#compound color scheme

[davestaresatthesun]

you and I and me and you and we are not the same

[robro and alpha dave from @0rphiichaze 's badlydrawnbaby dirk im back on my bs and they are my new victums]

[pigeonp0st]

heelloo!! uhm i was thinking could u write an agatha harkness x reader one with Agatha sees r with another person (just as closer friends but Agatha doesn’t know it). Then Agatha invites r to her house and Agatha has to bite down on their lip so hard whenever r talks about the other person, angst with happy ending please (and if your are comfortable, maybe you can add smut)?

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary:

Agatha gets jealous of your relationship with Wanda. Emotion ensues.

Warning:

Jealousy, angst (not really)

Notes:

Thanks for the request! I wrote this pretty fast and have not even read it over once…I’ll probably fix it up later…anyways! Hope you enjoy still <3 I always love an Agatha request

——

Agatha stopped Wanda for you. She brought down Westview, and forced Wanda into reality. In the process she ruined both of their fantasies; Wanda’s fantasy of a perfect life, and Agathas of all consuming power.

She did it for you. Because the prospect of power was nothing compared to the prospect of your devastation. Because you asked her to. You with your warm eyes, full of more emotion and humanity than both Agatha and Wanda have in power combined.

You asked her to, and there was no other option.

So no. She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret trailing behind you and Wanda to help the Avengers, doesn’t regret following you. Can’t possibly. She doesn’t regret it, but Wanda smiles at you, leans in close, and Agatha feels a bit like she’s been betrayed. Betrayed because you smile back, and whisper something into Wanda’s ear that makes her flush a color that’s just perfect for the Scarlett Witch.

Agatha grits her teeth and returns to her book. She’s lived centuries and has never felt more childish.

It shouldn’t bother how close you and Wanda have gotten, she knows. She has no right to feel betrayed. She hasn’t done anything she’s done expecting anything more than your happiness. You aren’t hers.

You aren’t hers, and so Agatha just fumes silently in the corner of the room and imagines burning this whole damn tower down.

You don’t even know how Agatha cares, she knows. Every bit of vulnerability, love, and affection is hidden behind layers of humor and sarcasm.

You watch Agatha with distrust still because of it; wondering about alternative motives. Everyone in this god forsaken tower does, and Agatha has no idea why she’s here giving up centuries of planning for this game. These people are no different to those in Westview. Children playing dress up and pretend. All of them wearing costumes of heroes who aren’t afraid.

Cowards. All of them.

Your loud laugh draws Agatha’s attention from her page. Wanda is smiling at you with a gentleness Agatha can’t afford, and Agatha thinks, both with affection and a heavy heart; all of them but you.

She knows that despite her help she has given no one here good reason to trust her. She admits to herself that she enjoys letting them think she’s scheming—that she plays into it.

They’re just as uncaring for her as she is them. They push her away, but all you do is pull her in. To be brave and foolish is one in the same to Agatha, and she loves you for all the things she can’t afford to be.

—-

It’s only the next day that Agatha walks into the compound looking for you. She wants your help to test her potion.

She’s been visiting every day this week, and she’s beginning to feel a bit like the person she thought she wouldn’t ever be again. She’s beginning to settle into the thoughts instead of jerk away.

Then she sees you. You’re on top of Wanda, both you and her sleeping peacefully on the couch. Your head on her chest, her hand threaded in your hair, your legs intertwined.

The glass potion in Agatha’s hand shatters violently and loudly, startling only Wanda awake. She jerks and snaps her eyes towards Agatha, always on edge after being raised in war. Their eyes meet for only a second, and then both turn back to you, still sleeping peacefully.

Agatha turns on her heel. Wanda says, with a knowing that ruins her; “wait—”

Agatha, cowardly, no different than the people she despises, and never having claimed otherwise, teleports away.

—-

Agatha avoids the compound for just a week before she caves and invites you over.

She can’t bear to see Wanda, which is a new thing because usually she enjoys tormenting her. The image of her protective hand tangled in your hair, and your possessive leg thrown over her is still fresh in Agatha’s mind though.

Then there’s the text Wanda sent after Agatha left; filled with the same knowing Agatha sensed with her departure. You’re 5 years old.

(Then a bit later; whatever was in that potion melted through the compound. I hope you can magic up some money to fix your tantrum.)

Agatha, the picture of wisdom, sends Wanda two middle fingers and then blocks her.

So, naturally, she’s glad when you show up only an hour after Agatha’s text. No Wanda, for the first time in weeks.

At least—that’s what Agatha expected. It’s an hour later and all you’ve talked about is Wanda. Wanda this, Wanda that. Agatha has always had a challenge with patience, it’s always the biggest challenge of her schemes, and biting on her lip is barely constraining her from lashing out at this point.

It’s when Agatha tones your voice out though, that she notices the hunch to your shoulders, the heaviness in your eyes.

And the bruise around your neck. Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? “Who did this to you?”

Agatha drops her dishes immediately, rushing to where you’re seated at the kitchen island. She thinks; who, who, with a desperate frustration as she tilts your head up to inspect the injury. She’ll kill them. Kill them.

For now, she pulls her magic forward, setting to the task of healing the violence inflicted on you, but you pull away from Agatha just as suddenly as she calls on her magic; angry in a way Agatha is caught off guard by.

“All you are is hot and cold,” you mutter, looking away. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days and you haven’t responded, then I come as soon as you call and you ignore me for an hour. Now…now you suddenly care that I’m hurt?”

Agatha blinks, once, twice, and then you’re standing up and pacing her kitchen. Agatha stands, hand still hovering where it was touching your cheek, and watches.

“If you’re done—If you’ve already gotten what you needed from us, whatever it is, and are done, just tell me. Tell me and stop pretending to care,” you plead. Agatha notices the dark circles under your eyes. Notices all the parts of you that are dimmed now that she’s not stuck on Wanda, Wanda. “I can’t play pretend like you do, Ag. I don’t get what it serves you to act like you care about me. I have nothing to offer.”

You’re spiraling in the middle of Agatha’s kitchen, and Agatha is torn between all of the parts of herself. The one that wants to laugh and brush this all aside, the one that wants to comfort you, the one that wants to kiss you, and the one she settles on; the version of her that’s angry and feeling misunderstood by the person she knows she’s done everything to deceive.

She’s not often hit by regret, or not often this out of control over her own emotions. It makes her angrier. Angrier because it takes her back and makes her feel younger than she’s been in centuries. She’s not that child anymore, can’t be.

Don’t you get that you’re ruining her?

—-

“I care,” Agatha whispers urgently, silently fuming and with her face morphed into a frustrated scowl. “Of course I care,” she says, like it should have never been in question—because she’s made it so clear apparently, you think disbelievingly, unable to help the scoff that chokes out of you.

Yeah right.

With more disappointment than Agatha could ever understand, you shake your head. “The only thing you care about, Agatha, is power. You tell me yourself all the time. I just thought— ” you pause, untamed tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t know what I thought…”

The moment the words leave your lips, you and Agatha enter into a standoff. Agatha furious and raging, and you too wrapped in your own emotions to register it as it is.

Agatha angry for the first time—at this. At the doubting of her care. It should say all you need to know, but you’ve missed it completely now that you’ve stopped looking.

It’s another moment of glaring before Agatha scoffs and stalks forward, pushing you into the wall and trapping you. Anyone else would be scared, but you just continue to glare (even as you flush).

There’s a part of you somewhere, one you don’t notice, but that Agatha does. A part of you that knows Agatha would never hurt you.

“I’m too old for this, ” Agatha grits out, and then her hand is around your throat. You don’t even flinch. Aren’t even surprised when you feel the rush of healing magic. All you’re surprised about is just that— your lack of surprise.

Agatha’s eyes turn inspecting, she shifts your head to the side with her other hand, ignoring your protests. You’re beginning to feel like a child, beginning to see things as they are.

Of course Agatha cares, you know. Somehow it hurts just as much. How could she both care and be so unpredictable, so cold? Had she thought of how you’d feel at all when you ignored her for the week? The other Avengers grew suspicious, checking everywhere around the compound for something stolen. You thought something terrible happened to her.

Only Wanda seemed unbothered. “She’s just throwing a tantrum,” she said, and wouldn’t explain further.

“Who did this?” Agatha repeats, pulling you from your thoughts.

“It was a mission”, you explained, the fire leaving you with it. You can’t afford to be mad at Agatha. You need and miss her too much.

Agatha growls, not settled at all. “Isn’t Wanda supposed to be protecting you?” She asks venomously, her jaw tightening along with her hand. “What good is your little girlfriend if she can’t even do that?”

It’s so laced with bitterness, with wanting, you’re left to blink at her, utterly shocked. Does Agatha think—? Wanda’s voice comes to your head; “she saw us cuddling and looked like she was going to murder me with the shattered glass in her hand.”

Seriously?

“What?” Agatha asks, self conscious in a way she never is. Self conscious because she likes—possibly loves you back.

All of this week’s turmoil, and for what? Because the two of you love each other?

—

You’re grinning at Agatha now, and Agatha is completely suspicious and unnerved. She tries to step back but you capture her wrists, pull her even closer.

Agatha’s heart pounds at the look on your face. Like a Cheshire cat. She can’t escape the feeling that she’s been caught. She eyes you with uneasiness.

You look at her expectantly now. “So much wisdom and yet you’re still so stupid?”

“Stupid?” Agatha repeats with disgust, like the word isn’t even in the dictionary.

You nod. “Agatha,” you breathe, affectionately. Agatha feels her world shift. “You know I love you, don’t you? Wanda is only ever going to be my frie—”

Agatha doesn’t let you finish. Couldn’t bear too. She’s always standing on the precipice of something. Always hovering over lines, too impatient to stand back, and your I love you snaps Agatha forward, like she’s been waiting for it for centuries. She kisses you roughly, pushing you back against the wall, and tries to claim it.

I love you, to the person who has never felt loved. She turned her back on love the moment love turned her back on her. She was only a teenager then, realizing that there was not a strength she could have that would make her enough for her mother—for her clan. There was not a person she could be beside herself, and never a version that wasn’t lacking, just out of reach of affection.

Then you. You showed up in Westview, strong enough to break in unaffected, and suspicious of Agatha, suspicious and then knowing, but still caring through it, and Agatha felt herself enough in the moments her mother would have claimed were her weakest; her moments where she was vulnerable and honest.

She kisses you like you’re her testament of her strength, now. Like you’re a testament of just how enough she is. She’s always been wanting, and doesn’t know how to exist without it. Without the yearning of; more, more, more, but as her kisses slow down, turn loving instead of passionate, she thinks for the first time that to exist like this—for the first time at peace, is something she could get used to forever.

You’re breathing heavily when Agatha breaks away, completely flustered and shaken. Agatha feels her heart pick up again, and thinks, no—she’ll always be wanting, and moves in to kiss you again.

You laugh, so joyful and happy—because of her. Because of her—a hand over Agatha’s mouth to stop her. “Are we ever going to talk?” You wonder breathlessly. “About feelings? About where you got that idea about Wanda and me?

Agatha pulls your hand away, smiles devilishly and possessively. “After I’ve had you against every corner of this house, we’ll invite Wanda over and talk over everything you’d like.”

You groan in exasperation, but there’s no protesting when Agatha kisses you next, and from the way you practically fall into the way Agatha’s hand curls loosely around your neck, she doesn’t expect one anytime soon.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request from @talesofreading: Hi dear ☺️ could I ask for an imagine with Bucky where you can't sleep, so you walk around through the compound enjoying the silence. Just as you find a wide awake Bucky as well. You then just talk about senseless stuff till you find yourself in each other's embrace on the couch where he finally gets the guts to kiss you and tell you how much you mean to him. Eventually you fall asleep and the others find you both tangled together the next morning and are very happy for you 🙊

Word Count: 1,895

Warnings: mostly fluff with a dash of angst at the beginning.

Midnight.

1:00 AM.

2:00 AM.

2:30 AM.

It was too much. The thoughts. The dread. The guilt. All too much. 

You fought to throw back the covers which had wrapped around your legs as you'd tossed and turned for the last three hours. The last mission had been a disaster. So many people had died. You felt responsible. Here you were, safe and sound while the people you'd left in the remnants of their broken homes, mourning their lost loved ones.

What gave you the right to be surrounded by comfort? By warmth? By luxury? Who were you that you deserved to walk away without taking responsibility for your shortcomings?

Your mind raced like a little toy car set to spin around the same tiny track for eternity. You were well versed in the pain that came with the setting sun. This wasn’t the first night you’d chosen to pace the corridors of the Compound, choosing to use your body rather than your mind. Your autopilot carried you down the corridors, down past the Olympic sized swimming pool that Tony had insisted was necessary, and outside under the stars where you felt a sense of freedom. Freedom from your worries, from your responsibilities and freedom from your guilt. The vastness of the stars above you reminded you of how small your problems were in the grand scheme of the universe. The weight of your decisions seemed miniscule out here in the wide open space, far from anyone-

You were winded by the force of your impact with a very solid object. It wasn’t until a strong pair of hands were wrapped around your arms that you realized that the solidness belongs to another human being. In fact he was a very strong, very beefy human being. Sergeant Bucky Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier, was holding you upright, well, just about.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed.

“Are you alright, Buttercup?”

“Peachy,” you breathed out, finally getting some air back in your lungs. “How are you so … solid?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh, albeit a short lived one. You never failed to bring a smile to his face even if he was feeling miserable, in the depths of despair, plagued with guilt and confusion, it was you who was always there. You were a ray of sunshine in the melancholy that filled his life. You reminded him of the color yellow, which is why he had chosen to call you Buttercup. Not that he had ever told you the reason he had chosen this nickname. But you liked it, so it stuck.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s 3am!” You always worried about your friend.

Bucky shrugged. “You can see the stars out here.”

“Yeah, you can’t see the Milky Way from anywhere in the city. It makes me glad to be out here.”

“And why are you out here at 3am?” Bucky knew the exact reason you were out there.

You sighed. “Morpheus forgot to swing by my room tonight.”

“How inconsiderate of him.”

The two of you stood in silence, looking up at the stars until a cool wind picked up around you and you shivered. Your thoughts hadn’t involved dressing for the weather as you tried to escape from the prison of your own mind.

“Maybe we should go back inside.”

“Why?” Your stubbornness knew no bounds.

“I’m cold.” Bucky knew your obstinacy far too well.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t object, it was really rather a nippy night. Bucky started walking back into the facility, so you follow. You’d follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked you. The amorous feelings you harbored for Bucky were something you kept well hidden for fear of them being unrequited. Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you with an intensity which made you feel like there was the potential for more between you, but the fear of losing his friendship had always held you back.

He led you to the small common room which had a kitchenette attached to it. It was your favorite because of the large windows which gave you a magnificent view of the dense tree line around the Compound.

“Sit,” he told you as he made his way to the counter.

“Yes sir,” you made a small face but did as you were told.

Bucky filled the kettle and set it to boil and popped two teabags into mismatched mugs. It gives you time to curl up on the couch under a throw blanket and you go back to admiring the stars. He joins you with two steaming mugs of your favorite herbal tea.

“Thanks Buck.”

“I know a story about the Milky Way.” You smiled at the fact that your words were basically a quote from a story you’d read as a young girl but it had stayed with you. You proceed to tell Bucky the story as best as you remember it.

He sat down close to you, close enough that you caught the scent of his shower gel. Sometimes, it was hard, being in his orbit. There would be times it frightened you and other times you grew bold, almost taunting with your affections. You wished from the depths of your soul that one day he would tell you that he cared for you the same way you did for him. 

“Once there were two angels in heaven, named Zerah and Zulamith. Zerah and Zulamith loved each other, just as we mere mortals fall in love with each other. But their love was forbidden by God.”

Bucky sighed. You took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Unfortunately, because the two angels had broken God’s law, they were banished to the furthest corners of the universe. Now, if God had banished them together, it wouldn’t have been a punishment at all. But sometimes God can be cruel-”

“You got that right,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“-so he sent Zerah to be exiled to a star on one side of the universe, and Zulamith was sent to a star right on the other side of the universe. Between them there was an incomprehensible abyss, darker than the black of midnight which even the closest star couldn’t brighten. But for the two angels, the strength of their love surpassed the boundaries of the universe and even though they were worlds apart, they yearned for each other.”

You laid your head on Bucky’s shoulder as you spoke, unable to look at his expression as you told the tale. “Zerah’s longing for Zulamith was so strong and pure that she began to create a bridge made of light from her star. And Zulamith, who had no idea this was happening on the other side of the universe doing the same. For thousands of years they ached and suffered. But eventually their bridges of light met!”

Bucky squeezed your hand. You couldn’t see the way he looked down at you as though he understood exactly how those angels felt.

“As their bridges finally came together, they sprang into each other’s arms. All the anguish and loneliness they had endured was over because this bridge built by their love spanned the gulf between their stars of exile.

“But that’s not the end of the story, is it?” Bucky asked.

“No, because when the other angels found this bridge of light, they went to God and-”

“They ratted out Zerah and Zulamith,” Bucky broke in bitterly.

“Pretty much. They went to Him crying ‘see what these rebellious angels have done!’ But God hushed everyone who spoke in heaven. And through the silence he said, anything in this universe that is built with true love is not even something I can destroy. The bridge will stand forever. And it still does.” You looked up at the Milky Way from the window, lost in the romance of your story.

“You’re quite the Story Girl.”

Bucky’s words made you snap your face back to look at him. His face was so close to yours, it was unnerving.

“The Story Girl? You know the book?” you asked curiously. The Story Girl was the book where you’d read the story of Zerah and Zulamith.

“I remember reading it,” Bucky admitted.

An image of a young Bucky sitting and reading formed in your mind and it made you smile. You were surprised to notice that he hadn’t let go of your hand and was in fact rubbing small circles over the back of it with his thumb. He was looking at you with such tenderness that you felt a little flustered.

“I love that we share stuff like this. Even though we grew up with lives which feel like we're on opposite ends of the universe, we still shared these small things. Even if we can't share the bigger stuff.”

“Hey, thanks for not pushing too much on the reason for the midnight wandering.” Bucky’s voice was soft and sad. “I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to.”

“What? Bucky, don’t be absurd. I love talking to you, even in the middle of the night. I love spending time with you. I lo-” You cut yourself in time, maybe confessing your love when he was so vulnerable wasn’t the best idea. You decided to go back to looking at your stars.

Bucky didn’t miss the catch in your voice, or the blush on your cheeks. “What was that, Buttercup?”

“You're my best friend. Did you know that?” You felt like some kind of confession was due. “I mean I know Steve is yours. But you're mine.”

Bucky put an arm around your waist pulling you closer than you ever dreamed possible. “I am you know.

You looked at him a little quizzically. “What?”

“Yours.”

His voice was barely audible, but it sent shivers down your spine and his grip on your waist tightened. You are completely paralyzed with shock. Did he mean what you think he meant? Or did he just mean that you were his best friend too.

Your silence was too much for him, Bucky withdrew his arm from the embrace he had you in, afraid he had said too much.

“Bucky!” you grabbed his hand, not letting him move any further. “Please?” You didn't even know what you were asking him for.

Bucky sighed, sitting back down but not as close as he was before. He was silent and still, like he was waiting. He knew how to be patient. He would wait an eternity for you if it meant he could have you. But he dared not say any more.

It was your turn to move closer to him. You crept forward, until your hands rested on his thigh. Every movement was slow, scared. But something in his eyes drew you forward, until your face was inches from his. Finally you threw caution to the wind and pressed a slow sweet kiss against his lips. Gentle and innocent but filled with promise.

His hands found your face, pulling you back for more. Embodying the yearning that Zerah and Zulamith had felt. It drew you closer until you were wrapped in each other's arms.

The embrace is how sleep finally found you and it was also how Sam and Steve found you later that morning. They smiled at each other, tiptoeing away to give you the peace you very much deserved.

[perseephoneee]

decorating the tree (kol mikaelson x f!reader) {ficmas day 5}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 5 of ficmas!

warnings: kind of angsty, mostly fluffy, a little steamy. but most importantly, festive.

a/n: i got a little carried away with this one. kol is just my baby boy. also the formatting is horrendous because tumblr was being a little bitch.

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ join my taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

The holidays could be the most bittersweet time of the year. Observing everyone with their friends and families without having your own was lonely and often damaging. You usually could go home for the holidays, see your loved ones, or sleep in at your childhood home, but not this year. This year, because of all the shit happening in the French Quarter, you were forced to be alone.

You hated every second of it.

But, being the go-getter you were, you decided to make the most of it. And you involved the Mikaelsons in this scheme (they were part of the reason you were stuck in this mess anyway).

You had dragged Kol with you to get a Christmas tree. More like, Rebekah had convinced him to go with you. You harbored a massive crush on the original vampire, and Bex, your newest friend, was fully aware of it. It’s why she engineered him to spend more time with you. He helped drag the tree to your tiny apartment and lounged on your couch like a cat as you finished setting it up and dragging out your holiday ornaments.

“Should I go for a color scheme or just hang up whatever?” You asked Kol, holding up a box of white and gold ornaments. He was posed on your couch like a Greek statue, hand thrown over his eyes and legs sprawled out like he couldn’t give a damn. He opened one eye to look at your ornaments. You held up your box of random accouterments, including an abominable snowman and a glittery baguette ornament.

“I like the random ones,” Kol mumbled, laying his head back and letting out a sigh like the world was oh so cruel.

“Am I boring you?” You chastised, a frown marring your features.

“Darling, you could never bore me,” Kol coos. “I just find this to be obtuse.”

“What about it is obtuse?”

“When will you get to enjoy all of this?” Kol finally sat up, gesturing to your apartment. “With everything going on…you’d be lucky to have a Christmas.”

You deflated at his words, clutching your box of ornaments between your hands. Kol was right, but you loathed it. You wanted to just have a holiday, that was all.

He took notice of your somber mood and got off the couch to crouch in front of you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he sighed, picking up an ornament and hanging it on the tree. “Maybe I’ll be wrong.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong; you wanted to hate him for that. But you never could, not really. You spent your whole life feeling like you were holding your breath, but it was like you could actually breathe with him. He made you smile and also frustrated you to no end. Kol saved your life once, and you wondered there and then if it was physically possible to give him your heart. You never figured that part out.Later that week, you were at the Mikaelson compound preparing for a war meeting slash holiday dinner. Dinner was your idea, and Elijah backed you up. Some poor soul they compelled was likely making you food as you sat on Rebekah’s bed, flipping through a book.

“Did you ever have any holiday traditions?” You asked the blond, not looking up as you spoke. You could hear her rifling around at her vanity when she turned to you.

“Bonfire,” Bex answered. “We’d write our wishes and throw them in the fire.”

“We should do that!” You exclaimed, looking up at her. She chuckled at your excitement, even as a melancholy look crossed her features.

“What would you wish for?”

Rebekah took a beat.

“My family, together, at peace,” she said softly, looking down. You repositioned yourself to sit at the end of the bed, looking at her sadly.

“I won’t leave you, you know,” you murmured. “Even if I should’ve hit the hills a while ago.”

“I know that, dove,” Rebekah sighed. “You’re as much a part of this family as I am. I’m…grateful for that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and you were hit by the realization that she was just a girl in a woman’s body. “Because you’re my family, I know exactly what you’d wish for.”

“Oh?” You lifted a brow at that.

“For someone to meet you under the mistletoe,” Rebekah teased, getting up from her chair and tackling you down on the bed in a fit of giggles.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you gasped between laughter.

“Oh dear, Y/N, if only you could acknowledge how much he cares,” Rebekah sighed, and you poked her on the nose before rolling out of her reach.

“Don’t tell lies, Bex, it’s cruel,” you chastised.

“Is my darling sister being a vixen again?” Kol called from the doorway, catching both you and Rebekah’s attention. He leaned up against the door, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. You felt your heart rate pick up as you took him in.

“What do you want?” Rebekah inquired, looking bored.

“Dinner is ready; I came to fetch you,” Kol smirked, giving you a wink that sent your heart spiraling from the stratosphere. Rebekah grumbled and got up, pushing past you and out the door. You moved to follow, but Kol grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him.

“Kol,” you breathed, looking up at him in question.

“Do I scare you?” He asked, peering at you. “What?”

“Or is it nerves?” He traced his thumb over the vein on your inner arm, and you could swear he was listening to how your heart thumped. “What makes your heart jump every time I come around?”

“I get startled,” you stutter, ignoring the look in his eyes at your lie. Kol hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as his fingers traced your face.

“You know what I loathe about you?” Kol whispered. “You smell too sweet to resist…”

You wondered what would happen if you dared to kiss him right then, but the timing was never your forte, and you were interrupted by Rebekah yelling at the two of you to hurry up. You pulled yourself away, holding your breath, hoping to calm down as you descended the stairs. You could feel Kol following behind you.

Dinner was extravagant, as most things in the household were. You gored on rotisserie chicken and baked brie, letting the flavors coat your tongue. Elijah and Klaus bickered back and forth about a course of action with fighting the witches (they wanted Hope, of course). You could have been more helpful in these discussions anyway. Frankly, you weren’t sure why they kept you around. Maybe one day you’ll find out.

Dinner was interrupted by an explosion.

You felt yourself fly back, hitting the floor in the dust. The enemies had effectively retaliated, and the Mikaelsons fought back perfectly with tooth and claw. You brought yourself to a standing position, coming eye to eye with a witch who looked at you like you were a pawn on a chessboard. You sucker-punched her before she could make a move.

The Mikaelsons dealt with the threat in record time, and when the dust on their battlefield had settled, the arguments started. First, Klaus ranted about how they should’ve been more prepared, and then Elijah tried to explain how they made logical choices up to this point. Rebekah would occasionally butt in.

You just stood there hearing the noise build up in your head. You had the vague sense that you were bleeding, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Someone came up next to you, and you turned to see it was Kol. He said something that you didn’t hear before biting his wrist and holding it up to you. You tentatively took it, letting his blood coat your throat before pulling away. The ringing stopped, and you felt your body stabilize.

The pressure from the family screaming match didn’t go away, though. Someone yelled, “Stop,” and everyone turned to look at you. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice breaking the chaos.

“Just stop,” you pleaded. You looked at each sibling, forcing them to really see you. “It’s the fucking holidays…why is there always fighting? Why are you always fighting?” Your voice broke. “You have each other, and you care so much even when you pretend you don’t, and you’re always fighting.”

“I would do anything to have my family right now, but I don’t, and it kills me,” you choked. “You guys have each other, and what do you do? Nothing. Nothing at all.”

You don’t know why you broke, but you did. Being alone during your favorite season hurt you way more than you let on. It felt like looking from outside your body as you walked out of the compound on the way home. You entered your apartment silently, flipping on the lights to absolute silence.

You took a shower and went out in pjs, bundling yourself up in front of your fireplace. It was one of the amenities that sold you on the apartment. You wrote out your wishes on a piece of paper, folding them into paper cranes (for the sake of being dramatic) and tossing them in the fire. You sniffled, hugging your knees to your chest and weeping. You missed home and your family. You felt terribly alone.

On your paper cranes, you wrote for your family, for being surrounded by loved ones during the holidays, and Kol liking you back. Simple, trivial wishes, but ones you had nonetheless. You debated calling it an early night when you heard a knock on your door.

You got up slowly to open it, recoiling in shock when Kol bounds in with Klaus following behind him. Both are wearing Santa hats.

“Mother of God—“ you curse, watching as Kol drops boxes of decorations on your couch and Klaus makes a beeline for your kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“Celebrating Christmas,” Klaus says, pouring himself a drink (somehow finding your alcohol).

“What?”

“Elijah and Bex will be here shortly,” Kol chimes, taking out some lights and struggling to detangle them. You walk over to help him. As Kol says, Elijah and Rebekah come with more decor than you can handle and even some presents. Elijah gives you the early gift of a record player, a sleek Audio-Technica he sets up in the corner. He puts on a Christmas record and lets Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas” sound fill the space. Rebekah decides your apartment should be rearranged and goes to work pushing the furniture into their new places, making Klaus help her. You join Kol in decorating the tree. This mainly includes you redoing what he’s done since he’s absolutely dreadful at it. He pretends like he doesn’t notice you do it.

“This one reminds me of you,” Kol says, holding up a bright red apple ornament. It’s lightly dusted in glitter.

“Why? Because I’m the apple of your eye?” You jest, earning a slight chuckle.

“In Jewish tradition, the apple symbolized strength and hope for prosperity,” Kol explains. “In Wicca, it’s a powerful tool for protection. Much like you.”

You don’t have anything to respond to that, as Kol places the apple in the perfect place. You don’t move to rearrange it, it’s already in its home. You blush under Kol’s gaze and go back to decorating.

Rebekah claps her hands to capture everyone’s attention.

“Family photo time!” She announces, brandishing a camera she must’ve found stashed in one of your drawers. Klaus groans, and she swats him. You all gather in front of the tree. Elijah holds the camera with Klaus behind him, Kol, you, and Rebekah. Rebekah wraps an arm around your middle and props her head on your shoulder as you lean into Kol to fit better in the frame. Kol puts an arm around your shoulders and rests his head against yours.

“Smile,” Elijah says, taking the photo. You all gather around the screen, and you can’t help but smile at how well it turned out.

“You have a future in photography,” you chuckle, nudging Elijah. He rolls his eyes.

“No, thank you.”

Klaus pours everyone some champagne (again, where he was finding your alcohol is a mystery). You see the star at your tree's top and struggle to fit it on. Grabbing a chair, you nervously climb atop it.

“Here, let me help,” Kol says, grabbing your waist for support as you get on your tip toes and fit on the star. He holds you as you step off the chair, finding yourself in his arms. “Can we go somewhere quiet?” He asks, a hint of a tremble in his voice.

You gesture towards the bathroom, a place that’s already too noisy because of your rocky heater. He walks ahead of you, and you close the door behind him. You watch as Kol takes in the checkered floors, blue wallpaper, and clawfoot bathtub.

“Darling, this place is horrendous,” Kol states, and you laugh. “It works.” “It’s terrible.” “Not all of us are made of money,” you cross your arms, leaning against the counter.

“I have to get you a new place purely so I don’t have to look at this one,” Kol runs a hand through his hair, another hand on his hip. He looks ridiculous, and it makes you love him even more.

“What did you need the privacy for?” You ask.

“I have a gift for you,” Kol rifles through his pocket, pulling out a small red box. Your breath catches as he hands it to you. You open the box with trembling fingers to find a necklace inside. It’s simple, with a pendant of a moon eclipsing the sun. Your fingers trace with the charm with a delicacy reserved for beautiful things. “I saw it and thought of you.”

“I don’t know what to say…” “Say you’ll let me take you on a date.”

Your head shoots up, and you look at Kol with wide eyes. For once, his expression isn’t one of a cocky vampire, but rather a nervous boy. “What?”

“I figured it out,” Kol starts, stepping closer to you and cornering you by the door. “Why your heart beat so fast around me…why Rebekah is always asking me to do things with you…why you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” Kol looks down at you, forcing you to look up to meet his gaze. “You like me.”

“I—“ “It’s alright, I like you too. A lot. More than anyone in the past centuries,” Kol whispers. You wonder if maybe that wish you threw in the fire possesses real magic as you see your dreams coming true.

“Okay.” “Okay?”

“You can take me on a date,” you answer, feeling your breath shaky as Kol steps closer.

“Can I call you my girlfriend?” He trails his fingers across your jaw, chin, and lips. Your body is on fire.

“You can call me your girlfriend,” you whimper as his nose brushes yours.

“Can I kiss you?” He lets his breath fan your face, and you can barely let out an affirmative before you grab him by the collar and drag his lips to yours. One of his hands boxes your head against the wall as the other holds your hip, pulling you closer. Your hands tangle in his hair, and you hear him let out a small groan at the action. You let him take control because you’re barely holding on with the way he kisses and touches you. You’re afraid you might break apart if he lets go, and you can barely hold in your gasp as his fingers brush under your shirt.

You would let him take you right there, and then if not for Rebekah knocking on the door.

“Stop snogging and finish the tree!” She yells, earning a growl from Kol as you hear her walk away cackling. He turns back to you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips as he looks at you with eyes the color of the night sky.

“How does 8pm tomorrow sound?” “Sounds like a date.”

[sillyyuserr]

two posts in one day omg?? kind of irrelevant but one of my friends was ranting ab terukane being associated w copper + lightening and i thought it was so interesting so i looked into it and jeez 😭

again, kind of an analysis, if you can even call it that

so all characters in jshk kind of have a color scheme, ex: nene’s is turquoise/teal, aoi’s is purple, hanako’s is red/sometimes amber etc etc.

(This picture helps show my point here)

And as you can see (kind of) akane’s colors consist of turquoise/teal and a rusty orange/sometimes straight up the color orange.

(Pls ignore shitty quality im doing this on iphone) Which if you look at it this has a striking resemblance to that of partly oxidized copper??

Moving on to teru’s color scheme, his consists of mostly stained glass blue’s and softer yellow’s (again, sorry for shitty quality 😭)

But if you look at it, his kind of looks like lightning?? (Or at least the colors lightning is usually depicted as, as it has no exact color)

And as we know, teru is associated with lightning, as he can literally wield it (sorry akane 💀)

Quick chemical lesson coming from a science nerd, copper has a high conductivity rate and facilitates a rapid transmission of lightning energy, making it attractive to lightning, also making copper, lightnings best conductor (conductor meaning a material or device that conducts or transmits heat, electricity, or sound, especially when regarded in terms of its capacity to do this) meaning out of all the other chemicals + chemical compounds, copper attracts lightning the best.

and who in this case represents (and/or has the color scheme of) lightning and copper?

AIDAIRO SCIENCE NERD REAL??? Also tiara doing the same thing 😭 must just be like a minamoto thing LMAO

(Summary: just as copper does to lightening; akane generally attracts teru. Whether that attraction is romantic or not, it aligns with alot of my other analysies, all ending with the same notion. Teru likes akane)

[laylajeffany]

targeted ad - microfic

Wednesday stepped into her shared bedroom after the sun had set one evening, finding Enid holding out a little blue bag with orange drawstrings. She wore a beam of a smile so big, it practically hurt Wednesday’s eyes as much as the offensive color scheme of the package clashing with her overly printed sweater.

“Finally, you’re back! I saw this on Insta, and I know you’ll think this is totally lame and not your thing, but it’s also - fully you.”

Wednesday tried not to wrinkle her nose. “I believe we’ve spoken about you giving in to targeted advertisements on my behalf. You have to stop allowing corporations to get the best of you, Enid. The American dollar is worth less every day, partially due to the over consumption of cheap goods manufactured overseas.”

Rolling her eyes, Enid pulled open the strings of the bag, still wearing a smirk. “These aren’t cheap, okay? And yes, it was targeted at me, for you, and I’m aware I’m playing capitalist games, or whatever,” She said in Wednesday’s classic deadpan voice. “But this one got me right through the heart and I couldn’t help myself. You only accept dead-accurate shots. So, reach in!”

Giving her own eyes a spin, Wednesday placed her backpack on Enid’s colorful quilt on her bed and closed her eyes, reaching into the bag. Her fingers gripped around something surprisingly soft and squishy. Pulling it out, she stared harshly at a six-inch wide plush raincloud, with a severe frown stitched onto it with a face and…feet.

“Isn’t it so cute!? And what totally sold it – guess what the name of it is?”

“Sunny,” Wednesday quipped flatly.

“Amuseable Storm Cloud! That’s what your dad calls you sometimes!”

“I can’t say I find it amusing,” She grumbled, placing it flat on her palm, taking in how the legs sort of dangled over the edge while it pouted.  

“Well, I think it’s very fitting. Thing likes it!”

The hand gave a thumb up from where he appeared over Enid’s shoulder. Enid picked it up the plush with a little squeak of a sound, squishing the sides of it together before holding it up next to Wednesday’s face, giving a delighted nod. “Yup – as I expected. You’re twins.”

“The doctor said I ate mine in the womb,” Wednesday argued.

Enid continued to glow, skipping across the floor and putting it on a shelf next to one of Wednesday’s taxidermized squirrels. “Not your usual sort of stuffed creature, but for sure – less likely to decompose.”

“I’m very good at my craft. You don’t know what chemicals they put in the polyester stuffing. No doubt some sort of acidic compound that could burn through your skin and lead to necrosis. I’d argue that’s worse than decomposition of the dead.”

“Sounds like a Wednesday Addams personal challenge,” Enid teased, bringing the stuffed storm cloud back and waving it in front of Wednesday’s face. “Give it a hug – see if it causes you to burn from inside to outside!”

When she didn’t move a muscle, Enid carried on, “Unless, of course – you’re scared to hug a plushie. I get it. Very intimidating to show such vulnerability in the privacy of your own room.”

Without betraying a single movement of her face, Wednesday reached out, squished the plush creature to her chest, then threw it across the room when Thing snapped a picture of the moment on one of Wednesday’s old timey cameras and the flash went off.

Enid chastised him and picked it up as Wednesday sat herself at her desk, pretending not to be any further fazed. Enid sat the plush beside her typewriter and slid a hug over Wednesday’s shoulders, holding on for about ten seconds. Just when Wednesday felt her about to pull up, she lifted a hand, clutching her arms together over them before turning her face upside down to look at Enid – where her frown would be a smile.

“Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always, Storm Cloud.”

X

buy your own Amuseable Jellycat Storm Cloud here

[siremasterlawrence]

Breaking In To Hollywood: Henry Cavill

Breaking In To Hollywood studios is having a massive sale so I decide to take a long shot to see if they have anybody available for me as I arrive and the doors swing open as I walk in. The red carpet roles out me the youngest new star enter the compound as the lights blow up shining as I make my way down the red carpet and the owner of gallery greets me. In the door way he offers his hands at me as we shook hands tightly in excitement as I squeeze him hard and I let go as he points for me to sit carrying this massive apple red packet to me.

I grab it feeling something unraveling inside when I open it a golden color emits letting me now it is all about to go topsy turvey for me and a pen appears in my hand at the same minute. The time spins about as I realize my hand is writing on the paper my name turns to gold as it vanishes from my hand and I am completely in awe of it all and next thing the room spinning out of control. Once it stops rotating I soon come to noticing that I am in a entirely different room painted in a array of color schemes forcing me to see it as a door appears and a keys floats down in to my head.

Rising as I make it to the threshold of the door way placing face key in the key hole turning it as the door blows up in brightly lit room fill to the broom in red ink but I am not about to and or could not not make it out. I am swooping in as the door slamming right behind him as the air swirls in cooling up the room wrapping around me, the next thing I know I see the name Henry Cavill written in red paint. A flat screen television flips on switch to a video proof playing of Henry introducing himself to a perspective buyer because he has agreed to see his life for a lifetime.

“Did you buy that little act of mine? “

“Yeah I know!”

“Oscar worthy!”

“Don’t flatter yourself “

“Ok then! Magnificent “

“So you a contract to fill and the lifetime retainer.”

“All settled here you go”

“Excellent! Quiet the thrill ride “

“What is your story?”

“Well one day I found I myself despising the wealthy.”

“So you sought revenge by making them in to meat suits?”

“Precisely! You are lucky to make this deal with me dude.”

“If you can produce the magic.”

“Well step inside, let’s make the magic happen.”

“The machine is rolling on”

“The door closes behind me”

“We have a narrator here”

“Commence it already “

“I’ll see you soon Mr. Cavill”

“Alright! Here we go!”

“Wait for the light?”

“Then what?”

“Hello?”

“Anybody there?”

“Shit”

“Oh well!”

“Please walk to the center “

“Is that a scanner”

“Say cheese “

“This before “

The lights flips on revealing Mr. Cavill is lock in a glass connected to the walls the glass is shiny, clean and such a sight to behold as his eyes are closed and he is everywhere bit swoon worthy as I thought. I approach the class case placing my hand on the frame as I oogle his beautiful body from the front of the glass as it begins to change color and explode on my touch as the body falls forward. It tumbles on top of me so heavy, strong and so admirable before clumps up in to a hefty explosion it’s self drowning me a liquid sea of gold and attaching its self to my body rightly so before I collapse.

My body lifts upward in to the air lower then the ceiling as I begin encircling the upper area of the room going round and round as my body shook like crazy letting the goop sip in to my skin. I fall forward to the ground as I melt into the floor slowly my body took shape rebuilding in to what I thought it is my body fully forming in to a human shape taking a deep breath. Ilove the feeling standing up as I go for awalk towards the mirror happily, instead I see another man’s reflection as I see himHenry Cavill staring back at me with utter love.

I watch with smirk placing my hand under my masculine chin, blowing my self a sweet soft kiss as I feel my masculine body roll under my finger and I feel like God for the first time. My new body shiver at a quake when I check myself out he is ravish in all the ways letting me fingers slide down the cloth and gropes my ass tight knowing that everyone wants to worship this. The door swings open on both sides as he steadily makes his way to stand next to me with pride in his eyes and on his face he is definitely cocky and I plan on using it against.

“This is after “

“You were not kidding “

“Duh! want to try it out “

“Hell yeah!”

“At your service”

“Actually!”

“Don’t do it! Please “

“Ignore Henry! He will become non existent soon.”

“Give me back my body “

“What was that? Connection is bad”

“Asshole! Zip it “

“So static zzzzzz”

“Damn it! You bitch”

“Or what? What can you do?”

“I’ll usurp…”

“You will do no such thing and in fact you will see it my way now.”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“Oh My Goodness! I want to be “

“To be what?”

“Ffffrrrreeeee!”

“Go silent? Good Riddance”

“Where was I? Oh yes! Time to seal the deal bitch.”

The end

[joyful-enchantress]

I'm Dreaming of a Green Christmas | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: Hello! This is my FIRST EVER fic and I’m so excited to share it! I wrote it as part of the Winter Warmers collection that @lokisgoodgirl so graciously opened for contributions. I hope you enjoy!

Update: I wrote a companion piece to this! See how their story continues in Evergreen.

Genre: Friends to lovers, fluff, humor, suggestive thoughts, slight angst (if you squint)

Word Count: 2k

Loki Laufeyson.

The man of your dreams. Or, should you say, the god of your dreams.

Ever since he had reluctantly joined the Avengers last year, you couldn’t get him out of your head. The jet-black hair that fell in cascades, providing a brilliant contrast to the alabaster skin of his face, stretched tautly over sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. You’d idly wondered if you could indeed cut yourself on his cheekbones – and what his jaw might taste like – and you were slightly embarrassed at just how badly you wanted to find out. 

Then there were his eyes – were they emerald green? Or perhaps ocean blue? You could never quite decide. Their gorgeous color seemed to ebb and shift just as much as the crystalline tides. Regardless of their color, they always appeared to be sparkling with mischief; glinting with the thoughts of his next scheme. And Loki usually wore some kind of impish smile to complement his twinkling eyes; you swore the way his lips twisted into those cunning smirks could bring you to your knees – not that you’d be complaining about being in that position…not for him, anyway.

Sigh. Your thoughts hadn’t even wandered below his neck yet, and you were already in need of a cold shower. Was he even aware of the hold he had on you?

Sometimes, you suspected that he knew. You were fast friends after he joined the team and moved into the tower, and not long after, you began to consider him your best friend. The two of you spent countless hours together – almost every free moment you both had to spare. Your time spent with him came with inevitable physical contact - innocent brushes of fingertips as you’d both reach for the last snack, warm hugs, and intimate contact while sparring. Sometimes, even, the occasional wrestling-match-turned-tickle-fight. Each touch, no matter the context, lit your skin on fire, burning with your desire for more. The conversations you had with him were often laced with innuendo; he’d make a suggestive remark and his lips would curl into a devilish grin as he watched the blush blossom over your neck and cheeks. 

But – you told yourself – it didn’t mean anything; that’s just who he was: a relentless flirt. He’d often brag of his sexual exploits back on Asgard (which would also cause you to blush and choke on your drinks), and it was clear that Loki Laufeyson had quite the queue of women at his bedroom door, hoping for the chance to spend a night of passion with him. Perhaps there was some mild attraction, but there was no way he would ever have genuine interest in someone like you. How could he, when he was so damned perfect? And you were, well… you.

Last Christmas was his first “Midgardian Christmas” as he liked to call it. You had fond memories of showing him the traditional customs – decorating, wrapping gifts, watching Christmas movies, drinking hot chocolate, and you even got him to join in on some Christmas caroling. Your favorite memory from last year, though, was when he showed you his apartment at the Avengers tower. You had been inside before, of course, but he was so excited to show you how he decorated it himself, using what he learned after you had dragged him along with you to help decorate every other nook and cranny of the compound…

“Do you like it, darling? Did I live up to your rigorous standards?”

“Loki…” you gasped, “This is breathtaking!” 

He beamed. “Well, I did have a masterful teacher.”

There was that damned smirk again.

“You’ve given it your own… flavor, too, I see.”

“There was no other option, Y/N. Midgardian Christmas decor consists of entirely too much red for my taste,” he remarked with a cringe. “It really is quite tacky. I’ve taken a more… elegant approach.” 

“But what about holly berries? Candy canes? Poinsettias? Red ribbon, even?”

“What was that song you taught me last week? White Christmas? Well in here, darling, we have a Green Christmas, take it or leave it.”

Pulling yourself back to the present moment, you chuckled at the memory. Of course he couldn’t stand to see so much of his brother’s colors in his own quarters. Loki’s room was immaculately adorned with festive decorations, and not a speck of red could be found. The green fir tree in the corner was spectacularly embellished with glittering bulbs of the brightest emerald, silver, and gold. White lights and silver tinsel added to the sparkle, and nestled at the precipice was a beautifully ornate silver spinning wheel, a symbol of his mother, Frigga. The windows in his room were frosted, even though it hadn’t snowed that day, and when you approached them to investigate, you noticed they were not cold to the touch. Loki had frosted them himself, using his power as a Jotun, and then used his seidr to seal them so the frost would not melt, nor would the unwelcome chill seep into the cozy room. Hanging in each of the frosted windows was a green wreath, each one complete with a golden bow and a flickering candle. His usual black furniture and rich, emerald green soft furnishings throughout the room brought the entire look together. It was warm and inviting, but also strong and dark – just like him.

Here you were, daydreaming of that Green Christmas last year, and the nights you would have liked to spend in his room… in his bed.

It just wouldn’t do any more. Being best friends wasn’t enough; you needed more. Christmas was all about letting people know how much you love them, right? You resolved that you would tell Loki your true feelings for him on Christmas Eve.

---------------------------------------------

Christmas Eve arrived in the blink of an eye, and you’d never been more nervous in your life. You had rehearsed over and over again the words that you would say to him, but you feared it wouldn’t be enough. Or maybe it would be too much? Would it scare him away? Would you lose his friendship, that was so dear to you?

Stop it. You could do this.

You picked up the emerald green box adorned with a golden bow, which contained your gift for him. You had gotten him a simple and elegant tie clip, made of platinum, with a single emerald inlaid on the end. It had made you think of him right away when you saw it in the jewelry store, your mind immediately wandering to the thought of him in his all-black suit and tie combo, with that tie clip displayed proudly against his chest.

With the gift box in hand, you began your pilgrimage to his private quarters, where you had plans to do your gift exchange. As you approached the door, the flutters in your stomach increased their tempo from allegro to prestissimo; the blood pounding in your ears rose to a deafening crescendo. You audibly exhaled, trying desperately to catch your breath, and your hand trembled as it made its descent to give a shaky knock on the door. Your body was a perfect symphony of nervousness.

Loki promptly answered with his signature bright smile and twinkling eyes.

“Come in, come in, darling!” He beamed as he wrapped you in a warm embrace and placed an innocent kiss to your cheek that set your insides ablaze, “I’ve just finished up a fresh batch of hot chocolate for us to share.”

“Thank you, Loki, that sounds wonderful.” You placed his gift under the tree, next to a slightly larger one that you presumed was for you.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”

Dammit. You had tried your best to cover your nerves, but he knew. He always knew with you.

“Yes, Loki, I promise everything is fine,” you assured him with the best smile you could muster, “but I do actually have something to talk to you about, if you wouldn’t mind sitting down.”

“Of course, darling, what is it?”

He made his way over to the sofa next to you, his brows knitting together and his oceanic orbs swirling with concern.

Here goes nothing…

“Loki, you mean so much to me; you’ve been my best friend at the compound practically since the moment you arrived. You’re my favorite person to spend time with, no matter what it is we are doing together. In fact, even when I’m not with you, I find my thoughts drifting to you, frequently during the most inopportune times. You’re often the last thing I’m thinking about when I drift off to sleep at night, and the first thing I’m thinking about when I wake up in the morning. I can’t keep pretending any more, Loki. I’ve fallen in love with you; irrevocably, maddeningly in love.”

You were avoiding eye contact, your fingers twiddling nervously with the hem of your skirt. The silence was deafening. Was he going to say something?

Just as you gathered the nerve to look up at him, you noticed that he had risen from the sofa and was walking towards the tree, with his back to you. Now you’d gone and done it; he was completely uncomfortable, avoiding you, even. You stood up from your seat on the couch, and began walking towards the door, rambling along the way.

“I - I’m so sorry, Loki. I’m sure that was uncomfortable, and maybe crossed a line and I just hope we can still be friends, but I understand that you need some space and I’ll — “

You gasped as a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, preventing you from leaving and interrupting your nervous rambling.

“Y/N, just wait a minute. You didn’t open your gift yet.” His eyes gazed at you softly as he handed you the green box you had spotted earlier under the tree. 

Your small hands shook as you pulled at the ribbon and lifted the lid, revealing the most beautiful gold necklace, with a single charm hanging from the chain – a dazzling emerald, surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds. 

“Loki…” you whispered, “It’s so… it’s stunning, but it is too much!”

“Read the note, darling.”

You retrieved the small piece of paper that was placed strategically underneath the beautiful necklace, and unfolded it. You were greeted with Loki’s familiar handwriting.

Merry Christmas, Y/N. I’m so incredibly grateful that you’re in my life, and it is my highest hope that you will allow me to court you, and I offer you this necklace in my colors, as a symbol of our courtship, should you accept it. I love you, darling. xx Loki

Your eyes widened as you stared from the note back up to him. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” he asked coyly, with an arrogant smirk.

You nodded furiously; it was as if you momentarily had forgotten how to speak.

With a flick of his wrist and a twirl of his elegant finger, you were wrapped in a tendril of green light and pulled across the floor, and right into his arms, closing the gap that was between you. Before you could express your surprise at his gesture, his hands found their way to either side of your head, his thumbs brushing gently against your rosy cheeks, and he tilted your head so that his lips could meet yours. The kiss was soft at first, your lips exploring each other gently for the first time. Soon, though, the desire you both were harboring became evident, and the kiss grew heated, his tongue prodding your lips, begging for entry, which you easily granted. When he finally released you, you were both panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“I hope that was okay?” he questioned, slight concern gracing his breathtaking features.

“Trust me, it was more than okay,” you quipped, tugging on the collar of his sweater, “Now where were we?”

Your lips joined in another passionate kiss, and your heart leapt with unbridled joy. He wanted you to wear his colors. He was yours.

Your wish for a Green Christmas came true.

[mangoshorthand]

Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 12 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates)

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

A press conference and a picnic

Smut below. Proceed at your own risk.

Chapter 12: Partners

“Do I look ok?”

You tilt your head a little and look him up and down

“eh…”

“That good?” he sighs.

He looks in the mirror, finding it strange to be back in the Academy uniform, albeit the tight-fitting adult jumpsuit he had never grown into before getting lost in the future. The unworn material squeaks a little as he moves.

“You look the part…though it’s a little like fetish-wear. The mask doesn’t help.”

“Yeah, well-” he looks you up and down, clearly trying to formulate a return jab about your choice of clothing. Apparently, he can’t think of one so changes tactic:

“That’s a disturbing glimpse into your mind.”

You take a step closer to him, putting your mouth by his ear and running a finger down his arm.

“Oh Five, there’s plenty more disturbing stuff going on in there.”

He gives a single hum of laughter, looking down at his boots. Almost like he's...nervous? You can’t see his eyes behind the mask, but the flush in his cheek gives you the idea he might even be a little flustered. He turns to the armory closet and roots in an interior drawer. He emerges with a second domino mask.

“Will you wear this for me?”

“Why?”

“It shields your identity a little. And shows you’re with us. One of us.”

You look up at him, trying to divine his expression. His brow is clear, countenance open and the set of his mouth leads you to suspect penetrating earnestness behind his own mask.

You go to take it from him but he places it over your eyes himself and then strokes two fingers down your nose.

“Perfect…well, we better get going.”

You let him walk a couple of steps ahead of you. The jumpsuit’s material clings to him. You lower your voice to a lecherous drawl, as if you're a catcalling drunk peeping out from behind a dumpster.

“Your ass looks great in that,” 

“Oh, shut up.”

“So…round. Looks like it’s trying to eat that jumpsuit.”

He speeds up a little. You can see the color in his cheeks even from behind.

“Mm, you just keep on walking, boy."

You, Sloane and the four Umbrellas present lined up in front of the Academy steps. All except you fall into a parade rest as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Together, you face the surprisingly large number of press and bystanders gathered in front of the compound- TV cameras too. If the recent press attention orchestrated by JUICED had done anything, it had got the Umbrella Academy back in the headlines. Ironic really.

It had been decided that Luther should speak first. The ‘Number One’ that most people remembered. He looks down at his cue cards.

“Uh…thank you for coming today. The Academy has recently become aware of some sinister corporate activities and we've called this press conference to let you know about it and bring public attention to this issue. My brother, Number Five, has taken the lead on this, so I’m going to allow him to talk you through it. I will just ask that we save questions until the end.”

Cameras click as Five takes Luther's microphone.

“Thank you, Luther. Number One."

He surveys the crowd with quiet confidence. He has notes but holds them in the hands clasped behind his back, addressing the assembled press from memory. 

"Evidence has come into my possession which strongly suggests that the soda company JUICED co. has been experimenting on children in an illegal pilot-scheme at Holbrook Elementary School. My analysis of a can of JUICED taken from a vending machine at Holbrook revealed the presence of an unknown chemical component not on the ingredients list. More details of my analysis and its limitations are available in the press-packs sent to you. 

Since then, we've obtained leaked documents that indicate that this chemical is a new mutagen: Di-triberyllium colloid, or Ditrico for short. These documents claim that Ditrico, when ingested over a sustained period, can have the effect of making the drinker only feel satiated when they have had the substance which introduced it.

To put it simply, JUICED co. were testing whether they could make Holbrook elementary students always feel thirsty unless they had recently ingested JUICED. The data they collected via their illegal testing suggests that this happens in around thirteen percent of regular drinkers. 

The ethical implications of this are, of course, serious and I call on authorities to take action. A copy of my report and documents, all available to the press, have been sent to appropriate government agencies and law enforcement. I’d be happy to take questions now.”

Five points at one of the clamouring journalists and the questions begin. He confirms that, yes, he was the ‘madman’ at the Holbrook Elementary meeting. He proves that he is the real Number Five via a blink demonstration and his brothers vouching for him, briefly explaining the accident that caused him to go missing in the first place.

"This matter isn't the subject of this conference, so I'll take more questions now about JUICED and Holbrook."

The journalist he indicates stands up.

"Karen Smith, Newsday. You said that up to thirteen percent of regular drinkers will experience extreme thirst unless they ingest JUICED. What happens if they don't? Do they die of thirst?"

"Well, Ms Smith, I don't know for sure but I would guess not. According to JUICED's research, Ditrico seems to mess with the area of the brain that deals with thirst cues, rather than the body's ability to be hydrated. I believe the children will suffer discomfort but no physical damage. More study will be needed on whether this can be reversed. I have my suspicions that over time the brain will right itself without drinking JUICED regularly but that’s no more than speculation."

This seems to satisfy her. With a sweeping look over the crowd, he opens up the floor to more questions.

“Yes?” He indicates a journalist a few rows back, 

"Simon Dalton, New York Post. Mr Hargreeves, is this related to the four Holbrook children with cancer?"

Five hesitates, "I did originally think this was the case, but I now believe it to be unrelated."

“How did you obtain JUICED’s private documents?" comes a shout

“My brother Klaus, (Number Four), and my partner were able to get them via a one-time employee at JUICED.”

Klaus gives a finger-twiddling wave as he’s mentioned and Five gives you a small smile as he gestures to you.

“On a personal level, I'd like to acknowledge their work there and express how much I respect and… love them.”

Throwing any semblance of formality behind, Klaus leans over and ruffles Five’s hair.

After the conference, he’d gone upstairs to change and never returned. The only trace you’d found was a note:

Meet my by the convenience store at 6 x

Daisy always attracts the attention of any middle-aged to elderly man in the vicinity and Five is surrounded by the usual group of these, a protective hand on the Corvette’s waxed hood.

“-I could get her to 100, maybe 105 on a good day. Lost a bit of horsepower over the years. She’s an old lady so I rarely push her hard.”

“Is the paint job original?”

“Nah. She was shot to shit when I got her, but I had my guy restore her properly. The interior’s original but the paint-job’s reconditioned in the Donneybrooke green. The idiot before me had painted her in this cerise monstrosity…but he was just a young guy, didn’t know what he was doing.”

One of the men lets out a little laugh, “you ain’t exactly methuselah yourself, young man.”

Five would usually have bristled at this, but not today.

“Well, I at least try to treat a lady well. Speaking of,” he looks up at you, “hello dear one.”

You give him a wry look. He looks like he’s about to kick back for a round of golf.

“Hi. You boring these guys with car talk?”

“Not at all,” says one of the men. As he looks round, you recognise him as a HR manager from work and exchange a brief, surprised salutation.

“So- this your boyfriend?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re partners, yeah” Five flashes you a grin, “and if you fellas don’t mind, I’d like to take my top two ladies out- assuming they'd like to?"

As you nod your agreement, the men drift away amiably. Five steps forward to open the car door for you. He's ever the gentleman in an oddly old-fashioned way for someone who, according to his birth date at least, was still in his mid-thirties.

“Where are we going?” you smile

“There’s a state park just an hour outside the city. I packed us dinner. I was thinking we can watch the sun go down.”

“What’s the occasion?”

He shrugs, “Just to celebrate.”

You drive with the top down, Five singing along the whole way. He’s leaning bluesy tonight.

You sit in a viewing area on a tartan blanket, looking out over the river. You're the only people here. As the sun sets, throwing trees into silhouette, Five offers you his blazer. It makes you laugh a little; it’s as if he’s trying to be the perfect prom date.

The picnic he’d packed was sumptuous. He’d chosen a selection of cheeses, cured meats and a bottle of champagne. He’d also been to your favorite patisserie and bought macarons for dessert. While he had a single glass of the wine, you’ve had more than half of the remainder, giving you a pleasant buzz. You enjoy a macaron, savoring the raspberry melt-in-the-mouth texture.

Five reclines a little, crossing his ankles.

"I'm going to fund Sarah's PhD."

"Huh?"

"The student I kidnapped when I did the experiment. Dad's money is just sitting there, accumulating. A portion is mine and it's more than I could ever use. It feels like the least I can do."

"That'd be nice." you smile down at him, covering his hand with your own. 

"I'll maybe pay off her student debt. Anonymously, you know. It doesn't fix it but it makes her life that bit easier."

He watches the river, its flow hard to make out in the lowering light. After a few minutes, he looks up at you.

“You were amazing, you know.”

 You laugh, feeling the champagne turn your laugh blurry.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Of course, but Klaus and Luther told me about Harvey. The way you wrapped him right around your little finger.”

He shakes his head and laughs a little. You only shrug.

“It’s how you get what you want in that world. I don’t do it in my professional life because I don’t think I should have to.”

“Good for you,” he puts his hands behind his head and turns to you. You smile drunkenly back at him. After a moment he says.

"I guess I can't blame you but I can't say I was happy to hear about you flirting so shamelessly with another man."

“It didn’t exactly go to plan. I had to knock him out.”

Five chuckles a little darkly, “I was happier to hear about you knocking him out than flirting with him.”

You laugh along with him. 

“Tell me, did you set out to make me jealous?”

His voice is dark; dangerous. It takes you a moment looking at him to realize he’s playing a game. When he cocks his eyebrows, you feel yourself smile.

“No…but I’m guessing you are?”

“Insanely.”

His teeth bare a little, tendons on his neck standing out with the tension in his jaw.

In your slight drunkenness, your eyes become a little too expressive. They dart to and from the places you find him most attractive. His eyes, lips, neck, forearms. His shirt has come untucked and rides a little high, giving you a glimpse of his lower stomach and its fine hair. 

He notices you noticing and leans back a little further to cause his shirt to ride up more.

“Would it make you feel better to fuck me over the hood of the car?”

He raises his eyebrows, laughs and shakes his head disbelievingly. Before he can say anything, you’re up, over by the car with your dress flipped up and bent over the hood.

“Watch her paint job!” he winces, getting up too.

“Too late now.” Your hands are clasped innocently behind your back, “may as well fuck me.”

He laughs, "I told those guys at the store I was taking two ladies out tonight, but it’s becoming abundantly clear that you are no lady!”

“No, no ladies here.”

“Mm…good.” One hand comes to caress and squeeze your ass cheeks. You hear him unzip and the quiet fapping sound as he strokes himself to a full stand.

“Make it quick in case someone comes.” 

He snorts, “don’t pretend that doesn’t turn you on,” 

He ruts himself against you, using your panties to provide the friction he wants. Little ohs and mms escape his lips as he humps at you, enjoying the situation and anticipation. His cock pokes pleasantly at your panties until, eventually, he pulls them aside. 

He gently slaps himself against your ass, enjoying the soft 'thwack' it makes. Knowing he's about to put it inside you makes your nipples harden inside your bra. He uses his hand to guide himself into you, entering hastily and a little uncomfortably. It seems the wine has made things a little slower to lube up down there. For some reason, this makes it feel better, dirtier. Bent, spread-eagled over the car with Five Hargreeves fucking you rough and dry.

With a hand on each hip, he goes for it immediately, making fierce, feral noises as he impales you repeatedly. Your cunt quickly catches up and soon he’s sliding through you as slick as you could want.

“Oh, you hot little slut.”

You’re bombastic from the wine. If he can play the game, why can't you?

“Harvey wanted me."

He grunts, breaking his rhythm just to give your ass a little slap. 

"But you're mine."  There's no real ire in his voice and only flattering possessiveness.  

"I even made sure he had a good view down my shirt.”

He makes a sound mid-way between a laugh and an animalistic grunt. He smacks your ass again, hard this time, shoving you forward onto the hood. He pulls you back onto his dick and continues his rough attentions.

"You bad little whore.”

“But only you can touch them."

"Mmm."

He leans forward, cock slipping out of you and dragging wetly across your ass. He reaches around your body, grabs a breast in each hand and squeezes them, rubbing them harshly around and around. 

"My tits." he growls, lips against your ear.

"Yes Daddy," you whisper. 

He gives your earlobe a gentle bite.

"Now you just lay there and enjoy this cock." 

"Yes please."

He's too breathless, to eager to get inside you again to say more. Breathing through his teeth, he directs his cock back inside you and slams it to the root, making you both cry out.

You shift slightly, altering the angle of his penetration to rub better against your g-spot. Your moans build, feeling your hips start to ache with the repeated, heavy contact from his pelvis. As your lower stomach and pussy tingle with the approaching orgasm, you put both hands palm down on the shining hood.

Five doesn’t allow this. He tugs your arms by your sides and puts his hands on top of your wrists, pressing them into your hips.

“I…just…waxed…her” he pants

You laugh at this. Maybe it’s the way your body moves, but this pushes you both over. Five comes with his usual possessive, almost angry grunts while you squeal out your pleasure. Afterwards, as you both catch your breath, he leans over and lays his upper body along yours, the warmth and his deep breathing in your ear making up for the loss of his cock inside you.

“Poor Daisy,” you giggle.

“Lucky me though.” You can hear the raised eyebrow in his voice. He kisses your cheek. 

Soon, you’re both decent and back on the picnic rug. The sun is low now; the highest sky ink black, the lowest sweet coral. It’s turning into a fine, clear night.

When it begins to get a little cold, Five heads to the car’s trunk and returns with a second blanket, an old quilt patterned with robots from his childhood bed. He drapes it over the pair of you and pours you both another glass of wine.

"Thank you." he says.

"What for?" 

"For everything you did," he looks down, hair shading his eyes, "and... I guess...thank you for staying."

"What else would I do?"

He looks back up at you, unsure of your meaning. You shake your head at him, feeling a slightly sad smile spread your lips.

"Two things, Five. One, I love you too much, even when you're being an asshole. But also...where would I go?"

"Ah." 

For once, he understands something emotional without it having to be spelled out. He takes a thoughtful sip of wine.

"You feel...dependent."

"Yeah. I guess."

 Your stomach flutters with nerves. It would be so simple for him to take this as an insult. His knees come up to his chest and he holds his arms around them.

"You have...friends. What about Ellie? Didn't you go to her after I nearly shot you?"

Shame flashes fleetingly across his face.

"Yes...I could. But what about after that? I'd be on her couch for weeks before I could get an apartment...a-and, once I did, how long until I felt safe there?"

His face contorts a little behind his knees. One of his hands comes to grip yours. 

"Do you...want to leave?"

"No."

He lets out a held breath.

"So you feel stuck? Because it's my family's house but you're scared to live alone?"

"Not stuck. And I want to live with you, it's not really about being scared to live alone."

"It's about feeling vulnerable?"

You nod and his face falls into the deep lines of logical consideration, loosening his grip on his knees. He's been faced with a problem and he's damn well going to solve it:

"Do you want us to get our own place?"

You consider this, "No...not for now, at least. I really do love it there- I do feel like it's home. And you'd miss everyone."

"Not as much as I'd miss you." you can tell he means this. "So what do you want, dear one?"

When you don't answer, clearly at a loss, he puts his arm around you. After looking up at the darkening sky for a while, he says:

"How does this work: you pay a little rent to Dad's estate? Just a little; enough to give you a lease agreement. It would give you a right to be there legally...a right outside of me."

You look at him. As an extremely proud man, this must cost him a lot to say.

"Are you-?"

"I want it to be your home. Whatever I have to do to make that happen."

"I... I think that would help." 

"Good." He kisses your head. "Maybe we can re-evaluate the arrangement as time goes on...if legal circumstances change."

You're not entirely sure what he means, but you nod nevertheless. He looks up at the night sky again.

“The stars won’t be long now. Look up there long enough and more and more will appear.”

His mind seems to wander. He takes your hand under the blanket and lies down. After several minutes, his voice has taken on a different, more dreamy quality.

“They were pretty much the only beauty left. Dolores and I would stare at them for hours some nights. Everything else in ruins...but there they were.”

You lie down beside him and look up too. Your heads rest against each other.

“It was nice to know that they were always there. Always following their cycles. Like clockwork.”

“Comforting?” you venture

He pauses, “Yeah…but they made me small. More alone too.”

You stroke the back of his hand with your thumb.

He’s right. More and more appear the more you stare. As the sky becomes blacker than blue-black, the stars spread and multiply. Those that fade into view seem brighter the more that fade in behind them.

You tear your eyes away a second and bring your eyes to his. Dome shaped to your side-on view, the stars are reflected there too.

“You’re home now.”

“Yeah.” he whispers.

You look back up at the sky and get lost in the vastness. The infinity of it. For a minute or so, you’re no longer with Five, no longer feel his hand in yours; it’s just you and the universe.

Five’s voice, deep and soft, brings you back into yourself.

“Do you think you’d ever get married?”

You take a second or two to parse this; just back to earth. He turns his head towards you and watches you in silence. Eventually, you reply.

“I haven't ruled it out.”

"Good to know.”

End of Part 2

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves

PART 3 >> HERE For a preview of things to come, check out the series masterpost Alternatively, join me on AO3.  Here is a link to the whole series

[ice-to-orange-blossoms]

I keep thinking your pfp is like an orange tent in the arctic or something. it's got that extreme cold weather gear orange to it.

Hahaha I can see it!

It's this postcard image of the Illinois Central 's City of Miami streamliner, inaugurated in 1940, which had over of the most unique liveries in the country in my opinion

Such a compound curve is selfom seen.

Even this postcard seems to have incorrectly colored the locomotive though, it seems to be closer to an Armour Yellow (the yellow used on Union Pacific locomotives and passenger cars)

The observation car also had a fun little flourish to it

Sadly, this livery only lasted until 1946, when it was replaced by the bog standard (and in my opinion lackluster) brown and orange Illinois Central livery

All aspects of my blog theme are themed around Florida bound trains. My header being the Dixie Flagler and my blog colors being the scheme of the EMC E4 locomotives built for the Orange Blossom Special

I tried to keep it all Chicago to Florida themed but the third Chicago-Miami streamliner, the South Wind, is just in boring Pennsylvania Railroad Tuscan

[eddathegreat]

It just hit my dumb ass that when the copper in a penny oxidizes it creates the green compound malachite, hence Penny's green color scheme.

[transgenderfivepebbles]

hey, could you share the Ancients name headcanons? :)

deep breath in this essay i will

okay so let's start off with a few language hcs, because my naming ones depend on the structure of the language

the ancients' language is picto/logo/ideographic (idk the exact difference, maybe it's multiple??), kind of canon considering the achievement glyphs

compound words and radicals are very common, used both for inflection and to specify words, e.g. Sliver of Straw becomes [Straw] [Sliver-genitive], Seven Red Suns becomes [Seven] [Setting-Sun], Looks to the Moon becomes [Look-Toward] [Moon]

they don't count in base 10! I'm working on a base 32 system inspired by karma 6-10's symbols, this is important for the names because they need to have consistent lengths

characters have a lot of stylization potential for use in seals, signatures, etc. but it tends to render the words unreadable to people not well-versed in the art form

now onto their actual naming schemes

a typical Ancient name is exactly 4 characters, denoting a quantity, quality, or object. this is split into two [adjective] [noun] names, somewhat analogous to a first and middle name

the personal name (not always the first half) is chosen by the individual themselves, while the other half is linked to their family (usually shared with or derived from a parent or older sibling) - for example, if Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets had a sibling, they could be named something like Seven Branches, Twelve Brackets

iterators, as they belong to no particular family, lack the family name, only having a single name

colors are never used in Ancient or iterator names, as they are reserved for referring to dynasties; the two iterator names that contain colors use them figuratively, the "Grey" in "Grey Wind" meaning "cloudy" or "dreary" rather than the literal color

the words, especially objects, used in names aren't arbitrary; they have a lot of associations and symbolism that are given to an individual as wishes for their life. natural themes, like Leaves and Sprouts, represent hope for a peaceful life, while tools, like Axes and Spades, symbolize ambition and great achievements

names could be easily made into square or circular seals, with each character taking up a quadrant of the seals. they were rather common in the higher ranks of society, and often made by the person themselves, used as a form of signature

name length/complexity is correlated with social status, from short, simple names (Pel from White Pearl my beloved), to single-part adjective-noun names, likely used by lower-class aristocrats or other minor roles (Eight Bogs of the House of Eight from Other White Pearl my beloved), to the double-part names like those of the echoes, used by monks, nobles, and others held in high regard.

[turtblurts-pkmnirl-hub]

☀️ I LOVE Z

I LOVE HER SM. She's so fun, I love her paranoia and at the same time, stubbornness to give up how she sees the world, her desire to narrate it all.

ALSO I KEEP NOTICING THINGS IN HER DESIGN THAT MAKE HER LIKE A BUG AND IM LIKE HOLY SHIT

Also!! Z- Her name is Z, and she uses Z themed tags in her ask games and posts.... I don't know if the name is intentional to sound like a buzzing sound that flies make but!! but!!

Aughghuaghu biting and chewing

YEA YEA YEA YEA!!!! she sooooooooo!!! forgive me for being probalyb a bit incoherent but its like almost 1am and i have school in the morning but i wanna fuckinnnnn answer this ask before i go to bed yippee yay

her name being z isnt inherently bug-related NOR is it totally porygon-z related (its a factor but its not the sole reason lol). and while the Z-theming in her tags and posts is more related to the porygon-z than the bug thing, its a silly side effect that i think she gets a kick out of!!!!

OUGHOUGHOUGH im so in love with z's character design!!! a lot of it is based around bugs, particularly flies! aghgahgahgaghgh actually ykw lemme fuckin. rant for a moment abt z's design

putting this under cut for insect imagery!

overall color scheme inspired by common green bottle fly

her bright deep-pink glasses are reminiscent of the big, red compound eyes that flies have

Grey face mask with zigzag line down reminiscent of mandibles

Scarf that goes down behind her back meant to look like the wings of a bug

Kind of hard to tell from this reference alone, but both the backpack and the winter vest are kinda meant to look almost metallic like a bottle fly. The backpack is meant to give her silhouette more of that fly-like appearance.

Black pants and arm warmers meant to be reminiscent of fly legs. The hexagonal patterns are kinda just meant to break up the monotony of the design

BUT! the use of hexagons in particular is meant to tie into both her motifs with tech AND with the bug typing, as it alludes to the shape of honeycombs.

also its a bit hard to see on the colored version but if you look at the doodles on the side you'll notice that the strands of hair that fall to the sides of her face kinda curl into themselves a bit. this is another thing meant to tie her back to her being a bug specialist because this is something you kinda see with some of the recent bug trainers in the games. its meant to be kind of reminiscent of either bug antennae (viola) or a proboscis (katy), but i focused less on what it represents and more on the fact that it is intrinsically connected to bugs and bug type trainers. i tend to draw a lot of inspiration from character design philosophies from the games to make my own trainer characters, so seeing a pattern like this established within the games and implementing it into my own designs can help to add another layer onto the established motifs.

and last but not least...

even her shortass height is meant to tie back to bugs. bugs are small and hard to notice. she relates to them a lot. she wants to be a fly on the wall: small and hard to notice

[vendetta-if]

Can you give us the interior and exterior layout of what you imagine about the Mozorov family compound and casino? In what you see as it's style.

Ooh, okay! This post is gonna be long and probably would take up more than one post to answer fully. I’ll start with the Morozov family compound, which, the readers will see for the first time in Chapter 5. This description here is more detailed than in the story because I don’t want to spend paragraphs after paragraphs explaining these things in detail 😅

It is basically a big mansion on an even bigger grounds and the backyard is bordered a bit by copse of trees and the other side is looking directly at the rest of the city sprawled below. There are guards and other members there 24/7, but most of the members who are not on guarding duty and just want to hang out, spend time in the basement levels.

The main color scheme of the whole building is black with various accent colours that include, white, grey, gold, white, or dark-toned wood. It’s minimalistic, sleek, and even toeing being brutalist in style with a lot of panoramic windows that are blast-proof and covered with one way window film to provide privacy.

Below are the closest pics I can find and the ones that kinda fit the vibes:

Exterior

The building is definitely bigger than the first three pics because the family compound is a mansion, but the pics fit the vibe and what I had in mind.

Interior

Just like the outside, the inside’s color scheme and design principle are also similar. The living quarter/wing of the mansion is what I’m going to show in these pics and one pic of the office.

The basement levels are not as luxurious, and they’re pretty minimalistic and even brutalist in design. Not because Luka is being cheap or anything, but since it’s where the members usually hang out, the design gotta be practical and durable in case things get rowdy 😂

Here are the closest pics and the vibes I have in mind. Sorry if some pics are not too high quality, I just found them from scouring Pinterest 😅

[do-it-for-radagon]

Remember the Elden Donut? This is her now. @frisk-606 un-donuted my idea for Gold Tarnishes Quickly Ring setting and added some color coded flair I am LIVING for. A circle closed. A cycle contained.

Building off the Perfect Order ending, I went with the circular design, replacing Marika's rune atop (now defunct) with the downward arch of Rune of Death, which closed the circuit. In my understanding, Goldmask was a revolutionary who saw that first and foremost, the Golden Order is flawed, and it is most likely so through constant mingling. This is also a rune 'discovered' instead of 'gastrated' meaning, that upon its conception, this could be the original look of the Ring, which was dismantled by Marika when her shadow seized Death.

Rune discovered by the noble Goldmask. Used to restore the fractured Elden Ring when brandished by the Elden Lord.

A rune of transcendental ideology which will attempt to perfect the Golden Order.

The current imperfection of the Golden Order, or instability of ideology, can be blamed upon the fickleness of the gods no better than men. That is the fly in the ointment.

Next, after all the turmoil of the Shattering and beyond, the compound Runes faded, having their gold replaced by individual color schemes. Even upon re-incorporating into the Ring, they hadn't fully returned to their original look, tarnished, one could say, by their previous wielders. Including Radagon's.

There's also the eclipse imagery with the burning arches. Death and Fire are the leading tropes of the Age of Silver. And thus we come to the 'imperfect' ununiform look of the Mended Ring, which is ironically much more ideologically consistent than the one brandished by the Age of Gold. As I see it, the 'perfection' of the new order comes not from subsuming all that is different, but embracing it into a more nuanced, self-contrasting unity.

[albatross-the-pen-chewer]

Tell us more about your weird dreams plz, they have good inspiration for writers....... like me

Also have a great day/bught/timezone

You are very cool 😎 👌

Well, since you asked 😎

I think one of my favorite weird dreams is probably one I had several years ago, where I was periodically flipping between two different realities with different color schemes.

The Blue reality was peaceful and mundane, while the Orange reality was hellish and torturous.

I remember starting the dream in the Orange, where I was at some form of compound in the desert with a large group of other people. I think I was a prisoner. At some point I try to make my escape with a small group of other people, but we're quickly discovered and shot at. I take a bullet to the leg, and fall into a small body of water.

I wake up in the Blue, rattled but unharmed. It's not unusual for me to have somewhat violent dreams, so I brush it off. I do tell my mom about it though, and my day proceeds as normal until--

I wake up in the Orange, having dragged myself out of the water. I don't see any people around, so I make a break for it. I don't have time to think about the Blue reality as I flee. Occasionally I'll see what appears to be my pursuers, but I keep going, somehow outrunning them. I--

I wake up in the Blue. Apparently I was zoning out. This is getting weird. I tell people, concerned, about what I just experienced, but they wave me off as just being tired. Did I get enough sleep last night? Maybe I need to lie down. I decide to--

I wake up in the Orange. I made it to a city, but something is wrong with me. Or, is it that something is right? My leg healed a while ago. I'm faster than I should be. I'm stronger than I should be. Almost seamlessly, I make my home in the city. It's easy to keep a job when you don't get tired. But, it doesn't seem like I'm the only anomaly here. What was--

I wake up in the Blue. When did I get to the park? I'm starting to freak out, now. Why do I keep losing time? Why do I keep bouncing? I struggle more and more to tell which world is the real one, and no one takes me seriously when I tell them about my dilemma. Of course, why would they? I'm finding it hard to keep--

I wake up in the Orange. There's some kind of monster running around, with five legs and a mouth that spans all the way around its body. It was invulnerable to most weapons, but it had to constantly eat, so the only way to kill it was to starve it. It took hours to seal its mouth shut.

The part I played in defeating the monster earned me a fair bit of reputation amidst the denizens of the city, and I find myself battling far more creatures as time passes. It seems as though years go by in fast forward, and I start to think that I've finally stopped bouncing between realities. For once, I'm comfortable.

I wake up in the Blue.