#butterfly shawl

[neechees]

[image description: a digital art rendered in a semi realism style depicting a brown skinned, fancy shawl pow wow dancer. they sit down with their left knee propped up and their left arm resting on their knee. They have dark blue, black, and yellow colored regalia. They wear thin blue hair wraps around their braids, a yellow beaded choker, a yellow beaded headband, and blue beaded earrings with yellow accents. Their under dress has medium sleeves and is a shiny, dark fabric that glitters blue and purple in the light. a yellow shawl with a multicolored heart design rests on their right leg, with black fringes. a circular cropped image of an eastern tiger swallowtail resting on green leaves is overlaid next to the fancy shawl dancer, who's regalia and beadwork designs mimic the butterfly wings. end image description.]

"send me a butterfly or moth species and I'll draw a fancy shawl dancer inspired by it" art request series is back up & open again!

Eastern Tiger swallowtail fancy dancer for @crowtoed!

[hewaje]

Shorekeeper

[butterflybones95]

Oh, they are amazing how they are. However, I wouldn't mind seeing something else from you. The deeper I scroll, the deeper I want to unload inside of you.

🌙

Well here's ✨just✨ an outfit check for your long journey.

[tyrhinosaurus]

Its show drop off day here, so we had a very late night getting ready. She's definitely not finished lmao, but bound off! I even got a light block in, my first time blocking anything. Haven't sewn all the ends in but that's okay

She's bigger than I thought and I'm so so happy with her :)

[leiyahime]

gothic butterfly shawl progress

Crocheted 2½ rows this evening and remembered to take a picture.

Pattern from wilmade

[reanimatestar]

quick redesign of psyche from lore olympus <3

[image description: pencil drawings of the artist's redesign of psyche, from the webcomic lore olympus. she is a chubby black woman with her hair styled in locs and butterfly wings on her back. in the first image, psyche is smiling, wearing a translucent shawl over a spaghetti strap top and cuffed jeans, and sneakers. her locs are tied into pigtails with butterfly hair clips on them. in the second image, psyche is wearing a chiton, clutching her shoulders and looking to the side with a contemplative expression. her hair is worn loose. /end description]

the second one is a redraw of this panel:

[image description: a panel from the webcomic lore olympus, depicting psyche's godly form. psyche is a black woman with kinky hair done in twin buns, and purple bird wings on her back. she is wearing a long iridescent dress and earrings. /end description]

[druidofsuburbs]

Wear something stunning, darling. 🦋🎭💃

[captaincrochet]

[pathologicalreid]

and it feels like home | s.r.

in which Spencer confesses his love to you at the oddest of places - your sister's wedding

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: could be angst if you know what's coming next, jareau!reader, down bad!spencer, yearning, reader feels unlovable, spencer drinks champagne, reader does not drink, reader is shorter than spencer, reader wears a dress and heels word count: 1.93k a/n: and just like that, margovember is over (i have one more request for it technically but it's an episode rewrite so that'll take me longer to write). i was in need of some good yearning - this covers a request for their first kiss and for a fic with francesca by hozier levels of yearning.

You allowed yourself to be led away from the party. The past twenty-four hours had been amassed of you running around like a headless chicken, trying to put together your sister’s one-step-below shotgun wedding. Now that the party was in full swing, you willingly followed Spencer through the garden, a few remaining speeches going on in the background as the two of you rounded a corner, out of sight of party guests. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were leading me away from everyone to kill me,” you said offhandedly, adjusting the way your shawl fell over your shoulders.

Instead of looking up at Spencer, your eyes homed in on the way he was holding your hand as if he were about to lift it and press a kiss to your knuckles. Butterflies flurried in your stomach at the thought, but you quickly dewinged them, trying to focus on the issue at hand.

Something was wrong with Spencer; you could see it in the way he was shaking his hands. It looked like he was trying to get excess water off of them or if there was energy trying to exit via his fingertips. You were worried about him, sometimes he fidgeted when he was craving—though you’d only seen him in that state once before and you couldn’t ascertain what would have triggered him.

“I have to talk to you,” he repeated the same words that he’d told you when he first took your hand back at the gazebo. He had to be preparing to tell you something awful, you could tell from the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you finally glanced up at him. Deep brown irises flittered around, noticing each small detail that you and Dave had plotted out, but he never noticed you.

The blue dress that you had picked out to go well with the flowers and your hair was previously pinned to perfection but had since fallen out while you tried to sort out a last-minute issue with the caterers, but he didn’t seem to take mind of any of it. For better or for worse, you supposed. “What do you need, Spence?” You asked him, cocking your head and trying not to notice the twinkle in his eye when you called him ‘Spence.’ You promised yourself months ago that you’d stop waiting for someone who would never want you back.

You just couldn’t seem to get away from Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that you saw yourself as undesirable, but a small part of yourself was under the impression that if he hadn’t made a move yet, it was never going to happen. He knew too much about you; he’d been the one to pick you up off of the floor when your last relationship fell apart. You wondered if he felt the same way, recalling the night you spent on his bathroom floor because you were terrified of finding a needle in his vein.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Spencer finally spoke, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at you nervously. You eyed him curiously, the question faintly reminiscent of something a man would ask you if he were making small talk.

Foolishly, you had thought that you and Spencer had been well past small talk at this point, “No,��� you answered, dragging out the vowel. “You already knew that, though,” You had talked to him about it last night when the subject of weddings came up, naturally.

He nodded in confirmation, “Right, yeah. Yes, I just needed to make sure before I started this conversation.” Spencer glanced over his shoulder as if he were being watched, or maybe he wanted to make sure no one saw the two of you in close vicinity.

You squinted at him, trying to get a feel for what he wanted to talk about without outwardly profiling him. “What conversation?” You asked, feeling like you were enveloped in a spiraling line of questioning—like you’d never get a straightforward answer.

“Do you remember this time last year? We’d just finished that sex trafficking case, and we were finishing paperwork late in the office, and you asked me if I’d ever been in love,” he said, panting like he was running a marathon. “I told you no, and at the time that was the truth. However, the circumstances have changed.”

Your stomach flipped, surging well past butterflies at this point as your face warmed—what was he trying to say?

He finally dropped your hand, resorting to placing each of his hands on your waist, stopping you from pulling away. Spencer felt impossibly close to you, even though the two of you had irrefutably been closer together, but not even an embrace would match up with the look he was giving you now. “I couldn’t let myself love you, not while you were in a relationship. It felt cruel to me, and it felt cruel to you because you had a boyfriend. It feels like we’ve already lived a lifetime together when we’ve never truly been together,” he told you, gently squeezing your waist as he spoke animatedly.

Instinctively, you took a step back from him, your breathing faltered slightly when you saw hurt flash in his eyes, “Why?” Your voice was no more than a breath, an appalled, exasperated breath. “Why here? Why now, Spence? We’re at my sister’s wedding,” you placed a hand on your chest “Please, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Spencer was shaking his head before you’d even finished speaking, “No, it has to be now. I need to do this now,” desperation crept into his tone as he stepped forward, practically caging you against the siding of Rossi’s mansion.

You didn’t feel trapped, though, even with Spencer’s arms on either side of you, he was still Spencer. “Why now, Spence?” You peered up at him through your mascara-covered lashes. Maybe this was a consequence of his environment, surrounded by an evening that was sure to involve declarations of love, so he elected to make one of his own with you as a victim.

“Because I thought you were in that building,” he said exasperatedly, wide brown eyes watching you as if the answer had been completely obvious the entire time.

Realization dawned over you as you recalled the events from a few days ago: the bank robbery turned explosion that somehow ended in a marriage proposal. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you eyed Spencer curiously, “You thought I’d gotten hurt.”

Spencer sighed, “I thought you were dead.” His eyes were trained on yours like there was nothing else in the world for him to look at, “For a moment, I lived my worst nightmare because I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and I was stuck in Quantico with no way to reach you.”

Everything about the explosion was hazy, everyone was shouting for someone else, and you thought you’d imagined someone calling your name. You’d convinced yourself you were hearing things, some sort of after effect of the blast, but Spencer had been looking for you. “Spence,” you whispered, unable to gather the words you were so desperately searching for.

He shrugged helplessly, “I can’t go another day without telling you I love you.”

You felt like you were being stabbed in the chest repeatedly, unsure if you were on the verge of laughter or tears. “You never showed… I didn’t think—”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who I have a hard time reading, and I thought… I thought that if I waited for you someday, you’d realize that you love me too. I sat and I waited, and I helped you get over your ex and I am so grateful for you and your friendship, but it’s not enough for me,” he told you, no longer panting. This was Spencer completely levelheaded, emphatically declaring his love for you. “I need more of you and I can’t wait any longer.”

Eventually, the jig would be up. Someone would jump out from the bushes, and they’d let you know that you were indeed being Punk’d, but right now you were just looking into the eyes of someone who loved you. It would seem that no one else had ever truly loved you before, because the look Spencer was giving you could only be defined as love, yet it was unfamiliar to you. “You love me?” You asked, your voice no more than a whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you, “I love you in ways that no one has ever loved anyone before, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay,” you breathed, eyes studying his expression for any hint of regret.

“Would you allow me that?” He stepped away, dropping his arms at his side, “I know I cornered you tonight, and it’s perfectly fine if you don’t have an answer for me tonight, but I’d wait years for you if that’s what it took.”

You were shaking your head as you took the opportunity to step toward him, propping yourself up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, the picture-perfect moment for the two of you. Perhaps you startled him at first because it took him a moment to wrap his arms around you, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he pulled your body flush with his.

His lips tasted like champagne, and the soft tinge of the alcohol on your mouth only served to intoxicate you further, even though you yourself didn’t drink from a flute.

The universe had a funny way of working in your favor, and this time, it had given you your first meeting with Spencer almost four years ago. You had nearly two years of friendship under your belt now, which is why it was so easy for you to pull away from him slightly, grinning against his lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Spencer kissed you again, moving one of his hands to gently cup your jaw, moving his velvet soft lips against yours with purpose and care. Your arms were thrown over his shoulders, elbows crossing at the nape of your neck to support you. You’d have to get used to the height difference, and you’re sure you will.

“Hey, Y/N,” Someone called out, and the two of you bolted away from each other like opposite charges, “I think it’s about time to cut the cake, your— Oh.”  

It seems the two of you did not move fast enough, for you were now faced with Emily and her knowing gaze. Your eyes flickered over to Spencer just briefly before you looked back at Emily, “Okay,” you responded to her, your voice hoarse, “I’ll let the caterers know.” You started your trudge to the backyard, picking up your feet so your heels wouldn’t dig into the grass. “Are you coming?” You turned and faced Spencer; a watercolor pink brushed across his cheeks.

“I’ll be right there,” he answered, giving you a soft, patented Spencer smile.

You looked nervously over at Emily, dreading the fact that this thing between you and Spencer was barely fledgling and the team was already going to be aware. “You know,” she started, and you braced yourself for the teasing, “London’s a pretty good place to keep a secret.”

Mouthing a thank you to her, the two of you stepped forward, turning around only when Spencer called out your name one last time, “Save me a dance?”

You laughed slightly at the dopey grin he bore on his face before nodding, “For you? Always.”  

[robmrowe]

I've been experimenting with more manual manipulation, and combinations of my existing and new work in my recent creations, before, between, and after multiple stages of neutral network-assisted processing. I feel much more of my initial vision shining through as I develop my skills, and a better understanding of how to achieve the results I desire. I welcome you to 'Slumber', one of a few new creations I very much look forward to sharing over the coming days... . . . #digitalabstract #art #butterfly #sleep #rest #peace #beauty #love #comfort #snowglobe #wings #pastel #nightsky #night #blanket #shawl #curledup #cosy #watercolor #turquoise #yellow #circle #safety #dream https://www.instagram.com/p/CpqIH9DjZKd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[neechees]

common windmill butterfly?

[image description: semi realistic digital drawing of a pale person with black hair in fancy shawl regalia, standing with a light smile. Their shawl is pink satin with two black ribbons sewn all along at the bottom of the hem, and white fringes. A white laminated paper titled "Red Thunderbird Pow wow" and the number "858" printed in the center of it is pinned to the shawl. The dancer's hair is wrapped in pink hair wraps and tied at the ends with pink shell, and black ferret fur dangling at the end of it. Their underdress is also pink satin, and their waist is covered with a black leather mirror belt, and the front half of the vest sits in front of their chest. The vest, moccasins, choker, and leggings have a design mimics the pattern of the butterfly wings. They wear a black eagle feather behind their head. end description.]

(send me a butterfly or moth species and I'll draw a fancy shawl dancer inspired by it)

[solarpunkani]

[Image ID: #pics when its done ya? sounds awesome!]

Oh I 100% will!

I'd offer to share the pattern, but since I haven't technically tried it yet I have no idea if the butterfly stitch pattern lines up with the cloak in a nice way

But to give a visual I wanna make a cloak like this one

But full length (so down to around my ankles or at least my knees) in green, with this pattern

Happening along the length of it after I extend it to the width I want

Fingers crossed

Not to say I'm cooking but I might be cooking

(Note: in this context, 'cooking' refers to 'combining 2 crochet patterns to make a cooler pattern, ie a hooded cloak consisting of butterfly stitches)

[vampzity]

bite me | C.YJ

“let’s play together, you make me so thirsty. feel the bite between my jaw, so tasty.” �� teeth, enhypen

—✫ pairing: vampire! yeonjun x f! reader

—✫ genre: vampire, halloween, txt, choi yeonjun, non-idol au, drabble

—✫ synopsis: you were going out to a halloween party with your friends tonight, dressed up as your only obsession, a vampire. although for you there was only one real vampire around here, and that was your boyfriend.

—✫ wc:

[warnings]: blood, consented feeding, masochism, sadism, possession, MDNI 18+!!!!, smut, cursing, biting, pet names (darling, princess, toy???, angel, pet, slut, good girl), fingering, clit play, thigh riding, dom! yeonjun, sub! reader,

You sat at your desk with your smaller mirror propped up in front of you. You adjusted its angle to show your lips down as you placed the last swipes of lipgloss on.

It was Halloween and your friends had planned for you all to go out to some slutty horror party that is thrown every year. You usually stay behind and watch different kinds of movies, as you weren’t much of social butterfly, however Yeonjun; your loving boyfriend convinced you to go. Which in that case, you retaliated and decided to go as a vampire.

“Fake blood? Seriously?” he mumbled, walking through the door which he soon shut behind him.

Yeonjun paused for a moment to admire your beauty, the way the dark corset hugged your curves with love. How it perked your chest upwards with a small cleavage line. Your sheer black shawl draped nicely over your shoulders as it was held together by a small pin. His eyes glanced to the small choices of accessories you made and once more to the laced thigh-high pantyhose that you decided to wear under your black miniskirt.

You caught his eyes staring, feeling the lust from just his gaze alone. Your body made his cravings go haywire just in everyday clothes, seeing you like this only heightened it. Oh how badly he wanted to sink his teeth into your pretty skin. A small smirk painted his face as he walked over to you.

“Why won’t you let me make you one.” he whined, his body hovering behind you.

You laughed softly, powdering your face a bit. You knew he was joking, as he always told you it was your choice for what you wanted to be or do. Though seeing you dressed up like this, sent him over the edge. It was difficult to fight his animalistic tendencies when you only tested that very thing with a body like your own.

“I live a perfectly fine life without immortality, Jun.”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around your chest as his mouth hovered over your neck. You reached for the fake blood beside your bag of makeup, giving it a good shake before opening it. Yeonjun’s head perked up, giving you a look of disgust before yanking the fake blood out of your hands.

“Hey! What was that for?!”

You turned to look at him, watching as he scanned the bottle until ultimately deciding to throw it in the trash by your desk. You scoffed at him, attempting to reach for the trash when he grabbed your wrist. He held it firmly, smirking as he brought it up to his face, kissing your wrist gently.

Your face flushed red, eyes widened as he quickly caught your attention with such a gesture. His lips slowly snaked up your arm then back down to your wrist, his eyes looking up at you as a smirk creeped onto his pale face.

“I’m thirsty angel. Can I please have a taste?”

You nodded, your heart beat racing as you felt his fangs graze over your vein. Your heart beat heightened his need to taste you, making it harder to resist his temptation to make you his dinner. Not only could he smell your sweet blood, but the mix of your vanilla perfume only intoxicated him.

Yeonjun’s fangs dug into your skin, sending a small but quick pinch through your arm. You always felt like a vampire feeding off of you should hurt more, but not when he does it. It feels… sensual. He made sure it didn’t hurt, he was gentle with you.

“Why use fake blood when you have your own darling?” he pouted, your eyes fixated on him.

He brushed your cheek with his thumb softly, your eyes falling to the blood that dripped off his bottom lip. Yeonjun pulled you in for a kiss, the taste of your own blood seeping into your mouth. He hummed, his hand snaking down to your skirt and slipping under the hem. Without wasting another second, he swiftly threw you onto your bed. His thigh separated your legs as he hovered above you, kissing your neck as you moaned into his ear.

Once again Yeonjun sunk his teeth into your skin, this time being a bit harsher about the blood he sucked from your neck. His hand slipped into your underwear, feeling the warmth of your cunt between his fingers. He looked up at you, blood dripping off of his chin and onto your chest.

“You like when I bite you hm?” His hooded red eyes met your soft ones. “You like being my toy don’t you?”

He slowly rubbed your clit, making your squirm in pleasure at his actions. His thumb toyed with you as his fingers teased your entrance, only increasing your need for him. Yeonjun noticed this, though he wasn’t going to let you have your way so easily, oh no. He wanted you to know that you were his— you and everyone at that party. He didn’t care what he had to do to achieve that.

He stopped, his eyes narrowing at you as he leaned down to your ear. Your breath hitched as his free hand held your chin in the opposite direction. Your heart beat raced once again; the type that one would have when they’re running from something. That’s exactly what he wanted from you.

“I promise this won’t hurt, but if you keep moving I’ll make sure it does angel.”

Yeonjun kissed your cheek, each kiss slowly making its way down your body as his thumb picked back up its pace. You moaned quietly as he undid the clasps to your corset, leaving your bra and stomach bare. He kissed your stomach, watching as you lost yourself under his touch.

How could you stay still when his hands only made you crazy?

His fangs sink into your skin as he stuck two fingers inside of your aching cunt, letting a gasp escape you. With every pump he gave he left more bites onto you, his mark practically making its name onto your skin. He licked the blood off of your skin, pumping his fingers faster as your back arched.

“You like that princess?”

You muttered gibberish as your hands brushed through his hair. A smirk fell onto Yeonjun’s face as he began to circle your clit with his thumb, fingers still inside of you. Your juices leaking into your underwear as he edged on your high.

“Answer me.” He grabbed onto your wrist, bitting it harshly and earning a screech from you. “Now.”

“Yes, yes I do. Please..” You nodded your head repeatedly. He tilted his head at you, his thumb slowly grazing your clit once again.

“Please what? Use your words angel.”

Yeonjun took his fingers out of you, slipping your underwear off as he licked your juices off of his fingers. He kissed your chin as he put your corset back on, clasping each button.

“Please bite me..” you paused, your hips involuntary riding against his thigh.

“I wanna be yours.”

His eyes widened, quickly switching positions with you before you could notice. You were now sat on his thigh looking directly at him. Lust completely filled his eyes, distracting you from the dried blood around his mouth. Yeonjun’s hands rested on your hips, moving them slightly to create friction. You felt your head roll back as your clit rubbed against his thigh, small moans escaping you.

“God you’re such a slut when you’re like this princess.” he watched you hump his thigh like a dog, a smile painting his cheeks.

He bit your shoulder, sucking onto it softly as you hissed in pain. Your hips moved faster, begging for your climax as he found new spots to taste you.

“Jun.. gonna cum.” you mumbled, your hips buckling.

He kissed your chin, smearing blood against it as his hand held your head back. Your moans turned into inaudible sounds, your nails digging into your thighs as your stomach knotted.

“Cum for me angel.”

His tongue tracked your neck bites. You shook your head no, staggering your movement as you tried to prolong your climax. Yeonjun raised his eyebrow, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his mouth. His fangs graced your sore veins, making you shutter.

“Be a good girl now and listen will you? It would be a shame if I had to make you.”

He watched as you nodded, your hip movement picking back up. You pleadingly rode his thigh, your juices creating a slick surface to heighten the friction. Your moans filled his ears as he kissed at the sore veins on your neck. Your clit motioned faster as the heat built up inside of you, making you push against him harder.

“Jun..” you mumbled, feeling your body heat up at the tension.

Yeonjun hummed, sinking his teeth back into your neck one last time, pushing you over the edge. You quickly came undone under his touch, your pace fastening as your climax washed over you. He licked the blood off you, watching as you struggled to catch your breath. Your heartbeat was quick, feeding into the high he got off of your blood.

“There you go,” he whispered, holding you in his arms as he kissed your forehead. “Didn’t that feel good angel?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his back as he played with your hair. His eyes fell to the many bites on your skin, a small frown appearing on his face as he realizes he may have gotten carried away. Yeonjun picked you up bridal style, getting off the bed and beginning to walk out of the room.

“I’m sorry for hurting you darling. Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

a/n: happy halloween!! i knowww it’s been months since ive posted… i lost motivation and was struggling to find it😭 but heyy i kinda did haha. as you can see, im starting to branch out toward other groups hehe

taglist: @sundaybossanova @kittykat-25 @losrpark @h4untedgrl @sanslovesblog

@scarfac3 @woojirang @joonezra @hwasddeongbyeoli @yyaurii

@mingtinysworld @dvrktvnnel @honeyhwaaa @vnessalau @jiwoongsblondehair

@sanshairfollicles @tiredlittlevirgo @dollywoo @planetjaeyun @jjongibears

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff. reader wears a dress and is in their late 30s, as is bakugou.

Despite your best hopes, you and Dynamight are late to the charity ball. Not because of anything particularly sexy, at least not this early in your budding relationship, but because traffic decided to be hell at 7pm on a Saturday evening, and while many precious seconds were lost both in his prolonged gaze at your dress and your inability to find the words to tell him how handsome he looks in his suit, there wasn’t much you could do about the highway congestion.

(You’re thankful at least that he respected your suggestion that explosions and chiffon would not mix.)

The two of you manage to shuffle in right before everyone’s finished taking their seats. Katsuki is of course seated with the remainder of the top 5 ranking heroes, and their partners, and he pulls out a chair for you to be seated, your name tag placed right in between him and Deku’s partner. She watches him slide your chair in and help you place your shawl in a safe place, then whispers something to her husband who’s smiling as he always does, splitting glances between the emcee, his wife and his flustered friend.

You try to keep your embarrassment to a minimum, and are thankful when Katsuki finally rubs your shoulders gently before disappearing to the restroom. Now you are alone, warmed in the cheeks and trying to look very interested in the opening speech. No time for introductions, but you can recognize everyone at the table even if you haven’t formally met. Izuku’s partner’s eyes settle on you again and it takes her exactly five minutes to give into finally shifting closer to you, just so she can whisper,

“You know, it’s the first time I think I’ve seen him fuss over someone like that.”

You can feel your body tense ever so slightly, but her demeanor is friendly if a bit playful. She introduces herself in a whisper, despite the fact that you already know who she is, she’s been on the television on and off for the past decade as Number One’s number one. 

“He talks about you all the time,” she adds. You smile, unsure of what to say back except that you’re thankful that you’re finally here to meet his wonderful friends.

You’re new to all of this, and in many ways, feel very much a fish-out-of-water, having lived a quiet life, single and responsible to no one except your well-loved cats. You’ve been on dates in your 20s and have long since lost your interest in the dinner-and-a-movie combo by the time you turned 30, and now that you’re closer to your 40s than you are your 30s, the butterflies in your stomach with every nervous smile or brush of your fingers Katsuki offers you carries a soft twang of embarrassment. You’re too old to be this giddy you think sometimes. 

She says nothing more to you until the speech is over, and Katsuki arrives at the same time as she turns again. Her eyes narrow playfully as Katsuki slips into the chair beside you, slipping his hand over yours on the table. 

“Kacchan, aren’t you sweet?”

He scowls at her, but his hand doesn’t move. Shoto, you can see from across the table, looks curiously at your joined hands while Izuku pulls his partner in and gently reminds her not to worry you. He’s quick to introduce himself as well with a firm but not-too-firm handshake.

“We’re so delighted to meet you,” he says. Red Riot gets up from his seat and claps Katsuki on the shoulder, and it’s loud enough that it startles you a bit, but he’s grinning ear to ear as he looks at the both of you.

“We were beginning to think you’d die alone!” he exclaims, which has Katsuki gritting his teeth. 

“Will any one of you stop acting like I’ve never had a date before?” He’s seething and you try to stifle a giggle. He hears you and his head snaps in your direction, but your smile quickly softens his look of betrayal. He scoots his chair in and holds your hand tighter.

“Act normal,” he hisses to the rest of them, and the lights dim again for the next speech while Izuku and his wife keep sneaking glances at you and giggling, huddled together, as if they are kids themselves.

You on the other hand are gleeful but keep your laughter internal. Katsuki leans in and asks you what’s so funny, but you both know.

You’d think you’d all known each other since you were kids, the way Katsuki’s friends have so easily assimilated you into the group, and it only mirrors the way you’ve always felt since you’ve met him.

That things have fallen in place, perhaps late, but better than never.

[leiyahime]

Goth Butterfly Shawl - Comlete!

Pattern is from here. I found the pattern for the border in a 30 year old book at work.

It took me about 14 months (with about 6 months break in between because I procastinated looking for mistakes) but I think it's totally worth it.

[godhandler]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#9 : The Lady Kamo  

[could you ever be more than just his wife?]

[tw: noritoshi kamo x reader, arranged marriage, forced marriage, child marriage, mentions of adultery, feminist theory, misogyny, fluff]

#8 : Ice-cream Date

“Wake up, wake up!” Kamo Noritoshi raps his knuckles against your forehead. “Your chambermaid is here to get you dressed up. C’mon–” he’s ripping the blanket away from you, pure torture at 6 am. “– You’re to shadow me today.”

A day before you leave for Jujutsu High. Usually, Noritoshi’s already at the breakfast table by the time you wake up, washing down toast with hard coffee, newspaper spread out on his lap. He sleeps after you too, grumbling about the indignity of a futon and his achy back. After all, he’s the one with any expectations on him. You’re as useful as a flower vase.

“The Lord and Lady Kamo invited us for tea. My grandparents, or rather ours, I suppose, but remember to address them formally.” He fidgets with his thick-fabric kimono. “... Listen, I know this is not in my rank to ask…”

But it is, you both know that, he’s just being polite. Not only ask for it, but he’s fully entitled to demand it, expect it. That in front of others, you act wifely. Servile, if we want to get accurate. It wouldn’t do for a man, especially in front of other men, to have a wife untrained, off the leash. 

You nod. It’s a request– one of those requests you can’t really say no to. Whenever you and Noritoshi dress up in formal traditionals, it’s Noritoshi who chooses his own kimono, and then you being dressed in whatever compliments his outfit. Right now, as you two walk down the hallways to the meeting-room, your butterfly-patterned obi was tied after he picked that pattern for his own outfit. Not that he’d ever notice something small like that. Not when his life is busy with bigger things, things like– 

“The meeting to decide which sorcerer goes after which curse report. Next is a grade assessment of a couple first year sorcerers, and then after lunch we’ll look to expand our stock of cursed weapons. That’s the broad agenda for the day.” 

“Sounds boring as fuck.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh c’mon, there’s no one here. I’ll play nice when we get there, I promise.” 

It’s true. You bow to the ground in front of the clan heads, the venerable Lord and Lady Kamo, your forehead brushing at their toes. The greetings come and go; you pour the tea out for everyone and sit back down, a little behind Noritoshi, womanly elegance and delicacy personified. The prettiest flower vase.

It’d be easier to imagine The Lord Kamo wrapped in open casket funeral attire than the summer-silk shawls overtaking his frail figure. Alive for over 120 years, Noritoshi would tell you later, before he gave up counting. Over 120 years at the seat of power. 

Your hasty marriage makes sense now: Lord Kamo is expected to be dead sooner than later, and the second that he is, Noritoshi would be right there, wiping his grief-stricken tears with one hand and taking reins of the clan with the other. 

Unlike you, his life has changed a lot in one week. It’s as if your union has washed away all illegitimacy from his bastard skin, the confirmed Clan Head to be adored and obeyed. “And hence you take my place for the meetings today,” croaks out his grandfather, clapping a hand on Noritoshi’s shoulder. “The gardens beckon me, it’s right for my season of life.” 

You two have perfected the art of communicating only with your eyes. 

Noritoshi: I’ve got to go with him, make an excuse and come with me or you’ll be stuck with grandma.

You: I’ll catch up with you later, send a servant to look for me. 

Noritoshi: She’s old and ornery, you won’t have a good time here. Come.

You: As I said, you narrow your eyes at him, digging your feet in. Wild dog tugging at her collar. I’ll stay here for a bit. 

A cough; The Lord Kamo and the Lord Kamo-to-be leave together, followed by a retinue of servants. 

“Enjoying life, little one?”- comes her gentle voice. You’ve never seen her before, despite growing up in the Kamo household. Compared to her husband, she looks to be simply old, not disintegrating, late-80’s at best. The kind of grandma they paint in children’s books. Chubby-cheeked, sweater-knitter, cookie-baker. There’s no bite in her words, simply dainty interest. You’re the next her, after all. 

“With your grace, your Ladyship,” you bow to her, waiting for her to tell you not to bother with all these formalities, you’re family after all. It doesn’t come. “Would you require more tea, madam?” Come on, take the hint. 

“Yes, now that I think of it.” So you want to talk in private? The maid leaves to fetch some.  

Teeth part her face, nicotine-stained smile deepens her wrinkles. She drops her act like a theatre curtain. “You’re fucked, girl. The old man’s going to die any day soon, what do you think you’ll do after that? There’s no point going to Jujutsu School if you won’t even get to be there for a week.” When you don’t reply, she nudges you with her tea cup. “You’re not stupid, are you? The second the boy becomes the head he’s gonna want kids, and- ” she snaps a finger at you, “-kids are how they trap you.” 

And even though you know that she’s completely right, you need to defend Noritoshi. “He’s not like that!” You feel like an idiot even saying these words. Of course he is. Maybe not now, but he would be. All of them are. 

Lady Kamo just sighs. “See, women like Miyumi, that blithering weepy fool, they can run away. I’ve told her so many times, I say, ‘divorce that man’, and she says, ‘and go where?’ and I say, ‘anywhere, you knucklehead!’ I admit, I raised a son most terrible, but it’s not like I didn’t want to help her, alright? Who do you think gave her all the pictures of his adultery? Made a whole dossier of it, with printed photos, mind you! She could’ve taken millions in alimony and live on the beach with that useless son of hers, but no, she’d rather stay and mope.” 

She’s completely gone on a tangent, but you don’t stop her, sipping the tea quietly. She probably never gets to talk to people frankly. 

“But us, we don’t get to run away, you understand? Once you’re The Lady Kamo, and that’s not too far off in the future, you’ll forget everything else about you. I believe you can justifiably delay bearing a kid till you’re- how old are you again?”

“15 in a month, my Lady.”

“-ah, not that long then. I had my firstborn at your age.” Genuine panic blooms inside you. It’s as if she’s dunking your head into cold water, waking you up to your reality. “Well, in that case, I tell you this: instead of wasting time on that school, pick up books on politics, economics, history, and culture. Learn logic, negotiation, philosophy. I could arrange a good tutor for you. You’ll be the head of a good third of our society, girl. You’ll be Lady Kamo, so practise for that. That’s not what Miyumi was. She’s useless, that woman. Useless technique, too.”

You’ve never asked Miyumi-san what her jujutsu technique was. It just didn’t cross your mind. You’re suddenly interested in Lady Kamo’s, and so you ask. 

“Fission.” Your jaw hangs open. “Nuclear fission.”

—------

A long time ago, no one understood Kazuko’s powers, not even her. She travelled all over the world, meeting scientists in Soviet, China, France and Britain, trying to decipher the hidden secrets of atomic physics. A new field, at the time. But that was all before the bombings, of course. 

She remembers those flower-patterned poplin dresses that she’d wear, walking down Cambridge, styling it with rabbit-fur caps that she’d shot herself. Then she clad the wedding furisode, even though she can’t remember how exactly it came to fall on her. Then came a child, then another and then another, and in her overflowing happiness of a noble life, she lost track of how time passed long enough that now she’s looking at herself from back in those poplin-dressed days, decades later. The next Lady Kamo. 

Sometimes she wished that things were different. She wished that she could give you better advice. 

The tea-cups lie empty. You walk to the room where Noritoshi is heading a meeting by himself for the first time. Makes sense, you guess, of course the Lady Kamo would be an incredibly powerful sorcerer. She was selected to be so. Powerful women bear powerful heirs. And no such women should be left unleashed, after all. 

You’re beginning to understand why Gojo Satoru is that terrifying: he’s uncontrollably free. He’s everything Kazuko could never be. 

Noritoshi greets you when you enter the meeting-room. Everything has been going well, as you can see. He makes rational judgements, fair yet pleasing: a prince worth the crown. Unlike what you said earlier, it’s actually awfully interesting (you reckon you could do it better than him). You take your seat behind your husband. 

Curses boil resentment in your viscera. 

Bonus: 

“Did you get along with her?” The day done, you two are back in the safety of your bedroom, slumped against the headboard, feet under blanket, watching Gravity Falls. You wanted the Japanese dub, while he (ungrateful, in your opinion, about being allowed bed privileges) whined about ‘preserving authenticity of the original language’. So subtitled it was compromised to be. (“Plus, it’s good to practise your English, you know.”)

He wanted to say that he’ll miss hanging around you once you’re gone tomorrow. That he’s concerned if you’ll be able to do well in school, make friends and grow strong. That he picked the butterfly-print kimono thinking of you. That he’ll have ice-cream stocked for you whenever you come to visit. 

But he couldn’t say all that, so he said: “She’s not the nicest to me, you know. Though I hope she was with you.”

“She’s mean. Rambled. Talked shit about others. I like her a ton.”

Noritoshi doesn’t get it, but eh, who is he to judge? He pats your head. Cute kid. The bed does his back good.

masterlist

a/n: the recent VS fashion show was ass, they're clearly not adapting with the times at all, the pieces were 90s and should've remained there. tacky plastic that looked cheaper than instant ramen. boo on the clothing side, boo on the weakly attempted diversity (one normal sized lady, two heavily botoxed nail thin milfs, one east asian nepo baby and one !black! lady) man fashion has truly moved east cuz god that was disappointing