by the inch, slowly building up as he worked on you. Now that Hyunjin was focused on your thigh, it was moving by the mile, the speed at which it was building was almost unbelievable.

And if Hyunjin didn’t want you moving, he sure as fuck didn’t want you coming.

The brush flipped in his hand, the handle of it now sweeping over your clit. You tugged at the bindings on your wrists, whimpering as you willed yourself to not cum. You could do it. You could keep it in. You could hold it, if only you could focus-

Then the handle nudged the tip of the vibrator, and you lost all control.

You came with a scream, head hitting the wooden table hard enough to concuss you. Pleasure made your toes curl, tears forming at your waterline as the feeling overwhelmed you. God it was so intense, god it felt so good-

The brush fell from his hand, the sound of paint splattering on the floor making your eyes shoot open. You didn’t have to look down to know what happened - the orgasm ruined his work, paint running down your inner thigh and mixing with your cum as it dripped on the white cloth. Fear coursed through your body as you looked at Hyunjin, shock covering his face as fire began to burn in his eyes.

God, Hyunjin was mad.

The vibrator was ripped out of you, joining the brush on the ground. He was on top of the table in an instant, one hand gripping your throat while the other hit the table beside your head.

“What the fuck-“ his grip tighten, body pressing onto your as he leaned in. “-did I say?”

Whimpering, you shook your head, mouth opening to speak before you snapped it shut, tears breaking free as you stared at him. The last thing you want is to piss him off more.

“I was so patient with you.” Using the grip on your throat to ground himself, his other hand moved to his shorts, shoving them down. “I was so gentle with you. And this? This is how you repay me? By ruining my work?”

You shook your head rapidly, wishing you could explain it to him. It wasn’t your fault; not really. You didn’t ask for the vibrator, that was all his idea. Hyunjin was the one who made you break - you did nothing but lay there and take it like the good canvas you are.

It was only a matter of time before you came, and he should have recognized that.

“I didn’t even get to finish your body. I didn’t even get to use you the way I wanted to. Are you happy? Did it feel good, fucking up my masterpiece?”

When you didn’t answer, his free hand smacked your cunt, a choked cry leaving your throat.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-yes.” Your words were barely audible, restricted air supply making it hard to speak. “Yes, it felt good-“

“I hope so, because that’s the last time you get to come for a while.” His hand came down on your core once more, harder than the previous slap, before he rammed his cock deep inside you.

Not a second was spared before Hyunjin pulled out, fucking back into you with an aggression you’ve never felt before. Mad was an understatement - Hyunjin was livid.

He let go of your neck, ripping his shirt off his torso and pressing his chest to yours. Teeth connected with your collarbone as the paint rubbed off onto him, orange and yellow connecting you. It was hard to tell which feeling was more addicting - the slightly painful stretch of your walls as his cock abused you, the burning of the rope around your wrists as you tugged on them, or the texture of the paint mixing with your combined sweat.

This fuck was mindnumbingly good, making you question the intentions of his art. Did he actually want to create a masterpiece?

Regardless of the answer, you were more than happy with this outcome.

He released your collarbone, pushing himself up with a moan as he dove deeper inside of you. The speed at which his hips were snapping was unreal, barely letting you catch your breath before he was hitting your g-spot again. Looking down at where you met, he chuckled when he saw the smeared paint on his chest.

“Not enough.”

How he reached the tubes of paint, you don’t know. One second his hands were caging your bound body in, the next, he was squeezing a tube of pastel pink paint on your chest and stomach. Once that was empty came the second tube - a baby blue - which he coated his hands with. Hyunjin rubbed his hands together, making sure to color every inch of them, before latching onto your throat again and closing the space between your bodies.

The new chill had you reeling all over again, clenching around Hyunjin as he fucked you harder. Chest to chest, his body slid up and down yours, creating a pretty sunset tone on both of you. His hand held your throat gently, squeezing only to hear you gasp every once in a while. It was messy and cold, and every second of it was pure art.

“You look so pretty like this.” Hyunjin whispers the first kind words spoken in hours, hips beginning to slow as his cock twitched inside you. “I knew you’d be the perfect canvas for a masterpiece.”

Before you could respond, his lips collided with yours. His passion was unmatched, kissing you as if this was the last time he would. You cried into the kiss, body submitting to another wave of pleasure as Hyunjin’s hit. Everything was too much - the paint sticking his body to yours, the feeling of his cum filling you up, his sweet moans getting lost in your mouth.

It was too much, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Hyunjin stilled inside you, crashing against your body as his head rolled into your neck. Stretching up, his blue hands found your bound ones, intertwining and squeezing hard enough to cut off blood supply.

The two of you laid there in the dark studio, you unable to move and him unwilling. Exhaustion washed over you, eyes fluttering shut as you counted his breaths against your neck. You could feel the paint drying, the cracks on your skin bringing you back to reality.

Low grunts left your boyfriend as he pushed himself up, eyes screwed shut as he pulled his softening cock out. He sat up on his knees, head thrown back to gather his breaths. You took the opportunity to study his body - orange, yellow, and pink blending on his god-like chest in the prettiest pattern. Paint highlighted his abs, muscles shining in the light and if you weren’t so tired, you swore you would squirm at the sight.

With a sigh, his eyes opened back up, blinking to adjust to the light. They met yours, the familiar glint of wonder warming your body. A fond smile stretched across his face as he stared at you, no doubt taking in your body just as you did his.

“Well? Is it everything you pictured?” You asked, a playful smiling gracing your lips.

Hyunjin shook his head with a soft laugh, studying the details of his work. “Even better.” A hand found your cheek, smearing blue paint across it. “You really are my masterpiece.”

©: chvnnie 2022

[zegumi]

Ushijima Wakatoshi SFW alphabet

alphabet template here

fluff I sfw I gn reader I hcs

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

at first he's quite hesitant on showing affection, wondering if you're comfortable with him being that close to you. he starts off easy: holding hands, letting you rest on him... etc.

once he feels more comfortable with you, he starts placing his head in your lap and giving you little kisses here and there

his favourite forms of affection are: forehead/cheek kisses, back hugs, holding pinkies, and resting his head on your shoulder

when you’re not around he shows affection by talking to you to his closer teammates but subtly, he brings up your name once in a while and a teammate will tease "ooo somebody's in looove" and he starts blushing profusely, asking if they can go back to practice, but the thought of you never leaves

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

being best friends with ushijima seems very rare, he's pretty selective with letting people close enough to earn that title

with you it was unexpected, you weren't afraid or cautious of his stoic upfront. you sat next to him in class and tried to make conversation with him, making sure to include him in conversations and asking how he's doing once in a while. he lets his guard down a little and you guys get even closer, he even invites you over to help with some schoolwork and suddenly you guys are spending more time together outside of school

he's kind of hesitant to call you a best friend, but when he sees that you’re okay calling him yours, he adopts the same title

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

yes yes yes and yes

he is always behind you, resting your head on top of his. if not he'll be facing upwards, lying on his back, your head will be resting on his shoulder and he'll have his arm wrapped around your waist.

he's definitely 99% always the big spoon

but on the rare occasion he wants to be the little spoon, he has both his arms wrapped around your waist, with his head on your chest, your hand running through his hair while your legs are intertwined absolute bliss

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

hell yeah

he's a sucker for the domestic life, waking up with you in your sub-urban house, a train ride away from the city. making cakes with you in your green painted kitchen which took you way longer than it needed to bc you kept messing around

he can cook, oh my, he buys some cookbooks and you guys spend some time with each other

I feel like he wants kids, some mini him and you running around, if not he'll adopt some

him teaching his kids to play volleyball in the backyard, him brushing their teeth and reading them bedtime stories and them giving them a little kiss goodnight cuteness overload

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

definitely depends on the reason why you're breaking up, but in this scenario, let's say he hasn't been home enough and you guys feel like you're not with each other enough pain

he really dreads having to break up with you, but he knows you deserve more than someone who is barely home. he's not harsh about it, he sits you down at a time when you guys are both free and explains why, "maybe the time isn't right, right now"

even though he broke it off, he still thinks about it quite a lot, he really hopes that you guys will find your way back to each other one day even if he knows that it won't be possible bc right now you're happier with someone else :( i love angst

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

his volleyball career kinda gets in the way of him wanting to commit to you, but he wants to show you that you mean the world to him, so i think he proposes in his mid-late twenties

his proposal isn't really that over the top, but he takes you out first for a fancy dinner with the excuse 'can't i treat you once in a while'. it's quite dark outside and you guys are looking over the city, you turn around to ask him something and you see him down one knee lovely

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he is very gentle... probably bc of his strict upbringing, but he makes sure not to hurt you in any way

he becomes so much more gentle with his words, careful of saying the wrong words because he can't stand the thought of losing you

physically, he tries to make sure not to accidentally knock into you bc this man is so big and if you get ill ushijima is doing anything in his power to get you better, he tries not to get sick in the process, but having you care for him doesn't seem like the worst idea

emotionally, he tries to support you, but he's not the greatest at dealing with emotions, but when supporting you he tries comforting you rather than trying to solve your problems

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

at the beginning of the relationship, i think his hugs are kind of stiff-ish, but once you guys get more comfortable he goes all in

he's such a good hugger. he doesn't do half-hugs, it's all of it or nothing, he engulfs you with his strong arms a little bit too tight but who needs air

if he feels extra clingy back hugs. he loves the feeling of having your figure pressing against his, sometimes his hands grip onto your waist and he'll sway you back and forth while humming to his favourite song

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

as I've mentioned before, you're the first one to say ily in the relationship, but he says it back straight after

i like to think this happens about 5/6 months into the relationship, just when you guys start getting really comfortable around each other

as for using the L-word, he doesn't really say it that often, he believes when something is overused it isn't as special. he only uses it when it needs to be said

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he doesn't really get jealous easily bc he's kind of oblivious or chooses not to pay attention to it

but when he catches on to whatever's going on, his eyebrows furrow and he'll just give the stare, he'll come near you and put an arm around your waist and slyly try to join the conversation

he knows what he's doing and so does everyone else

the person you're talking to gets a bit intimidated and tries to end the conversation as quickly as possible

you'll try to tease him for his jealously and he'd just change the subject and starts blushing a little, if you try to bring it up later he'd be like 'huh what was that sorry i don't remember'

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I'm not good with this type of stuff ahh

he's actually pretty good at kissing. he likes soft kisses and little pecks on the shoulder and forehead.

when he's rough or needy, he gets really handsy like hands cupping your cheeks, in your hair, hands pulling your waist in - just very intimate

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

lazy mornings bc who likes being productive all the time

he likes sleeping in on days he has nothing to do, so he’ll be behind you hugging your waist and his head resting on your back, you try to stand up so you can get breakfast done but he pulls you back and says 'come on, just a little more', you know that means another hour but you still get sucked back into his warm embrace

you end up falling asleep and wake up with noises coming from the kitchen. you walk in on him wearing just an apron and his pajama pants, dancing to the radio while making pancakes for breakfast

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

again lazy evening edition bc why not

he comes home early that day, brings home your favourite snacks and asks if you want to watch a movie with him

he grabs a few blankets from your room and you guys decide to watch 13 going on 30 one of my comfort movies

halfway through the movie, he places his head on your laps asking for you to play with his hair, he lies down and you throw some popcorn and skittles in his mouth every few minutes, you tried pouring water but he started choking and spat water all over your shirt

it gets pretty late and cold so he changes you into his hoodie and carries you over to the bedroom. you guys fall asleep to the hums of the city below

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he's a very reserved person, and i think it's just the way he was raised, talking about feelings wasn't normal in his home growing up

i think with you it takes him some time to open up, he reveals a few things about him and his childhood here and there but nothing major

he doesn't talk about how he feels enough, so it kinda relies on you being able to notice a change in his behaviour which might I say seems extremely hard

i think if you start being more open to him, then he follows on

he gets more comfortable with his emotions around you first and then starts being more open to his team - just give him some time he gets there

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

oh he's so patient, so patient

it takes a LOT to anger him, i don't think you ever have or ever will see this man angry, tbh i don't think you would want to

if you ever lash out at him, he'd sit down and understand where you're coming from, he'd try to calm you down and give you a second to let it all out

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers everything, literally everything

you mentioned that you liked mangos yesterday, and boom you've got a lifetime supply in your kitchen /s

he keeps a little note in his notes app just making sure he doesn't forget anything, he has your favourite orders, skin/hair care products you use, and little stuff like your favourite show in there

he does this bc he loves how your eyes beam after realising he remembers the little details

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

this one hc is why this took so long, so I decided not to do bc my brain isn’t responding

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

ushijima isn't the overprotective type although he is protective

he doesn't care what you wear or how you present yourself, as long as you’re comfortable, you will have his full support

if he sees someone making you uncomfortable, he is always quick to jump in and say "you're making them uncomfortable can you please excuse yourself". if he sees a situation is making you feel uneasy he will take you and leave, to calm you down or to clear your mind, which ever one is the best choice in that moment

he doesn't feel the need to be protected, he believes that hes strong enough for the both of you sometimes he needs a little help so pls do step in

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

such a big try hard, he puts so much effort into dates, anniversaries, and even mundane everyday activities.

even far into your relationship he still pulls up at your door with a suit and a flower bouquet which he seems to never forget

he always wants everything to be perfect so you'll never forget

he enjoys surprising you with little gifts to remind you that he still cares. he seems like the type to buy you a promise ring, and oh my is it beautiful

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

this is hard bc in my eyes this man can't do any wrong, but its probably how he can't express his emotions very well

everyone gets in a bad mood once in a while, but for ushijima its different, the stress of volleyball gets to him and he just ends up shutting everyone out, including you. he was never taught how to properly talk abt how he feels so he just holds it in with never intending to let it out

if you try to ask him whats wrong then he just grunts and shrugs it off

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he isn’t insecure for how he looks physically, he works out and maintains a healthy lifestyle, and he was blessed with that beautiful face of his *chefs' kiss

he's always hygienic (bare minimum), he cuts his hair regularly, keeps his hands nice and clean, with his nails well-trimmed

he likes to keep his appearance up and always looks like he should be on the front cover of a magazine but so effortlessly

bonus: he smells so good, he wears expensive cologne and zooweemama its so tasty, you'll hug him and never want to let go just because

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

he wouldn't necessarily feel incomplete with out you, he'd feel a bit empty

he forgets how much he misses you when he goes abroad for matches and he can't see you for a week straight. he makes sure to send videos and voice notes rather than texts so you can send some back. he video calls everyday, no matter the time difference just so he can see you in real time

if you guys take a break in the relationship, he finds his self drifting back into his stoic shell. he tries his best not to bc he knows how much he loves the person you've helped him become

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

doesn't know how to flirt hehe

he tries to use a smooth pick up line once in a while but they all end up with him in a flustered mess before he can even finish a sentence, i think we should leave the flirting to you

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

liars/dishonest people

he can't stand it when somebody lies to him, its agitating when someone he cares for feels the need to lie to him, it makes him feel like they don't trust him enough

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

he's a quite a light sleeper and wakes up pretty easily. he also looks dead when he sleeps, for example most days he sleeps pretty early bc he's worn out and you come into the bedroom and see him lying down on his back, his chest isn't even moving like it should be, but you'll get into bed with him and his first instinct is to wrap his arms around you and give you a kiss

i think he sleep talks, omg just imagine ushijima whispering about the weirdest things in his dreams. you recorded him once and showed him when he woke up and he got a bit embarrassed and started laughing

here's the hcs for mornings with ushi

this took me so long omg >o< I really hope I portrayed his character well bc he’s such a lovely person

make sure to take care of yourselves :)

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

requests are open

[obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts]

Could you write poly mc with the boys and they are preggo but it takes a huge toll on their human? Like they are demons and mc is just human so it would be a very complicated pregnancy

Okay so way back in the day I was going to write parent headcanons but decided it was too much because what is their child going to be like?? Idk. But also who tf is getting MC knocked up like how do you determine this. Whatever, I'm taking a stab at this concept.

Lucifer

You think he's protective now? It's ten times worse when you're pregnant, and even worse then that seeing as you're struggling so much.

He constantly has someone handling things for you and checking up on you when you're at school

(^Someone to carry your school bags, someone to check your tempature seven times a day, ext)

As things get worse though, he never leaves your side.

A part of him has to always be touching you. He feels like this will ease your mind a bit, letting you know you aren't alone.

Praises you at all hours of the day because look at you! You're giving them a child! And it hurts so much, so he's going to make sure you know how thankful he is for you.

Takes to holding you whenever you're both asleep.

Probably asks every historian in the Devildom about these rare, cross-breed pregnancies. He doesn't like the answer most the time.

Demands his brothers be more careful around you now that you're pregnant. He also, most likely, makes up a list of things you should do daily, and assigns certain siblings to helping you with them.

(^Satan handles your vitamins, Asmodeus is in charge of making sure you don't take extremely hot baths, Beel and Brlphine make your meals, ext)

Frantically buys blankets and pillows the closer you get to you due date. It's a demon thing.

He'll give you the best physician in all the realms just to make this whole thing easier. It might not work, but he knows he'll find something to help you.

Mammon

He's a mess.

The minute you tell him you're pregnant, he's crying, joyful thanking you, and attempting to wrap his arms around the non-existent baby bump.

Then, as you get worse, the more fearful he becomes.

You're in so much pain. You can hardly eat, sleep, and hold a conversation without some sort of pain interrupting.

He doesn't know what to do, and just follows what everyone else is doing to help out.

(Heat pads? Thanks for that one Belphie.)

Extremely interested in finding out who the "real" dad is. He just wants bragging rights tbh.

Goes on baby shopping sprees. He'll buy the weirdest stuff too. Gadgets for breast feeding, odd looking baby monitors, and stuffed toys you're sure posses the spirit of some dead child.

Looking through all the junk he picks up is fun though. At least it distracts you from the pain.

Leviathan

He's probably buying mini baby cosplays the minute you reveal you're pregnant.

(Honestly he might have already had them in a list, ready for the occasion.)

Really into helping decorate the baby's room, and might take over if you're unable to.

(^Honestly though it will be a fight between Levi and Asmo as to how the room will be decorated. Even if you're free of the job, you're still going to have to meditate)

Not extremely good at comforting you through pain. He's the type to pat you on the back, but stumble over his words.

Attempts to give you massages. He's a bit too light with his touches, so it feels like you're being tickled. That really isn't helpful when it comes to your pain, and your weakening bladder.

Totally the type to suggest doing those belly painting photos.

When you ask him to go pick stuff up from the store, he'll buy one of every brand.

Satan

Expect him to buy a ton of informative pregnancy books and "How to parent" manuals as well.

He'll also try to find any records of similar situation, but due to his connections, he's a bit more successful then Lucifer.

(But not much. You're still a rare case, so he treats you with the most care possible)

Probably makes you teas that claim to help with pregnancy pains.

They don't really help. You can hardly keep anything down, so most of the vitamin rich foods/drinks aren't exactly helping you.

He makes sure you don't spend too much time on your feet, and takes up a habit of making sure you're healthy.

Encourages you to still keep your mind active, despite how bedridden you've become.

He doesn't want you to become bored, nore does he really want you to only be focusing on the pain all hours of the day.

Satan will provide anything you want, as long as it isn't dangerous.

Might join you in whatever activity you choose.

Very good at massages, but sometimes you're just too sore for a gentle nudge. He'll substitute by offering you a ton of cozy items, just so you're as comfortable as possible.

Asmodeus

Asmo is all over this.

(I personally headcanon Asmodeus has a ton of kids with humans, but most people don't know about it since he's absent from all his kid's lives. All the records the Devildom have about this mention him in some way)

He is excited to have a baby with his lover! And he's going to make sure you're as comfortable as possible.

He makes your bed every day, buys you pajamas in every style, and handles your baths.

(Insists on washing your hair. This happens even when you're not pregnant, but nowadays he genuinely won't let you lift a finger)

Takes it upon himself to buy medications whenever Lucifer's busy. He can't exactly go to the human realm without permission to get you things, so he probably substitutes with demon meds.

Totally different then human meds. You've gotta take half the dose, and even then, it's like the strongest stuff available.

Most likely gets banned from buying you anything medicinal after you sleep for two days.

Rubs tons of creams on your belly. Sometimes they claim to reduce stretchmarks, sometimes they're just nice smelling and have no other properties.

Brushes your teeth or makes you brush them, even when you feel shitty. Cavities will just add to the long list of issues!

Also brushes your hair/styles it all the time. It just gets so tangled nowadays. Can't let you get a headache from it!

Beelzebub

He tries to make you snacks and stuff, but you can't even eat without nausea.

It makes him sad, so he's constantly searching for some food you can digest without vomiting.

^so far carrots are the only thing you can munch on as a snack.

Despite how bad you feel when you eat meals, he always attempts to make you a smoothie so you can get something in your system. Sometimes you keep it down, sometimes you don't.

Cuddling has become his favorite hobby. He'll play with your hair and hum a happy little tune.

He likes to rub the belly when you let him!

But if it makes you uncomfortable or feel shitty, he'll just hug you.

Likes to talk to the baby. It's cute, especially when you're not completely rained of energy so you can enjoy his adorable chatter.

He acts like you're glass, and in the moment, you kinda are. It's like having the flu for nine months, with all the added "benefits" of pregnancy and a bump larger then any normal human would have.

Rubs your feet all the time. They're swollen and red. It feels like you're balancing a hundred pounds on each foot while standing on hot coals.

Attempts to tell the baby to stop kicking so hard and so violently (often to the point of leaving bruises on the outside).

This never works and for your last trimester there is always small dots of purple on your lower abdomen.

Belphegor

Instinctively becomes very protective.

He'll question everyone, even his brothers, about what they're doing with you when he's not there.

(^ It's a bit better with his siblings, mostly since he can probably guess what they're doing. With everyone else though he's an angry chihuahua, snapping at the slightest change)

He'll always ruin your made bed, just to make a comfortable mess you can just fall into.

Buys you a heated blanket and a ton of those pillows designated for pregnant bodies.

If you ask him to buy pads, he's the most normal about it. Levi and Mammon freak out, whilst Lucifer and Satan insist on knowing what's going on down there so they can keep track of your unusual reactions to this pregnancy.

^Asmo and Beel will get pads for you too, but Beel is always confused as to what type you want and Asmo likes to go on about how cute you are for asking him to do this. Eventually they'll calm down, but tbh just ask Belphegor because he never says shit.

Picks up on making teas for you tha is to Satan. Always chooses a blend that promises good sleep. You need that nowadays.

He'll totally give you a robe to throw on. Might invest in a snuggie if they ever expand to the Devildom market.

Constantly reminds you to drink water. Despite his sleepy appearance, he's very observant!

[fellulahh]

What he’s like as a Dad (all characters!)

Lucifer:

He’s 100% the responsible parent. If he sees Mammon go toward their sleeping baby, he’ll practically fly across the room to stop him

Spends hours in the supermarket picking the right food out for their baby and nutrients for MC to take

He’s not usually much of a big spender but when it comes to their baby, he wants him/her to have only the most luxurious and soft clothing

Quite often he’ll carry their baby into his study and holds him/her in one arm while they sleep - he finds their baby’s presence so relaxing as he works

Lucifer no longer worries nor cares about his previous life because all that matters to him is the life he created with MC

Mammon:

He’s a super fun dad! MC has to attempt to be the rational one when it comes to parenting with Mammon

Mammon is INCREDIBLY proud of his and MC’s baby, he’ll always be carrying him/her in a baby pouch and will boast to other demons saying “yeah ya see this? Me and my human made this!”

No matter the gender, he buys little baby clothes that match his so that he can go out with their child, saying how he/she is the ‘Great Mini Mammon!’

He gets really jealous if any of the brothers spend too much time with his human and mini human, “oi! Mammon needs some attention too ya know?”

Once he/she is a toddler, Mammon’s always getting them to go up to their Mumma and say stuff like ‘Daddy says you’re cute’

Levi:

Levi loses a lot of his nerves after becoming a dad because rather than worrying about what he thinks of himself, his focus is solely on his lil purple haired baby

He gives that baby so much love, MC absolutely adores the way he radiates confidence while they’re together

He gets really sad when their baby goes to sleep because whenever he’s gaming, he loves to sit their baby in his lap so that he/she can watch their Daddy play

Plays peek-a-boo using his tail

Once baby’s hair has grown enough, he combs it so that it’s exactly the same as his hair style

Takes baby to his various meet ups/conventions

Satan:

Satan has never felt true happiness until MC gives birth to their baby

He always felt that he had no purpose in the world because of his accidental creation but now he has a baby!

He’s always doing whatever he can to spend time with his baby and helps out MC in anyway possible

Often MC will wake up and see Satan passed out in the chair across the room with their baby sleeping peacefully in his arms

Reads a story to baby every single night before they go to sleep

He’s a very proud Dad, he loves holding his baby in one arm and MC’s hand in the other whenever they’re out together

Asmo:

Considering he’s known to not settle down, everyone is surprised by how wonderful of a Father Asmo is

He’s so protective over his baby, if anyone even dares to say as much as “oh your baby’s hair is a bit wild” he will come for whatever bitch said it

“Isn’t he/she beautiful? They get it off their Daddy!” “Asmo babe, I’m right here...” “oh, sorry MC.”

He dresses his baby in the most adorable outfits you’ve ever seen

He tells their baby all of the gossip despite them not having a clue what he’s saying, “I’m going to pass you to your Uncle Lucifer now. He’s a Daddy too - he just doesn’t like to admit it!”

Once the baby’s hair has grown, he absolutely LOVES styling it

Beel:

Beel is a responsible Father, however, their baby has him wrapped around their little finger

Should he deny their baby a treat, all their bub has to do is pull a sad face and Beel’s like “okay, I’ll give you a cookie! Please don’t cry.”

Sometimes the brothers think the baby is glued to him because he carries him/her around everywhere

He never wants to be separated from MC or their baby so he somehow manages to cuddle them both during movie night

Loves trying out the baby food when he’s on dinner duty, “ew this tastes horrible! Here, have some of my pizza instead.” “Beel, no!”

He loves loves loves being a Daddy

He’s always pining over his little family and whenever they both go to bed, he’s always hinting to MC about having another baby

Belphie:

Belphie is the sort of Dad where you would walk into the baby’s nursery to find him curled up in the cot next to his bub because he/she couldn’t sleep

He’s always dressing the baby up in snuggly little onesies

Buys the baby a little cow print pillow that matches his

That baby has this demon’s whole heart. He would protect MC and his child with his life

He’s also quite funny as a Dad, if someone else like Lucifer is holding their baby and he/she starts crying, Belphie just smiles and says “I’m sorry Lucifer but I don’t think he/she likes you.” And takes the baby back into his own arms

He’s always buying soft little plushies for the baby

Diavolo:

You’ve never met a prouder dad until you’ve met Diavolo, he loves his and MC’s baby unconditionally

He takes their baby everywhere with him in a little baby pouch; to important meetings with the nobles, to big announcements, to student council meetings etc

For every birthday, he has a portrait painted of him, MC and their child and hangs them where everyone who enters the castle can see

Often tells the baby, “I’m hoping very soon we will be able to give you a brother or sister but mummy’s being stubborn!” “Diavolo I only gave birth two months ago?!” “So? I want a big family!” He whines

He dedicates every single ball to MC and their baby

He’s quite mischievous too - he plays pranks on MC and Barbatos because he knows it makes the baby cry with laughter

Barbatos:

His baby is very spoiled. I mean they effectively have Lord Diavolo as an Uncle, of course he/she is going to be spoiled!

Because he’s so used to taking care of Diavolo’s orders, Barbatos automatically becomes the parent that makes the bottles, gets up at night, prepares breakfast etc regardless of MC likes it or not

Their baby is incredibly intelligent for their age because Barbatos’ is always spending time with him/her, helping them learn to talk

He’s always going above and beyond for MC and their baby

The baby brings out a very rare, soft side to Barbatos. He always tries to remain stern and composed but MC loves the fact that he always has a bright, cheery face whenever he’s with their baby

Simeon:

This angel is so soft for their baby, he’s such a good Daddy

The first person he introduces their baby to is Luke, “this is your Uncle Luke, little one.”

He’s always praising what a beautiful family he has and constantly posts pictures on Devilgram of MC

Lucifer is also the first person he goes to, to tell all about how wonderful it is being a Father; expressing the little things their baby does

He’s so appreciative of MC for bringing their baby into the world so he goes above and beyond to care for their new family

He always holds their baby and points at MC saying: “that’s your Mummy over there. Isn’t she magnificent?”

Solomon:

Yes he’s a good father but he does also have those moments that make MC question why on Earth she thought it’d be a good idea to have a baby with Solomon

*chucks sock on baby’s head* “MC WE’VE GOT A 2319!” “Solomon, get that off our baby’s head right now!”

He makes tik toks with their baby

“We should call him Albus Severus Potter!” “Absolutely not”

As chaotic as he is, he does have really tender moments with their baby too

Sometimes MC will walk into their room and see Solomon playing ‘aeroplane’ with their baby as he/she giggles

On multiple occasions, Solomon has had to quickly grab his sorcerer books from their baby “whoah kid, don’t you start messing with that. You’ll get us both in trouble!”

[sonicasura]

Balan Wonderworld Review: Favorite Costumes Part 2

Before we get started, I like to say something. I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE TIM TRAPS. If you don't know, there is a specific plant that tends to appear in certain levels called Tim Traps. A carnivorous orange flower that's favorite meal is TIMS. If you kick the plants, you can free your Trapped Tim or prevent one from getting trapped for a short period of time. Problem is if the Tim is trapped for too long, your baby is gone for good. Chapter 3 and Chapter 5's Act 3 are loaded with these annoying plants. To the point if I can't find the trapped Tims, I exit out of the game just to save my poor fluffballs. Ain't sacrificing my little birds for Drops and Trophies! Mini rant over.

Rules are the same as before. I'd be ranking both a Common Costume and Rare Costume. Common Costumes are easily to find whether it be in multiple levels and Rare Costumes are those that rarely appear or are difficult to get.

I'll be doing my favorite Secret Costume after playing all Act 3s for each chapter. Now let's begin.

Chapter 7

Common Costume- Floaty Flower

The Flower Fairy and greatest glider found in the main story. Floaty Flower is a costume that can be found in the Act 1, 2 and the Boss Act, it offers a slower descent but faster movement than the hover for Soaring Sheep.

I love this costume not for its aesthetic but a cute Easter Egg I found in Chapter 7 Act 1. On rare occasions, this costume is an NPC that actually flirts with you! Some NPCs in certain chapters act differently from their standard counterpart. They often try to disguise themselves or runaway. Catching them grants you a free costume of the one you caught.

Floaty Flower will appear and follow you, similar to a shy school girl with a crush. If you go to her, she will run which is a similar action to any shy person getting approached by their crush. Also... I think there is some lore hidden in this one that might be quite sad if it's directly linked to Cal, the human whose heart created this particular world. If so then... OOF.

Rare Costume - Paladin Puncher

A knight fights with his fists than a sword. This costume can be found in Act 2 and is a stronger version of the Pumpkin Puncher that can break iron or ice blocks. He's a bit slower than his Chapter 6 counterpart but perfect breaking the more blocks and defeating spiky enemies.

I also love the fact this costume goes against the traditional tools of a knight. Knights often fight using swords, shields, lances and rare occasions bows or axes. If you give me one who PUNCHES or straight uses martial arts to fight then you got my vote in seconds.

Chapter 8

Common Costume - Snow Fairy

Elegant dancer of ice and snow. The Snow Fairy costume allows the wearer to walk on air for a short period of time and can in found in Act 1 and Act 2. This costume does have a shorter usage time than Air Cat but makes up for it with the added elevation.

I absolutely adore how elegant and beautiful this particular costume is. You can compare the Snow Fairy to myths often related to fae or hidden in the freezing mountains. An otherworldly beauty that makes any hardship worth seeing just a being before your eyes. Being a reindeer type Faun just adds to the mystique and creating snowflakes to walk on is a perfect extra touch.

Rare Costume - Amadeus

Sophisticated pianist. A costume that can only be found in Act 1 and is a performing costume. Now I am a big fan of piano covers, whether it be covers of game osts or actual songs, there is rarely any piano music I don't like.

I love the fact he's wearing piano keys as a collar and even has a tutu made out of those very keys. A very creative take to a normally grounded instrument. And the big white wig is a nice touch since it's often portrayed with pianists in various media.

Chapter 9

Common Costume- Iron Panda

Adorable crusher. Iron Panda is a costume found in Act 1 and Act 2 with the ability to break iron blocks using both its jump and weight. This costume is surprisingly fast for a rather large and heavy form, perfect for fast stomps on enemies or quick getaways if you have rare costumes you don't want to lose.

This costume reminds of a rolling Russian Doll with a panda theme. Very adorable, the bluish purple color suits the white very nicely and I love that sleepy look on its face. The large blue dots on its sides are actually the arms too, they mimic panels! Only thing that unnerves me is when the costume turns their head by a 90 degree angle. Super creepy when using it.

Rare Costume- Merry Ghost

Cute and Spooky! The Merry Ghost is a costume that can be found in Act 2 and gives the ability to constantly float. It's main purpose is to avoid ground hazards like poison swamps and has a larger slightly floaty jump. The only downside is that you can't harm enemies with this, it's only for quick mobility.

Very adorable especially with the stitched rag cloak covering the body. It has this Mimikyu sort of vibe but also a Casper the Friendly Ghost aura too. Friendly spirits are often tossed aside for more vicious or antagonistic ones in a lot of media. Getting an adorable friendly one just adds points in my book and a good pal for Casper.

Chapter 10

Common Costume - Inky Blaster

Yuji Naka's take on a squid kid. This costume can be found in Act 1, Act 2 and the Boss Act. She allows the wearer to throw fast globs of rainbow paint at opponents or targets and is decently agile.

Love that her hands are paintbrushes and is based on the octopus. Tentacles mimicking the frills of a dress and used for hair and feet? A very creative take and splattering rainbow paint on the annoying types of Negati (looking at you ya divebomb happy Pelican and destroyer of most of my good costumes) is very therapeutic.

Rare Costume- Air Unicorn

The first unicorn I like?! This costume can only be found in Act 1 and allows the user to walk on air farther than Air Cat. The practical godfather of mobility, and recovery. You won't believe how many times this costume has gotten me to very difficult areas and saved me from death via falling into the abyss.

It is a very tricky costume to find but if you turn around, there's a large paintbrush on the wall. You need the Double Jumper to get on top but you'll be able to see a hidden mirror. That is where the Air Unicorn is located.

I won't lie that unicorns are not my preferred mythological creature. I live in America where unicorns tend to be oversaturated to oblivion and don't get me started on My Little Pony. The show isn't my cup of tea but I do have some followers and friends who are fans. People have their own opinions and it's rude to question them about it.

I honestly love the elegant but cute design, the purple, pale pink and cyan just fit well with the white, I also love that the mane mimics a paintbrush tip and the large light purple collar of fur is a perfect touch to this fine design.

Chapter 11

Common Costume - Bulldozer

A man's punny best friend! This costume can be in Act 1, Act 2 (?), and the Boss Act. It lets you push special construction blocks and you can boost the push speed by button mashing.

They definitely took a lot of creative for costumes in Chapter 11 amongst the other ones in my opinion. Fire Stations tend to have some animal companions with dogs being the most common but instead of a Dalmatian for the design they used a Bulldog! 😍

Like the aforementioned machine, this good boy is bulky, has the appropriate color scheme and even the hands turn into bulldozer's shovel when using the ability! I love the fact his tail is wagging when you push a block and it wags faster if ya button mash!

Also the name is a pun!

Rare Costume - Fiery Blaster

Pyromancer of Lions. The Fiery Blaster costume can only be found in Act 2. It gives the wearer that ability to throw large fireballs alongside fire and lava immunity. If you hate lava levels or have difficulty with this Chapter's boss then I recommend getting this Costume.

First thing I like to say about this particular design is how they use the colors. Looking at the mane, you can see how the red and darker red are patterned in a way to mimic flames. The dark red fur on the feet are even in fire like a pattern. The outfit such as the yellow and brownish kilt alongside the gloves spewing fire around the wrists just reminds me of a fire dancer.

I can see this fella wielding one of the torches a fire dancer uses and just put on a spectacular show.

Chapter 12

Another loveable version of a beloved icon. The Invisible Man costume can be found in Act 1, Act 2 and the Boss Act. It has the power to turn the wearer invisible for a period of time and become undetected to enemies that aren't bosses.

Agile and perfect to deal with enemies who are very annoying or are difficult snipers. You don't know how satisfying it is to give the more aggravating Negati an invisible middle finger by sneak attacking them. I have lost many costumes whenever enemies got the drop on me so it's fair to dish out payback.

I love how this design takes aspect from the popular icon but also have it relate to their human counterpart. Bandages were used by the original Invisible Man to cover skin his normal clothing couldn't cover in public and made it easier for him to disappear when needed.

The shoes and arms being covered in bandages and some of the bandages being used as bangs for the hair is a nice touch.

Rare Costume - Jolt Tiger

Immovable Taser. This costume can only be found in Act 2. It grants electricity immunity and create a barrier when you stand still. One of the better costumes for baiting particular enemies. You do have to be careful because a single itch will stop the barrier.

If you don't know, the Tiger is my Chinese Zodiac and electricity is one of my favorite elements. Love the yellow lightning bolt flairs and even the black stripes mimic lightning too! I also like the will o' wisp pattern on the stomach and the large tuft of grayish fur around the chest. The design puts it above the Sun Walker.

And that is it! The next thing I will cover is the level design and it's music. The bosses will be done last since it's good to save the best for last!

Until next time folks, see you back in Wonderworld.

[cowperviolet]

A Guide to Medieval Childhood

Our popular imaginings and depictions of medieval childhood tend to be somehow both scarce and bleak. It’s often supposed that childhood as a category didn’t really exist until the twentieth century, and that even the highborn children before that blessed time were regarded as basically inconvenient mini-adults until they were old enough to fight or marry, respectively.

The sources we have tend to favour the royal families and the high aristocracy with some wealthy merchants thrown in the mix, so, unfortunately, the information below would mostly be concerned with these groups - although I’m going to do my best to include some facts about the lives of children from lower social strata, too.

Infantia, or infancy

As Maria von Trapp used to sing in technicolor meadows, let’s start at the very beginning - it is, after all, a very good place to start.  

A mother rarely gave birth unattended - and I’m not talking about medical professionals; more often than not, these would be represented by a sole midwife. However, having a close friend or a relative with you as you are waiting for the baby to arrive was a practice well-established by the early fourteenth century even among royal women, whose births, marriages and deaths alike were always ruled by strict ceremony.

In their case, as in the case of all great families of the land, the practice also had a purely pragmatic side - additional companions mean additional witnesses who would be able to swear, should a scandal arise, that the little heir really arrived in the lawful way and had not been, say, smuggled into the bedroom in a pan. (In the case of the British royal family this precaution eventually led to the Home Secretary being obliged to attend all royal births, and was only done away with in 1930, when the late Princess Margaret was born).

Of course, for all the companionable support, the birth was not without its risks - for the child even more so than for the mother. It was for that reason that, uniquely, the Church allowed the midwives to baptize newborn - or unborn - babies in case they don’t survive by the time the sacrament in question could be performed properly by a priest.

If everything went well, it was the time to prepare the child for an ‘official’ baptism in the local church, which was going to not only save his soul for the world to come, but to help his standing in this one - after all, being baptized in a particular church meant being integrated into the larger community of the parish. The mother could rest - she was not required to attend the christening (or, rather, she couldn’t, as she would only be able to enter a place of worship again after being purified via a brief ‘churching’ ceremony on the fortieth day after giving birth). The child’s godparents would have been there to stand in her stead.

In fact, many contemporaries considered that a woman needs at least a month to properly recover after birth. Nor was it supposed to be a time of solitude - receiving female visitors was both allowed and encouraged.

Meanwhile, the child would be transferred into the care of a wet-nurse. Breastfeeding your baby yourself usually signified that you simply cannot afford wet-nurse of good character. The good character part of the job description concerned itself both with the purely physical characteristics - the wet-nurse had to be a little below thirty, to have white teeth, sweet breath, and a child of her own not above eight months of age, otherwise her milk could be considered stale - and the moral ones. It was believed that virtues and vices both could be transmitted through milk, and thus it was imperative to choose a wet-nurse both sensible and respectable.

Once hired, she rarely left the baby’s side - contemporary writers acknowledged that leaving an infant to cry is harmful for the child’s health, both mental and physical, and therefore a nurse should always be at hand with either her breast or a lullaby. In the highest households of the land, such as that of the royal children of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, one or two women were also employed as specifically the child’s rockers, tasked with, well, rocking their little charge to sleep - though not too quickly or too harshly, ‘for fear of making the milk float in [her] stomach’.

Every medieval baby, regardless of his family’s income, was swaddled from birth and until he was about eight or nine months of age: not only would he be kept warm, the parents judged, but it’s also going to help his limbs grow straight. A ‘breechcloth’ – essentially, a premodern nappy - was a piece of easily-washable linen, doubled over and then fastened into place with pins. Then a linen shirt would be gently placed over the infant’s body, after which the swaddling bands proper – sometimes three yards long – would come out. They were long, narrow pieces of – you guessed it - linen.

This swaddling part was universal for everyone; however, even here, before the child could partake in any fashion proper, the class divides came out to play. Babies from wealthier families could sport crimson mantles and bands decorated with gold embroidery (sometimes coordinated with that on their mothers’ outfits, like on the famous Cholmondeley Ladies painting at the top of this post).

Another – perhaps, more familiar to us – sphere of baby-related conspicuous consumption was the cradle. When, in 1494, the son of Beatrice d’Este and Ludovico Sforza was born in Milan, the proud father presented his guests a four-poster cradle covered in white satin, where the little heir now lay. When Lucrezia Borgia gave the d’Este family an heir, she splashed out on the cradle for the little Ercole even more. According to contemporary witnesses, the cradle was located under tent-like Moorish-style silk draperies done in the Este colors. It was on a platform encased in a great carved and gilded canopy, six feet long and five feet wide. The cradle proper was curtained in white satin, with the sleeping baby covered with cloth-of-gold.

The weaning tended to come, by our standards, rather late: some contemporary arguments recommended three years for boys and two years for girls (the former, after all, were expected to lead more active lives, and thus needed their mother’s nutritious milk more). Even then, hard food was to be introduced gradually – starting, for instance, with a chicken leg the child could chew on.

Once out of swaddling, the boys were dressed in smocks, and the girls in gowns – not that there was much visual difference between the two, mind. Regardless of their parents’ social standing, they all also wore tight linen caps that bore the charmingly hobbit-y name of biggins.

Naturally, the higher one stood upon the social scale, the more ornamental these gowns and smocks tended to be. The toddler Princess Elizabeth, who was the daughter of Henry VII and thus the aunt of her much more famous namesake, was dressed on separate occasions in a green velvet gown edged with purple tinsel and lined with black buckram, a dress of black velvet edged with crimson, or a kirtle of tawny damask and black satin. Admittedly, these were mostly for ceremonial occasions, and in the privacy of her yellow ochre-coloured chambers even the princess probably tended to wear something more comfortable. In winter, she was kept warm with furred robes fastened with silver buttons and caps trimmed with peacock feathers, and, regardless of the time of the year, indulged with sweets made from sugars flavoured with rose and violet, as well as with fruits from sunnier climes like pomegranates, quinces, and almonds.

Royal families were never noted for modesty of consumption in any era, but even the middling merchants of Florence were often criticized for spoiling their children with fine clothes. Fra Dominici wrote scathingly about parents who dress their children in ‘fancy garments, stamped shoes, short waist-coats, tight and fine-knit hose’. Neither did he approve of toys like “little wooden horses, attractive cymbals, imitation birds, [and] gilded drums,” recommending instead more virtuous playthings like “a little altar or two, … little vestments … little candles … [and] little bells,”, so that the children could pretend they were acolytes or priests. Three guesses no prizes as to which category ended up being the more popular one.

Some types of toys would have been surprisingly familiar to us – for example, doll furniture. In Germany one could find whole doll kitchens with dishes, meat plates, cutlery and furniture since the 1550s at the latest. Wealthier girls were also bought so-called fashion dolls that showcased, you guessed it, the latest fashions in the land.

Of course, poorer children had to make do with dolls stuffed with straw, and play with such props as animal knucklebones or wooden wheels.  However, it doesn’t mean that their lives were completely devoid of fun. Contemporary paintings, such as Peter Brueghel’ Children’s Games (1560), show children playing blind man’s bluff, ‘paper, scissors, stone’, roll hoops and rock barrels.

Pueritia, or childhood

A child’s education started with learning his (or, rarer, her) letters. A rather charming contemporary advice recommends the parents to do it by carving each letter on a piece of fruit, and reward the child with the fruit in question if the letter is correctly identified. These kinds of basics could be learned at home (though, if you decided to choose the method above, better do it specifically in the kitchen) – however, once the rudimentary parts were done with, the paths of learning could branch wildly.

The wealthiest families hired tutors for their children, and these posts, prestigious and coveted as they were, could sometimes become subjects of competition. For example, when the future Elizabeth I grew old enough for her first lessons, it was assumed that these are going to be provided by her aunt and godmother, Lady Troy. However, the less highborn, but more ambitious Katherine Champernowne had other ideas; Henry VIII ended up being impressed by reports of her as a woman of good education, and appointed her to be his daughter’s governess in 1536. She held that post until 1544, when her precocious charge overgrew the standard highborn lady’s curriculum that consisted of reading, embroidery, music, riding, falconry, and chess. After that, the scholar William Grindal became the princess’ tutor, introducing her to classical authors such as Plato.

Latin and, to a lesser extent, Greek literature was not exclusively the preserve of the upper-class education. The cathedral school of St. Paul’s, for instance, taught children from middling walks of life - such as one Geoffrey Chaucer, the son of a wine merchant - and placed a great emphasis on the learning of Latin. The recitation of the Latin alphabet started with the sign of the cross and ended with ‘Amen’: quite a sign of respect, coming from a religious institution. The school’s library was full of books on logic, law and medicine, as well as such still-popular classical hits as Aesop’s Fables.

The boys (unlike in the more flexible world of private education, school pupils were invariably male) also owned some books of their own: contrary to a common misconception, even before the invention of printing press books were not necessarily objects of luxury. For example, when in 1337 John Cobbledick left twenty-nine books to Oriel College, each of them was priced at about 6 shillings. Two centuries later, when William Chatsworth sent his beloved wife Bess of Hardwick gifts during his sojourn in London, he included some learning materials for their children: three French grammars, a copy of Cosmografie de Levant, and psalms in French.

Charitable institutions could sometimes take care of the education of poorer children: for instance, in 1542, the Alderman William Dauntsey of London directed in his will that his executors should build a charity school of eight chambers (one of them for the schoolmaster) in West Lavington, Wiltshire.

Boys who could boast some musical talent had an unusual route for both education and promotion: chapel choirs. Many noblemen - and noblewomen such as Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry VII - engaged in cultural patronage, supporting at times dozens of choristers. Margaret herself had hired a composer, Robert Cooper, who was entrusted with finding gifted boys for her chapel from ‘London, Wynesore and in the west country'. She also made sure that, apart from musical education, the boys in her choir received tuition in Latin: in January 1506 the same Cooper was responsible for purchasing five 'gramer bokes ... for the chyldryn of the chapell', costing 4s 3d. Their education ensured that, after growing out of their roles in the choir, the boys would be able to continue academic studies. One Thomas Freston left Margaret’s chapel at the age of 13 to attend Winchester College, while the 1460 statute of Tattershall College specified provision for ‘four poor boys’ who were 'teachable in song and reading, to help the choristers, each of whom is to have commons and clothing and all else that the choristers do'.

Girls could be educated in convent schools; some, though by no means all, later chose to enter these nunneries as actual novices (they couldn’t legally make such a decision until the age of twelve, however, just as they couldn’t legally consent to marriage). Within the convent walls, as outside them, their comforts depended a lot on their parents’ standing - if their entry fee was generous enough, the girls, whether they came as pupils or little novices, could count on having a bedroom to themselves, a generous provision of wood to burn in their fireplace, and rare foodstuffs for their tables. When Edward I’s daughter Mary entered the convent of Amesbury as a novice in 1285, at unusual (and frankly illegal) age of seven, her lifelong allowance included an annual provision of twenty tuns of wine from the Bordeaux claret merchants and forty oaks as kindling for her fireplace.

Convents were supposed to foster the life of prayer and quiet contemplation, which was even harder to get used to for her teenage novices than it were for the secular boarders, who weren’t,  after all, handled as strictly. However, even in a nunnery, there was a certain softening of the rules when it came to young girls. For example, at the Feast of St Nicholas, the patron saint of children, the youngest novice was named the Girl Abbess and allowed to lead the community in dancing and revelry.

Adolescentia, or adolescence

This stage of life was thought to start at about fourteen and end in one’s early twenties. Highborn children of both sexes were usually sent to foster at the homes of friends or relatives of equal standing, both to finish their education and to establish useful connections. When the teenage Jan of Brabant was sent for foster at the English court, he devoted his years there to perfecting the arts of jousting and hunting with falcons, as well as the less official, but nonetheless useful skills of party planning, people-charming, and careful gambling. His future bride Margaret of England, meanwhile, was improving on her feminine arts of weaving and embroidery, often spending substantial sums on gold thread and silks of different colours.

The machinery of altar diplomacy was already in full swing by the time they reached that age, even though marriage proper - with the consummation implied - was usually still a few years in the future. The fate of Margaret Beaufort, who gave birth to her first husband’s son at age thirteen, was considered grotesque and frankly unsafe; after all, it’s no coincidence that she could have no children after. For instance, Thomas Aquinas cautioned in his Mirror for Princes that consummation should be delayed until the woman had reached the age of eighteen, and the man twenty-one.   

The complicated diplomatic and legal negotiation process behind such agreements was left to the heads of the families and their respective employees, without the involvement of the betrothed ones themselves. After all, it included such charming tasks as drawing a complete summary of all villages, farms, rents, forests, and windmills belonging to the future groom’s family which would be able to provide the income for the bride’s dower, or widow portion, in case she outlives him - a pretty significant possibility, considering.

Lower down the social scale, marriage arrangements were not so pressing a concern - urban artisans, male or female, often married only in their mid-twenties. When their children reached adolescence, they usually worried about arranging an apprenticeship for them rather than a betrothal.

A child could be apprenticed to a master who practiced one of the trades regulated by the guilds of the town. These included mercers, grocers, fishmongers, drapers, tailors and even artists. The training usually took seven years, during which the master in question was obliged not only to educate the apprentice, but also to feed and clothe them and generally treat them like a member of their family (which usually also meant having them help around the house). This way, the future artisans spent their adolescence in a situation of indenture and completed their training in their early twenties. The ultimate dream after that was becoming a master in their own right and acquiring one’s own workshop; but, like people in their early twenties everywhere, most were too broke for that, and ended up working as journeymen in their master’s workshop for some more years - or sometimes for the rest of their lives.

Although the most prestigious trades, such as those of mercers or goldsmiths, only admitted men, others - the tailors, the bakers, the printers, the bakers, sometimes the painters - were open to apprentices of both sexes. Female artisans often ended up marrying their colleagues from the same guilds, and then keeping workshop together, but sometimes they kept their trade and conducted their business separately.

At this point, gaining the trappings of trade and marriage, they progressed into the adulthood, and thus beyond the scope of this post.

Sources:

Devices and Desires: Bess of Hardwick and the Building of Elizabethan England by Kate Hubbard

Daughters of Chivalry by Katie Wilson-Lee

The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth Norton

Chaucer: A European Life by Marion Turner

Kisby, Fiona. “A Mirror of Monarchy: Music and Musicians in the Household Chapel of the Lady Margaret Beaufort, Mother of Henry VII.” Early Music History, vol. 16, 1997, pp. 203–234

The Early Modern Italian Domestic Interior, 1400–1700: Objects, Spaces, Domesticities by Erin J. Campbell et al.

[honeytea8]

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

.

.

.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

.

.

.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

.

.

.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

[natandwandaseries]

Yelena

Hi everyone, as promised when I reach 50,000 hits! We get to see a different side of Yelena, a bit softer since we hear her inner thoughts. I hope you enjoy!  (Also, unlike the other mini fics I post on here, this one is canon and exists within the series!)  _____________________________________________________________

           I am barely old enough to tie my shoes, I when I meet Natasha. She walks in first, leading a group of young girls like her- wet and frozen. But she holds her head high and commands the room, despite barely being up to the guards’ waist. It hadn’t been my first time seeing her, as I look down from my hiding spot on the stairs, but it is my first time noticing her. The next day, during our free hour, I seek her out.            She is in the courtyard, alone. We are never alone here, so this being the case is odd. It took a great deal of effort on my side to get out here without Fredrik, one of the guards for the younger girls, to notice me.            “Hello,” she greets me without taking attention off her task, “Yelena, correct?” She turns around now, her eyes bright and face kind. Kindness, such a rarity.            “Yes,”            “I am Natalia,” She sets down the stick in her hand, “You were watching last night, when we came home.”            “I heard some of the older girls, this is when they start to have less of us.”            “The trick is to take off your coat and keep your hands cupped.” She sits down on the grass, stick in hand once more. I walk over, looking down at her project. They are swirling lines, graceful, looking like art. “It is cursive English. I am practicing,” She explains.            “No one else would tell me about the water,”            “Everyone else wants you dead,” She states matter-of-factly. No deception or tricks.            “You don’t?” I do not yet understand the permanence of death, only that it was undesirable, worse than even the Red Room.            “No.” She wipes the sand from her palms, and then leans back to look up at the sky.            “Why?”            “I don’t want any of them to die. I can’t save everyone, but I’ll die trying.” Her mouth form into a hard line, and to most, it would cute, seeing a little girl seem so resolute. But that same look of determination, years later, would cause men to scream in fear.            “You talk like an adult,” She always spoke as though she lived a thousand lifetimes. I would joke later on that she was born serious. Though sometimes, later on, she would point out clouds in the sky that look like different animals, or weapons. And on rare occasions, we would spin each other around as fast as we could, to fall back and look at the sky spinning above us.            “See Yelena? We make the world go ‘round,” she’d joke.            And then, two days after our meeting, we are in a combined class. Three different years, all together, working on letters of different alphabets. My elbow knocks over a jar of red paint, splattering across a stack of white paper, like blood on skin. Last week, Svetlana tripped and broke a plate. Madame slit her arm with a letter opener. I stare at the pile of paint in fear, unable to move or make a sound. Natalia appears at my side. She stains the arm of her shirt with paint and begins to apologize loudly. Madame walks over, since that night, she seems to always be where Natalia is, and sees the mess.            “Did you knock over this paint?”            “Yes, Madame,” The woman strikes like a snake- her cane striking the back of Natalia’s knees, forcing her to the ground. “Clean it up. Then you clear her up as well,” I look down and see I am stained with paint, across my stomach like a bullet wound.            “Why did you do that?” I ask as Natalia washes my pinafore.            “I am going to protect you, like sisters.” Familial words like that are forbidden, even saying friend will get you a warning glare.            “Sisters,” I reply, watching as she wipes out the red.

           I am nearly eight when I first see Natalia crack, just a little. She is angry, furious. She tries to run away, without me. I heard what everyone was saying. She made her first kill. Secretly gentle Natalia, who once hid and nursed a baby bird back to health in her courtyard. The bird still visits, and I frequently find her smiling out the window when she sees it. Or not smiling. Just happier than the flatness she normally sports.             But in front of me now, she dances with glass in her shoes. A morbid part of me thinks of Cinderella’s glass slippers. Perhaps this is what really happened to her feet. When she finally stops, Madame breaks her cheekbone, for her pride, I think. For being unbreakable.            The last time I see Natasha in the Red Room, our courtyard days are long over. Both of us have graduated and sit at a table separate from the students. The number of adult Widows has dwindled as the KGB sends us on more dangerous missions.            Her spark has begun to dim. She is getting worn down, like they want. The first that burns with in her, that in explicably Natalia, should not be put out. That evening, for the first time in a long while, I slip into her bed.            She moves closer, so our shoulder touch, something she doesn’t normally allow anymore. Since she turned thirteen, she has grown more and more opposed, and I don’t need to ask why.            “I have a mission in America tomorrow.”            “Alone?” She nods in the dark.            “Don’t come back,” I request, daring to speak the words. She stiffens beside me.            “Don’t say silly things, Yelena. We are not children.”            “They are going to kill you.”            “It is what I was made for.”            “No. You were made for better things. If you get the opportunity, don’t come back.”            “There is only one way I don’t,” she whispers, “I will bring you back sweets, Little Sister. They’ll be hidden in the same spot as always,” Inside the rip in my mattress. It hadn’t occurred to me until now, that the reason she keeps coming back, might be for me.            Except she doesn’t, and I am grateful. They tell me she is dead, but I know better. The next time I see her, it is to burn this place to the ground.            In America, she has people who care for her. A best friend who takes me in, a nephew. And they welcome me in too. We celebrate Christmas together, spend time with one and other. Natasha, as she is now called, is finding herself again. That fire within her grows stronger once more, rising out of the embers that had begun to die out.            After Christmas, I leave for Europe, following leads about the Red Room. There is a rumor that Ivan is still alive, that he could resurrect what Tasha and I destroyed. I have to kill him, kill him before he can find out Natasha is alive, or get anywhere near her. His prized possession. That is what he used to call her. I step out of my taxi, heading into the hotel lobby, where the once lush carpets are worn down from years of suitcase wheels and feet. A bellhop smiles at me, and a man sitting at a nearby table, drinking coffee, catches my eye.  _______________________________________________________________

           “Yelena?” I blink, feeling nauseous. Clint, Tasha’s American, is sitting close to me, too close. He looks almost as though he has seen a ghost. A part of me, for some reason, feels like it has been a long time since we have seen each other, though it has only been a few weeks.            “You look old,” I tilt my head. He grins and squeezes my shoulder. “Where are we?”            “We’re on a quinjet, we rescued you,”            “Rescued?” He seems reluctant to answer.            “You were being held prisoner,” I feel pressure building up in my head, the feeling of hitting a wall.            “Where’s Tasha?” I get up from the cot, my legs unsteady, and pull back the curtain. Rather than seeing Natasha in the cockpit as I expected, there is a gaggle of individuals deep in discussion. A slight brunette catches my eye, blushing furiously and looking away.            “Yelena, they’re friends,”            “I don’t know, they not friends.” I growl.            “They are my friends, Nat’s,” Clint explains, “Tony, Sam, Rhodey, Bruce, and,”            “Wanda,” The girl offers, her voice timid and unsure. He looks at her with a particular tenderness that makes me inspect the girl closer. She has folded into herself, as if she is trying to disappear.            “Nice to meet a member of Nat’s family. I was always curious,”            “Not the time, Tony.” The American glares at the man. Though, they all seem American.            “Where is Tasha?” I try again.            “We’re on our way to her now. We were on a mission,” One of the men, Sam, explains. I look him up and down and give him a little smirk. The girl calls my attention again, however. She does not speak again, playing with the rings on her fingers.            We touch down on the tarmac and the gangplank drops. They do not handcuff me, which seems foolish on their part. Though, I suppose I am not a prisoner. But maybe I should be, I don’t know what I have been doing since I last saw Natasha.            “Hey Friday,” Tony begins, “When are Steve and Nat landing?”            “They are currently in the kitchen,” I break into a sprint. There is some kind of AI wired throughout the area, and I ask for directions. The AI, whom had been referred to as Friday, provides the answers promptly. AI, something that had seemed like a distant future just days ago, or weeks, months, years.            I skid to a stop in the kitchen. Her red hair shines like a beacon.            “Tasha,” I breathe, my heart aching. My mind may not know how long it has been, but my soul clearly does.             She spins around, along with the man she is with, gun drawn. I put my hands up, remaining passive. A piece of me fears she does not remember me, does not know who I am. But she has to, it is us.            Clint and his little friend run into the room, panting. They quickly take in the scene and turn their attention to Natasha.            “Nat, put down the gun,” He tries. She doesn’t take her hard gaze off of me, the gun steady.            “That isn’t, it can’t be, you saw, you were,” She speaks in half sentences, her words becoming lost in her head, in her memories. Whatever happened to me, she was there for it.            “Is me, Tasha,” I swear once Clint affirms who I am. She is beginning to become distressed, her hands starting to shake. I’m upsetting her.            “Mom,” The girl says quietly. Mom? I whip around, looking at her. She still sounds fragile, quiet. But she called Natasha mom. “It’s her. I looked. I saw her giving you a pair of ballet slippers and sitting with Cooper as a baby.” What the hell does that mean? I saw, how would she see? Home videos, maybe? How does that ensure I am me?            She comes between Natasha and I, gently taking the gun out of Natasha’s hand and putting it back in her holster. There is a quiet moment shared between the two, before she finally speaks.            “Lena?” Relief, elation. Elation is the only word I can use to describe the optimistic hope that lilts up at the end of my name.            “Hi Tasha,” I beam.            “How are you here?”            “I don’t know,” I feel pressure begin to build again, “I think it has been long time, yes? It feels like long time.”            Ten years she tells me. She tries to take the blame, as she did when we were children. Whatever happened, I know it was not her fault. She had begun to panic, believing none of this is real, that I am not real. I tease gently about her pulling a gun on me again, though it is a legitimate concern.            Then she properly introduces Wanda. The girl doesn’t meet my eyes, almost hiding behind her mother. Her mother. Natasha has a daughter. An adopted daughter, like how I am her adopted sister. Because that is what Natasha has always done, she takes in strays, people in need of help.

           The girl. Wanda. She sits next to me on my couch, while Natasha is on her date with Steve. This couch from Pottery Barn that we bought together, after she had shown me a particular episode of Friends. Clint informed me that she does not talk a lot to anyone but Natasha, even his own children and her best friend, a fellow superhero, get few words from her. So, whenever she says anything to me, I feel particularly flattered.            And the guilt for what I had done to her when I first found out about her past continues to eat me alive. Guilt is supposed to be Natasha’s specialty, but it seems as though I am taking on some of her traits.            “We order takeout?” I ask the witch. She looks up from her phone, where she scrolls through social media, a new trend that I am still trying to catch up with.            “Okay,” She looks back down.            “You can go home,” I offer, not wanting her to feel trapped. Her lips pinch momentarily, “You stay, I order food,” She raises an eyebrow before going back to scrolling.            I have no clue how I am supposed to be an aunt. Barton’s children, they refer to me as Auntie Lena, and that is definitely my familial position with Wanda. But I’m twenty-, no. I’m in my thirties. I pass a mirror on my way into the kitchen, catching a look at my face. Time has barely passed on my body, in my mind, but the world kept going while I was on pause.            “Wanda,” I call, coming to a decision, “We go out,” I come back into the living room, the girl craning her neck to look at me. “Put on nice dress, we go out. Have fun.”             She stares at me, considering for a moment, before nodding, hopping up from the sofa, her powers bursting.            “What are we doing?”            “Go to gala,”            “What gala?”            “I not decide yet. Put on gown and be back in twenty. I do your hair.”            She returns fifteen minutes later, donning a ruby red satin gown. It looks custom made. She also holds a makeup box and a red clutch, clearly well loved.            “I was supposed to wear this to a charity event in November,” she explains, sitting down at my bathroom vanity. I’m given no other explanation, and though I wait in silence for more information, unlike most people, she does not open up.            I sweep her hair to the side into a side bun. She leans forward, doing her own makeup. She glances back at me every few seconds, taking her attention off her eyeshadow.            “Do you want me to do your makeup?” She puts down her brush. She stands up, and I can hear the faint mechanical whir of her leg as she stands up. To anyone with unenhanced hearing, it would be silent. I don’t know how I missed it initially.                        I sit down on the stool and face her. Wanda’s eyes meet mine momentarily before looking away, going through her palette.            “You like doing makeup?”            “I used to wear it a lot,” She shrugs and continues to do her work, and then steps back to admire it. “Okay,” She picks up a handheld mirror.            “Oh, you should have been one to do Tasha’s makeup for date,” Wanda blushes to the color of her dress, ducking her head. “Okay, I go change, then we leave.”            When I come out of my room, wearing a dress the color of a night sky, Wanda is busy scrolling through her phone.            “There is a gala at 583 Park Avenue tonight, it is for one of the mayor’s pet projects.”            “We go,” She watches as I grab my beaded wallet, “I call us cab,”            “Uber, Yelena. No one calls taxis anymore.” She rolls her eyes, teasing, and we head down to the lobby.            We take the car to the venue, and the beautiful Greek revival is lit up by glowing pendants, the four pillars casting shadows down on us. Security stands at the front, checking everyone for a ticket.            “They are sold out online,” Wanda’s bottom lip juts out.            “Come on,” I grab her hand, pull her behind me as I round the corner, heading towards the back entrance of the building. “You watch and play along, da?”            “Okay,” I spy a pair of busboys sharing a joint, taking a break from the mayhem of the evening. I think of the whole song and dance I had planned to get us in. Fake being locked out, fight with my boyfriend who is a staffer for the mayor and got us tickets.            “Three hundred for each of you if you let us in.” The pair exchange a glance and stand up holding out their hands and opening the side door.            “That was watch and learn?” Wanda laughs as we head down the hall.            “Sometimes money speaks better than words,”            We enter the hall and I grab us each a glass of champagne. It is not very often, or rather never, that I get to attend galas without having to kill or torture somebody. However, Wanda seems to fit right in. She wears large diamond studs, each the size of a blueberry, and this custom-made gown. However, her anxiety is visible in the way she grips her clutch, almost like a security blanket.            “Is special to you?”            “Hm?” She follows my eyes to her wallet. “Oh, this is the first gift Nat every bought me. It was for my sixteenth birthday.” Her face softens at the memory.             “We find people to dance with, come.” She laughs as I introduce her as a foreign princess, and the man plays along, despite the obvious fact that she is her.            I, on the other hand, am still harder to identify. The world news has not been plastered with my face for the past two years as it has her. I am not burned into the collective consciousness. I dance with a woman is a white cocktail dress, keeping one eye on Wanda the entire time.            After two songs, the pair break apart, and I bid the woman adieu. Wanda takes an empty seat, and I next to her.            “Hello,” I look at the nametag, “Mr. Abbot,”            “Mrs. Pruitt,” She responds, eyes twinkling. We order more champagne, or rather Wanda does while I switch to vodka on the rocks, and take canapes and caviar off passing trays.            “And then, as Tasha in middle of mission, she stop to,”            “Stops to save a cat from being hit by a car,” A voice finishes. I turn around.            Natasha and Steve stand behind us. Natasha looks stuck somewhere between amused and stern, while Steve is doing nothing to hide how humorous he finds the situation.             “How did you two get in here?”            “I pay,” I reply hotly, jutting out my chin. She moves her gaze to Wanda.            “We bribed the busboys.”            “I not say who we pay,”            “Do you even know what this event is for?”            “Dogs?” “Children?” We both say at the same time, causing a fit of laughter. My sister pinches the bridge of her nose.            “Well, since you two are here, you may as well come to the after party,” She looks to Steve for agreement, who nods. “But you, Little Witch, will not be having any more champagne,” Wanda’s face, already flushed from alcohol, seems to redden even more. “Come on,” Nat leads us out the front door where a town car awaits.            “We are sorry for ruining date night, I had no idea that you were going to be there,”            “It was on the calendar in the kitchen, perhaps that is where your subconscious got the idea,” Natasha teases and fixes the strap on her daughters dress as we climb into the car.            We pull up at the Avengers Tower, and take the elevator up to the penthouse.            “There you are, and you brought company!” Tony cheers, “Good, I could use some of her expertise,” I expect him to be pointing at me, but instead he is at Wanda, “You are the expert at naming things, I have a list of baby names and need your help,”            “I thought you were naming her Morgan,” Nat calls, heading over to the bar.            “Middle names, Natalie!”            “Did he say names, plural?” Steve asks.            “Did he call you Natalie?” Natasha pours Steve a glass of whiskey and I another cup of vodka before coming around the bar with her own drink, a martini.            “You snuck my underaged daughter into a gala,” She leans back next to me, watching Wanda and Tony, while Steve begins to thumb through the vinyls next to the record player.            “Was either that or Chinese food again,”              “Maybe try bowling next time,”            “With ax throwing,” I grin.            “Galas, then,” Natasha laughs.            “Sorry for ruining date night,” I say earnestly. I hadn’t expected them to be there.            “Oh, please,” She waves me off, “Tony already did. Pepper called us saying Tony was here at the tower, working late, and you know,” She nods to the empty bottles, “Trying to develop a special crib or something. Asked Steve and I to check in. We ran into you two while we were heading out.”            “You can’t give her the middle name Una, then her name would be Morguna,”            “I like the sound of that, put it on the list!” Tony cheers, while Wanda scrawls on the glass screen.            “This is good life,” Steve finally selects a record, and the Beatles start to play. The first lyrics, Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC, cause Natasha to grin. “Is our song!” I cry out, tugging her out into the center of the room, kicking off my heels. She laughs as I spin her around, spilling her drink the process.             Tony, Steve, and Wanda join in as we dance to the Beatles at one in the morning, I can’t imagine a life any better.

[nadiineross]

so this is spiderbyte wip which i cannot be bothered to finish but i thought it would be cute n funny if sombra makes them go on a legal vacay together like they go on tripadvisor and dress up like tourists and theyre using their sick days or smth not that i think talon would give either of them sick days since its a terrorist organization.. lol ANYWAY hv fun :)

Widow has no idea how Sombra pulled it off, but she’s hardly surprised since doing unthinkable, and unthinkably stupid, things is sort of Sombra’s schtick. So, here she is, standing in a commercial airport with a neck pillow wedged around her peach-painted elbow and two 4-wheel suitcases at her hip, waiting for her girlfriend to finish taking a piss.

She is, on some level, excited for this actually legal, Talon-cleared weekend-long vacation. It’s not that she thinks she’ll get bored or hate it—after all, Sombra had organized everything and Sombra is one among maybe three people who give a fuck about what Widow thinks about things—but she wonders, sometimes, about the genuineness of her own emotions. She experiences them shallowly. Like they’re dialed down. On occasion, experiences them like a choice; a matter of whether or not she wants to expend energy on reacting to something.

Because of this, she wonders if she fakes them and does it so well, she’s fooled herself. But then what difference would that make?

Yes, she’s happy to spend time with Sombra. Always. It just doesn’t matter to her at all the how and when of it. Doesn’t feel like there’s anything significant about going to a different country with Sombra, partake in new activities with her.

To Sombra, it’s different. She’s been giddy about this for a week, constantly nudging Widow so she’ll lean over and look at whatever part of the travel plan Sombra’s putting together. Sombra feels the urge to see new places and do new things with people she likes to spend time with.

Widow’s okay with sitting in Sombra’s room, with the hip LED strip lights she sees in the “tick tocks” Sombra shows her, doing nothing in between messing around on the bed. Widow’s okay with flying to ass nowhere, Europe, to watch Sombra’s back and shoot people. That’s going somewhere new; that’s doing something new. It’s all the same to her.

But then again, Sombra wants this, so it’s automatically different.

And that’s the extent of Widow’s feelings about this.

Sombra comes bounding out the airport bathroom just as Widow considers going in to check. As soon as she spots Widow, she scowls and moves the pillow from Widow’s arm to her neck. Again.

“You promised,” she reminds Widow.

Widow looks at her impassively. Considers it.

She promised she would “get in the holiday spirit,” but that was before she had known about Sombra’s ridiculous definition of holiday spirit. Still, a promise is a promise. Besides, this was Widow’s gift to Sombra. Specifically, Widow had told Sombra that she gets one do-stupid-things free pass, happy anniversary, chérie, come back to bed.

One occasion where Sombra can drag Widow into something and Widow will comply without complaint, all within reason, of course. And Sombra picks a vacation.

Sombra, who has become a master at staring contests with Widow, having dated her for a year and a handful of weeks now, waits her out. Finally, Widow sighs and reaches up to button the donut pillow at her throat.

“Looks great, babe,” Sombra says brightly, and begins to wheel her suitcase towards the departure hall proper.

Widow sighs again and follows after her.

“Does this even count as a legal vacation if we are using fake documents?”

“Say it louder,” Sombra grumbles, “I don’t think airport security got that.”

Widow tries not to smile. She takes in a deep breath and, indeed, louder, says: “Does this even c—”

“I hate that you think you’re funny now,” Sombra huffs. “Dating me is such an ego boost for people.”

“People?” Widow muses. Sombra ignores that. Whatever. She changes tracks to something she’s actually curious about. “What’s the name on your passport?”

“Sombra,” says Sombra.

Widow squints at her. “Sombra what? You don’t have a last name.”

“Spider,” Sombra deadpans, “Obviously, it doesn’t say Sombra. Why the hell would I put that on my passport? That’s dumb. I’m very good at being a criminal, you know?”

“Yes, baby,” says Widow, “the best.”

Sombra rolls her eyes but the edges of her mouth twitch up before she can control it. Widow can’t help but smile herself. “It’s Jane Smith.”

“That… is so boring.” She wrinkles her nose. “And so American.”

“What? You don’t think I look exactly like a Jane Smith?” Sombra asks.

Widow stares at her.

“Whatever.” Sombra sniffs, snootily, and rubs a hand over the buzzed side of her head. It’s grown out a bit—Widow will shave it for her soon.

“You are terrible with aliases.”

Sombra had given her a fake passport earlier today, back at base. Widow’s now May Parker, a Canadian national since Sombra didn’t have faith in Widow’s fake accent skills and told her, quite condescendingly, to stick to French. The name was a reference to something, Widow’s not sure what, just thankful that Sombra hadn’t ended up printing the name of the first French historical figure that came to mind. Napoleon Bonaparte probably wouldn’t have gone over too well with airport authorities.

At check-in, the woman barely bats an eye at their too-nondescript names. It’s likely not that rare for people to come through airports with fake names in this day and age anyway. Probably, it’s quite rare to have terrorists doing it for vacation, but Widow has to admit their outfits don’t quite match up with that image.

Sombra picks their seats as Widow hauls their suitcases onto the belt. When all’s said and done, Sombra loops their arms together and pulls them towards security.

Sombra keeps glancing up at Widow’s face while they wait in line. It’s her only tell that she’s nervous and Widow can guess why. The sunscreen-like balm they’d smeared all over her, to make her look normal, should hold up for the duration of their flight. Though, she didn’t trust Talon scientists, she could trust their science, so she’s not worried about it.

Anyway, it wasn’t the 20th century. Most body mods were socially acceptable now. Sombra, in all her cyborg glory, shuffles past security with no problem.

It’s another half hour wait at their gate before they finally board. Sombra takes the middle seat, leaving Widow with the window. The aisle seat is, thankfully, empty. She’s not sure if Sombra did that on purpose, but she doesn’t particularly care either way, so she doesn’t ask.

Sombra reaches over and taps both of their mini-TV screens at the same time. A moment later, The Room (2003) begins playing on their screens simultaneously. Sombra makes a triumphant little sound and cuddles into Widow’s side.

Widow drapes her arm around Sombra and sighs.

//

A brief shitty movie marathon later, they’re touching down in Hokkaido, Japan, and Sombra’s tugging her gangly girlfriend out her seat. Widow’s vaguely tired and has already made Sombra promise they’re calling in a favour from Akande for a Talon plane back home after this. It takes a lot of brain power for her to keep up with Sombra sometimes, especially when it comes to silly things like enjoying bad movies.

(Sombra tells her it isn’t brain power that she is expending; rather, it’s called the emotional labour of loving someone.)

By the time they get to their lodging, Widow’s just about ready to pass out.

She pushes the first door she sees and falls into bed. Outside, she hears the rapid padding of Sombra’s footsteps as she explores every nook and cranny in the cabin.

She’s not sure how long she’s been lying down, but next she opens her eyes, the sky is dark blue and Sombra’s face is alarmingly close to hers.

Sombra grins and touches her cheeks. “Hey, you should get up.”

Widow blinks lazily at her. Then: “No.” She rolls around and closes her eyes again. “We’re on vacation.”

“We have to wipe that shit off you,” Sombra says, a note of affection colouring her tone.

She allows herself a few more seconds before she sits up with a huff and follows Sombra into the en suite. It’s a nice bathroom: a big tub, classy tiling, and there’s a big window facing a snowy mountainside, framed by gnarly trees.

note: and like i had this idea that sombra had her own agenda picking japan like mayb to hack into some mountain base but mostly i wanted to write widows skiing skin:) and they do stupid shit in the snow and eat good food and roll around in the sheets in their cozy lil cabin during a snowstorm and at the end these two who hv j been like. a pair of random tourists roll outta there in a bigass talon plane, guns equipped on the outside and everything, everyone else is alarmed, shitting themselves, but sombras j chilling in widows lap as they head back to base, blissfully unaware

[tired-college-student-writing]

The Painter’s Daughter Ch 3

Summary: Marinette is the daughter of two bakers

Marinette is a happy sometimes naive girl

Marinette is loved to create and make more than they liked to destroy

or was she?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3 (HERE)

Chapter 4

_________________________________________

Marinette grew and grew.

At age 5 her mother married the baker across the street and all of them ended up hyphenating their names to Dupain-Cheng, Tom became her Papa after her Dad reassured her it was alright on one of his visits as he brought her fabric flowers and a lovely set of paintbrushes. He was always bringing her gifts, mostly art supplies but sometimes sketches he’s made and even one of his paintings, given on Her first birthday after Helen met her. When people came over they always commented on the odd brown painting in her room, how it didn’t seem to match the rest of the decor, a sprawling landscape with a single woman resting up a tree, hair blowing in the wind Marinette just shrugged and said it was a present from her dad, one Mama hadn’t been too pleased about.

At age 7 she met her rival, Chloe Bourgeois, and ranted and raved about her to her Mama, Papa, and Dad. Her mother looked worried every time she ranted for a while before she overheard her Dad offering to turn Chloe into paint only for Mari to scrunch her nose and tell him that she didn’t want to be the reason someone died. She knew what her Dad was, knew what he did, and she still loved him but she would not allow him to work in her name.

At age 10 she had mastered sewing and began making her own clothes. It took a few times to get right, but she had a lot of practice patching things up since her Dad often had cuts and rips in his clothes and she hated to see him look anything less than his best. Whoever heard of a ragamuffin serial killer after all. Soon she was making her the majority of her own clothes from the fabrics her Dad and parents bought her, and she made them cl too. The creeps often commented on The Painter’s new outfit, an updated version of his old one and asked if they could have some too. By age 12 Marinette had endeared over two dozen creeps to her by eagerly making them more durable clothes for them to wear on hunts and willingly patching them up if they promised not to hunt in Paris outside of missions they were required to do.

At 13, Marinette was given the Ladybug Miraculous, becoming a heroine. Her Dad had laughed hysterically at this when he visited after she first transformed, feeling the ancient magic swirling through her, claiming her as much as Slender’s magic did. They had always been worried about her becoming a creep or proxy, unfeelingly ending lives like her father and here she was, with the magic to heal and bring life back. The power of creation from a being just as old as Slenderman and Zalgo.A true holder of the Ladybug earrings, born to control the magic of creation Tikki had greeted the creep with a warm smile and fierce eyes, telling him that her bug was safe, safer then she ever was before even if she was flipping over rooftops and fighting magical foes.

At 14, a new rival appears right as Chloe is starting to try harder, this one is named Lila. Helen’s blood boils as he listens to his daughter’s tales, knowing this girl would be the exact he would string up by her ankles and bleed like a pig for his next piece if only he promised years ago to leave anyone in Paris alone. He still offered though, and this time her refusals were hesitant and unsure, as the words got harsher and harsher as the lies spun became more intricate.

At 15, the class showed their true colors and the once-bustling friend group broke apart into two camps, Team Lila, with Alya, Myrlene, Sabrina, Rose, Juleka and Ivan, and Team Marinette, with Nino, Max, Nathanial, Kim, Alix, and Chloe. Adrian was strictly neutral, refusing to take either side, fearful of his father finding out about the mini-war and removing him from school. Her Dad wanted to remove him himself but Marinette told him no. The boy was sheltered beyond belief and had to be convinced that the lair’s constant unwanted touching was sexual harassment clear and simple. He meant no harm with his ill-suited advice and ideals of the high road.

Now at 16, she was faced with an even bigger issue.

Her Dad had arrived unannounced as always, never knowing when he’d freely be able to come visit without the police trailing him. They ate dinner, all four of them talking as they always did, avoiding talking about Helen’s job, instead asking about new stories of creeps’ blunders. After dinner, the married couple had shooed her and her dad upstairs so they could clean up.

“I want to kill someone,” She told her dad, slowly once the door to her room was shut, from where she sat on her chaise, sketchbook balanced on her knees as she sketched without looking at it. She couldn’t tell anyone else her thoughts, mama and papa would both panic, others would think she was insane…

"Let me do it," He offered as easily as if he was offering to drive her to her friend's house as he sat down next to her, “I’m sure they would make a lovely painting for you to hang on the wall. Just tell me who. Or if not a painting I’m sure Jeff would put them to sleep, or EJ could make a meal out of them, or-”

“You don’t get it,” She hissed, eyes hard as she stared forward with an unblinking stare, pencil dancing, “I don’t want them dead. I don’t want you or any of the others to handle the situation. I WANT to kill them, by my hand no one else’s, I can picture it.”

He stared at her for a long second, face blank, but she could see his form flickering. Her dad mentally was over 40 at this point and appeared it most of the time too, but Slenderman always kept the proxies the age they were when he created them. She rarely saw her father looking her age, the age he was frozen at forever.

It only came out when he was killing, or when he was in emotional turmoil and unable to keep hold of the magic-making him appear older.

He didn’t know what to say to her announcement, didn’t know what would come of it, what advice he should offer.

They both knew the rules. If she killed someone, truly intentionally killed someone, she was Slender’s. She had met the being back when she was 10, greeting the horror with a smile and gifted him a new tie, faded charcoal with red skulls seeming to be ingrained within the fabric, from a distance or through Slender’s fog it simply looked red but the effort…   She had apologized that she only made him a tie, but wasn’t sure if she could create a suit to match his dimensions as Helen had told her about his tendency to change his height and the tentacles that would appear from his back on occasion. To say that Slender was gone for the girl was stretching it, but he was pleased with her and her attitude towards the darkness that was her dad’s world.

It didn’t mean that anyone wanted her to become part of his domain permanently.

“Tell about them,” Helen finally settled on, “Why do you want to kill them.”

“Gabriel Agreste, and Lila Rossi,” She whispered, eyes faraway. He heard their names before, the absentee, borderline abusive father of his daughter’s crush and the liar that nearly broke his ray of sunshine. Two people ripe for the picking if only Marinette hadn’t ruled Paris off-limits to all creep hunting that wasn’t mandated by Slenderman.

But she told them that they didn’t deserve to be killed.

“What changed?”

He couldn’t quite keep the snarl out of his voice, but Marinette didn’t comment instead of continuing to stare at the wall.

“Gabriel hired Lila to keep an eye on Adrian, back when she first came back. They struck up a deal where she reports back to him about what Adrian and his friends won’t and in exchange, she can model with Adrian all she wants and gain the benefits of being a Gabriel Model, along with having open access to Adrian. This was after she broke into their house and posted a picture of her kissing Adrian’s cheek without his permission. He knew what kind of person she was and still, he struck up a deal and refused to let Adrian tell him about any problems he had with Lila. He shut Adrian down every time he tried to tell him about the sexual harassment, about isolating him from the rest of the class.”

She paused pain flickering in her blank depths, “Then last week Chat Noir showed up on my balcony in tears, shaking so bad I was surprised he didn’t fall off any of the roofs on his way over. He told me he really needed a friend he could trust, someone he could be truthful with and transformed in front of me, begging me not to turn him away, not to call my parents. Adrian basically curled up on my bed at that point and wouldn’t stop sobbing. He told me how Lila had slipped him something, how he couldn’t move as she took off his clothes and…”

She paused as the mechanical pencil shattered under her grip, plastic scattering across the room, anger flashed across her face for a second before

“He begged me not to tell anyone because he didn’t think anyone would believe him. His dad wouldn’t even let him talk about the sexual harassment to him, he didn’t want to be shut down trying to explain. He’s been running around as Chat Noir for since then, only stopping here to shower and get food. Plagg is furious and wants to kill them too, but refuses to leave Adrian for even a few minutes. He’s… he’s so very broken, Dad. His eyes are more hollow than some of the proxies. I’m surprised he hasn’t been akumatized yet.”

“You won’t let me kill them?” He asked again, hands trembling as his image flicked down to 14 and refused to rise again.

“No, because I don’t just want them dead,” She laughed hollowly, “I’ve been drawing these for the last three days.”  

She flipped around the sketchbook to show the two new outfits she had drawn. On the left was a bleached white leather suit, flawlessly put together with bulky buttons just as white as the suit. On the right was a leather dress, dyed deep red with a ribbed corset. He didn’t understand what was wrong with the designs until he looked closer and saw faces on the back of each outfit, the suit had a face with its eyes and ears sewn shut with venomous green thread, while the face on the dress was split in two, one half scowling with a black eye, with a horn stabbed through the temple, the other a smiling happily as a green eye. Each material was listed as she usually did, but instead of the usual fabrics, all it said over and over again was hair, skin, bone.

“A death worthy of a proxy,” He commented slowly, not sure what else to say.

Silence overtook them. Both knowing what lay ahead, but being scared of what could come up.

A knock at the balcony door made both of them jump, Helen’s glamor instinctively rising up.

“Chat,” She called, a blond head poking through the trapdoor only for him to freeze when he saw Helen.

“Easy Kitty,” Marinette whispered, “This is my Dad, remember I told you how he stops by every once in a while when his work allows it. He’s safe, I promise.”

“Safe for you guys,” He mumbled, “the rest of this city outside of this house? Not so sure anymore.”

Chat gave him a weary look but slowly moved down the steps, “What does that mean?”

Helen looked at the boy, passed the mask and the blank expression and really looked. Marinette was right, he looked broken, broken as a new proxy, one that was still scrambling to understand they had reached their breaking point, to realize what they had done now that the bloodlust and sickness had faded. He looked like Helen had back when he first killed Tom.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“You’re going to detransform,” He told him, “Get a shower and eat. Then we’ll talk.”

He turned on his heel and marched down the steps to the kitchen where he found Sabine and Tom relaxing.

The pair jumped at his sudden appearance especially since he had shifted back to 14 as so as he closed Marinette’s door.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, “Business?”

Helen frowned, then sighed, “Maybe, but… it’s complicated. Chat Noir is here though and he needs food, I don’t think he’s eaten at all today.”  

Sabine’s eyebrows furrow, “Is that why Marinette’s been sneaking food? She could have said something, of course, we’d feed her partner.”

Helen snorted at that as he helped the woman go through the leftovers and make up a heaping plate, along with some leftover pastries from the bakery, “I’m fairly certain that she doesn’t know you two know about her being Paris’ saving grace, plus she promised him that she wouldn’t tell anyone he was here. Something bad happened to him, in his civilian life.”

“How bad?”

“I’ve seen proxies and creeps form from less,” He admitted, “He’s in danger of snapping.”

He disappeared upstairs with the food before they could respond.

There floating in front of Marinette was a tiny cat-like being. Power pulsed off of it making the hair on the back of Helen’s neck stand on end. Plagg, the cat of destruction.

“So,” Helen started, “You’re the counter to Tikki’s power then? Almost felt like Zalgo in here.”

The cat hissed, “Don’t compare me to that bastard. He’s an ass and deserves a solid cataclysm to the face.”

Helen smirked, “Ah so this is why Slender said you were an interesting being. Either way, I’m Helen, and we need to talk.”

“If you want to break my kit-”

Helen cut him off harshly, voice like ice, “Don’t. While some of my coworkers are assholes, I would never intentionally break anyone, but Adrian is holding on by a thread and something needs to be done if you don’t want to become part of the next creep, or worse, down a user.”  

His whiskers drooped as he glanced towards the closed bathroom door, “... What do you have in mind?”

Sabine and Tom didn’t check on Marinette until the next morning and were only slightly surprised to see a note signed with a smiley face, ladybug, and cat on her made bed.

The kids need to see what happens if they snap.

_________________________________________

Tag List: @marinettepotterandplagg @sassakitty

[michiigii-writes-mysme]

classical musician!MC

Future parties now have an in for live orchestra... 👀

Zen:

Ah, a fellow performer

Money will be so tight

He’d love listening to her practice

Everyone has an audition ritual, and he’d be so ready to help

Zen has some musical background, himself, so he might try to accompany on guitar or piano

He would try to attend all of her concerts, and would feel incredibly guilty if one of his shows landed on the same night

Would be there for her to practice if she plays for an opera company

Yoosung:

While a student, his favourite thing would be her practicing in the next room while he studies

Both of you working for your dreams

Lobbies to get a group from your company to play for his graduation

When he gets his clinic, he has posters of his MC’s company up in the waiting room

Jaehee:

Cafe with live quartet, anyone?

Sells CDs of her MC’s music, and plays it on the speakers

MC and some of her orchestra friends do impromptu mini concerts for the cafe (they’re just jamming out; it’s never official)

Whenever her MC has a concert, Jaehee puts up special offers for anybody that can show her a playbill or ticket to it

My headcanon is that their apartment is right above the cafe, so sometimes customers can hear MC practicing through the ceiling

Jumin:

Always makes sure that she has the highest quality instrument supplies

Has a soundproofed practice room built in his condo for his MC

You heard of cat-based projects?? Get ready for cLaSsiCaL mUsiC-bAsEd pRoJecTs

If MC will let him, he sits in on her practice sessions

Always pays for box seat tickets to her concerts

Makes the rest of the RFA go

Her company is now sponsored by C&R

At her encouragement, C&R now backs music scholarships to nearby schools

Seven:

It’s not his go-to music, but he likes listening to his MC play

Ends up inventing weird/cool electronic versions of his MC’s instrument

Casually leaks sound bites online; not enough to ruin a concert, but to pique a little interest

Saeran:

Her playing soothes him

Listening to her CDs or while she’s practicing helps him focus

Sits in the back row for every single one of her concerts

She’s caught him napping with her instrument more than once

Very good at maintenance and repairing her instrument, should the need arise

V:

He plays violin, so...duets? 👀

Uses his connections to help advertise her concerts

Listening to her music while he paints has become his New Thing

Has a whole photography portfolio of her and/or her instrument: at concerts, while practicing, and even mundane moments like her happening to sip coffee with her instrument in-frame

Whenever a new CD comes out, he has a painting to offer as album art

Two artists in love is Their Aesthetic

Vanderwood:

Pretends to be ambivalent about her “glorified hobby”

She’s caught him listening to her music more than once, but he denies it every time

Likes to pretend he’s forgotten which instrument MC plays: “How’s that flugelhorn of yours coming along?” “You know I play the cello.”

There’s a rare occasion, every now and then, where Vanderwood brings MC a gift that has something to do with her music

“How did you know I needed a new case?” “I just found it. Nobody’s making you use it.”

“Leopard print strap! Very sexy...” “Shut up.”

“This is, like...the most expensive rosin that there is. How did you know I ran out?” “I thought it was gum.”

They support their MC, they just don’t want to be obvious about it.