#but also i’m incapable of not posting things as soon as they’re finished

[silverseaming]

It had been a vain, grasping hope of Meg’s that the happiness brought by Kit’s deal with the Lermond’s Cove Company would last. It does, for a while, buoying them through the back-breaking work of ploughing and sowing, when Kit returns to the house well after dark, bone-tired, and Meg has been left to spend the days alone with Daisy. Certainly Kit seems lighter, free of whatever trouble she had been unable to get out of him. But now with the seeds safe in the soil, her old melancholy returns, like the first fingers of winter that begin to claw at the land.

It’s easy to forget during the day, when her thoughts are wholly occupied by Daisy and the house, hands moving quickly from one task to the next. Evenings like this are harder, when Daisy’s asleep, the housework is done, and despite her gentle scolding about catching his death, Kit is still out on the farm fixing fence-posts. There’s always something like that these days — a cow gone lame, a fallen fence, a rotten board in the hayloft, all these tasks that simply must be done, and she can’t say stay with me, I don’t want to be alone, because it’s true, these things must be done and they have no other hands to do them.

So instead Meg sits alone by the fire, embroidery starting to blur before her eyes. It’s something to do, but not enough to wholly occupy her mind. Disappointment is the prevailing emotion, as it is when each new month comes without the news she was hoping for. Sometimes she can make light of it, brush it aside like so many specs of dust on the hearth, but not tonight. Tonight it fills her up, an all encompassing weariness that makes rising from her seat feel almost impossible. It’s just the cold. Or the loneliness. It will pass.

It will pass, she tells herself each step of the stairs. They didn’t feel this steep yesterday, and the room at the top of them didn’t feel so cold and empty, despite the last of the fire still dancing in the grate. Yesterday Kit had been there, washing the farmyard from under his nails and singing under his breath, but not tonight.

Undressing is done without a thought for the task, fingers working mindlessly. Even with the fire the room has a chill to it that makes Meg shiver, tiredness settling in her bones.

It’s selfish, really, to long so much for another child when she already has everything she dreamed of — a husband, a home, a daughter. The thought of Daisy sleeping soundly in the next room brings back some warmth, but it’s not enough. That’s what’s hardest to admit, that despite the love, despite the gratitude, despite all the myriad reasons to be joyful, there’s still something missing.

It is the cold, she thinks, as she finally sinks to the edge of the bed. That’s a reason, at least, a way to explain this all away. Tomorrow will be better, because it has to be.

[galwithalibrarycard]

Hello, how r u? Soo, I just discovered love little losers (I was a huge fan on nmtd, but didn't know about lolilo). And I love your blog, thanks for keeping the fandon alive. Argh so, Freddie, does she gets better? Cause she's a little bit annoying. Pedro and Balt, I'm jumping out of my sits for them, the backslash? Really. I'm so excited to see more beadick. Anyway, I just wanna vent, thanks for the blog

I’m good thanks, hope you are too. And thank you! I’m definitely not the only one still here keeping the fandom alive, there’s still a few of us out here, but I appreciate the love! 😁 it’s nice to know people are enjoying my posts still!

We’re actually having a small resurgence in the tags with new people watching both series, which is fun. Those people inspire me to keep posting too, it’s all full circle.

I am… not really sure how to prepare you for lolilo tbh. It’s a loose adaptation of Shakespeare’s Love’s Labors Lost, and it’s a lot heavier and angstier than NMTD for one thing, so be warned. Pedrazar is a very slow burn, be prepared for a journey! I liked Freddie right away bc I relate to her anxious energy, but you might take some time to warm up to her, that’s fair.

I recommend you head to @beatriceeagle and check out the series of Lolilo meta analysis posts she made with her sister a few years back. It’s a show that trades in subtext and has a lot of important stuff go down offscreen. Reading the metas really helps give a more thorough understanding and insight into the characters and why they behave the ways they do. It might help you understand where Freddie’s coming from, and the others too.

As far as Beadick, I’ll tell you they will break your heart, but it will be put back together again. If you need more of them, the missing offscreen moments and development of their relationship are kind of my specialty in terms of fanfiction. I wrote “the world is too quiet without you nearby”, a 16-chapter fanfic covering the time period between NMTD and Lolilo when Bea and Ben are in a long-distance relationship (plenty of fluff to pad the descent into angst). I also wrote “And We Are Finally Home”, a fic that covers the Beadick relationship arc from the lolilo episode “Confrontation” on through the end of the show- and I WILL be finishing and posting the epilogue to that fic as soon as I can, but you can read the chapters that are already up and still get a pretty complete story there. You don’t have to read them, but i wanted to share because I’m proud of them and I think they’re a good companion to the show if you like Team B! Mind the tags, but there shouldn’t be anything in the fics you can’t handle if you can handle the actual show.

The most important thing you might not get from the videos themselves: it’s canon from the creators that Benedick and Freddie and Balthazar are all dealing with anxiety disorders of some kind, though the creators didn’t actually intend to write that going in- it just happened that they agreed with the fandoms interpretation later on. So everything Ben does is colored by anxiety constantly telling him that he’s too much and that no one likes him and the only thing he’s good for is a laugh- and the (false) worry that Bea is getting sick of him and can’t wait to leave on her travels to get away from him. He’s trying to keep people from leaving him. Freddie is the way she is because she’s desperate for control in life, it’s the only way she feels calm. And Balthazar is petrified of confrontation and retreats into himself when he’s stressed. A lot of this is covered in much better depth in the metas I mentioned, but I wanted to let you know. Not as an excuse for any of their actions, but as an explanation that might make it a less frustrating watch.

I hope that answer wasn’t too overwhelming. I am just incapable of being normal about these webseries and especially about Benedick Hobbes (look, you don’t simply forget the character who got you through your own social anxiety diagnosis, and this is the obsessing-over-fictional-characters website. I talk about other things too, I promise! xD)

Anyway, thank *you* for allowing me to share some thoughts right back! I hope you enjoy Lolilo! 😊💖🦩

[kotaka-kun]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

saw @middleearthpixie doing this and I wanted to do it too :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

249 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

380,279 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Most recently I’ve been writing for Phantom of the Opera and Love Never Dies, but according to my AO3 dashboard, I’ve posted fics for just under 40 fandoms and naming them all seems excessive... That being said, my top five are Lord of the Rings, Phantom, MCU (mostly Captain America), Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Harry Potter. 

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. thank you for the food (ATLA, zukka, Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Modern AU) 2. Simple Happiness (ATLA, zukka, Fluff, Living Together, Modern AU) 3. Bucky has a belly kink, but Steve doesn’t mind in the least (MCU, stucky, ABO, Belly Kink, Pregnancy Kink) 4. Surprise (MCU, stucky, ABO, mpreg, Birth, Twins) 5. New Colors (One Piece, zosan, Fluff, Color Blindness, Gifts)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do try, though I know I’ve missed a few over the years... but I do love and treasure every single comment I get!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’d have to say that it’s probably a tie between The Worst Thing (MCU, Steve/Bucky, omegaverse, infertility, miscarriage) and overboard (LOTR, Frodo/Sam, trauma, depression, suicide attempt)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

Hard to say, since aside from the two mentioned above, I write mostly fluffy happy endings... 

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Thankfully, no. But maybe that just means I need to write more divisive fics? 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do write smut, and it’s probably mostly -- if not all -- omegaverse tbh... 

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I love love love writing crossovers! I think they’re fun and silly and a good time all around. Don’t know if I have one that’s significantly crazier than the rest, but I think i read the hobbit (in 1937 when it first came out) is one of my favorites to think about. I’ve got a soft spot for ws!Bucky is all. Putting him in Middle Earth and adding him to the Fellowship was just for funsies :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A reader translated New Colors into Chinese, which was super neat!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Absolutely, 100% -- in the sense of collaboratively plotting out and writing a story, as well as taking turns in an improvised narrative style RP, and also something in between where the premise of a fic was agreed upon and each of us had characters to write, RP style. 

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t think I can pick a singular ship to label as my favorite... I’d call Zoro/Sanji my OTP, but only because they were the first ship I got involved in fandom for -- I haven’t read a fic of them in years. I’m reading almost exclusively Erik/Christine fics right now, but I’ve come across Erik/Raoul fics that have made me fall in love with them, as well as Erik/Raoul/Christine fics that are so so good... I guess in terms of longevity and my ability to always come back to them, Steve/Bucky has been a solid ship for me? 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Gonna go with Zoro’s Promise, since it’s the only multichapter fic I never bothered to move from FF dot net to AO3. It’s literally been ten years since I updated it lmao

16. What are your writing strengths?

On one hand, I guess my ADHD-fueled hyperfixation that allows me to write fic after fic could be considered a strength...?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

On the other hand, as soon as my ADHD-fueled hyperfixation loses its vice grip on me, I lose all motivation to write. Especially if I’ve already written out the scenes that I had in my head, I become incapable of filling in the gaps and making it a cohesive fic... I honestly don’t think I have very good writing hygiene even after taking classes on being better about being a hobby writer oops 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I personally tend to avoid writing in another language, because I think it’s hard to do well. Sometimes it takes you out of the fic because you have to copy-paste it into Google Translate to figure out what they’re saying, sometimes it takes you out of the fic because you speak the language and the author evidently doesn’t and they used Google Translate. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I wrote fic for and then posted would be One Piece... but in actuality, I’ve been writing fanfiction from long before I knew that’s what it was called. I was probably in second or third grade when I wrote self-insert Peter Pan fics. Also Shrek fics. I don’t have the notebooks I wrote them in anymore, but I have a very vivid memory of writing them.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

This is maybe the hardest question of all to answer, because while I like a lot of my fics, I don’t know that there’s one that I could call my favorite. My current WIP stranger than you dreamt it (PotO, Erik/Christine, ABO) is one I’m excited to keep working on because, well, omegaverse. But also time and time again (LOTR, Frodo/Sam, Time Travel, Fix-it) was one of the first multi chapter fics I’ve actually finished, so in that regard I’m rather proud of it. I liked the time-travel-y premise of it as well. And even though what comes after (HP, Snape/Harry, Time Travel, Fix-it) is still technically a WIP, I’m still pleased with how it’s coming along... though it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated it oops

tagging... you! ��� if you're an author, i'm tagging u! i want to know about what you write!!!

[the-lone-witch-and-secret-room]

Eleena’s WIPs and future fics:

Locked Out-universe fics:

Unbecoming of a Blight

Edric and Emira ask their upset little sister to build a pillow fort to distract her from her friendship-breakup with Willow.

They have a lot of fun, until they don’t.

Based on the event mentioned in tiredandjaded’s fic ‘Everything About You’.

Not started yet, but will definitely be written. Thinking about getting a commission for it, too.

Nerves

Luz is leaving the Isles tomorrow, and as the confession Amity has sworn herself to get over with before her crush leaves draws near, she turns into a nervous wreck. Out of options, she turns to the only person she knows that has experience with asking people out—her older sister Emira.

Oh, she is so going to regret this.

Sweet Disposition-Verse (Skarscha centric fic universe Piece of Cake takes place in):

Recipe for Disaster

Because her daughter got in trouble at school, Boscha is called into the principal’s office. Her past comes back to bite her when the other child’s parent turns out to be no other than the girl she bullied back in school.

Standalone:

Secret Admirer

After a long day at school, tired student council president Skara Harper finds a bunch of cookies with a secret admirer note addressed to her. Over the next few weeks, the amount of baked goods and cheesy notes found in her locker keeps growing… now whoever could be leaving them?

Skarscha, probably a two-shot at least, currently a WIP, haven’t decided the final length yet.

Where did I go wrong?

Not 100% sure if I’ll finish this, but I really want to make a friendship breakup fic from Willow’s perspective, because I’ve seen a bunch from Amity’s and none from hers. Started, but just barely.

Sleepless Nights

Amity messed up. Really, really badly.

Distracted by her newfound friendships and her crush, she’s totally forgotten about the important upcoming exam!

Panicking about not having done nearly enough studying mere hours before the exam and completely exhausted from lack of sleep, Amity finds comfort in her brother.

Relatively new concept, barely started.

One Step Too Far

When Skara plays an ill-spirited prank on Willow that causes her to get injured, Gus and Luz decide it’s time to finally get back at their friend’s bully.

There’s also a lot of Willow and Amity bonding in this, but I’m too lazy to figure out how to put that in the summary atm, lol

WIP, about halfway done? Maybe? This is gonna be a long one.

Dead Battery

Since Luz is no longer able to charge her phone due to the portal being destroyed, the battery dies.

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

Luz misses her mom.

WIP, trying to finish this and post it the day before the first episode of the second season airs.

Grom Queen Amity (not the final title)

Amity is too stubborn to let Luz replace her as Grom Queen, and is forced to face all of her worst fears, rather than just her fear of being rejected. When one of her fears manifests as the twins making her look like a fool, it puts their years of “harmless” teasing into a painful new perspective.

This version of Grom will still have plenty lumity, never fear, haha

But you may have seen a pattern in my fics here and that pattern is I really like writing the Blight sibs and their complicated relationship with each other, lol

Haven’t started this one yet, but I’ve been wanting to do this for a while!

Only one of the fics on this list (except the secret admirer one that I forgot to add, oops) that won’t be a oneshot, I’m thinking probably two or three chapters, we’ll see.

—————————

All my current Works In Progress (aside from Locked Out), as well as a couple fics I’ve planned but not started yet!

Yes that is a lot, I’m pretty much physically incapable to not work on seven things at a time at this point…

The Lumity zine fics will have a sneak peek posted soon! I already posted one for the family zine fic!

Also I have a couple more fics for both Locked Out and Sweet Disposition-verse planned, but they’re not included due to spoilers and in order to make this list look slightly less overwhelming for myself 😂😭

What concept(s) are you most interested in?

[solohux]

After finishing the mandalorian i’m obsessed with Great single dads of star wars. Could you write a single dad kylo ren prompt? Hux Goes in to kylos chambers to yell at him for being late to a meeting But stops when he sees kylo holding his crying young daughter just talking to her softly and rocking her. Hux can only watch in awe, he has never seen the knight so gentle and soft!

The sheer audacity of the Master of Ren astounds General Hux. He mutters foul curses to himself whilst marching to Kylo’s chambers with his datapad clutched tightly in his hands with the relevant evidence present of his inexcusable absence of both of today’s important meetings. As supposed co-commander of this ship and Hux’s supposed equal, Kylo is obligated to attend the same conferences and take part in the same presentations but he has chosen to miss both the budget and armoury meetings today, and Hux has had enough.

Kylo is about to be on the receiving end of a very irate General Hux, one who won’t hesitate to report his shortcomings to the Supreme Leader and demand that Kylo be removed from his post and sent back to the playpen where his immature attitudes belong.

Luckily, Hux’s master-override code works on the lock of Kylo’s chamber doors too.

“Master Ren!” Hux announces loudly upon entering the Knight’s private rooms, clearing his throat and readying himself to thrust his datapad in Kylo’s face and show him the day’s schedule. “I demand an answer—uuhh.”

Hux freezes on the spot and his anger stiffens along with him, turning into confusion. The Knight is dressed in such casual attire that he’s almost unrecognisable, wearing soft greys instead of all black for once and his hair tied back from his face. But the most puzzling thing is what’s sitting in his lap; a young girl, no older than 3, is crying quietly with her face pressed against his chest.

“Ren?” Hux manages to squeak out his co-commanders name but Kylo throws his palm up to silence Hux, and the General obeys.

“Deep breathes, Mira,” Kylo says softly, sitting back against his fire-red coloured couch, cuddling the girl and kissing her head of dark hair. “Close your eyes. The darkness will help.”

“Hurts, Daddy,” the girl—Mira—says, rubbing her forehead. She’s dressed in soft-looking pyjamas, her little socked toes wiggling with her obvious discomfort.

“I know, sweetheart.” Out of the corner of Hux’s eye, he sees a pink, plaid patterned blanket floating from the adjoining bedroom and into Kylo’s hand. As soon as it’s in his hold, he drapes it over the girl’s body and wraps her up, rocking her gently as he talks quietly. “Daddy used to get headaches like this when he was little.”

The girl opens her eyes, and Hux sees their bright blue shine, “You did, Daddy?”

“Yeah. My powers hurt me sometimes too.”

“Did your Daddy make you better?”

Hux cocks his head, frowning as he sees such strong emotion flicker in Kylo’s expression. The usually-fierce Knight looks lost right now, hurtful memories obviously playing back in his mind.

“He did,” Kylo says, forcing a smile. “He always made my headaches go away.”

Hux knows very little about Kylo’s life before he came to the First Order but what he does know, he thought of it as being spoilt and uptight. The son of two rebellion heroes? Surely Kylo would have had it so cushy that he would have been crazy to leave such wealth and power behind him—despite the Order being the right side to be on, of course—but from the distant look in his eyes, Hux realises that he may have misunderstood his co-commander all this time.

“Try to sleep, Mira,” Kylo says, whispering to his daughter. “Hush, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.”

Hux’s heart melts. Even though she’s in such pain, Mira smiles as she closes her eyes and nestles against her father’s chest, drifting off to sleep with the sounds of him humming softly to her. In his heart, Hux almost feels jealous at witnessing a child so loved and protected when he has never known a love like this, never protected by his father or held when he cried. Mira is clearly a loved, happy little girl.

And Kylo Ren is everything that Hux believed him incapable of.

When Mira is finally asleep, Kylo stands up slowly with the girl in his arms and carries her into the adjoining room—which Hux assumes to be a bedchamber—before emerging again without her.

“None of your officers know that she exists,” Kylo says in a hushed tone, clearly not wanting to wake his sleeping child. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

“She’s…your daughter?”

“Incredible observation skills, General Hux,” Kylo retorts, sitting back down on the couch.

“Your biological daughter?”

“Do all Imperials ask such personal questions?” The Knight raises a frustrated eyebrow but Hux isn’t intimidated. “Yes. She is.”

“I see,” Hux says, pondering the implications for a moment before gathering himself. “And, her other parent?”

Kylo’s confident gaze falters as he shakes his head. “Not here. It’s just me. It’s always just been me.”

A single parent. Hux now understands Kylo’s absences, “You have my word that I won’t divulge a single detail about her to anyone.”

Kylo nods courteously, “Thank you. She woke this morning with a headache and I couldn’t leave her. They’re caused by her Force sensitivity, she can’t control her powers properly yet.”

“I gathered. Just like you when you were young?”

“Exactly like me. They’re debilitating if you leave them for too long.”

“And what is the cure, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Kylo seems to hesitate for a moment before answering, “Close contact with someone you share a close Force-bond with.”

“Ah,” Hux rocks back on his heels. “Then I suppose that’s why your own father was such a help with your own headaches.”

Kylo looks down, swallowing hard. “What did you want, Hux?”

“Oh. Yes. Uh.” Hux looks down to his datapad and sees the schedule still waiting to be used in evidence against Kylo’s absence from the meetings but it seems rather redundant now, having seen the gentle side to Kylo that Hux never knew existed. “The…uh. I just came to inform you of what went on in today’s briefings.”

“The budget and armoury meetings,” Kylo says, sitting forward. “I would have been there but Mira—”

“No, no. I understand, Ren. If I had a daughter, she would come first too.”

The Knight’s young face becomes unreadable as he stands up and closes the gap between them, standing so close to Hux that he’s able to count the moles on his face.

“Your understanding means a lot to me, General Hux,” Kylo says, sounding more like the co-commander that Hux has come to know instead of the soft, fatherly voice that he’s just been speaking in, making Hux feel almost privileged to have heard it. “I hope…I hope we can improve our relationship from now on.”

Hux has to resist the urge to flinch when Kylo thrusts his hand out at him, thinking that he’s going to hit him but he’s offering a handshake, clearly one of truce in their bickering wars.

“I hope so too, Master Ren,” Hux takes Kylo’s hand and shakes it, feeling as though he’s meeting the young man for the first time.

Their gaze holds longer than socially acceptable for two people who aren’t lovers but it doesn’t make Hux uncomfortable in the slightest; he welcomes Kylo’s beautiful eyes upon him.

“I’d better be leaving,” Hux says, pulling his hand free of Kylo’s. “I’ll have the briefings summaries and sent to your datapad for your reading.”

“Thank you,” Kylo smiles.

Hux turns and leaves before the bright red blush can take over his face, now enamoured by Kylo instead of angered. Their reconciling handshake may have built bridges between them but it also seems to have carved out a soft spot for the young, single father. And as he walks back to his office, Hux wonders what the perameters are for courting someone who is a feared Knight and a gentle father. He’s going to make it his mission to spend more time with Kylo; his budding feelings for him demands it.

Back in his chambers, Kylo finds himself smiling like a fool at the door when his daughter’s voice disturbs his thoughts.

“Daddy?”

Kylo turns around, finding Mira hugging the doorframe, standing on her tip-toes as though trying to be as tall her father.

“What is it, little one?” Kylo scoops her up and holds her on his hip, kissing her cheek.

Mira looks to the door, “I like him.”

Kylo smiles, following her gaze and sighing. “Me too, sweetheart.”

[jostepherjoestar]

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Burden (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Anon asked: “yo so for some Todoroki angst, what about his gf breaking up with him because Endeavor had told her to because he didn't want her to get in the way of Todoroki's "purpose" (she does tell him this) which leads to a very depressed Todoroki left wondering what he did wrong and desperately trying to get her back? Could end happily if you want, up to u"

Genre: Angst to fluff

(Submission 2/3 of Todoroki angst from my post a few days ago) 

Word count: 1,993

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Legit I’m so tired I almost fell asleep in the middle of writing this, but I wanted to get this out for you guys before the night ended, so I banged it out.  It’s not as intense as Name and it ends happily so I hope you guys enjoy and are left with some fuzzy feelings at the end :3

I wrote this kind of gender neutral soooo yeah, read it as you want to!  Thanks again for the submission anon! I appreciate you!

It hurts to break Todo’s heart.  He’s baby, I just love him so much I wanna protect him :(

Also question, do you guys care if there’s a pic at the top of every post or nah?

From the moment Aizawa told me Endeavor wanted to speak to me, I knew something would go utterly wrong.

"I want you out of my son's life," he ordered bluntly.  "I have big plans for Shouto to become the top hero one day, he doesn't need to be sidetracked by high school romance."

Todoroki had warned me how pushy and controlling his father was, which is why he always kept our relationship somewhat secretive.  I don't even know where or when his father saw us together.  It's shocking, but I can't say I'm totally surprised he's saying it.

"Sir, with all due respect," I'm trying to be polite, but I want to give the man a piece of my mind after all the things Shouto's told me, "Shouto wouldn't appreciate you getting involved in his personal life.  This was a decision he made without you, and I'd say he's happy with it."

Endeavor rolls his eyes and rests his hands on his desk.  "Shouto doesn't know what's good for him.  Besides, I'm sure he only agreed to be in a relationship with you just to rebel against me.  He holds no true feelings for you."

I gape at his statement.  Is he for real?  "I don't know how you could possibly know that, I don't think Todoroki said anything to you about me or his feelings."

The man's turquoise eyes scan me uncomfortably.  "I remember your performance from the Sports Festival.  You barely even made it past the obstacle course round, and the only reason you advanced to the finals was because you happened to be on a winning team.  You even lost your first battle.  Your quirk and your abilities are nothing special."

I clench my fists, rage coursing through my blood.  "Excuse me-"

"Which is why a weakling like you wouldn't be a good match for my son," he continues.  "Think about it.  My son's power is immense, he can stand on his own in a match.  You probably need support from someone else.  He'll eventually grow tired of you and he'll toss you aside for someone on the same level as him."  Endeavor glances at the clock on his desk.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting planned."  He rises from his chair and strolls out of the room.  "Give it some thought and I'm sure you'll make the right choice."

I'm left in the middle of his office, shaking and seeing red with rage.  I want to punch and scream in his face.  I don't care if he's some big-shot pro hero, he can takes his words and shove it where the Sun doesn't shine.  How can he talk that way to people so easily? Exasperated (and afraid I'll break something if I stay), I huff out of the room and back to the dorms, mumbling and cursing to myself about all the things I'd like to do to Todoroki's father.

And I hate to admit it, but what he said really gets to me.  My quirk isn't a strong, elemental type like Shouto's.  All I can do is heat things I touch until they melt or burn, including human skin.  I couldn't do much in the Sports Festival except block my opponents by melting the ground beneath them or throwing flaming objects at them.  I've always had a love-hate relationship with my quirk because it was always too destructive or too weak to be a hero's quirk, but I've always tried to use it in offensive ways to help me fight.

As I get off the train, I sigh, Endeavor's words swimming in my mind.  I hate that he might actually be right.  I'm pretty useless.  I can't help Shouto improve himself when he has to worry about constantly building me up and supporting me.  I'd just be a burden to him.

It breaks my heart to know that I'm actually considering going through with this.  Damn it, I can't believe I let Endeavor win.

I trudge into the common room of the dorms.  Everyone's watching TV, eating, or reading.  Shouto turns around from his position near the wall, just observing everyone.  As soon as he sees me, his blank face softens into a smile, making my heart sink.  I hate to break his heart, but it's for the best.

"Hey, where were you?  I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't come back before curfew."  His eyes melt right into mine, displaying nothing but warmth.

My stomach churns.  Aizawa had told me privately, so Todoroki doesn't know I just faced his father.  "My parents needed me to go grocery shopping for them.  They're both out of town, so they didn't get to go before they left."  I bite my lip, dreading what's going to come next.  "Can we...talk outside?"

The fondness stiffens into anxiety and I see his Adam's apple move as he gulps.  "Okay."

Once we're outside, it gets more difficult for me to look him in the eyes because I'm afraid I'll cry, and I have to be the strong one.  I take a deep breath to calm myself, feeling his eyes on me.  Just rip it off like a band-aid.  "I think we should break up."

At first I thought I'd said it too quickly for him to understand, but the way his face falls confirms he heard just fine.  I feel like I've just kicked the most precious puppy in the world, I want to cry in his arms and confess everything that just happened, but I can't.

The confusion and despair mixes in his eyes as he stares at he ground, his eyes flickering back and forth.  "Did I do something wrong?  Please tell me, I'll fix it."

My throat threatens to close up, but I swallow hard.  "It's nothing you did, Shouto.  I just think we might've rushed into this.  We let our feelings get in the way of why we're really here, and it wasn't to get into relationships."  I muster up the courage to stare at him with a hardened look.  "We should focus on our real priorities from now on.  I'm sorry."

Shouto's crestfallen expression kept falling with every word I said and I can't take anymore.  I calmly walk back inside the dorm and head upstairs to my room, about to explode into tears and I can't let anyone see it.  As soon as I shut the door, I break into sobs and collapse onto my knees.  The memory of his face right before I left remains behind my eyelids.  I hate possibly seeing him cry or get angry.  For both of our sake, I'm praying that he gets over it quickly.  We only dated for a few months, he should get over it fairly quickly.

.

He didn't get over it.

Even after almost a week, Shouto never failed to get through a day without boring holes in the back of my head.  He seemed so lost without me even when he's surrounded by his friends.  It got to the point where I decided to start having my lunch in an empty classroom because I would feel like breaking down whenever I meet his heartbroken stare.

There were even a few times where he would come up to me in the halls while I stopped to talk to someone and tried to talk to me, but I had to politely smile and tell him I was busy with the person I was with and then walk away.

It hurts.  It just hurts so much.

But if it means we can both benefit and get stronger without me burdening him, I have to stand my ground.  I started throwing myself into intense training alone.  I'm trying to focus my quirk on emitting heat to things so I don't have to touch them, but I'm not getting anywhere fast with it.

After a few days of frustrating myself, Shouto suddenly bangs the door open in the middle of my training.  At first I want to politely ask him to leave, but the anger burning in his eyes stops me as he marches to stand right in front of me.  I feel terribly small in his presence, I don't even want to meet his eyes.  "What-"

"Why didn't you tell me my father asked to see you?" he asks, his voice dangerously low, like a time bomb waiting to explode.

I feel my face lose all color.  How did he find out?  "Who-?"

"Uraraka told me," he answers before I can finish, fists clenching at his sides.  "I had a hunch there was something wrong.  What did he tell you?"

I'm torn between answering and keeping my mouth shut, incapable of even looking him in the eyes for fear I might fall apart right here.  "N-Nothing," I manage feebly.

"Tell me," the edge in his voice growing.  The room gets hotter and colder at the same time as Shouto's quirk starts releasing out of his control.

I scrunch my eyes shut to hold back tears.  "H-He told me you didn't actually have feelings for me and that you're only dating me to rebel against him," I sniff, "And then he said I'm too weak for you, that I'm nothing special, and you'll eventually get tired of me because I can't hold my own in a battle and you'd rather be with someone with the same ability level as you."  The hot tears finally escape my eyes and run down my face.  "And he's right, isn't he?  I'm just a burden to you.  I'm probably better suited to be someone's sidekick than a hero.  I'm nowhere near the same level as you."

I reach up to wipe my face of my stupid tears when Shouto steps closer and gently wipes them away with his thumbs.  His hands remain there, holding my head between his hands, the familiar gesture making me choke out a sob.  Anger had melted away into understanding and sympathy.  "I don't care about the strength of your quirk or how useful you are in battle.  I care about you, as the person I love.  And I'd never get tired of you."

He plants a soft kiss on my forehead and I collapse into his chest, my arms wrapping around him and gripping the back of his shirt as I let everything out.  His comforting fresh scent calms me down as he pats my back.

"I'm sorry, Shouto," my sobs muffle into his clothes, "I let him get to me.  I was too weak to tell you anything and I thought you wouldn't want me anymore.  I'm sorry I put you through this."

The boy buries another kiss in my hair.  "I knew you wouldn't think of this on your own, love.  You know how much I care about you."

"I know," I sniff again separating from him and wiping my face, "I was stupid.  I made both of us suffer for no reason."

Shouto cradles my cheek with his left hand and I lean into his warm, holding onto his wrist.  "Can we get back together then?  I miss you a lot."  Those mismatched eyes hold more love in them than I can even fathom.  They choke me up so much I can only nod.

His icy hand pulls me in by my waist before sealing our lips together in a sweet reunion kiss.  We move against each other, familiar feelings burst out of us to express exactly how much we missed out on each other in the past couple weeks.

Shouto pulls away just far enough to keep our foreheads still pressed together.  "If my father ever tries to meet you again, you're taking me with you.  I'm not letting him disrespect you like that.  He needs to know his place."

"Okay. don't get so worked up," I kiss his nose, to which he blushes and I giggle.  "Now can you help me with my training now?  I need to catch up with you."

[dracusfyre]

Missed this when you first posted it, so, belated but: #12 from the 50 kisses list? any pairing is fine

The prompt from the prompt list was “ Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss,” and I went with winteriron (surprise!). Setting is CA:TFA meets Iron Man Noir. :D  (Also on AO3) As a warning the set up took 3k words, which probably explains why I am constitutionally incapable of writing PWPs.

----

Bucky watched Steve leave with the lady in red – Agent Carter, Steve had called her – and felt the sour taste of jealousy on his tongue. Turning away, he downed the rest of his glass of cheap rotgut whiskey and gestured for the bartender to give him another. He hated that Carter hadn’t given him so much as a glance, and he hated that Steve had followed her without question, leaving him alone here at the bar, and he hated himself for caring about either; he should be happy for his friend, shouldn’t he, be happy that he was big and strong, America’s golden boy, a lady’s man, able to jump tall buildings in a single bound. A hero. “From zero to hero,” all the newspapers were saying. Meanwhile Bucky was what? Steve’s buddy, his pal, his childhood friend. Not Sergeant Barnes, a rank he’d earned through being the best goddamn sharpshooter in boot camp and being the most well-respected corporal in his unit when their last sergeant got blown to hell. Meanwhile Steve’s a captain, since presumably “Private America” or “Lieutenant America” didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, grinding his palms into his eyes. This was what he was talking about. When had he become so bitter? He felt full of broken edges inside, jagged and vicious; maybe they’d pumped him full of poison there on that table, and that’s why Bucky felt like vitriol would come spilling out of him at any moment. He wished there was someone to fight right now, wished for the roar of artillery to drown out these thoughts and a bayonet in his hands so he could have some place for these feelings to go instead of building up inside him like a head of steam. His hands fell away from his eyes and he picked up the whiskey again, draining half of the glass in one go and hissing at the burn.

“Hope you’re drinking the cheap stuff if you’re going to chug it,” a voice said from beside him. Bucky jerked, because he hadn’t even noticed that someone had sat down and that’s a good way to get killed, isn’t it? Even here in jolly old London, jolly old safe London, home of Agent Carter, far from the guns and bombs and needles and lasers-

“Hey,” the voice said again, “are you with me?”

Bucky pulled his gaze from his whiskey and dragged it to the man next to him. The man was watching him with bright blue eyes that were sharp but not unkind; he had a hard time meeting those eyes, so he looked back down at the bar instead. “Whaddaya want?” Bucky asked gruffly.

“Good question,” the man said thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky saw him scratch his chin. “World peace comes to mind right now,” he said, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “A good old American hamburger is on the list,” boy could Bucky sympathize with that, “but for right now, I was mostly really curious why you look like your dog died when everyone else is just celebrating the fact that they’re alive.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Bucky said, still staring at the bar. The truth was tumbling out of his mouth and Bucky couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. It was fucked up, he knew that, but Bucky had used up all of his ability to pretend everything was ok on Steve. “I guess I don’t have anything to celebrate.” He punctuated that with another swallow of whiskey and wished he’d start getting drunk already.

“You leave someone on the battlefield?” the man asked after a moment, and the understanding in his voice – not the cloying sympathy he’d heard from others, nothing so soft as an I’m sorry but rather a me too, it’s fucking awful isn’t it – made Bucky’s throat feel thick.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Me.”

The man was quiet for a few moments, long enough that Bucky was sure that the man would just get up leave, and that was good, that was fine, Bucky didn’t want company, he just wanted to be left here to drown himself in peace. It’s not like he was lonely, there were dozens of people in this bar, right? He didn’t need Steve, he didn’t need Dum-Dum or Gabe or any of them, and he certainly didn’t need this random fucking stranger-

“Hey, what do you call a soldier who can read and write?”

Bucky stared at him blankly. “What?” he asked as the man just looked at him expectantly.

“What do you call a soldier who can read and write?” the man repeated.

Bucky blinked at him, but apparently the man was serious. “I don’t know, what?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The man said.  “Where does General Marshall keep his armies?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked, but the man just shrugged. “Ok, where?”

“In his sleevies. What’s long and hard and full of seamen?” the man asked next.

“God,” Bucky groaned with a disbelieving laugh, less because the terrible jokes were funny and more because of the self-satisfied look on the man’s face when he said them.  “Why the hell are you telling me these terrible jokes? I just came from the front lines, haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Because you’re a soldier,” the man said with a grin, reaching out to flick the rank on Bucky’s collar. “If I told you good jokes, I’d have to explain them.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky said, but he couldn’t help the grin cracking his face.

“That’s more like it,” the man said. “Here, let me buy you a drink. A real drink,” he added, grimacing at the smell of the cheap whiskey in Bucky’s glass.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked after the bartender poured them both something top shelf, at least, as top shelf as it got during war time. “Because if you’re about to tell me you’re with the USO, you might want to rethink your career.”

“How dare you,” the man said cheerfully. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“At you, maybe.”

“I’m Tony,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Bucky,” he said, shaking it. Bucky got a good look at the man this time, realizing just now that he tall and leanly built, dressed less like a man who had gone out for a night on the town and more like someone who had just taken a break from working with his hands and planned to go back to it soon. A mechanic, maybe, or a builder, judging from the nicks and callouses on his hands.

“So are you in London on leave?” Tony asked, sipping on his drink, turning in his seat so he was facing Bucky. “Or are you on your way home?”

Wasn’t that the question? He should be going home, if he had an ounce of brains. “Leave,” Bucky said. He glanced at where the Dum-dum and the others were all still drinking together on the far side of the bar. “And I’ll probably be heading out pretty soon, I guess.” Steve was sure ready to get back into the fight, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d never been one to back down from a fight, even if Bucky had been the one to get the bruised knuckles and bloody noses. He wondered if Steve would be so excited the first time he saw what a German howitzer could do to a human body.

“You got plans before you go?”

Bucky shrugged. “Get drunk and pour myself into bed sometime before morning reveille, I suppose. Why?”

“Well,” Tony said slowly, looking down at his glass and fidgeting with it. “I know you’re wearing a uniform, but I was wondering if you might be active duty.”

Bucky went hot, then cold, with fear at the question, and glanced around to see if anyone had heard. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

“Aren’t we all? There’s a war on out there, and I’d rather get busy living before I get busy dying,” Tony said. “If you aren’t interested, just say so.”

Bucky studied Tony consideringly. “How did you know I wouldn’t punch you in the face just for asking?”

Tony snorted. “I saw how you looked at your friend as he walked out with that beautiful dame. If you’re going to pretend to be something you’re not – or rather, pretend to not be something that you are – you’re going to need a better poker face.”

Bucky took a sip of his drink and turned the offer over in his head, suddenly aware that he hadn’t had anyone touch him, really touch him, in months. His eyes caught on Tony’s hands again and he couldn’t help imagining how they might feel on him. “What did you have in mind?” he said in a low voice.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far, honestly,” Tony said with a rueful smile. “I was out here on a wing and a prayer. But, uh, I got a room at a hotel?”

Bucky looked down at his uniform. Disheveled though it was, it was distinctive and recognizable. “You can’t smuggle me into a hotel, Tony.”

“Right. I have a workshop,” Tony ventured. “It’s not much, but it’s not far.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “Let’s, um…”

“Finish our drinks first?” Tony suggested.

“Sure.” Bucky took a swallow of his drink, now drinking for courage rather than to forget. “Do you do this a lot?”

“No, not with, uh,” Tony gestured at Bucky and Bucky nodded with understanding.  “But…” Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Once I’m done with the – this project I’m working on, I’m going back to France. Southern France. So I came out for a drink because my workshop was too quiet, then I saw you, and I thought, he doesn’t seem like he should be alone right now, and when I talked to you, I realized that I don’t want to be alone right now, so…yeah.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked at Tony with new eyes, and saw the tiredness around the eyes, the slightly grim cast to his mouth. If Tony was working in southern France, he was probably with the Resistance, and if there was a more shit job than infantry that was definitely one of them. “Carpe diem, eh?” he asked, and tapped his glass against Tony’s.

“I want to carpe something, alright,” Tony said with a smirk.

“You Americans only want one thing,” Bucky complained, lifting his nose in the air and turning his face away. “You should be ashamed.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, doll,” Tony crooned. “I just want to show you a good time, I promise.” Tony risked a hand on Bucky’s leg, just above the knee, and squeezed, fingers rubbing along the inner seam of Bucky’s pants before he withdrew. Bucky almost choked on his whiskey as he inhaled sharply at the touch, heat suddenly thrumming in his veins. There was a glint in Tony’s eye as if he knew exactly the effect he’d had and was looking forward to doing more of it.

Then his face changed as he glanced up and leaned away from Bucky. “You gentlemen doing alright?” The bartender asked, and they both nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and pay my tab,” Tony said, and passed over way too much money for their bill. “Keep the change,” he said, and the bartender disappeared again.

But the reminder that they weren’t actually alone had been like cold water to the face, and suddenly Bucky was ready to leave. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked. He looked at how much alcohol was left and drank it all, coughing a little at the burn.

“Sure,” Tony said, taking one last swallow of his own before pushing it aside. Bucky stood and hesitated, remembering that the others were sitting by the front door and he’d have to pass them to get out of the bar. Tony touched his arm and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. Night had fallen while they were inside, and it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust; citywide blackout conditions meant that they only had the moonlight to see by, which was a week or so away from being full. “This way,” Tony said, and the hand on his arm slid down until Tony was curling his fingers around Bucky's palm.

The simple touch of another hand in his own made the words get stuck in Bucky’s throat, so he just held on, gripping maybe a little too tightly while Tony led him through the narrow streets and back alleys of London town. Tony stopped as their narrow alley emptied out into a larger street, moonlight gilding the pavement silver. He backed them up a bit, then herded Bucky into a dark corner away from the busier street.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky whispered, wondering if Tony had seen something on the street, like police or other Army officers or something. Instead, Tony just crowded him against the wall, arms coming up to bracket Bucky’s shoulders.

“Can I kiss you?” Tony whispered.

Bucky nodded, then realized it was probably too dark for Tony to see him, so instead he fisted his hands into Tony’s shirt and pulled him closer, sliding his hands up Tony’s chest to frame his face so he could slant his mouth across Tony’s. Tony made a soft hum, deep in his throat, and leaned in until Bucky could feel him from chest to knee. The stone wall was cold against his back, but Tony was so warm, so solid; Bucky suddenly wanted that weight on top of him, pressing him into a mattress. Tony’s mouth was hungry, and Bucky reveled in it; he could taste whiskey on Tony’s tongue and chased it with his own. Tony’s hands were fumbling at his jacket, then at his shirt underneath, trying to find skin. Bucky let go of Tony long enough to help him, trying to pull his shirt out from where he had tucked it into his pants because suddenly he wanted Tony’s hands on him more than he’d wanted anything, ever; this was glorious, it was heady, it was exactly the forgetting that he had been wanting. Then Tony was finally touching him, hands almost hot, the roughness of his callouses as he stroked along Bucky’s ribs making him feel like a plucked string. Relief swelled in him as fire crawled in his veins, making him feel lighter and more alive than he had in months. Tony slipped a thigh between Bucky’s legs and Bucky almost sobbed at the pressure against his aching hardness, especially when he realized that Tony was hard too.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Tony pulled away and Bucky could taste salt on his lips. “Bucky?” Tony said softly. “Are you ok?”

And to his dismay Bucky felt a sob burst out of him, all of the anger and bitterness and joy and loss and fear overflowing like a levee had broken. He felt arms wrapping around him and he buried his face in Tony’s neck and cried into his rough linen shirt. Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him or tell him well-meaning lies like it’ll be ok and you’ll be alright, he just held him close until the sobs trailed away into a stuffy nose and a headache.

Bucky finally straightened, feeling his face burning in the dark. “Christ, I’m so-“ Bucky started, but Tony stopped him with a kiss.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Tony said, digging into his pocket and handing Bucky a handkerchief. Tony’s hands came up to cradle Bucky’s elbows and he rested his head against Bucky’s forehead. “All of that has to go somewhere or it will eat you up inside. I’m glad that I could be here for you when you needed it.”

Bucky grimaced but he had to admit he felt better, like a flood had washed him clean inside. Except, of course, for the embarrassment of having cried on someone he was just about to get off with.  “Do you still wanna…?”

“Do you?” Tony asked. They were still cradled in the soft darkness of the night, and Tony’s breath was a puff of warmth on Bucky’s lips; he could smell the whiskey on his breath and the faint threat of Tony’s cologne and what might be grease. There was the faintest murmur of conversation from pedestrians on the big street nearby, but it felt like they were in their own little world here, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear into that as long as possible. So he nodded, knowing that Tony could feel it. “Then I do, too.”

The next morning came all too soon; Bucky sighed with resignation when he saw the clock and realized he’d have to leave now to sneak back to his barracks before morning formation.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Tony offered, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Bucky’s face. They had ended up on a cot that Tony kept in his workshop, which was better than the floor but meant that they had pretty much had to be on top of one another all night in order to fit.

“No, if I get caught then it’s just breaking curfew, getting caught with someone else would just raise more questions.” Bucky kissed Tony’s forehead, the only place he could reach, then started to slide out from under him and get dressed.

“By the way,” Tony said, rolling over onto his back to watch Bucky pull his clothes on, “my full name is Tony Stark.”

“You mean, like the character from the book?” Bucky said skeptically. “Come on. You don’t gotta give me a fake name, here.”

“It’s not fake,” Tony protested. “I am the character from the book.”

“You mean he was named after you?”

“No that’s –“ Tony sat up with a huff, looking outraged. “The books are about me.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That stuff can’t possibly be true, with Atlantis and magic masks and hidden temples and shit.”

“It is. If we had more time I’d show you,” Tony insisted. “And it’s not magic, just science we haven’t figured out yet.”

Bucky thought about blue beams of light that made people disappear as if they’d never existed, and a man who could rip his face off to show just a bloody skull underneath. “I guess,” he conceded. “So you’re a celebrity, eh? Wait until I tell absolutely nobody that I slept with a celebrity,” he said wryly, then did a double take as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, they sent you, a celebrity, into Vichy France?”

Tony winced. “That’s why I don’t tell people my real name,” he said. “It’s not like people can recognize me from the cheesy cover art of those books. I was just telling you so that…you know, in case, after the war – if there is an after – maybe you could look me up.”

“Oh.” Bucky sat down on the edge of the cot and cupped Tony’s cheek in one hand, running a thumb over his cheekbone. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[proudgodot]

Gratitude

I was not initially planning to post about this, given that my unfortunate tendency to over-share has caused me quite a bit of grief in the past, but the truth is that I simply couldn’t resist this time. Typically when I am overcome by an uncontrollable desire to post it is because I am desperately in need of attention or validation, so much so that I can’t actually remember a time when I posted because I was genuinely eager to share something. It was always out of some perverse and misplaced sense of obligation, but it finally feels as if that burden is lifted. While I was writing this post, it was because I felt a genuine…. pride over something I had accomplished, something I genuinely wanted to share with the world. When I chose the name of this blog I didn’t earnestly expect that I would ever feel anything other than shame about myself… it seemed more an ideal than an actual plausible prediction. I’m just so relieved my wish came true.

Anyway, I suppose that is quite enough navel-gazing for the time being… I can only imagine my followers have probably had enough of that to last a long and fulfilling lifetime. I reckon it’s time to move on to the actual story.

As most of you well know, following the dramatic events of the Kristahlia drama, I suddenly found myself with the new responsibility of parenthood. There are certainly aspects of my new lifestyle that have been difficult to adjust to… principle of which is that I am supposed to serve as a sort of role model for these developing and damaged boys. I have never been particularly aspirational, in fact you would be hard-pressed to find someone as underperforming as me. Although I was prone to overcompensating for such things, always desperately trying to prove that I was capable of as much as the bare minimum, looking back I see that I grew too comfortable with those low expectations. When it registered that as a caretaker I would suddenly have to perform a sort of excellence, not for the sake of my fragile ego but for the betterment of these children… I was immediately overcome by a painful inadequacy. However, as our first week together progressed, I came to realize that in certain regards all of us were personally inadequate, and it was for that very reason we had taken on this responsibility together. Although I certainly had my short-comings, that wasn’t something unique to me, and over time we all began to coordinate better and help manage each other’s weaknesses. I was somewhat surprised to learn this was not only true of the adults, but the children as well. The dynamic we developed as a family was rather symbiotic… I found that regardless of age we all had something to offer each other.

Regardless, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to keep my found family as distant as possible from my most severe personal issues. My past was something I felt I had to resolve independently, no matter how tempting it was to once again depend on the people in my life to solve my problems in my stead. That is why when I made the decision to start looking into Anton’s whereabouts, I never spoke a word about it to my housemates.

Facebook made finding his account incredibly easy, distressingly so in fact. I became acutely aware of the possibility that he might have been recommended my account numerous times over the years and had consciously chosen not to send me a friend request, which although completely understandable still hurt immensely to imagine. Perhaps my hopelessly romantic dream to reconnect with the man was unrequited, and would be rejected with extreme prejudice if vocalized. Eventually, however, I managed to muster up the courage to actually inspect his profile. I discovered that after our quarrel six years ago and his subsequent transferral Anton had moved back to his hometown in Ann Arbor to complete his degree in art and design. Since graduating, he had been working as a freelance artist and animator… he often posted about how proud of his projects he was, and it was reassuring to see his enthusiasm had not diminished in the slightest over the years. One detail about his profile that immediately jumped out at me was his relationship status, which was currently set to single. Despite myself, I immediately felt a small flicker of hope ignite within my quickened heart. Upon further investigation, it appeared he’d been involved in several relationships over the years that had ultimately ended in failure, although the circumstances were unclear. I only hoped he hadn’t made a habit of dating unappreciative losers…

I managed to quell my anxiety briefly and force myself to send him a friend request, which almost immediately filled me with a sense of mounting dread. My anticipation wasn’t even allowed much time to simmer, because mere minutes after I sent the message I was notified that it had been accepted. Instinctively, I slammed my laptop shut and jumped out of my seat, forgetting that I was incapable of standing up so quickly without losing all feeling in my legs and face planting into the floor. I instantly regretted not taking Addy’s advice and getting that checked by a doctor, because soon enough the entire family was in my room gathered around my body and asking questions with varying degrees of concern and amusement. Although I had wanted to keep my activity a secret, at that moment I was swept away in the drama, and so I began to mindlessly rant about the situation.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but soon enough there were six pairs of hands all frantically scrambling for control of my keyboard. While I laid incapacitated on the floor, my friends had taken it upon themselves to respond to Anton’s messages, each expressing their own thoughts from my account in randomly alternating orders depending on who had managed to prevail in the wrestling. It seemed that Iara maintained the upper hand most of the fight, although it was admittedly difficult to tell over the frenzy at times considering my limited view from the floor.

Eventually, the chaos subsided and everyone turned to look at me with beaming smiles on their faces, some more devious than others. I immediately began to worry that they had sabotaged me somehow, be it in light-hearted jest or in an earnest act of betrayal, and so I asked them nervously what exactly they had done. For a moment it seemed they were trying to contain their excitement, but it didn’t take long for them to erupted into an uproarious celebration, complete with victorious chants that Anton was coming to meet us in person this evening!

I didn’t know how to react. All at once a tempest of conflicting emotions completely overpowered me… and I mean that quite literally. I knocked out cold, and when I finally woke up I discovered that not only had Kyler been trying to shock me awake by applying Takis to my tongue, but that the situation had not miraculously resolved itself. Although everyone else had mostly settled down, my mind was whirling a mile a minute with all of the things I had to do to prepare. I had a whole bucket list I needed to accomplish before I was comfortable standing in front of Anton again… and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t possibly get everything done myself over such a brief time. To my surprise, I didn’t even have a chance to put my reservations aside before they had already agreed to help me based off of my panicked listing of errands alone. Despite my reluctance to involve my new friends in the more turbulent aspects of personal life, it seemed they were actually eager to get involved themselves… I discovered that my problems were not an inconvenience to them, but rather something they were excited to help me work through.

The first obstacle I had to overcome was also the hardest… that being that I had never properly apologized to Gabriella and Lana for my dishonest and frankly abusive treatment. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have the words to express my remorse or that I hadn’t processed my guilt, but that Gabriella’s parting words to me specifically informed me not to contact her and I didn’t want to once again disrespect her wishes. However, after some words of encouragement from the family, I managed to write a relatively concise three thousand word email taking responsibility for my past actions and wishing the couple well. As I was writing this post, I actually received a response from the two telling me they appreciated my apology and were glad to see I had grown into a more mature person. Apparently they have just finished settling into their cottage and are now doing better than ever. Lana even expressed an interest in meeting Addy and Iara in particular sometime… I suppose it’s a sapphic thing. I’m just glad that they’re finally living the happy life they deserve without being held back by backwards men.

My email took longer to type then I had expected, and although I certainly can not regret pouring my heart into the message given its importance, it did mean that we had to pick up the pace with the rest of the bucket list. Kyler took this quite literally, speeding at what must have been 100 miles per hour towards the mall despite nearly giving me a heart attack and my insistence that he not set such a bad example for Chris and Klav. We actually ended up getting pulled over, but luckily Iara managed to scare the officer away with her signature scowl. The next few hours were a frantic rush of errands, all focused on helping me actually express myself without the burden of repression. There were moments when it was a struggle, such as when I nearly hyperventilated in Claire’s before they pierced my ears, but ultimately I am immensely satisfied with the results. The most fulfilling moment was finally getting the tips of my hair bleached white to match my new profile picture. Chris actually got his hair dyed alongside me, changing his style from pale blond to black and white to reflect his new kin. It was incredibly rewarding to accomplish this alongside him… I had never been the subject of anything but disappointment from my parents, so it was an incredible feeling to be able to experience that absent parental pride for myself, even if it was with a different perspective.  

By the time Anton was forecasted to arrive, my appearance had been upgraded to better reflect my current sense of self… all that was left was for me to get in the right mindset. Luckily, my family was perfectly eager to act as my own personal “hype beasts,” as Kyler put it. They offered excellent emotional support in the half-hour we sat in the den patiently awaiting his arrival, especially Addy, who really took my mind off things by offering to play me in a game of chess. I lost quite handedly, but for once I don’t have it in me to be a spoilsport. When we heard that fateful knock at the door, they all immediately ran into the nearest closest and shut themselves inside to give us some space, but not before giving me a final set of encouraging thumbs up. I hesitated for a moment, questioning once again whether I was really ready to take such a big step in my life. My hand paused, hovering over the door knob uncertainly… until I heard the faint sounds of Steely Dan’s Come on Eileen coming from inside the closet, accompanied by the muffled sound of Klav’s giggle. Reignited by the familiar sounds of my favorite musicians, I swung the door open with a new and uncharacteristic conviction.

And there he was… I was immediately captivated by just how strong his presence was. My memories hadn’t done him justice… it really was like I was in the presence of an angel. I was comforted by certain familiar aspects of his appearance, such as his golden brown eyes that glistened like stars, his long curly hair with its comforting strawberry aroma, and his signature checkered scarf that he had been consistently wearing for almost decade now… but what really excited me were those new features. Normally I am turned off by change, but I was positively breathless as soon as my eyes wandered to the golden butterfly tattoo on his exposed shoulder. I felt as if I was going to faint for a second time in one day. 

I couldn’t find the words to express the depths of my emotion no matter how hard I searched my impassioned soul... there were no words strong enough. Instead I just cried, and wordlessly he accepted me into his arms… just like he had on that life-changing night all those years ago. I finally told him everything I had so obstinately refused to say during college… that I was gay, that I was in love with him, and that I was sorry. Although I was openly weeping, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved in my life.

Eventually, he managed to pacify me… and so I was able to explain to him the entire story of the Kristahlia drama. It was difficult to explain that I had managed to go from discoursing with these teenage kinnies to adopting them, but he was as understanding as he ever was. He was so excited to meet my family that he even brought his cat Apple all the way from Michigan just to introduce her to them. I don’t think I have ever mentioned this publicly, but when Krissy died I had to take her dog Diogenes in myself, and I was surprised to find that the two animals got along perfectly. It really did feel like the entire house was accepting him... it was as if this was meant to be.

Since Anton had gone to all the trouble of making the ten hour drive to Iowa, he suggested that we might as well all hang out together in Cedar Rapids over the weekend. I suppose it’s a date... I must say that I am looking forward to it, as are the others. I know I didn’t deserve to be accepted by him again just because I spent a few hours shedding tears and profusely apologizing, but for once I don’t feel guilty that I have received something I don’t deserve. I just feel... an overwhelming gratitude for the opportunity.

I am certainly still inexperienced at this whole family business and have accepted that I will inevitably make some mistakes in the future, but I don’t think I’ve done too poorly for a first week, if I do say so myself. I am truly grateful to all the people in my life who have supported me through my journey, who have taught me that it is possible to rely on others without being a parasite and to be relied on without shouldering the entire burden. 

To my partners, my friends, my children, and my love... from the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

[smallblueandloud]

Hey! I know it’s probably been a while since you’ve posted about this, but I’m doing a tww rewatch and just read your sens8 fic. I have been on my ADHD Josh bullshit since like 2014 and you’re like one of the first people I’ve seen talking about it! Do you have any other adhd josh headcanons/fics you could share? I am always desperate for content! (Also Autistic Toby is So Important to me but that’s another story). Sorry for the ramble haha :) Thanks!!!

hi!!! i didn’t know other people had this headcanon so i’m VERY EXCITED to meet you!! it’s one of my best beloved headcanons i just love josh so MUCH and i relate to him even MORE so i’m always happy to talk about it lmao.

i have not found any more fics with this concept, but tbf i didn’t actually... go and read much tww fic when i finished the series? i have to get back to that, oops. but anyway. i have a tag about it and i should probably write some more tww fic, at some point, but that is a problem for Hyperfixated Me lol.

(also i have never seen that toby headcanon and now i’m just :eye emoji: :eye emoji: :eye emoji:. do you have any more details on that???? do you want to send me any more details on that????? because i am VERY interested)

anyway! since i am so excited about this and i have absolutely no fic to offer (i’m very sorry about that) here are some headcanons:

one of the things josh struggles most with is rejection sensitive disorder. the idea that he’s disappointing ANYONE, EVER kills him to think about. especially leo. ESPECIALLY leo. and that’s basically canon

he’s pretty good about eating food he doesn’t like as long as he’s focused on something else, but as soon as he looks down and realizes what he’s eating, it’ll gross him out unless it’s a sandwich or another Safe Food

he stims very twitchily. he taps, rocks, and throws things into the air. i know i said this before but i’m so RIGHT about it: he definitely has broken at least one snowglobe by tossing it up and missing it on the way down. i love him so much

he hyperfixates on work and will look up to realize that it’s 8 pm and he only ate dinner because donna left a sandwich on his desk

An Icon Of Visual Exhaustion

he leaves papers on his desk instead of filing them so he won’t forget to look at them, then forgets they’re there and puts more papers on top of those, and then it’s six months later and he has seven layers of papers over every surface in his office

he doesn’t listen to music very often because he Cannot Concentrate when it’s playing. if you walk into his office and music is playing, he’s either taking a break or having a crisis

on the other hand, he’s REALLY good (bad?) at tuning people out when they talk to him. (it’s bad, it’s really bad)

has meltdowns - notables include that one in the oval office right after gaza and his freakout at the wedding with leo in s7

he just feels So Strongly about everything, All The Time, and most of his life has been trying to be Chill about it

josh, upset about a news story that was on the 17th page of the nyt: AND ANOTHER THING-!

sam: josh i love you but we’re at a bar to, y’know, have fun? outside of WORK?

he’ll eat sweet things, all the time. they Help Him Think, okay? on the other hand donna stops giving him coffee after s1 because it just makes him jittery and even MORE upset about [gestures vaguely] EVERYTHING

can write five memos in five minutes, but is entirely incapable of getting up and closing the open door that’s been bothering him for two hours.

he’s actually really good at telling who’s walking outside his office based on the length of their stride. it’s kind of terrifying for everyone else, especially considering how hard it is to hear ANYTHING through his door

(the door thing is kind of on purpose. he thought the silence would help him focus. it’s hit-or-miss, tbh)

[chiclet-go-boom]

Anonymous:

the point of TOG is that love gave joe and nicky strength that allowed them to survive the weight of the centuries... why would that love suddenly be a liability for joe leading? also, why couldn't he and nicky co-lead? like, was andy incapable of leading when quynh was around because she was too emotionally compromised? that logic is so reductive to the idea of love. (i'm frankly increasingly uncomfortable with the lengths fandom is going to rationalize a US soldier ordering others around.)

Regarding this post here

Well, we’re all honestly talking out of our asses here because everybody has about five reasons why they do something - the three validations they’ll give if they’re asked about it and two more that they don’t acknowledge underneath - so while I can cheerfully comment that Joe or Nicky probably wouldn’t make a good team leader because of their focus is always going to be on one other, it’s not like I KNOW that.

I can guess at what 900 years of commitment might look like and I can extrapolate that if the immortal husbands wanted to be leader, either singly or in tandem, they’d have already pushed for it at some point over the previous millennia. The fact that they haven’t can either speak to Andy’s capability to keep filling that role, their unwillingness to do that work, or can speak to any other reason that we can come up with that seems reasonable.

Joe and Nicky were both foot soldiers, not generals. By her own admission, Andy is used to ruling (and even ruling absolutely, implication on “with an iron fist”). The dynamic has obviously held up over time.

Could Joe lead? Don’t see why not - but I’m also not really seeing a compelling reason that he’d want to. The mentor/mentee thing that seems to be happening between Andy and Nile, and how Nile is  incredibly proactive in her decisions like Andy is, I think is pretty good grounds to say that Nile may very well have the temperament to fill those leadership shoes if Andy remains mortal. It seems reasonable to me and since we’re all filling in cracks that remain unexplored and unknown in canon, reasonable is all we’ve got to go on.

Like, Nile made a choice to leave the group against advice and stuck to it, right up until she realized Booker was the weak link. She chose to go back against massive odds, for people she barely knew. She made a plan, she executed that plan. I mean, she took Merrick out a skyrise window. This lady is bad ass. She’s obviously very comfortable with acting under her own initiative and then folding herself seamlessly into a group to finish achieving the objective (in this case get everybody out, take out the worst of the opposition on the way, protect Andy).

That Nile was a US soldier seems to be an odd place to get hung up on, at least for me. It’s given her skills on how to work in a team and how to lead a team? It’s given her combat training and experience in how that actually works in the real world, something that is going to be decidedly helpful in her new life going forward? Are those things somehow bad? I’m not seeing anything in Nile’s emotional makeup that echoes anything about American jingoism which absolutely would be of concern - although live long enough to see your country dissolve and disappear would probably put paid to that soon enough.

(And there’s no question that Nile’s likely seen the worst of what being in the military is like, as both a woman and a woman of color. It’s not like she’s Rambo, toting double AK’s and liberating innocent American POWs from the evil yellow scourge.)

It’s the background story for Nile, not her entire being I think is the point I’m trying to make. I can see Nile-as-leader pretty easily, it seems a natural fit for her looking ahead to possible futures. That’s not putting down Joe’s capabilities, there’s arguments to be made there for sure. But I do feel that if Joe or Joe-and-Nicky wanted to be in charge, they’d have long since split from Andy-and-Quynh. The fact that they haven’t implies to me that this is where everybody is most comfortable in the team. Andromache first, Quynh on her coattails and Joe and Nicky taking care of everything along the sides.

(Also, poor Booker. Fifth wheeling way off to the side as someone who never wanted to fight at all. I have a TON of sympathy for him and his shitty assed decisions.)

[dear-yandere]

—ask collection!

a collection of mostly very old chats and sweet asks that i never got around to answering! thanks for the patience and love!! 

beware, fairly long post... woops....

chat asks.

darling: Eu-jin is best boy. Change my mind.

vanya: i am physically incapable of fulfilling that request, how dare you do that to me... i’m biased since he’s my own oc, but i would die for my (very best) boy eu-jin... who can resist such a gentle yandere that loves you so whole-heartedly?

that reminds me! he’s actually based off of kuroyuki and gekkamaru from the otome nightshade, so if you want similar characters by any chance, do check them and the game out ♡

darling: I was watching the dub for Part 5 of JoJo's Bizarre adventure yesterday...Mista called himself Daddy and I like- sdfghjfgsdhnhnmj!! My heart can't take this--

vanya: WAIT HE DID???? i’m not even big on daddy kink and reading that made me go 😳 this is vital information to know... what episode was this??? for research purposes, of course. gotta perfect my yan! mista, after all~...

darling: for yandere songs, have you heard of the major to minor covers by chase holfelder :O? the way he delivers the lyrics in some songs (betty, all i want for christmas), added with the key changes to minor, is really fantastic, and gives a stalker-ish vibe imo! and he's a really good singer in general

vanya: i have!! a good chunk of them are actually on my personal yandere playlist, so i end up hearing them frequently when i’m writing!! i haven’t been keeping up with his uploads recently, so ‘betty’ is completely new to me and just, wow???????????? this man is an absolute god send for us “romantic” horror fans... ♡

this ask gave me such a lovely idea, though, darling: assigning yandere types/mbti based off each of chase’s minor key covers. i think i’ll do that just for you. ♡

darling @blossomiich​: I reread some of your old character interaction asks and saw the one with Jotaro hugging his Darling after a panic attack and the elephant seal plush reminded me of the iconic C H O N K Y ringed seal plushie that was kinda trending and I can totally imagine Jotaro having one of those >w< that's so adorable!

vanya: i honestly don’t remember that interaction, but then again i don’t remember most things hmghng so i looked it up and

j...just imagine star plat hogging it and not letting joot cuddle with it 🥺 the duality of man...thank you for this cute image...

darling: Umm, sorry for asking this. I'm just curious because of your bio language in your header. Are you Chinese too, perhaps?

vanya: no worries!! i’m mixed guyanese (indian, chinese, & possibly black and/or portuguese), but my family only celebrates (or rather, acknowledges?) our indian descent, since the majority of our family is predominantly east indian. 

my header is actually a quote from a danmei novel (and one of my all-time favorite fandoms), tiān guān cì fú (heaven’s official blessing)!

darling genki stan anon: Omg you're writing for free now, i didn't expect that one lol. It's a cute show innit? Not a nagi stan but I feel like nagisa has that kinda unsnapped personality that would make him peak delusional yandere material lolol like oikawa but less threatening and without his head being up his own ass 😂. Hope you're doing well!! -gsa

Gdjsjs im such a fool, i think my last ask said something about not thinking you'd write for free when i literally just pointed out kisumi on your sideblog LMAO my bad 😅 😂 also ill hold back on the gen chan requests because ive already asked so many in the past! Thank you though 🥺. Also feel free not to post this, it can just dip into my onesided chats with my lil flower 💐 so long as you receive them im fine 😌 -genki stan anon

vanya: nagisa isn’t my favorite (kisumi is), but gods if he wouldn’t make a great yandere. honestly, out of the iwatobi boys, nagi is probably the most unhinged. i wouldn’t peg him as delusional, at least not at first; i think he’s very lucid and knows exactly what he wants and how to manipulate people in order to get it!!! kisumi is fairly similar now that i think about it... i might... have a type...

please feel free to send in gen-chan requests whenever you want!!!! i’m kinda super asocial, so it’ll take me a while to answer, but i love getting asks from you since you’re so sweet and excitable!!! your little flower reads and cherishes them all!! 🥺

also darling genki stan anon: Sorry for spamming you with asks hdjkdks, u dont even need to reply im just kinda brain empty venting here whether you recieve them or not 😂 i just needed to confess that while yes i am #1 gen simp, and he is undoubtedly my fave oc of yours but that Ilya tentacle smut had me very much so highkey kinda 👀, had to re read the genki oral style drabble to bring my head back. He dont even need to worry about luca bc that man a thot. I think therin is a thot too but like lowkey, a classy thót -gsa

vanya: omg i’ve kept this one for forever mnmghngh i might’ve even answered at some other point, now that i think about it... but i just 🥺 gosh i hope i find my muse soon, because i really wanna write you a genki fic 🥺 hhhh

the ilya tentacle smut was so in character for that boy... i have no clue how to write monsters, much less tentacles, but i’d honestly do anything for him 🙏 kinky russian boy...

therin is definitely a classy thot, the kind that only bangs the finest concubines then turns around and slut shames you for banging the very same prostitutes gbfmngnfg rules don’t apply to him, in his kingdom...wish that were me tbh ✊😔

sweet asks.

darling one: i've read almost all of your dazai and chuuya fics and i love them so much!! your formatting is also super aesthetic just a question, i saw on your kofi that you also draw so i was wondering if you drew all the header arts?? bc they're all super pretty :) have a great day!

darling two: Just wanted to say love the writing and the way your format your posts is so aesthetically pleasing. One day I hope my posts looks half as good as yours because I legit can't get over how pretty and organized it looks.

vanya: omg thank you so much!!!! one of my bffs, yue, is to thank for the formatting and aesthetic choices, really! if you wanna see more of her aesthetic formats and posts, she actually runs a few blogs! you may know her as @milkscafe​, formally @milkaaton! i adore her and her aes choices so much 🥺

as for the headers, i don’t draw 99.98% of them! i have drawn a couple, but they’re so few and far in between since i almost never finish my art wips haha... my older posts are lacking proper credits because i’m an absolute idiot, but i’m slowly working my way backwards to credit them all where possible! they’re all indeed super pretty!!!

have a great day yourself, my love!!

darling: THEY’RE NOT BAD CONTENT, I LOVE THEM ALL

vanya: this was in response to a now-deleted lil blurb but i kept it in my inbox because i wanted to say i love u very much and seeing this ask each time i open my inbox makes my heart skip a beat ♡

darling: Listen I love your writing, you inspired me to start it myself! I've always loved to write, and read of course but your style and concepts just stick with me. If you where to write something besides Yandere content/fandom content and started your own series? I would read the shit, out of it. I'm always nervous to interact with my favorite writers because you know, I'm afraid of the impression I'd leave but I just wanted to say this anyway! 💞💞💞🔫😳

vanya: wowowow fgfnmgnfmngfg that’s such a high compliment my brain just gmfnbgmnf go boom fogjfngnfg and thank you for the interaction, us writers truly appreciate it no matter how awkward or nervous you think you may be / come off!!!

darling one: As a writer, your post struck a nerve with me. I don’t send feedback to writers I like nearly as much as I should (and certainly not as much as I’d like in return as a writer). So, as such, I’m going to start doing that when I can, starting with you.

You are an incredible writer. You were one of the first yandere writing blogs I found and you’re still one I check in on regularly to see what you have been working on. You can portray a sense of suspense and intrigue in a natural way that many other writers - published ones included - struggle with. You delve into the darkness without it feeling forced, and you have an amazing grasp on the psyches of the characters you write for (which is a quality I adore in writing and strive toward myself).

I’m not great at ending these things so I guess.. you keep doing you? Because the you is great and I appreciate it.

darling two:  hey. i'm here to tell you that from the bottom of my heart i love you and your writings. i really admire your writing skills. you inspire me. one of your posts once saved me from a nervous breakdown. thank you for everything you do. you're a wonderful person. good luck!

darling three: I wanted to tell you that thank you for writing such wonderful beautiful writings and that you take time to edit and write I hope you are taking care of yourself 💖❤

darling four: Thanks. I was having a hard time and deleted all my apps, but as soon as i opened my phone my first instinct was to look at your blog and i got my motivation back. Thanks (:

darling five: Hi ! I just wanted to say I really enjoy the stories you write and how they are detailed so well ! Stay safe and I hope you have a good day/night ! ლ(╹◡╹ლ)

vanya: ahhhh, these are very old asks mostly dating back to my “tumblr writing community is dying” post, and i’ve kept them this entire time because i’m just so starstruck. i have no clue how to reply to compliments, so i’m not sure what else to say besides that these asks made me very happy and got me through a few insecure moments!!! i’ve actually been feeling a little down about my writing recently, mostly because of lack of motivation / inspiration, so revisiting these really warmed my heart, so thank you truly ♡ i’m certainly keeping the originals in my inbox until the end of time!!

darling @monstrously-obsessed: psst, this local cryptic mom thing send all of their love for you 💕

vanya: your local herbo says she loves you very much momster 🥺 mwah

also, to the anon worried about my safety:

thank you so much for pointing that out!!! it hadn’t even crossed my mind when i made those ocs, so i appreciate your concern! i was contemplating revamping those two as is, so this is a great place to start! thank you again!!

[hypnotica-ships]

3x3

So, thanks to some A+++ enabling from the discord server, I've decided to post my BNHA self insert fanfic. I haven't really talked about my insert, but I plan to sometime in the future, but for now I"ll leave ya'll in the dark.

This whole thing was made just to make me and my friends feel good and give us some much needed self indulgence.

Word Count- 1,550

Hypnotica- My S/I

Grafight- @fictional-characters-are-hot's S/I

Slasher- @alwayslovestruck's S/I

It's been 3 hours.

4 hours since the hero team Discorded was asked to help out with a capturing some drug smugglers.

3 1/2 hours since they found the drug den.

3 hours since Hypnotica sent in Grafight and Slasher to covertly search the place.

3 hours since he's heard a response.

It was a loud, shrill scream that made his blood go cold. Expecting the worst, he decided to find some loiters and use his quirk to get some backup.

After being only able to scour up 2 shadows for his mask alts to posses, he realized the longer he spends time looking for people, the more harm could come to his friends...*family*. Dolly, taking the form of a Harpy, and Dylan taking a shape of a Lion man, will have to do for backup. Hoping that it won't be needed, he finds an open window and heads into the den.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look! They're opening the crates. That must be how they ship the quirk enhancing drugs."

"Slasher. I can't see shit, it's too dark in here and I don't have dope cat eyes like yo-....wait a sec..."

The younger of the heroes takes out a sketch book and quickly draws our some night vision binoculars and they suddenly 'pop' out into a physical object. After giving a thumbs up, in order to stay quite, Grafight uses the goggles.

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit....that's a lot of powder. How the hell do they sell it all?"

Slasher just shrugs it off and continues watching the group of men, tail swaying as they do.

All of a sudden, all of the men stop moving. A few moments later they all turn to the gurder that the hero duo were perched on.

"Hey! Lookey here fellas, some new 'test subjects' to try the new mix on."

"Oh as if you'd even come close to touching us! You won't even get a chance to lay a finger on us. Right Grafight?"

"Right! Good luck fuckers!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slasher! Grafight! What's going o-...."

"We won!'

Hypnotica was greeted by the sight of Slasher triumphantly standing with one foot on top of a human mound of passed out thugs while Grafight was looking over the crate of drugs, kicking one of the thugs that started move on the ground.

"Wha- Then who the hell screamed?!"

Grafight, grabbing the thug she kicked by his collar and threatening to punch him again.

"This guy did. I think he's like...the kingpin or something. Screams like a little bitch though."

"We managed to take these guys out super easily, like it was nothing! Can't believe they were talkin' smack like they could beat us..."

Still a bit shaken up from his worry, Hypnotica headed over to check out the crate. Noticing a strange metal box buried slightly underneath some of the drugs, he pulls it out and begins to question the kingpin about it.

"This your tracker? Is this the thing that you use to keep an eye on your 'supplies'?"

"You better answer. Grafight is pretty liberal with bodily harm."

Slasher says as she walks over to look at the box better, poking it with one of her claws.

"...it....it...he.....hehaha..."

"Punching time?" Grafight asks looking up at Hypnotica.

"Not yet. He needs to be conscious to answer our questions."

"Talk then, asshat."

"...doesn't matter....we....we were gunna..."

"Gunna what, idiot?!"

"d....die...die anways..."

"...Punch him Grafight."

Hypnotica grumbles while Dolly pried open the box with her talons.

"Gladly!"

"...I don't think he meant, like, *80 times Grafight...*"

Slasher now worriedly watches as the kingpin get's absolutely destroyed by fists.

"..."

Hypnotica seems frozen as he looks down at the box, unmoving, and holding his breath. Cocking her head, Slasher notices that somethings wrong with him.

"Hey....you alright big bro?"

"..."

Finally stopping her onslaught on the kingpin, Grafight looks over to Hypnotica.

"Cat got your tongue or something?"

Still not saying a word, Hypnotica turns the box so the others can see. In the box is a small glowing green tube with wires attached to it, there's also a countdown screen slightly below it. It's only got 3 seconds left on it.

As her tail drops, so does her heart, with only a few second to accept her fate Slasher meekly gasps as she starts to speak.

'Oh..'

'Shit'

Grafight finishes Slasher's thought, right before everything goes white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sirens are blaring as the green mist clears from the rubble of what's left of the warehouse. Various bodies are strewn all about, policemen and EMTs were able to arrive on the scene fairly quickly. Not that it mattered, the damage was done. From the looks of everything, there was no survivors, all thugs and kingpin were either crushed by the rubble or suffered from some strange type of asphyxiation. Death seemed to encompass the area, until one of the EMTs discovered a lion like shadowy figure seemingly protecting a group of still breathing bodies. The figure soon dissipated leaving a strange mask in it's place.

The bodies were still alive, but barely, and they needed medical attention and fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"-Sources say that the 'hero' team were incapable of apprehending the group and had to resort to extreme measures to stop the-"

"Horseshit! Why would we set off a bomb? We had it covered already, it wouldn't kill them to get their facts straight..."

"Calm down Gummybear, the doc said you shouldn't strain yourself..."

It's been 4 days since Grafight was released from the hospital, suffering from 2 broken arms, rendering her unable to use her quirk...among other things. Fatgum, her partner, had insisted to stay by her side until things healed, neglecting his own hero duties in the process.

"The doc can shove it as far I care! These newscasters have no right to spew out garbage lies like that! It's gunna hurt our rep.... Sure we might not be the nicest, safest, smartest heroes in the game, but we aren't villainous either!"

"...You...you do have a point, but don't worry about it, I"m sure one of the others will give them a piece of their mind and sort things out. Right now you and I have dinner to eat!"

Grumbling as she rose from the couch, Grafight followed her partner to the kitchen, sitting down at the small round dinning table that the family usually shared. This dinner was different though. The table had a nice white satin cloth draped over it, with 2 light candles on top. It seemed that this time these two will be dinning alone.

"Take a seat baby, I'll go grab our meal."

"It better be something good, the meals at the hospital were utter shit..."

She lets her sentence trail on as a covered plate is placed ever so gently in front of her.

"Oh? Did you plan on surprising me? ....Babe, my arms, I can't open it."

"Yeah, my bad, here ya go my sweet Gummy."

Fatgum slowly removes the cover for maximum surprise effect. Once it's off, Grafight can't help but smiley widely as she notices one of her favorite meals, but with a culinary twist. Hotdogs sliced up into star shapes, surrounded by a circle of mashed potatoes, topped with melted cheese, a dash or salt, and a glob of ketchup in the middle of it all.

"So? Ya like?"

"..."

Grafight's eye's start to tear up, but her smile still stays plastered on her face. Fatgum notices right away and goes to quickly grab some tissues.

"Oh Gummy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! I just...I just thought I could do something special for ya...I...I-"

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe! I love it! Omg, I love it so much, you're the best, you know that right?"

"I...yeah....no. Wait. YOU'RE the best, you're so strong and special to me, I...I"m just so happy that I didn't lose you...you mean the universe to me."

"Stop...I'm already crying, let's just...let's just enjoy this meal together, okay?"

"Okay. I"m starving anyways..."

Fatgum takes his place across from Grafight, and starts to devour his meal.

"Uh....Ahem...."

"Oh! Yeah, my bad, let me help ya."

The two enjoy their meal together, never breaking their love filled eye contact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slow down Mochi, you shouldn't be over-exerting yourself."

"But Kano, I want to dance! I really like this song...cough cough...it's a total....total banger, and I deserve to have some.....fun after what happened. Everyone else has been so....gloomy since then....I just....want to bring some life.....back into the house is all...."

"I know, I know...but, you won't be able to do much joy-spreading if you can barely walk to the mailbox without getting winded halfway there."

"Hmph, stupid bomb chemicals getting.....getting into my lungs...fucking up my whole system...did they ever figure out what...what was in that tube...anyways?"

"They still haven't called us back about the results yet, but they said the inhaler they gave you was working well enough for us not to worry. So we won't, right Mochi?"

"...Yeah...I guess...I just hate...feeling weak like this...I wanna cry but.... I don't want the others to...to see....they've been through enough....I don't wan them to worry about me...me too..."

Kano takes a moment to think, after a moment he takes Slasher's paw and leads her into the living room.

"Sweety...what are you doing?"

After he gets Slasher to relax on the couch, he walks over the Hypnotica's advance sound system and grabs a homemade looking CD. Putting it in he looks to Slasher.

"The good doctor said YOU shouldn't exert yourself, but....he never said anything about me."

As soon as the music starts, Kano begins to dance in a way that's all to familiar to Slasher. It's a dance they've grown to call the 'Humpty Dance', and no one else in the house can quite get it right like these two.

"Oh Kano! This....this makes me so....happy! Keep...keep going! Maybe...maybe you could...put in some...Slipknot next? Pwetty Pwease?"

"Anything for you my Mochi."

Slasher enjoys the show Kano puts on for almost 2 hours, by the time he gets done, Kano is just about as winded as Slasher has been recently. The two then cuddle on the couch, just taking in each other's slow and labored breathes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You will most certainly not."

Sir Nighteye slams his hand down on the counter to emphasize his point, making Hypntoica jump a little.

"And why the fuck not? The need to get their facts straight. I will not stand for all of this fucking slander."

Sir sighs and pushes his glasses up, trying to calm himself down.

"I understand that, but 'kidnapping the newsroom executive' is not the most ideal way to go about it. You can barely walk, even with the crutches!"

Motioning to Hypnotica's broken left leg, and the sprain in his other. Hypnotica just huffs and looks off to the side, still with an angered expression plastered on his face.

"So. Fucking. What? Okay, maybe kidnapping is a bit extreme, but..."

Sir's own angry expression starts to soften as he notices the tears that begin to fall from his partner's face. Wondering how long he's been holding it in.

"...I can't let my family take the blame for a stupid mistake that I made!"

Hypnotica's body begins to shudder as more tears fall, Sir walks over to him and embraces him in a way to try to calm him down.

"It's not your fault...all of you did what you could to try and handle the situation."

"That doesn't excuse all of the death and destruction that happened, and not to mention all the hurt my family is going through because of it!"

"No. It doesn't. But how is any of that your doing, hmm?"

"...I...I..."

"Shh, just stay, and relax. I'll make up a fully detailed report and send out a few copies to some of the stations. They'll most likely use those facts since my name does carry some weight..."

While still holding him with his right hand, Sir uses his left to tilt Hypnotica's chin up to meet his eyes. After a few seconds go by, he rests his head on his partner's.

"...Trust me dear. Everything will turn out just fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I saw it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A trusted source, who has decided to stay anonymous, has confirmed that the deaths in the Discorded Warehouse accident were not the before mentioned teams fault, but the fault of-"

"Thank you! Finally, a news channel that checks their facts. Even though I'm fine with a few deaths under my belt, but whatever I guess."

"Oh! Look Gummy! That's me! Saving all of those orphans was quite the task, I'll have to tell you all about it later."

"Kano my love! Let me help you with those dishes, there is far to many for one man to clean."

"Thank you Mochi! I kinda went all out with the meal this time, it was a celebration for everyone recovering so quickly....well, mostly everyone..."

"I call bullshit. Of course right after I get healed I trip down the stairs and end up right back to square one."

"Guess that means I'll have play nurse bit longer my dear."

~~*Cue Laugh Track*~~

[bottomlwjrights]

MO DAO ZU SHI REREAD:Thoughts™️....and Stuff

Chapter 46

Okay so nmj is wearing a (very tattered) burial robe in this scene

Of course JingYi volunteered to shout at a corpse

“As soon as he had finished, the headless man spun around and walked in the direction of the Lan Sect’s juniors.” Akbfkfkdjf

Jingyi really freaking out, poor boy

Yeah yikes imagine how scary this would have been for the little Lans 

Wwx said they wouldnt have to keep on walking and his solution was to call out to lwj 

“A few moments later, the soft, flowing note of a xiao sounded amid the night. Closely following it was the limpid reverberation of a string.” Its The twin jades 🥳🥳🥳

ZeWu-Jun 😩😩😩😩

“Lan XiChen’s expression was especially surprised, almost to the point of shocked.” Anyways lxc basically recognized nmj at first glance

Also yeah I completely forgot that nmj grabs Bichen out of the air, which is quite the feat idk how i didn’t remember this

“as soon as the soft, serene tone of the xiao appeared, the corpse’s movement paused. For a moment, he seemed to have stood still and listened, then turned around, as though he wanted to see who was the one playing the music.” Fuck you 😭😭😭😭

It took the combined effort of lwj, lxc, and wwx all playing their instruments to calm him down, and he wasnt even being that aggressive

God lxc defending jgy hurts so much goddamnit

Wwx even said that lxc is refusing to admit that jgy is the most sus person

😬😬😬😬

Chapter 47

Jgy kept the murals of jzx up for some reason

Wwx hopped down to stare at jzx’s murals, which hurt me 

Thinkin about post canon wangxian going to discussion conferences in place of lxc, with wwx all decked out lan style forehead ribbon and all

Jgy remembers little details about people after only meeting them once or twice

Wwx cant help but look at pretty women

God I remember the first time i read this introduction scene of qin su i was so woo’d by how gentle and loving it was

Nhs comes over just in time to prevent jgy from asking lxc whats wrong and what he’s thinking about 

Wwx using his chance to teach jl something AGAIN

“Looks like I can’t keep it from you anymore. That’s right. I’ve fallen for someone else.” Oh the irony 

“Wei WuXian, ‘In the past, I couldn’t understand my own heart, but after I met HanGuang-Jun I’m certain.’ He took in a deep breath, ‘I’m already incapable of leaving him. I don’t want anyone else aside from HanGuang-Jun…’” tHE IRONY

Alnfnckwj jl ran the other way hsndmck

HANGUANG-JUN WAS WATCHING THIS GO DOWN WTF

“...as Lan WangJi gazed at him, he actually felt a subtle sense of shame....” uh...yEaH

“Don’t tell me that Jin GuangYao has no son or daughter, or anyone around his age who’s close to him.” 😬

This scene with the paperman and the forehead ribbon still devastates me

“Do not fool around.” “You must be careful.” Bro im literally gonna 😭

Oh also the little unintentional kiss....

Lan XiChen’s paintings, i would love to see them

Wwx recognized the paintings as lxc’s, which means he’s seen enough of them to recognize his style. Lxc’s painting skill are probably well known, being the First Jade of Lan and the number one most eligible bachelor and all. 

Jgy is smart

“Just what in the world is written in the letter? Jin GuangYao killed someone and dismembered them?” Yeah, actually that’s probably exactly what’s in there and you know it 

Bruh why was it so shocking to find out they’re related when qin su literally said it

“Aside from a desk, an iron table—dark to the eyes, cold to the touch, long enough for a person to lie—was also within the room. There seemed to be black, dried-up traces of something on the surface of the table. Wei WuXian commented in silence, This would be the perfect table to cut someone apart on.”

Jgy talking to nmj’s head creeps me tf out

Did wwx not meet nmj before????

Chapter 48

Wwx said nmj went into seemingly invincible rages during the sunshot campaign

“A while later, his fingers twitched. With downcast eyes, he touched his lips softly. It was very soft indeed, as soft as how the paperman had bumped into them.” this is so Soft....

Lwj pulled wwx into his arms and held his face.....

Nmj is so tall 😍 

I fucking HATE how everyone talks about prostitution in this novel good lord

Man idk how people think of nmj as just an angry man, like he very obviously cares about justice and doing the right thing

Lxc was known as “a powerful trump card” during the ssc

“Although Lan XiChen looked almost exactly the same as Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian could tell them apart with just a glance.” This is cute

Nmj doesnt notice microaggressions

Am i freaking out about lxc saying hes gonna have to stay at nmj’s place for the night? Yes. Yes i am.

“Hearing Nie MingJue praise Lan WangJi’s level of cultivation, Wei WuXian felt a strange surge of happiness, ChiFeng-Zun, what a great eye!”

Getting pissed off once again by how the cultivators treat wwx

Wow lxc even said he’d help convince nmj to let jgy leave to help in the jin sect

Nmj even wrote him a recommendation letter wooooow

Nhs was staying with lxc during the ssc

???? Jgy and Lxc’s meeting was embarrassing and neither OH WAIT WHEN CLOUD RECESSES BURNED

“The three chatted back and forth, at times serious, yet at times light. The conversation was much more relaxed than when they had been in the living room.”

Hate jgs

bRO I FORGOT JGY DID THAT

Um the disciples in the hall are walking on their knees??????

Wowza, what a chapter

[pythosart]

A big ol 2019 end of the year update

I felt somewhat compelled to write my end of the year/decade thoughts, but a warning before you read: This one’s going to be heavy, intensely personal, and long. If you don’t feel up to reading that, it may be best to skip it. I promise I’ll go back to shutting up and posting art afterwards. I’m profoundly incapable of being concise, ever, so apologies for the length of this.

2019 was a nightmare.

Some background: In mid 2016, my mother was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer. She was given a few months to live. She was given weeks or months to live multiple times, for almost three years. In that time my mom was in and out of the hospital, but spent all her good days living life to the fullest, starting and finishing dream projects, and keeping all of us going despite her own situation. Even when she was bedridden, hooked up to tubes and bags and god knows what, she found time to prop up her loved ones and pursue her hobbies. She even managed to develop new hobbies and interests while otherwise imprisoned by her physical state, something I struggle to do at the best of times even in my young and relatively healthy form. If there’s anything I can make of this experience, it’s that I hope to grow into even half the woman my mother was.

I ended 2018 with my final quarter at SCAD. I spent the entire quarter terrified my mom was going to die while I was away from home. It was horrific, I barely scraped by my last few classes (bless my professors’ endless patience), and immediately left Savannah for home as soon as the quarter was up. I never had room to celebrate finishing college. Any other year it would be a huge milestone, but I barely even care.

This past May, my mother passed away, after three years of petrifying suspense. It happened in the dead middle of the night, while my best friend was visiting for a con, and it still feels like a bad dream. It’s also one of the only vivid memories I even have of this year. 

I wish I had more to say on that, but I genuinely think the drawn out suffering and fracturing of my whole world left me unable to fully unpack everything that’s happened. It’s hard to even think about for long, and at times I even half-forget she’s gone. I think of things I want to show her, or tell her, or cook with her. Just the other day I kept thinking I’d tell her how much I liked endive after she showed me how to make it. I found a historical Italian cooking channel that, every time I see it, I just think of how much she’d love it. I knew she’d love Hot Fuzz but never got to show her. Little, stupid things that shouldn’t matter, but they do. They just do.

My mother and I were close, much closer than I am with my dad. Especially towards the end of her life, we had gotten closer, and I felt like I was only just really getting to know her as an equal. I still want to share my life with her, but that chance is gone.

This holiday season has been especially rough in her absence, because not only was my mom the motivational and creative force behind a lot of holiday activities here, it’s the first everything without her. We had Thanksgiving with friends and a catered dinner, instead of spending several days cooking and polishing family silver and setting the table. I won’t be making handmade tortellini with her for Christmas like we did every year. It’s the little things like that.

We’re a tiny family, with over half of us in Italy and lacking much communication due to the language barrier. Family holidays were always small, but there’s just a huge hole how, much greater than the cold numeric value of “one fewer participant.” My mom was always a driving force and a keystone in our support networks, not to mention the main line of contact with the Italian-speaking side of the family, so now the family feels so much more scattered and isolated than ever.

My girlfriend was close to my mother too, and as she’s been living with me for years now and is practically part of the family, I think she took it just as hard as anyone. Cel saw everything I did, and dealt with many of the same uncertainties and traumatic experiences I did.

A month after I lost my mother, I lost my cat too. Galileo was twelve years old, a spry old man who yelled instead of meowed, and just a wonderful cat. I got him when I was in 7th grade, after begging my parents for years to get me a cat. It was my mom who eventually overrode my dad’s hesitations, and from then on Leo was part of the family. He went through a very sudden decline over the course of a week or two, and we learned it was cancer. Feline lymphoma, I think. I had to make the call to put him to sleep, and it ripped what was left of my heart out.

Not that it needs stating, but fuck cancer.

A few too-short months later, I cut ties with a “friend,” which despite how fucking much it hurt, was really for the best. At a certain point one simply can no longer afford to waste energy on a certain kind of person. Unfortunately I’m a persistently optimistic idiot, and it took me too long to cut my losses before deep damage was done. Done to me, my close friends, and even barely involved acquaintances this “friend” dumped on relentlessly and tried to harass into spying on me. Really, if any part of this is unforgivable, it’s that.

All this was, however, a valuable reminder that it’s no good to have any tolerance for habitually dishonest people, even if they think they’re doing it to look “nice.” Chronic liars will gaslight you whether they know it or not, and trying to navigate that in an already damaged mental state is inadvisable. It was an important lesson in picking one’s battles, albeit one learned too late. I’m still holding out hope I can find it in my heart to forgive this person, if only for my own selfish sake so I can move on. I have a lot of experience living on spite, and I don’t want to make a further habit of it.

Naturally all of the above did little to curb my already inflamed pessimism about the state of my country and the world at large, but I need not expand on that, I imagine.

I suppose it would be unfair of me to leave it all at that and only mention the negative, though admittedly positivity is hard to muster these days. A few bright spots of note:

Graduated from SCAD with my BFA in Sequential Art (technically last year, but I did the ceremonial bit this year)

Tabled at Animazement with Woods. We barely broke even, but it was a great time and I plan on doing it again in the new year.

Spent literally an entire month hanging out with my two best friends, which was amazing and exactly the kind of healing experience I needed around that time of year.

Properly did Halloween for the first time in years. I made a costume I’m proud of and we went out on the town… for like an hour, because it promptly started pouring. But fun nevertheless

Started therapy. As of writing this, I’ve only had an introductory session, but it’s a start. Should have started six months ago, but didn’t for reasons to be addressed...in therapy

Started volunteering at the local natural history museum, where I spent like half my childhood. I’ll be doing data entry in collections, but that’s still cool as hell

Got a start on figuring out what I want to do with my life. It’ll involve going back to school for science within the next five-ish years, but it’s nice to have a goal. More of a goal than I’ve ever had, in fact.

Played some extremely good video games (shout out to The Blackout Club and Control)

Made a shitload of unnecessary yet endlessly fun and good AUs with my friends and my one (1) OC

Got an iPad Pro and started learning Procreate, which has gotten me drawing more

Learned a bit of needle felting

2019 was a year of getting much closer to my two best friends, and I genuinely owe them my life at this point. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Nowhere good, certainly.

Woods and Dross kept me talking to people, kept me creating, told me when I was being unreasonable or needed to cool it, heard me out when I needed it but always kept me honest. They helped me keep some creative juices flowing when otherwise I’d have been at a frustrated loss and might have given up for good. If it seems like I’ve kept up my usual art output at all, and if you’ve enjoyed the Lou content (or not, whoops... apologies to everyone who followed me for monster content) you have both of them to thank.

Even moreso, I owe my girlfriend a great deal for being there for me through all of this while she herself was suffering similarly. She and I have had our ups and downs, and been through a lot in the five-ish years we’ve been together. We aren’t the most outspoken couple, but I think our mutual understanding and pain mitigated a lot of the damage this year has done. I don’t think I could have handled it alone.

Furthermore, I really need to thank a lot of other friends and acquaintances I’m not quite as close with, but still talk to. These people especially were willing to call me on my bullshit when necessary, or just talk to me at all, about anything. Even if these acquaintances didn’t know it at the time, there’s a good chance they were dragging me out of one of my frequent existential despair spirals.

I also, weirdly, owe a lot to helping my hen Julia recover from her dog attack. That was around the time that my mom’s health was in its final decline, when I felt the most helpless and despairing. I think having even some tiny something I could do to help was like, the only feeling of control I had in life for a bit there. Julia’s fine, by the way. Still queen of the yard, top chicken boss bitch, etc. Julia was always a kind of kindred spirit with my mom, in a way. Little but not to be underestimated, gray, big personality and commanding presence… Not to mention, she was one of the first in our flock and was always my mom’s favorite. 

It would be too much to say I have high hopes or plans of any kind for the upcoming year, but I do have a list of things I want to try and do. Some of which will involve art, and the posting thereof.

Big if on this one, but I’ve also recently started therapy (only took me half a year to work up to making a phone call after the first failed attempt took all the wind out of my sails) and I have…maybe not high hopes, but hopes, for that doing something to help. I should have started therapy two years ago, but the second best time is now, etc etc.

I have a lot of New Year’s resolutions, beyond the usual “get in shape, drink less coffee, blah blah” that I’ll try and write up a little list of separately. Most of them are art-related, so you all will be there to watch me swing and miss I PROMISED I’D TRY TO BE LESS NEGATIVE. New Year’s resolution #1: Maybe don’t make so many self-deprecating jokes.

Anyway, I don’t know how to end any wall of text, be it an OC worldbuilding screed or something serious like this, so... I guess, love yourself, cherish your friends, know when to put your own needs first and when to put your friends’ needs firster. One of the things my mom taught me in this past year or so is that relationships are what you make of them, and that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Be generous, be genuine, don’t be a doormat and don’t lie to people you care about, even if it seems kinder in the moment. Savor the time you have with those close to you, and spend time doing things you love. Cliché, maybe, but cliché can still be true. Happy new year, everyone. I sincerely hope it will treat us all better. 2020 may just be an imaginary change of numbers, but I like to think it really does wipe the slate in a way, and make room for all of us to do what we can to be better. Speaking of which, vote. For the love of all that is good, vote.

--

A little bullet list of New Year’s resolutions, because it’s nicer to look at

Try to get back in shape (of course) - That 30 days of strength thing was good while it lasted, despite my joints hating me

Learn some new recipes, preferably with fewer carbs, you Italian ass

Keep a physical calendar and stick with it for at least a few months

Learn at least one new skill by the middle of the year, whether it’s art-related or something else

Start writing more. Don’t have to share it, but try. Write down ideas somewhere other than Discord where they’re easy to lose

Either reopen Patreon or figure out how ko-fi works. Even if it’s for no money, just to have structure and goals.

Do Animazement again and try out some new product types

Go to SCAD career fair with a decent portfolio

Get better about spending, by whatever method works

Attend some art classes at the local collectives, doesn’t matter what

Play more video games. I swear I only played like three new things this year 

Read more classic literature and nonfiction, at least one book per month. I’ve been really enjoying Agatha Christie’s works and am about to start Guns, Germs, and Steel

Read more comics. Basically just consume more media

Do Halloween again, better this time

See friends in person more

Practice accepting whatever shitty thoughts show up and then letting them go, rather than dwelling on them

[belzinone]

SEND ME A WORD! || LEARN ALL ABOUT MY MUSE'S PHYSICAL FEATURES!

// @wolfstillhasclaws // @hunting-songs //

// y’all really cleaned me out here, huh? jasdfnkajnfkan i love you both~<3 (this is also nice bc i can describe her better than i can draw her; aaaaaand i been chipping away at this forever oh dear. ah well. i finished an assignment. i deserve to post this now <3

[EYES]: not just the colour, but the shape, the length of their eyelashes, whether they're alert or usually half-closed, large or small, sunken into the face, ringed by bags, etc.

// sharply angled almonds surrounded by corner folds of age, stress, & restless nights. lashes thickly line their corners like fine fur, emphasized by the way her lids are drawn under the weight of contemplation. small & narrow in shape, but nonetheless quickly to light, soften, & warm at the sight of the things she loves. small pupils are bathed in a bright amber bath sprinkled with green in the candlelight, not much different from the sun’s rays through a forest canopy in the daylight. stern but forgiving, sharp but soft. more of a window to her soul than her mouth would probably ever communicate.

// her brows are drawn but expressive, usually level in furrows but quick to relax & raise. full & average thickness as they taper to the edges of her face, they have soft angles but a sharp beginning. a burn chars the follicles of the left side of her left brow later in life, leaving a break in its length.

[HAIR]: length, colour, texture, whether it grows quickly or slowly, how manageable it is, whether it requires lots of styling, do they leave stray hairs everywhere, is it present on their face, is it present on the rest of their body, etc.

// cut & grown as necessity & identity fluctuated throughout her life. a short crop as a small girl, grazing her ears & off her nape to best pass as a boy. as she matured, her mother insisted she grow out her long tawny waves & she obliged, subject to the pressures of not insisting she knew better. though relatively thin & not well kept (a luxury lacked by many underground residents), long, beautiful hair was key to landing a rich husband.

// as a civilian, she tied up her hair in a number of ways for many occasions, having more time to spend on her appearances than as a soldier. her go-to became a loose, sideswept braid she kept for the beginning of her military career. after sacrificing length for life, she donned herself the popular soldier’s undercut, though leaving some length on the shave & a generous head of curls that fall to the side. she never felt more like herself.

// she leaves strings of twisted burnt copper everywhere she rests, easily caught by dark fabrics & generous sunlight. lovers & comrades given permission to roam her body would find soft, thin hairs nearly invisible against the rich, ashy undertones of her skin. they concentrate in a combination of wolffian & müllerian patterns: under her arms, on her lower back, down the line of her stomach, as well as sparsely covering her genitals, arms, & legs.

// as soon as she gets her hands on body-scaping luxuries as a soldier, she makes a habit out of maintaining her body hairs on a regular basis. not for presentation, but function as skin-tight uniform pants & full body straps make staying au natural rather uncomfortable. regardless of her upkeep, the hair in areas most impacted by her uniform have steadily lost its volume to friction.

// as she started to lose herself after her injury, she grew out the hair on her head but couldn’t bring herself to stop maintaining her military undercut entirely. as personal hygiene became difficult, her body-scaping became lax & revealed patterns of war through her uniform & scars.

[MOUTH]: are their lips always drawn thin or are they plump and kissable, what's their "default expression"/resting face, do they have all their own teeth, do they use their teeth to smile, etc

// small, full, & pursed in stress until her sights are set upon a dear face. in situations of calm & camaraderie she wears the slightest grin as a neutral expression. a pronounced cupid’s bow with a crooked edge when she smiles. a natural smirk without the airs of arrogance.

// though her jaw is usually tense, she hides her teeth (unremarkable & average for someone of her stature) until rare instances of unrestrained joy overwhelm her consciousness.

// if she could choose a color, she’d enjoy a lively, perhaps even icy pink rather than rouge regardless if it “matches her skintone” or not

[FACE]: what is the shape of their face, do they have pronounced cheekbones or a strong jaw, what's the size and shape of their nose, what's the size and shape of their ears, do they stick out, are they pointed, etc.

// the only part of her that never seemed to mature. short & small in shape with round cheeks yet capable of feral expressions. perhaps a heart shape with a small yet pronounced chin. her nose is small as well with a pronounced button shape compared to the rest of her peers, much like armin. her age shows in the rest of her features, from the folds of her eyes to the wrinkles between her brows. identifying features include her pronounced widow’s peak & nearly invisible freckles, as well as a couple facial moles: a left monroe & another below her right brow.

// her ears stand out, but not in size or angle. they’re comparatively small, round, & easily hide in her hair, but her detached earlobes are undoubtedly foreign as the rest of the eldian population seems to sport attached earlobes. her mother taught her to hide this, but they’re regardlessly easily unnoticed.

// the way she wears her visage is kind, welcoming, & maternal, unhardened by the throes of battle but nonetheless changed throughout her life & adapt to circumstances. as a cadet she carried a lot of secrets & communicated a demand for distance through a resting bitch face, unraveled by the love & understandings of her late garrison squad. though not incapable of being stern & able to sway most others through a Look:tm:, she much prefers not to convey authority & would rather communicate airs of openness, a manifestation of democratic leadership expressed by levi & other philosophies of the scouting legion she admires.

[SKIN]: obviously colour, but also if they're inclined to run hot or cold, do they have any blemishes or unusual markings, are they inclined to blush, are they freckled, do they tan, what does their skin feel like, etc.

// her ancestors weren’t from the walls. she looks a bit out of place much like the others who hailed from across the continent, most notably comparable to ymir who hailed from a poor, remote land. fair to medium tone, olive & ashy in undertone.

// faint, full-body freckles despite being easy to tan, a trait rare to those who spend the beginnings of their life underground. her skin reflects the sun she catches after moving above ground, a soft & subtle sun-kissed glow that gently darkens throughout her career, especially as she catches direct sunlight ontop of & beyond the walls. (lowkey inspired by my very elementary coloring skills. i’m getting better & applying my growth to her development bc we’re in this together) as a result, she doesn’t need much sun protection & does very much enjoy sunbathing

// warm to the touch, but reluctant to blush. she has thick skin & an elastic heart. most parts of her are hardened, calloused, dried, & bruised save for the intimate parts of her including her inner joints & limbs. the softest parts of her are her inner thighs surrounding 3dmg wear, surprisingly luxurious for such a hardened soldier often subject to harsh medicinal chemicals.

// also on par is a freshly shaved pussy but i believe that’s pretty universal with the right skincare. also pretty average of her: she has rough, dry, & slightly darkened elbows.

// the texture of her neck is unsettling at the very least, a result of scar tissue buildup in an area with such thin skin. it’s very odd & generally off-putting, causing her to regard the area with a lot of defensiveness & self-consciousness. (marked bc probably one of her most characteristic physical traits)

[BUILD]: are they skinny and petite or do they resemble a body builder, are they tall or short or average height, are they lean and wiry, are they overweight, are all of their features proportionate, etc

// her body betrays who she feels she is, even as she works to manipulate (& privately enhance) its shape & volume. she doesn’t feel like it belongs to her, but it is.

// petite & heavyset, small but mighty with generous work-muscle, most notably in her back, thighs, & upper arms. she has a strong core, but her abdominals will never be as pronounced as a result of the significantly müllerian way her body retains fat. four pack for life. it pains her.

// pronounced hourglass figure, deceptively top-heavy. small, but strong & widened shoulders support large breasts that are bound in sarashi-like fashion under her scout uniform, a way meant to be safest for support as well as long-term wear, but nonetheless restricting & potentially dangerous if not done correctly.

// properly bound & suited, she could pass as male just as well as she could when she was a child. androgyny feels most natural to her, but genuine femininity is a high-hanging fruit she may never taste regardless of the sensuality of her body when enhanced with her favorite lingerie. in private, she indulges & finds comfort in playing up her femininity and exploring aesthetic sensuality (marked for key characterization of her sexuality/gender identity)

[HANDS]: are they large or small, do they have pianist's fingers or short stubby ones, do they tend to get sweaty or are they always dry, is the skin rough or delicate, are the nails painted or chewed or sharp, etc.

// hands small enough to meticulously craft detail, deceptively rough with work. short, but nonetheless artisan fingers. short & kept nails, though mechanical oils, debris, & blood sometimes persist without her noticing. more often when she’s distracted, but she’ll take care of it asap nonetheless.

// they’re always warm, ready to hold, ready to work, ready to comfort. but they are dry, especially the tops of her hands. they’re always in need of repair, moisture, & upkeep.

[LEGS]: are they solidly built, short and stubby, or long and graceful, do they have knobbly knees or rounded knees, what's their gait, etc.[feet]: do they have a habit of going up on their tiptoes, what's their usualy stance, do they tend to shift their weight to a preferred side, etc.

// they do nothing for her height, wide with secondary müllerian fat deposit & definitively shaped with the muscle of a workhorse. yet they can move her with skillful grace, artfully bending and swaying as led by her hips in the midst of her dancing.

// in this vein, she has an extraordinary sense of balance. whether or not she consciously keeps this in constant check is up for debate, but her legs ground and carry her well. she’s also very flexible & can do a myriad of splits.

// she often leans towards her left when standing, later shifting to her right and alternating to keep the blood flow alive. bel also has a tendency for wide, masculine stances to keep her on her toes in action as well as situations that call for her bluff.

// her most natural, comfortable position is on her knees. level with her patients in their environment of need, ready to tend. she very much prefers the ground and can kneel for very long periods of time without losing her sensations. she’s learned to strategically carry and shift her weight in order to accomplish long sessions.

[OTHER: CLOTHES STYLE]: any other obscure feature or tiny detail that the asker is interested in, materials, style, details, freshly new bought or old an worn down, full of dirt or always washed, preferred colour

// as a child they were little more than rags, but nonetheless carefully tailored & decorated with the love of a homemaker mother. it was more as a means of protection rather than inevitability, as flaunting wealth in the dangerous subterranean city was a death sentence.

// as soon as she reached adolescence, her mother instructed her to dress as a lady & slowly began to bestow upon her the racy garments she used to wear as a Wallflower. subdued skirts & bodices became more & more audacious as they grew closer to the surface. risa’s wears were optimized for wiles as much as work, with hidden inner drawstrings easily controlling length, bell sleeves skillfully tied back, corsets carefully constructed to allow stretch as much as shape.

// this stage of life for bel, however, was even more fraught with denied freedoms, fostering a growing complicated relationship between herself & her gender expression. even as she grew into a young adult, she still lacked the bodily function to menstruate, still found herself under the pressures of her mothers dreams to marry into the capitol & retire as a socialite.

// it wasn’t what she wanted, so bel soon began shedding her compromises. with her uniform she donned a laced undershirt over bustiers, not ideal for service but not so stifling either for the lax garrison regiment. her comrades gifted her her switchblade as well as a red ribbon, which she wove & tied into her usual braid.

// following the battle of trost, a bone from her bodice close to puncturing her lung prompted her to make a change. for the first time in years, she reached for the bandage & bound her chest, feeling more powerful than ever. when an Underground scuffle gave her a neck scar, she traded her lace for a sleeveless number with a cowl to cover it. it’s soft material closely resembling a sweater & is perhaps the first garment she bought for herself without tailoring.

// i put her in dark mauve for no reason other than it’s a color i like. maybe it hides bloodstains. maybe she indulged in a higher class color as homage to her mother’s lost dreams. the latter is the most likely option, even though i just thought of it at the moment of writing this. so it goes. she chooses rich colors because of her mother. not just because i like it. (it also compliments the olive in her skin, i think)

// while out on the town or in casual wear, bel lets herself indulge in her femininity, treating it as a special occasion. her style choices are still more audacious than the average woman on the street, more so when she wears her dance costumes under a cloak on the way to a sidejob. out of uniform, she’s likely to turn heads & instigate judgements. she nonetheless enjoys it, as being perceived as a feminine (as well as sexual) being eases her feelings of dysphoria as well as her trifles with asexuality. though she won’t demand it verbally, she’s very much a statement Attention Whore.

*BONUS, bc may as well top it off lol* [FEET]: do they have a habit of going up on their tiptoes, what's their usual stance, do they tend to shift their weight to a preferred side, etc.

// her weight is always on the balls of her feet, remnant of her training as a dancer before soldier. she can balance on her tiptoes like rose from titanic & is very good at it. there’s not much else about her feet worth noting at the time. headcanons may come later.