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[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to lovers | fame au p6 (final part)

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude

Steve thinks about second chances, as he walks along Greenwich Ave. He thinks about them when he tosses the wig in a garbage can that reeks of puke. 

And he thinks about them, when Eddie opens the door, eyes catching on the rip in Steve’s jeans, the liner under his eyes. When he lights up & says, “You came.”

Yeah, Steve thinks about second chances.

He offers Eddie a small smile as he walks in, can’t bring himself to acknowledge it all. The world of them. Him going. Eddie playing that song.  What that could mean, like, actually mean. Can’t do it yet.

He likes this place better than the mansion in LA. It’s messy and grungy with stupid, corny shit plastered on the walls. Feels more… Eddie.

They walk out to the balcony. It overlooks a tiny little green space, his neighbors’ homes. Eddie lights a cigarette and offers one to Steve. Steve quit years ago. Eddie knows that now. He takes it anyway. 

“Last tour I sold out Madison Square Garden and now I sell out Forest Hills.” Eddie’s chuckling, “Like I’m back at the trailer park.”

Eddie’s third album didn’t do the numbers his first two had. So they’d downsized, just a little.

Steve sighs, he didn’t fly all the way out here to coddle his ex, “It was a good show, Eddie.” 

“Yeah.” He drags, smiles to himself. “It was a really good show. I’m really glad you saw it, baby.”

Steve cringes, full body shiver. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize what he said, Steve’s sure as hell not gonna clue him in.

“How’d your meeting go?”

Steve tries to play it off. “Good. Pretty good.”

Eddie chuckles again, leans into him that way he always does, like personal space is more of a suggestion than a boundary. A hand brushes his cheek, a light, teasing tap of knuckles, “What’s pretty good, Harrington?”

Steve smiles into it. Can’t help it. “There’s uh… you know that blacklist script I mentioned last month? There’s probably a lead there for me.”

Eddie lights up again, bright and true, “Steve, that’s amazing.”

Steve snorts, “Not jealous?”

“Nah, I’m happy for you ba-” Eddie catches it this time, chokes on his drag, coughs and flounders, “Happy for you, man.” 

Steve’s not sure if he can do this, actually. Can’t face this Eddie. The one whose ego isn’t a storm cloud, who’s okay failing, who’s okay seeing him succeed. Who’s honest and sincere and wants the best for him. Eddie who would lose thousands of fans just to sing Steve’s favorite song. 

Eddie’s eyes are shiny, “But you’ve been good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good. Keeping busy. I filmed an Amex commercial. Good money. Made my agents happy.” He’s rambling around it. He squints into the dark, drops it casually as he can muster. “I’m gonna start seeing that country singer, probably. The one with that Kansas song? Our people are setting something up.”

Eddie’s face falls, the sun out with a sentence. “What are we doing here, Harrington?”

Steve’s tone is bleary, sheepish, “What?”

“Been losing my mind this last month. Can’t stand not having you around. But you- you’re dating?”

It’s a shrug, it’s all he's got, “Sure.”

Eddie’s hunched, shoulders tight. He talks small. “You told me you loved me. Before you left.”

Steve huffs a breath. The air is cold. “C’mon. You were like, obliterating my brain with your dick. I say impulsive shit like that all the time.”

He doesn’t. They both know that. 

Eddie clicks his teeth, shakes a whisper. “Nah. You don’t.”

Steve falters, trips on his tongue. He finds his voice low and hoarse, he can barely say it, “Please don’t hold me to it.” 

Eddie won’t look him in the eye. He blinks up at the sky, “I love you. For the record. I um, I never stopped. Guess I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

“Eddie, c’mon. Don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“Date Dorothy.” His laugh is glacial. “I don’t mind. It won’t be real, right? Those things never fucking are.”

“I don’t know– it could be.” The ground’s falling under Steve’s feet. “Down the line, or whatever.”

Something cracks, crumples. “I had you. God fucking damnit. I had you and I–”

Steve’s not expecting the sobs until they happen. Flemmed and shaky and pathetic. Those brown eyes silver-wet like moons. 

Eddie pushes his palms into his cheeks. “Sometimes, after you leave, I just stare up at the ceiling and try to invent like, time travel or something. Just to go back and slap the shit outta myself. I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t face it. Could talk around it, sure. Write it into my songs like that was honest. But, nah, I couldn’t look in the mirror. Definitely couldn’t look at you. I’m facing it now. I need you to know that. It won’t fix all shit I did, won’t fix the stupid fucking way I tried to fix it the first time. It’s there, it’s out, hell, it’s goddamn double platinum.” He sputters it out miserable, “But I am trying. Even if this– if we can’t. Need you to know I’m facing it now. I want to be better.”

Then Eddie looks right at him, looks at Steve like looking is enough to break his heart. “And I don’t wanna be selfish anymore cause it’s poison, Steve. But fuck. I know I don’t deserve it but if you’ll have me, I’ll– I’m there. Whatever way you’ll take me.”

“Eddie.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s here. Why he keeps digging this wound, ripping out stitches.

“Please? Can’t walk away again. Don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs. “You only do that when it’s easy.”

Eddie flinches. Shoves a ringed hand into a pocket. “Too late, huh?”

Steve scratches the back of his head and turns on his heel, “We can’t keep doing this.”

He gets as far the kitchen. Eddie quicksteps in front of the counter, blocks his out. But he’s cowering, ducking his head. “Did you um, like the song?”

It swells up all at once, that bone-deep cruelty of it. A gust turned tsunami. “Not really, Ed. Kinda broke my fucking heart.”

“Shit,” Eddie clicks. “Yeah, I, um, I’m not all that good at the grand gesture thing. Probably should have figured that out by now.”

Steve lets it all in. The red that’s been thrumming through his body since this whole thing started. Lets it possess him. He pushes into Eddie’s space, callous and cruel. “You’re really fucking me up, here. Do you know that?”

“I– I’m not trying to.” Eddie blinks. Frustratingly earnest. 

“What we’re doing– Whatever this is. It makes me feel pathetic. I’d be the dumbest asshole on the planet if I took you back.” He’s screaming now. The balcony door is still open. He doesn’t care if anyone hears. He wants them to hear.

Eddie’s lip is shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” Steve murmurs. The red’s coming off in whisps, quicker than it ever had, easier than it should. 

Eddie’s smile is weak. His face is wet. “I know.”

“You ruined me.” He leans in, finds half a punch in it. Last one he’s got. 

Eddie closes his eyes, brow furrowed. “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He’s tired. Bone tired. Tired of the ache that only ever seems to go away around, well–

Eddie’s guilt is plain. It's all of him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve takes a breath. He thinks about second chances.

“You really want to be with me?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s already burrowed in. Ribs and guts and blood. “Got my priorities way out of whack for a minute there. Jesus, way too many minutes there. But yeah. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.  You’re it for me, Stevie.”

Steve groans, taps his forehead lightly against a shelf. Eddie’s hand lands steady at his arm, awkward and cautious and right. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Eddie says soft. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve shakes his head. Waves a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You sang Dave fucking Matthews.”

“Don’t remind me, man. They’re gonna start shattering my CDs.” He pauses, sincere as ever. ‘I, uh, wouldn’t take it back though.”

Steve groans again, presses his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it. You sang Dave Matthews and now I’m gonna have to call my team and tell them it’s not gonna happen with the country singer.”

Eddie blubbers, big Saturday morning cartoon recalibration. “You’re– what?”

Steve shrugs, catches his eye. “Now I’m gonna have to talk about my coming out journey with Angie at People and dude, she’s been on my ass about it for years. Total sore winner.”

He’s shaking his head, “Harrington… Steve. Stevie.”

But Steve keeps rattling on, “I’m gonna have to tip off the paparazzi that Dark Pines star Steve Harrington was spotted sneaking into Eddie Munson’s brownstone at midnight for a secret rendezvous. Gonna have to go for a jog around the block first thing tomorrow, with like, more hickeys than a teen who just got their first girlfriend.”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Eddie’s back pushes into the edge of the kitchen counter. And Steve thinks about that photo that forced them together again, about Eddie’s easy grin, about the soft adoration high on his cheeks, about never being so young. He thinks about fucking up and growing up and growing apart and changing. And he smiles against chapped lips that taste like cigarettes and coming home.

And he says, “Gonna have to find someone to give me the hickeys.”

And Eddie lights up like the sun, “I know a guy.”

And Steve, well, he thinks about second chances. 

[bobwess]

Listening to my friend recount a story (in an angry rant while pacing) about being on set in 2020. Of doing an ageing look and being given a 3 day warning to get a wig she didn't know she had to get and then being given a very small budget to do so.

And how she was trying to explain to production that in fact there were no wig stores open, and that budget wasn't going to cover a good wig even if they could go to a wig store and really REALLY wasn't going to cover an even halfway decent wig if they had to express ship it from wherever the fuck was actually open and selling wigs in 2020.

And she was like "we ended up with the absolute most hideous piece of shit wig and did our best and somehow it was MY fault it looked bad."

And it wasn't Supernatural, but I imagine there is a HMU artist in Vancouver with an identical angry pacing rant ready to go.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Happy New Year! (Yandere!Fortune Teller x GN!Reader)

A delighted squeal sharply cut through the quiet chatter of the line for the fortune teller. It was a small little illegal shop that popped up overnight and was all over (Reader's) feed. Their best friend, and the reason why they were outside in the cold so early, tugged on their coat sleeve.

"They must have gotten a good one." She smiled playfully, and still a little drunk.

The fortune teller was apparently incredibly accurate. Even skeptics had been posting all morning about how this guy was able to tell them full names of people in their lives and dates of events that already happened he shouldn't have been able to guess on the first try.

"Missy, it's cold as hell.." (Reader) whined, their head also hurting a tad bit from the amount their friend had them drink a few hours earlier to welcome the new year. ".. and I just want a burrito."

Missy clicked her long acrylics in front of (Reader's) face. "And I want a girlfriend. C'mon, just a few more minutes! Please! You don't even have to get your fortune done, just stay with me, emotional support!" She huffed and stamped her boots while dramatically letting her arms fall to her sides heavy enough to make a loud whump against her coat.

They knew their friend wasn't actually a brat, but it was a fun little "act" ; she enjoyed putting on, especially when she was all dolled up (as she called it). So, as what usually happens, (Reader) rolled their eyes theatrically in a show of pretending to give in. The woman with the pink and blonde fashion wig smiled wide and squeezed (Reader's) arm lovingly.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first, (Reader) thought that the man was a mannequin. A beautiful body propped up at a table, with a veil over the top of his head and silk clothes, but other than the fact that he was beautiful, there was something too basic about his features and too perfect about his skin to be human. Like a mall mannequin: with a dusty pale skin tone with zero blemishes or imperfections, his eyebrows looked so fine that they were maybe painted on, and the blonde hair under the veil was so light in color, (Reader) thought he was bald and that the lightly golden coloring was more silk.

Yes, he was beautiful, but looking at him was uncomfortable, like people describing the uncanny valley of robots.

He opened his eyes, revealing dull grey irises, that helped humanized him (at least, in (Reader's) opinion).

"Welcome, Miranda and (Reader)." His voice was also weirdly perfect, making (Reader's) skin crawl, but looking over at Missy they saw she didn't feel anything other than awe.

"Ohmygawd, how did you know our names?!"

He smiled very softly. "It's my job." A thin hand with long, delicate fingers motioned for the two friends to sit before him.

As the cards were laid out (Reader) allowed their mind to wander. Not only did the guy in front of them weird them out, but they believed that fortune tellers were scam artists. They knew it could be fun to just see what your future might look like, and wanted to be respectful for people who actually believed in tarot and stuff like that, but people setting up businesses promising to read your future and then just reading some generic script then charging you a hundred bucks is how you get vulnerable people to fork over their life savings. (Reader) only agreed to go because to make sure the "fortune teller" didn't try and change the price on Missy or sell her a bunch of unnecessary shit.

The man clapped loudly, startling (Reader) back into focus. "You will meet a woman this year.

You will meet her in two months, at the book store across from your job. The two of you will be searching for the same book, and it will feel like fate. Don't be afraid to ask her out for coffee, because she'd love to discuss the series with you."

Long nails scratch the back of (Reader's) hand as Missy impulsively grabs it. "Are you.. sure she's.. y'know..." she raised her eyebrows.

The man looked puzzled for a second before responding with, "The ending you always wanted for NaNa."

Missy nearly cracked her neck turning to (Reader) as quickly as she did, whining happily "Oh my god...." before burying her face in their chest. Then (Reader) felt the tears, and realized Missy was more drunk and exhausted than they realized.

"Uh, thanks, did she already pay, or?"

"Would you like your fortune read now?"

He seemed unfazed by Missy's minor meltdown.

"Ah, no thanks."

"I'll give it to you free. Call it a two for one deal."

Alarm bells were ringing in their head. "Why?"

He was silent for a second, like he was listening to something, just as he was when he told Missy she was going to be living out her headcannon fantasy. "Something's just telling me I should give you a fortune reading."

Missy wiped snot across (Reader's) chest before raising her head. "Oh, are you getting read too?"

"What? N-"

"Can we get burritos after this?"

They looked down at their best friend in the entire world, and sighed. "Yeah, if it's completely free."

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even compelling completely scrunched up in concentration, there was a concerning lack of wrinkles, leading (Reader) to the conclusion that if this man was in fact human, he most certainly had botox.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open wide. He looked up at (Reader), staring deep into them without blinking.

"What?"

He didn't answer. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. But his face began to change into an odd shade of pink.

The wig wearing woman loudly gasped "IS THEY DYING?!" while clutching (Reader's) arm in mock horror.

"I'm not dying!" (Reader) shoved their friend off, feeling overwhelmed by their current situation.

The fortune teller reached across the table, and without asking, grabbed one of (Reader's) hands, observing their palm intensely. But he could only do so for a second before they yanked their arm back and stood up.

"Missy, let's go, I told you this guy was a fucking scammer."

Like a switch had been flipped, Missy held up her middle finger and called the man a creep, apologetic for not trusting her best friend. "Why did he grab you like that? So gross!"

The two left. They would later get burritos and watch half a movie before passing out. This moment was creepy, but ultimately, nothing to them.

He had always been gifted.

But when they left the gifted medium on the floor, images of what he had just been shown were still fresh in his mind.

The tarot cards were a gimmick, just there because that's something people associate with being able to see the past, present, and future. Was he a scam artist? Maybe, to some. He never gave people the fortunes they didn't want to hear, and only reminded them of memories they liked. You don't get tipped if you tell someone their child is going to die. And we all need money.

Then (Reader) came into his pop up shop, another skeptic, and he figured if gave them a reading for free and made it really good they would be the type of person to tip him out of guilt. But for their future all he saw was... him.

Him?

He had never thought about himself. He was creepy and disgusting. His presence made people uncomfortable. If he focuses hard enough he can speak to the dead. No one wants to be friends with that. No one wants to love that.

No future is set in stone. There are hundreds of thousands of possibilities, and he can see them all. And while (Reader) sat in front of him, staring at him with their beautifully tired eyes, he searched through every single one.

It was.. exciting, he had to admit, seeing himself with someone. He didn't know this person at all, but it wasn't hard to feel some kind of affection for them seeing a future where they felt affection for Him.

He couldn't even remember the last time someone willing held his hand. Maybe when he had to cross the street with his mother? No, she required him to wear gloves.

While staring at his client, he couldn't help but watch their entire life. He was supposed to look through their memories briefly to get a sense of the "past", but like time didn't exist, he watched their entire life play out. They made him feel things.

Even when (Reader) called him a scammer, he still loved them. After all, he did kind of lie by omission to their best friend: Missy's new relationship would only last five months.

But it was okay if they thought he was creepy or a scam artist. Because he already saw the future.

And he knew every single correct step to take to make sure they were smiling at him like they were in that vision.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Happy New Year everyone!!!!!!

Let's hope that this upcoming year is better than the last!

I'm a really pessimistic person, so I'm trying to be hopeful. I'm also trying to find ways to reduce stress since I can't afford to take care of my mental health (haha). I'm getting white hairs. White. Ain't that crazy? It's stressful trying to not stress out lol

Does anyone else play future telling games on New Year? As a kid my family would all play MASH to see what our future is going to be like hahaha and a lot of my younger coworkers this year were talking about eating grapes under tables? Very cute <3

I hope you all had a great new year, and didn't get too drunk, stay hydrated, and if you have and future telling game memories for me years tell me about it!

Let's make 2025 better than 2024!

[yoshikoooo]

WIND BREAKER HCS|Fem! Reader

Featuring: umemiya hajime, Sakura haruka, kaji ren , jo togame. synopsis: your friend needed help in their butler cafe, and you agreed forced to cooperate. Reader is simply crossdressing. Warnings : Fem! reader, slight ooc, slight suggestive on umemiya and togame's parts, cursing, established relationship, role playing, reader is flirty.

"Y/n, I beg you!" Shima pleaded desperately, clutching onto your leg with an iron grip, her eyes pleading beneath the butler-style outfit and wig that transformed her into an uncanny likeness of one hell of a butler. "Huh? You expect me to wear those lame ass suits—" watch your mouth girl "It'll only be for a day, I promise. You'll get paid handsomely, and all you have to do is smile at the ladies!" Her grip tightened on your leg, eliciting a frustrated groan from you, annoyance etched across your face. "Damn it, but no pictures nor words can leak," you insisted firmly.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･SAKURA HARUKA °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The cutest tomato in the whole world. come fight me if you disagree

"So why the heck are we buying a damn cake here in a butler café?" Sakura whispered loudly enough for the group to hear, earning a chuckle from the man with tasseled earrings. A reaction of a virgin is honestly amusing right suo?

already tapping his foot anxiously as he noticed that almost the cafe is filled with women. 'fuck fuck fuck fuck-'

This cutie patotie is scared. but wont admit it.

He felt like he just walked on a tigers den.

"Their cakes are the best-selling. Hiragi wanted us to get one since it's Tsubakino-san's birthday," Nirei explained, causing Sakura to click his tongue in mild annoyance. "Why can't we just buy it at a normal cake shop"

suo who is watching their captain's every movement is amused at the situation.

"That doesn't make sense; they're just wearing some fancy suits," Sakura remarked, unimpressed.

He had some thoughts that what if you were one of the customers here

'.....'

and that created some kind of fog on his lungs and suddenly he felt his head clouded.

it was clear that he kind of not wanted that.

He would be jealous

especially when his eyes landed on a particular butler. The suit was perfectly tailored, fitting the butler like a glove. As the butler helped a lady who had stumbled, a chorus of delighted squeals erupted from nearby women, clearly enamored by his looks and chivalry.

"Wait, that butler looks familiar," Suo echoed Sakura's thoughts as he observed the butler assisting the lady. "H-huh, Y/n-san...?" Nirei suddenly exclaimed as the realization dawned on him. 'huh' Sakura watched you smile sweetly at the ladies. "W-What is that idiot doing here—" "Oh, Y/n-san looks good in a suit. I didn't know she had that kind of hobby," Suo remarked, watching their leader turn red as he looked at you, handsomely serving. 'Surprisingly it suited you' "Eh, did Y/n-san not tell you?" Suo questioned, glancing at Sakura, who shook his head. "No..." Just then, you took an order from the counter. "Y/n, that's a takeout for the Furin boys over there," one of the chefs informed you, making you freeze on the spot. "F-Furin?" you stuttered, slowly looking at the group already watching you. "Damn it," you muttered, deciding to remain professional and maintain the butler façade as you approached their table. "Young masters, your le fraisier cake is served for takeout. Please enjoy," you said, flashing them the same charming smile you usually reserved for the ladies. "O-Oh, thanks, Y/n-san!" Nirei stammered, causing your brow to twitch. 'Fuck, they know.' "You look so handsome, Y/n-san," Suo added, smiling beside Nirei. 'Was that really a compliment?' Then you looked at the half-haired boy, seeing him averting his gaze. "No compliment from you, young master?" you asked, smirking at your boyfriend, who was as red as a tomato. with a big huff, He quickly stood up and made his way to the door, the other two following suit, prompting you to follow them as well. "I shall await your return, young masters," you said, your voice smooth and confident. With a swift, practiced motion, you took Sakura's hand and placed a light kiss on it, earning a startled shriek from him. Your mischievous eyes met his, watching him tremble and turn an even deeper shade of red. 'Just how red can you get?' "Y-You idiot!"

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮KAJI REN ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Won't notice that it was you at first cause this man won't stare at a random dude in the eyes.

Why would he make his way out for just a random dude wearing a cringey cosplay?

Excuse me, that is your girl over there

you didn't inform him about the butler cafe. Cause why? It was embarrassing. uwu

You can't handle any more degradation.

You were honestly fighting demons when you agreed to buy something on the store with this stuffy, uncomfy, cringey outfit.

you prayed to be invisible for a day. The humiliation is eating you inside out, and if your boy found you wearing that, urgh Go bury yourself in some hole.

This boy is a judger. Basically would eye you up and down and his eyebrow would twitch.

He won't be honest with you, he did not want to admit that you honestly looked handsome. Tsundere things...

irritated by the fact that you were an inch taller than him now. What kind of fucking miracle of a shoes did they give you?! He had some urge to burn those shoes away.

The chefs at the café asked you to buy cream from the store, noting how busy the place was with so many customers. On your way back, you got caught up in a fight. Just as you were about to fall, a large hand grabbed your shoulder a bit roughly, steadying you. The familiar scent of sweet vanilla reached your senses. He quickly stood you upright, not daring to look at you directly. Why would he even look at a man? Before you knew it, the fight ended, and the blonde was about to scold you for just walking into a fight. "Hey, what were you doing—" he started, but stopped midway when he realized it was you. "H-Hey—" "What the heck are you wearing?" he asked, his eyes scrutinizing your outfit. "Haha, ain't I handsome?" you said with a grin, flashing him the signature smile that made the ladies at the café squeal. "Have you gone crazy?" he remarked harshly, as expected, making you chuckle awkwardly. "Now now, I'm just helping a friend," you explained, and the blonde in front of you nodded lazily. 'A friend, huh?' "Oops, I still need to give them the cream," you said, glancing at Kaji, who seemed to be watching your every move. He remained silent, appearing somewhat out of it. 'You're going back there in that outift...? seriously?' "Young master, will you give this lowly servant a kiss before I go?" you teased theatrically, causing his eyes to widen and his face to flush a deep red as he tried to hide his embarrassment. You smirked at his reaction, taking the opportunity to grasp his hand and gently remove the lollipop from his mouth, replacing it with a soft peck on the lips. "H-Huh?!" "Sweet," you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, watching him remain still and red as you placed the lollipop back in his mouth. He looked like he is about to explode. "Just you wait until we get home," he threatened, though his flustered state made it less intimidating. "Oops," you thought, quickly turning and running back to the café as fast as possible.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・UMEMIYA HAJIME・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A big ball of sunshine here.

Hajime was shocked when he just saw a random dude wearing a fancy suit walking by.

"What a fancy guy" he remarked as he continued eyeing the guy.

but looking up close, His smile widened.

He honestly loved how you look so good in that butler outfit.

But why didn't you told him at least? This big boy's kokoro is hurt urgh. and yeah, you forgot to tell him since you were busy contemplating your life decision.

He might ask you to cross dress again. oh god no.

But then again you'd already lost your dignity the moment you agreed to this, so what was there to lose now? still no.

looking at you again, ah- How badly he wanted to just keep you to himself.

Doesn't mind the PDA that much so when he approached you, he quickly locked his arms on your waist.

Remember, there are furin boys all over the town-

"Eh, I-Is that Hajime-senpai—" one of the Furin-coated boys stammered, eyes widening as they saw their strong captain kissing a... man? A butler, specifically? "Shit, should we tell Y/n-san?" "I-I'm not sure." "But how do we tell her?" Click "I'll keep a picture in case she doesn't believe me." "Wait, let's just pretend we didn't see anything." Meanwhile, you glared at the white-haired man in front of you. Your eyebrows twitched in annoyance. How the hell are you not even taller than your man despite wearing these huge ass heels? You still looked small standing next to him, frustratingly unable to match his height, unlike how you towered over some of the ladies. "Hajime, I still need to go back," you said, trying to remove the strong arms of the man in front of you. "Hmmm... I want a hug from my butler," he cooed, nestling his head against your neck. "No, we're outside, Hajime," you whispered, but he simply hummed in response. "You're too handsome, I'm getting jealous," you heard him pout against your neck, making you sigh in disbelief. "I'm wearing makeup."

"Still." You cupped his cheeks, and he finally stopped nestling into your neck, making you smile softly. "My dearest lord, may you permit this lowly servant of yours to return to tending his duties?" you said, slipping back into your butler persona. You took his hand and placed it gently on your cheek. "Such a devoted servant," he replied with a grin, finally releasing you but not before planting another kiss on your forehead. "Don't make me wait too long." You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "I won't. Now behave while I'm gone."

____ A day passed, and the usual buzz of activity surrounded you. Some of the Furin boys approached you, their curiosity evident. "Y/n-san, are you alright with our captain?" one of them asked, a hint of concern in his voice. You shrugged it off with a smile. "It's the same as usual," you replied casually. But then, one of them pulled out his phone and showed you a picture. Your eyes widened in shock as you saw the image of you and Hajime kissing while you were in your butler outfit. You forced an awkward smile, your mind racing. 'I-I can't say I'm the one he's kissing right...?'

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆TOGAME JO⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

This sly dog. Although I don't mind, arf arf.

He was drinking ramune when a handsome dude passed him by.

"Cosplay....?" he mused slowly, noticing the man's attire wasn't just an ordinary suit. His gaze followed the man, who had paused because a cat was blocking his path.

How heart warming it is to see a guy wearing a fancy suit to stop infront of the cat just to pet it. I mean who can't resist the furballs?

He had thoughts on how the hell did the guy handle the heat despite wearing such layers?

Cause if he was wearing one, He's sure He'd rip it hours ago.

and when he caught a glimpse of the face- 'Huh?'

He did kind of contemplate if that was really you. I mean you looked more... handsome?

His smirk widened as he confirmed it was you by the distinctive placement of your moles.

Slowly and unnoticed, he walked up to you. Just as you stood to return to the café, you were suddenly pinned against a nearby wall.

you shriek as you slowly opened your eyes to see the perpetrator.

"Hey, prince charming," the deep voice of Togame made you flinch and look directly into his eyes. His glasses slightly hid his amused gaze.

"Jo! Are you really serious?" you said in disbelief, sighing in relief that it wasn't one of the creepy dudes.

He brushed off your comment, continuing to eye you with a playful intensity.

"Looking hot, ain't ya?" he smirked as you shrank under his gaze, still pinned against the wall.

"You think so too?" you smiled sheepishly, the corners of your mouth lifting as the man before you giggled.

"I can't believe I've been dating a man this whole time," he joked, his voice mockingly disheartened.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to grab his chin.

"Young lord, would a kiss suffice as an apology?"

Your eyes glistened with mischief, catching him off guard with your sudden change of attitude. Who knew you had this cheeky side too?

You sure do like testing his limits as he leaned in closer to you.

"I don't think a kiss would... suffice," he said slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his body pressing closer.

He leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours, teasing and testing your resolve.

"I think you'll need to do a lot more than that to make it up to me,"

With a sudden, bold move, you closed the gap between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. The intensity of the moment made your heart race, but you pulled away before things could escalate further.

"My break is about to end," you said, noting the disappointment in his eyes despite the lingering smile on his lips.

"Eh... ditch it," he replied casually. You pecked his lips again, and with a swift movement, you slipped past his hold.

A cheeky smile escaped your lips as you glanced back.

"no can do,"

He watched your figure fade into the distance, a mixture of amusement and something darker in his gaze.

"right...I'll see you later anyway,"

[etherealily]

𝕓𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤 // 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗿.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader, brother's best friend (ahhh!), you don't get it, i love this man

Warning: Cuss words .

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Finnick makes quite an impression.

══════════════════ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══════════════════

"Hey, what's up, man, if you could just pack up- oh."

You don't even have to turn to know just who in the hell was standing in front of the window of your family's bakery. And this is the one day you decide not to care about how frosting-splattered your apron is, how flour-smeared your hands are. So your brother wasn't lying. He really was all buddy-buddy with Finnick fucking Odair. And this was the one Thursday you decide to actually fill in for him.

"Uh, be right out, sir."

Sir? Sir? Did you really just call him Sir? Well, I mean, yeah, he's a customer, but still... sir? That's too fake. He's going to wig out, he's going to-

"Of course. Take your time. I'm in no rush."

-Be uncharacteristically patient. Hm. Weird. Odd.

Quickly patting off the flour on your hands and watching the flakes fall onto the counter, you wipe your palms roughly on your apron, turning around.

His eyes are fucking ethereal. It's everything you can do to not immediately think of how you would go about replicating the sea-green of them into a frosting colour, or something. However, you decide, it'd be very hard, seeing as there were a kaleidoscope of other hues in there, a tinge of gold, here and there, like flecks of stardust, for one.

The muscles at the front of his arms - across his chest, as he stands - clench, as though he's tightening them. And then you realise : he's waiting.

"So sorry for the wait. How can I help you?"

"Who are you?"

What ?

"Excuse me?"

"Not interrogating you.", he informs you, raising a hand to cut you short. The fucking audacity . "Never seen you before."

"Well, you're seeing me now."

"How do I know you're not just someone stealing from the store?", he inquires, in mock concern. His eyebrows raise just slightly, playfully, even, as he trains his eyes on yours.

Does he also think about how he can replicate the colours in other people's eyes, or is he normal?

"Uh, I've got a key , for one.", you retort, jiggling the keys that you've shoved deep into your apron's pocket.

He shrugs, interlocking his fingers tightly as he cracks his knuckles, tilting his head. "Could be stolen."

"I'm the owner's daughter, Y/N ?"

"Insufficient proof of that.", he shoots back, teeth grazing ever so slightly on his bottom lip as he battles a smirk. "C'mon, do better than that. I'm this close to calling the Peacekeepers, y'know?"

"I can bake a cake?", you suggest, unsure why you're even going along with this.

Oh right, because he's Finnick Odair.

"So can I.", he replies, now resting his elbow down on the windowsill of that godforsaken window your family sold their goods from. You'd always thought it was cute, but now, with the lack of a counter between the two of you, like the normal bakeries, you were resenting the idea. "You're not really selling your identity, you know?"

"I'm literally baking a cake right now.", you exclaim, pointing at your clothes and the oven in which a hopefully delicious cake was rising. "What kind of pathetic thief would help the store they're stealing from?"

"You could be trying to blend in."

"Okay, look, I don't care what you think, Sir. I'm the owner of this place, so you either get your goods or go."

"Good.", he chuckles, softly, although his tone turns slightly, seamlessly more serious. "That's good. That's the response you give, you got that?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What?"

"If someone ever makes you doubt who you are, if someone ever...", he swallows, licking his lips for a moment, looking away before continuing, "... ever forces an identity on you. I don't care what you think, I know who I am . That's what you say."

"You came all the way here, did all that, just to... teach me a life lesson?"

"You don't like it? Come on, that was a cool segue, you gotta admit.", he asks, clearly shoving whatever else he was feeling into the back burner as he snickers.

"Threatening to call the Peacekeepers on me? Oh, yeah, that's very cool ."

"Hey, I managed to get your name, didn't I? Doubt you'd have let me get that far any other way."

Not true. You'd have given him your name. Hell, you'd have given up your last name for him, had he asked normally.

"And what do you need my name for?"

"I don't know.", he shrugs, palpably pushing any dirty responses he might've had away. "Maybe I just want to know?"

"You must have a reason."

"You know what, yeah, usually, I have a reason for everything.", he replies, giving you the charming smile you've seen on television almost a thousand times. "But this time, I don't."

That was so infuriatingly expected. Of course Finnick Odair couldn't have just fucking asked for your name like a normal person.

"Do you at least have a reason as to why you're at my store?"

"Your family's store, sweetie, and yeah, I do.", he says, pointing at a tray of half-a-dozen shimmery blue cupcakes with the number '4' frosted boastfully onto them. "Pack those up for me, will you? My order."

"Insufficient proof of that.", you reply, crossing your arms and mirroring his position from when he'd said those words. "Unless you've got a receipt, which we don't give to urgent orders so there's no chance you could have one , I don't see how you're walking away from here with them."

He laughs, heartily, nodding as though impressed. "Funny. Look, let's not make this more complicated than it should be, yeah? You're a pissed off, whiny little girl who can't take a joke, and I'm Finnick Odair. Just give me the cupcakes."

You scoff, audibly scoff at that. The nerve of him. "I'm not a little girl."

"Your brother tells me you cry when you see butterflies? Like... full-on bawl?"

You'd fucking murder your brother the next time you saw him, that was for sure.

"They're ethereal, and very rare."

"They're insects.", he reasons, shaking his head as he rests his head on his palm, tilting his head and gazing at you condescendingly, like you really were a child.

"Shut up."

He snorts, softly. "Give me the damn cupcakes, sweetie."

"Or what, you'll seduce me into giving them to you?"

His face falls, for a moment, his grin faltering. Then, with a sigh that was an infuriating mix of amused, disappointed and enigmatic, he nods. "That's what I'm known for, right? I could do it, you know? Really effectively, too."

"That wouldn't work on me."

"Give me the damn cupcakes, Y/N."

"How do I know you've paid for them?"

"You'll have to take my word for it. It's called trust, ever heard of it?"

"It's called not being a pompous asshole, ever heard of it?"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you turn your back to him, bringing the tray over to the window sill. "Brought your own bag?"

He nods, a slightly triumphant smile - that you choose to ignore, thank you very much - on his face as he hands it to you, then nodding to the bag. "It's all the rage in the Capitol, you know?"

"Oh, I know. I see the Capitol freaks with it all the time on TV.", you mutter, gently bringing out each cupcake and placing them in each indent in the box you'd brought out. "Any embellishments you want before I put them in the bag?"

"Like a bow or something?"

"Yeah, like a bow, a card, some extra sprinkles taped to the box.", you shrug, feigning nonchalance. The urge to draw him was getting way too strong, and it was the most peculiar feeling ever - one you'd never felt before. Capturing him, in a way the cameras he was always swarmed by never could, that would be perfect.

"Yeah, card would be nice."

"What would you like on it?", you ask, sliding a card over from the cardboard box overflowing with them, as you click open a pen.

He raises a brow. "Do you have good handwriting?"

You tsk, shoving the pen in his face. "Here, you do it, then."

He giggles, mischief swirling in his eyes as he takes the pen from you. "Probably best." He clears his throat, dramatically, giving you a matter-of-fact look before he begins writing. "Dear President Snow, wishing you a Happy Reaping Day, with a delicacy from District Four- uh, what do you call these, sweetie?"

"Cupcakes?"

"Something cooler." He narrows his eyes at you, tapping the pen on the counter.

"Cupcakes from the Bakery Around The Corner? Seriously, this is District Four, we're not the Capitol - we don't have fancy icing and a quirky little name for each of our orders."

"Yeah, but he does this thing where each year, you have to bring a new delicacy from your District.", he mutters, a slight scoff present in his voice. "Reaping Day special. So I need a cool name."

Interesting. That almost sounded like resentment, from the Golden Boy to the President.

"I'm flattered you consider my cupcakes delicacies."

"Okay, look, your cupcakes are good, delicious, even, but they're not delicacies.", he reminds, keeping the stream of insults you were throwing at each other going. "I just need to give him something other than seafood this year, apparently."

"Well, that's stupid. We're the fishing district."

"Like he gives a flying fuck. What Coriolanus Snow wants, Coriolanus Snow gets."

You snort, covering your mouth. "That's his name?"

"What, did you think it was President ?", he asks, still not looking up from the card as he spins the pen around between his fingers - both calloused and delicate, preserved and wild.

"No, I thought it'd be something more normal."

He tsks. "Seriously, come up with a name for these things."

"They're for you , so call them Odairs, or something, I don't know. Should stroke your ego, too, so it's a win-win."

"These are supposed to be delicacies. Like, a form of pride among our people. I can't name them after me, no matter how awesome that would be.", he adds, with a slight grin.

"Whores from District Four.", you chuckle, shaking your head. "Call them that."

"Why, 'cause I'm the 'Whore from Four' ?", he asks, smirking. "That's a no-no word, you know?"

"Yeah, well, my patience is thinning with you, Odair."

He snickers, softly, chewing the inside of his cheek, still staring at the card. "You know what, fuck it. Whores it is."

"Really? Just go with no card."

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, a card is expected.", he sighs, spinning the pen around. "I should just call them whores. But, you know, spelt with an 'h'. What's he gonna do, ask around the District 4 marketplace for 'hores'?"

You laugh. "Hey, if that works...", you salute him, nodding. He writes with soft, almost enchanting strokes, and then signs his name.

"Thanks, Y/N.", he adds, after you finish taping the note precisely to the centre of the box's lid, before gently lowering it into his Capitol bag. "If this works, I'm paying you extra."

"If President Snow comes around asking for my District-famous 'hores', I'll pay you extra."

══════════════════ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══════════════════

The muffled rush of the waterfall, and the feathery tufts of grass you were laying on almost help you enjoy life , for once, and help you forget that Reaping Day is tomorrow. Almost.

"You know you're not supposed to be out here, right, sugar?"

And then suddenly, the 4 o'clock sun isn't the thing that's blinding your senses.

It's him, instead.

Towering over you, almost gleaming hair threatening to spill over and disrupt the calm in the pool of his eyes, he tilts his head mockingly.

"I know."

He gapes in mock scandal. "Aren't you the little rebel?", he muses, raising a brow in amusement before offering you his hand.

You grab it, and he hauls you up with admirable ease. "Your cupcakes were a hit, sweetie. Absolute hit.", he informs, with the twinkly grin that comes with being Finnick Odair.

His mildly calloused hand still grips yours tightly.

"I see. You're welcome."

He shrugs, nodding. "Yeah, I suppose you deserve the thanks."

The silence sweeps past you, the only sounds embossed in both of your hushed breaths, in the gentle songs of birds, the faint roar of the waterfall, and suddenly, his voice, smooth as a wave embracing the shore.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"Trust me."

When Finnick Odair asks you to trust him, you do. Rule number one of the rule book of... well, life.

"If you take me to some Capitol party-"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I promise, the last place I'm ever taking you is the Capitol. In fact, it can be said I'm doing the exact opposite."

You raise a brow. "What, you're taking me in the opposite direction? As far away from the Capitol as possible?"

His eyes dart around, above, behind and beside you, before they finally land on yours, and he nods, slowly, hesitantly. "Yeah, exactly.", he muses, his words drawn out as if he was unsure of them, too.

Bad sign.

"You're taking me out the borders?", you hiss, lowering your voice and glaring sharply at him. "That's illegal, Golden Boy."

"Don't call me that. Not here, in District 4."

You scoff. The audacity running through his veins was insufferable. "I'll call you whatever I damn want to. You trying to get me killed or turned into an Avox?"

"I'm trying to show you something!", he snaps, using his tense grasp on your hand to draw you closer, so that your foreheads were borderline touching. See, this was bad, this was bad, this was-

"Just let me!", he continues, his voice almost pleading. "You think I don't know it's Reaping Day tomorrow? That you could get picked to go die in the Games?"

"No, you're just the one helping us go die."

"You shut up.", he hisses, a finger in your face. "Don't say things you know nothing about. I'm a mentor."

"Did you even try with the tributes from last year? Or the year before that? Because I heard that-"

"What you heard is fucking-", he cuts himself short, taking a deep breath. "Please. Just follow me. For the love of God.", he orders, gently tugging you along.

Not like you even wanted to pull away - this was Finnick Odair.

"What is it you love most about District 4?"

"What?"

"District 4. What is it you love most about it?"

"It's home.", you shrug. "What else is there?"

"Yeah, but I mean, with time, any place is home. Have you never wanted to leave, to explore?"

It's times like these you realize your parents' bakery isn't that important- you'd sell the whole thing to figure out what was going on in that angelic head of his. His words lilting through your senses like sea-breeze.

"I'm exploring as much as I can right now."

He pauses for a moment, turning around. Dimples. "I'm glad I can be your guide, then."

Shut the fuck up, freak of nature. Stop with your beautiful words.

You almost say that. You don't, though.

"Okay, can you jump for me?"

"Jump?", you ask, looking over his shoulder at the huge gap between the part of the rock you were on, and the one you were supposed to go to. "No way."

"Come on, you can do it.", he says, leaping over the humongous gap as if he were playing hopscotch. "I'll catch you."

That's not the part you're worried about. The part you're worried about is you chickening out in front of the Finnick Odair. The interviews he would go through.

'Oh, yes, Hunger Games or not, tragic deaths have always been part of my everyday. Just the other week, a girl I knew slipped near a waterfall and plummeted to her death. Tragic. But I got over it because I'm Finnick Odair. I'm hot. And rich. And did I mention, hot?'

The entire nation wouldn't mourn you. It'd mourn the fact that poor Darling Finnick Odair had to watch you die.

"I don't know about this, Odair."

"Trust me."

That's the second time this man had asked you to trust him tonight. Rule of life.

"I swear, it'll be worth it. Take a leap of faith. Literally."

You grimace, pursing your lips. Your eyes move-

"Don't!", he yells, suddenly, waving his hand from across the abyss so your eyes land on it. "DON'T look down. Just look at me. Leap to me."

Reach for his eyes. Those pools of moss green and cerulean blue that make you want to embrace and destroy the planet for being able to create something so perfect.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to convince yourself he'll catch you. It's an excuse to look at his muscles, yeah, but still, he's strong enough. He'll catch you.

I won't die in front of Finnick Odair.

And you leap.

Instantly, your feet slip on the wet rock on the other side, and you grip onto Finnick's shoulders as he wraps his arms around you.

"Toldja."

"Shut up. I almost died."

"So dramatic.", he chuckles, gently letting go of you as he leads you further behind the waterfall, the tufts of grass on which you lay now faintly visible through the gushing water between you and them.

"There's a tiny cave kind of thing here. Look."

You squint, kneeling down in front of the entrance.

"Don't be shy. Come in."

You crouch down, taking his hand as he leads you further into the cave, walking gingerly until you see a tiny pool, illuminated by a golden ray of sunlight spilling through from a crack in the stone above.

Good god.

And around it, as though crafted for you, placed for your perusal, were hordes of glass-blue butterflies, fragile, delicate, and oh-so-ethereal, twirling around each other, bathed in all directions by the beam of light, which flowed through their transparent wings.

Finnick Odair, marry me.

"So?", he asks, breath gently brushing your ear. "What do you think?" The eagerness in his eyes was obvious, as though he were a child showing you the scribbles he'd just made.

"I..."

"I thought, y'know, I mean, I get excited about the ocean, so there's no reason for you not to get excited about butterflies."

"How did you find this place?", you ask, breathless.

"That's a secret."

Your eyes are transfixed onto the flapping of wings, the distribution of gold, the surreality of it all. It's almost godly. It's so breathtaking, you genuinely need to sit down. He sits with you.

"Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"That's a secret."

He smiles, softly, though the sadness in his expression is palpable and inevitable. It irks you. The way he is supposed to be, according to you, is spinning around the shoreline, laughing as he dances with the waves, sand on his hands and knees, a tan kissing his skin. That's how he must remain, and that is how you will draw him, if you ever get to.

After a tiny while, though, he leans back, against the rock behind him, eyes still trained on your awe as you watch the butterflies glide around blissfully, before looking out, at the curtain of water flowing and concealing the entrance of this little slice of paradise he'd found for you.

"You know, you could just stay here till tomorrow. You don't even have to go to Reaping Day."

"Oh, yeah, because that's smart. I'll be arrested."

"Then just don't go back."

"Leave my family to get punished?"

"Please tell me you didn't need tesserae."

"Well, before you, barely anyone from our District won, and if they did, they most definitely didn't share."

He groans, running his hands over his face. "So it's not even a fair chance."

You shake your head. "It's fine, though." Has been for five years.

He scoffs, borderline laughing at you, derisively. "Please elaborate."

"If you managed to find the one tiny place on earth where butterflies still thrive, and it happened to be here, by the waterfall I spent my whole life admiring, then, there's a chance I won't be reaped."

"You're extraordinary. Genuinely. Phenomenal. Splendid. Fabulous. Amazing." Was that awe in his voice? Awe at... you? What you just said?

"Are you buttering me up because I might be picked to die tomorrow?"

"I'm buttering you up because you're incredible."

Drawing him isn't enough.

Sonnets, prose, stories, love songs, ballads.

Those would be enough.

"If I get reaped, you better mentor me good."

"If you get reaped, you'll win. I'll get you sponsors, I'll train you so that you'll be an absolute force to reckon with."

The promises are beautiful and fragile and absolutely ludicrous. But that would be the name of his biography.

"If I survive, we're coming here every day."

It's like you've already resigned yourself to the fact that you were going to get chosen.

"You're a Career. You'll be fine."

"Who are you trying to convince?"

Silence suddenly enters the cave.

"We should go."

Both of you say it, both of you agree, and both of you get up.

"Thank you, Finnick."

His name tastes oddly sweet coming out of your mouth. However, the next moment shows that his lips taste even sweeter.

His fucking dimples.

"C'mon. I think this time, leaping will be easier."

What he means by that, you don't know.

Not like you want to, not immediately. Spending your whole life trying to figure him out seemed like a solid career plan.

You leap again.

[jevilowo]

TEAM ASCENDED FORTRESS 2

An AU by me in which the mercs ascend to their ultimate forms

Oh God tumblr wrecked the quality-

More about the AU under the cut!

WOKE SCOUT: she started taking estrogen and instead of fixing her it made her worse. She gets into fights on twitter about neopronouns and has successfully cancelled everyone she doesn't like at least once. However, as cancel culture isn't real, this only lasted about three seconds for each. She managed to pull Ms Pauling also which is pretty cool.

SOLDIERSUNE MIKU: the ghost of Shakespearicles told him to dress as Miku and redo the salem witch trials. Only knowing one witch (Merasmus), he finished this quickly and now roams the country with Zhanna (who is now Zhannagane Miku after Mikus metal counterpart) spreading malice and wonder through the power of AMERICAN SONG COVERS. He uses a wig for the Miku effect, but is working on growing his hair out also.

MITOSIS: Pyro and Engie were shagging one time and they came so hard they did mitosis. Now theres 23 babey Pyros (count em) and Engineer is a single dad. There's a lot of Pyro Mitosis Lore™ in my head, but the basics are that they evolve into either humanoid, beastial, demonic or celestial Pyros eventually.

TAVISH, KING OF THE LOCH NESS: he did it he blew up that bloody sea monster and now he is king of Loch Ness. The self loathing has died down a lot which is great for him but his body is still a scrumpty distillery which is eh. Still, he has funky water powers and his partners Soldiersune and Zhannagane come to visit often.

KEEPER OF TIME AND SPACE GUY: Heavy was mad, he knew he'd been had so he shot at the sun with a gun. Instead of being a show off like that bitch Juno, he had a nice philosophical conversation and chess match with Time and impressed Time so much he was appointed as the guardian of Time and Time's partner, Space. His guns (the six angel thingies pictured) can turn into celestial weapons which helps in the protecting but people don't shoot at the sun so often so its a relaxing enough gig really.

GODDAMMIT ENGIE: after realising how much more efficient Gunslinger was than a lame ass human hand, Engie succumbed to his hubris and eventually replaced all his body parts with robot parts. Including his dick which led to the Mitosis Incident. Anyway. His chest is a dispenser which makes projects pretty convenient and he has a mini-sentry attached to each arm and leg, making him a walking weapon. This did not help with the god complex, but it helps with the single father thing.

THE INFERNAL DOCTOR: Medic kept attaching more souls to his own and selling them to Satan for power. Satan got so sick of this eventually he attempted to beat the shit out of Medic. By now Medic was slightly more powerful than Satan so this ended with Medic absorbing Satan's powers and basically taking his place. Somehow, his relationship with the guy who is now a celestial being was unaffected by this. If they really tried they could probably ascend even further. To godhood, perhaps. In any case, Medic becoming The Devil from The Bible did nothing for the god complex.

???: Sniper just kind of fucked off into the woods one day god knows what happened to him but Scout's convinced she saw him for like three seconds a week ago and "YOU GUYS HE HAD ANTLERS I SWEAR-"

RETIRED AND BECAME A FUNCTIONING MEMBER OF SOCIETY SPY: yeah. He's very happy with Scout's Mother (Maureen), and he's letting his roots grow out (his spy agency made him dye his hair black). He's even making an effort to be a good parent to Scout, bought her the trans flag ipad cover and everything, but she just keeps trying to cancel him. Maureen's sure they'll work it out between themselves eventually, but until then she has to keep finding more secure hiding places for the ipad (the best so far was the time she buried it under a tree a mile away, took Scout at least four hours to find and retrieve it that time)

There's also YURI MS PAULING, in which she pulled a whole polycule of beautiful women, but I'll cover her in another post.

Also TERFS DNI please. Woke Scout is just Scout being Scout (which is to say a bit stupid), and assuming all trans women are like that would be ridiculous. So fuck off.

[kaxenart]

Kaxen's BJD Hardcap Wigmaking 2024 Version

Pros of hard wig cap style:

The best method for short hairstyles (and I am a masochist who loves short swept-back hairstyles)

Are you the kind of person who gets tilted over lace front wigs having a line of extra net or not fitting your doll's forehead? This wig will fit and you can chop the wig cap even closer.

I hate hand sewing, so I never do sewn wefts with soft wigcaps, and sewn wefts don't work well for exposed hairlines so GLUE, GLUE, BABY.

Cons of hard wig cap style:

This wig will not fit on another doll unless it's maybe from the same company or has a really generic head-shape

Tools

Nonstick mat - Michaels sells Messy Mats which are very thin but stiff film mats that are nonstick. Silicone mats for pet bowls are often very cheap! A lot of craft-specific silicone mats have more price mark-up despite being the exact same thing.

Silicone spatula - for spreading glue. Just the generic silicone tools are fine. Comes in different sizes.

Glue of choice - Different glues react differently to different fibers and different colors. Pick whatever you like that has a slight flex to it and is waterproof once it's dry. If you prefer to style hair with high temperatures (especially the boiling water method), pick something that will resist high temps.

Glues I personally hate passionately: Beacon Adhesives Fabri-tac.

Why Fabri-tac sucks:

Smells terrible

Warps over time, wigs have literally stopped fitting the doll it was for

Rock hard when dry, literally the worst option for fabric???????????

Glue bottle cap always gets fucked up and useless.

Like jesus christ just get some fray check if you need fabric glue

Slicker brush: No matter how thorough you are with glue, you will have loose fiber. Comb it out. Buy two if you want to be able to have a poor man's wool carder so you can re-align fibers and use them later. WHY ARE WOOL CARDERS SO EXPENSIVE?

Fibers -

Suri alpaca: Very fine strands, low gloss, can use hair irons on it

Tencel: very fine strands, high gloss, can use hair irons on it, plant-based. Great for 1/6 scale and Anime Bullshit hair

Viscose (not pictured): very fine strands, high gloss, crinkles like hell if it gets wet, can use hair irons on it, plant-based

Silk (the silver wig lower down the post): very fine strands, high gloss, can use hair irons on it

Mohair: medium strands (thinner if it's kid mohair), high gloss, can use hair irons on it. Various levels of curly.

Synthetic: medium strands, high or low gloss depending on what you get, ymmv on hair irons check before hand how much temperature it can handle. Already made of plastic so plastic-y glue doesn't make it look weirder. Comes in the longest strands.

Wool roving (not pictured): fine strands, no gloss, doesn't really look like straight hair, but works well for styles like dreads.

Acrylic yarn (not pictured): fine strands, gloss level varies, cheap, but you pay in "spent all afternoon unraveling yarn to brush it out" MICROPLASTICS BAD.

I looked at combed mohair prices and it made me scared. How much fiber do I need?

1/3 heads (8-9in circumference): 1/2 oz is a comfortable amount for shorter styles and more the longer the hair will be

1/4 heads (6-7.5in circumference): 1/4-1/3 oz.

1/6 Mature tinies (3in circumference): 1/4 oz, the usual minimum order, will be a ton

Processing mohair yourself is cheaper, but it's a lot of cleaning and combing.

Making the wig base

Fabric base: sheer woven fabric or thin stretch fabrics (pantyhose, mesh hair nets, etc) in a color that does not clash too much with the skintone of your doll

The smaller the doll and the shorter the hair style (especially exposed hairlines!) the thinner you want to go to avoid seeing the wig cap too easily.

Cover the doll with plastic wrap, tighten the fabric as much as possible to mold to head, spread glue around so fabric will stay in this shape.

Putting rubber bands around ears helps shape.

Putting the fiber on

I'm pretty sure preparing wefts beforehand by gluing them on a nonstick mat and then cutting off pieces to stick on the wigcap is easier for exact placement, but I think that takes too long, so I just glue that straight on the wigcap.

I prefer not to use sewn wefts because I don't like that chunky line.

Work back to front and/or wherever the hair parts.

Hold up a small lock of hair and then use the silicone tool to swab a lil glue on it.

The smaller the doll, the smaller bundles you want to add the hair in so the bulk level isn't too crazy. Not as big of a deal for 1/3 scale dolls, the biggest deal with 1/6 dolls.

Hairline and hair parting methods

Rooting

I use the rooting tool from Dollyhair (but you can basically use any small hand tool with an adjustable chuck that can hold the rooting needle)

Pros:

Imitates growing hair

More versatile in styling options if you root a large sections of the wigcap because then the hair can flow in different directions without exposing which way it was glued

Cons:

Slow, the more realistic you want to go, the smaller each root plug should be. I use size 8 or size 6 needle on 1/3 dolls, but I could probably go smaller.

Tiny bits of hair and glue inside the gap may affect the fit of the wig cap.

Takes three billion years to dry the inside because you will swab glue on the inside of the wigcap and then smoosh the wig cap against plastic wrap on your doll's hair to keep the wig cap properly molded to your doll's head

Works terrible on mature tiny 1/6 wigs

TTRPG Mini Grass Style

Pros:

Fast, just put a daub of glue and slap a tuft on

Hair can be pushed in multiple directions without looking awkward

Cons:

Harder to do with longer hair and thicker fibers, may just tip over before the glue dries. Works better with short suri alpaca or tencel than mohair

Fold Over Method

Pros:

Easy!

Can hide wigcap edges

Cons:

Not realistic

Works worse with stiff fibers that may not lay flat after being folded over (may need heat treatment to work)

Ugly glue zone

Chopping the wig open to cram in fibers where the hair parting is

Pros:

Less ugly glue zone than the foldover method

Cons:

Margin for error for not warping the entire wig cap is not great! More risk than the rooting method.

Wildcard showing up with a steel chair! (mostly because this doesn't really need a separate post)

Flocking + painted edges

Pros:

Fast, swab on the adhesive and shake a ketchup bottle of fiber powder on it.

Useful for shaved hair

Cons:

Well, now you have Craft Herpes (glitter, fiber dust, y'know how it is...)

Not all doll sculptors have very flush headcap boundaries

Gotta redo the face-side of the flocking whenever you want to change the face-up

[tbawig]

Wholesale straight lace front synthetic wig

[troonpatrol]

I have worn my hair almost exclusively in braids simce childhood. When my mum was young, like 30s, she wore beautiful weaves, and her hair was styled nicer than Janet Jackson.

I thought I would have a weave when I got older, but I quickly realised that the best quality styles could only be achieved with human hair. I was extremely put off by the thought of wearing human hair extensions. I'd had extensions before, but they were always plastic like Barbie hair. As a child, I took a view about human hair extensions but didn't want to offend so many women.

I take issue with human hair extensions. Not donated hair wigs. But when women in Asia and Russia have their hair harvested.

When I went to look up the practice, every information page was provided by a wig company. They all claimed that hair is donated but avoided phrasing that would imply that their hair was donated. I found this information video from 2018.

Women with long hair are targeted,threatened, and encouraged to sell their hair for just a few dollars. These women are sold out by their own country to bring in and satisfy foreign demand in a multi-billion dollar industry.

Misogyny, exploitation, cultural appropriation.

So that you can be a baddie.

[headcanonforthought]

Deadpool headcanon thing?

Deadpool selling cars while outside his outfit leans on his cancer story HEAVILY. He knows he looks fucked up, he knows people can tell the wig is fake. So he goes with it. He walks with a limp, massages his knee when he sits down, coughs into her hand when he thinks the customer isn't looking. He plays up the "I'm terminally ill" act to 100. And he always makes a sale. He's the best salesmen at the branch. Because people just keep guilt buying cars because holy shit this poor guy is terminal but still has to work to afford comfort care! Deadpool knows he's coning them, doesn't care. He's making killer commission.

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Ranking incidents of alleged child thievery cause I'm bored

Qui Gon & Anakin: If we were not witnesses it could sound bad. However we do know that Qui Gon did what was within his power to get Shmi out too, and this was truly discussed between them and the active choice of both Shmi and Anakin. Best of a bad situation. One thing that wigs me out a bit is Qui Gon testing Anakin's blood without asking, and the prophecy motive doesn't sit well.

Obi Wan, Yoda, and Bail deciding the placement of the twins: they believed the twins were orphans (though strangling their pregnant mother and killing all the children in your home and sentencing your little sister to death are reasonable grounds to challenge custody of two infants on imo), and Obi Wan (and Yoda, even) can reasonably be considered next of kin to Anakin, maybe even more so than Owen. Ideally Padme's family should have been involved, but the danger of Sidious knowing of them is a mitigating factor.

Maarva & Cassian: There was definitely no informed consent involved, lol. She kinda did just kidnap that kid. However as long as she is a reliable narrator then it's an understandable kidnapping. They were going to die, so….

That business with Cad Bane: straightforward kidnapping & trafficking. He lied about his identity and used hypnosis and coercion and everything.

Din & Grogu: where do I start. Well, taking Grogu back from the imperials was a rescue not a kidnapping. Also he took on the job of foster parent and spent two seasons trying to find Grogu's people. When he did adopt Grogu, it was after Grogu chose him. This is all above board and not baby theft. However, I do have to factor in him taking on the job for the imperials to begin with. Even if his conscience kicked in when he realized what he was selling Grogu into, that was a pretty extreme case. So while Din is not in the business of stealing kids for himself or his tribe, he MIGHT be in the business of stealing your kid if it's a job and he doesn't think too hard about it.

Luke & Grogu: While there was less dialogue than there was with Qui Gon and the Skywalkers, the gist is much the same. Grogu did make the call, and Luke did establish that this was everyone's choice. (and Din was a foster parent, not the parent) And he revisited it again later, too. With Grogu, anyway.

Palpatine & Maul: I just realized i barely remember. Mother Talzin gave him away, right? Did she get something in return? Hang on, didn't something similar happen with Ventress?

GOING OFF OSMOSIS ALONE: Jaster & Jango: the way I heard it: Jango was orphaned. (idk if he had anyone else). Jaster maybe made him pass some kind of test involving planting a bomb before adopting? if so that's an unusual thing to do

Baby Ludi: the way I heard it: jedi find a kid who seems like an orphan. The mother turns out not to be dead and there is a media storm about it. There is a custody dispute? Idk enough details tbh.

[apeekintothepantry]

Meet Violet Fielding, my original historical character from 1918 Boston!

I've been doing some workshopping with my custom historical characters because I've been a little bored with AG's historical offerings of late, and because it's a fun excuse to dig into moments in time that interest me personally, but AG probably wouldn't produce a similar character themselves. (I say that, but my 1940's Hawaii character predates Nanea, so who knows! Maybe I'm manifesting some future stuff I can borrow for my gals.)

Violet is the youngest of three siblings. Her older sister Alice is in her early 20's and either a nurse or a Hello Girl, leaning towards nursing because I'm not sure I want her to go overseas and she could work at a hospital in Boston during the war. Her older brother James is 19 and enlists in the Marines once the US enters World War I. I think by Violet Saves the Day, he's returned home dealing with quite a bit of "shellshock" and that becomes a somewhat major theme.

Her parents are pretty wealthy, and the family lives in a brownstone on Beacon Hill in Boston. Her dad is a doctor and mom is a suffragist who also gets involved in causes supporting the war effort. Both parents are very supportive of their kids following their passions and getting themselves out there in this still relatively new century, which is why Alice has been allowed to go to school instead of immediately marrying some wealthy guy.

Vi herself is a precocious and creative kid. I think she likes to draw and paint and generally be crafty and creative, which comes in handy when brainstorming ways she can support her brother overseas and the war effort more broadly. While she's not afraid to get her hands dirty, she does like typically girly things like having teatime and looking at catalogs filled with new dresses. Her book series would theoretically cover 1917 through 1919 or so, and touch on the war, Women's Suffrage, the Spanish Flu, shellshock, and possibly the Boston Molasses Disaster.

Currently I'm trying to come up with a best friend character for her, as she really needs a Nellie or Ruthie in her life with the age difference and both siblings being off doing exciting and scary things without her. There are a lot of different directions I could go in with said friend - fellow wealthy-ish kid feels boring, Boston had a lot of new immigrant communities in the 1910's, some of whom did live in a specific part of Beacon Hill, Boston historically struggles with insidious covert racism but was still a city with a number of prominent Black and Jewish communities - and nothing's quite clicked as perfect just yet.

Violet is a Marie-Grace doll with a Nanea wig. Someone was selling her on a Facebook group a few years ago and I immediately felt like she was a Violet and needed to join my crew. Her last name was inspired by Lady Dorothie Fielding, a British woman who drove an ambulance during WWI and received several awards for bravery and service. Fielding's letters home were published after her death and are a really fascinating look at what it was like on the front lines doing this incredibly dangerous and important work. I used it as a major primary source for an educational interactive I helped develop in one of my previous jobs.

[desertdollranch]

What a week it's been. Woke up to horrible political news on Wednesday, and had to take a social media blackout for a few days just to stop being sick to my stomach and reminded of what a nightmare we're all facing here in the USA. Then more than a foot of snow fell, and my electricity kept flickering on and off all night. So I'm trying to focus on the positive things in my life as best as I can and try not to let the stress overwhelm me.

So let's talk dolls.

Last weekend I attended the Albuquerque doll show not as a buyer, but for the first time as a vendor.

My mom came over with a huge carload of things to sell. We had two tables and still didn't have enough room for everything! Most of what we sold came from her and her sister's collections, since both of them are clearing out all their 18 inch doll stuff. They are only interested in Barbie these days and so everything else had to go. I don't share their interest in Barbie and am still thoroughly enjoying my 18 inch dolls, so I did get to have first dibs on their merchandise. I didn't end up picking anything besides a couple of American Girl books.

I actually didn't sell very much, but truly I didn't bring a whole lot of things to sell anyway. Mostly some extra wigs of various sizes, off-brand doll clothing that I priced at $1 per outfit, and a few thrift store dolls (of various brands) I bought and then decided not to keep. Now I have to list my leftovers for sale online, which is overwhelming to think about, considering how hard I worked to get everything ready before the show only to have to put in even MORE time and effort to get anything sold.

Overall, selling at the show was a tremendous amount of labor for not much financial reward, so my mom and I agreed that we're never doing this again. It's so much more fun just attending the show as a buyer. And selling online is by far easier and more profitable.

But I did meet a lot of very nice customers, and that was the best part. That's something that doesn't often happen online! Everyone I sold to was wonderful. Not one person I encountered was rude or unpleasant. The other vendors I talked to were lovely as well. There were a few sellers who make/buy/sell dolls and toys year-round and do it for a living, but a lot were collectors like me who were just selling parts of their collections to make room for new additions.

Speaking of new additions. The only thing I bought at the show was a Gotz doll.

She's an 18 inch Hannah doll from 2008. She was unbelievably inexpensive (they're around $100 or more brand new), so I was pretty surprised to see her and many other Gotz dolls at her vendor's table still for sale after closing time when I swung by. Her vendor was delighted to see Hannah go to a happy home.

I may or may not make a post advertising the stuff I'm selling. I usually do okay by just listing on Mercari and letting buyers come to me. I'll decide once I'm ready whether it's worth the extra effort posting them here too.