#i’m not sure if it’s obvious but that specific shade of purple is my favorite color it’s literally all over my blog

[xercesxerces]

brush practice with some hobies he is so much fun to draw

and a bonus miles! my beloved son

[izavella21]

The Use of Color in Character Design

One detail in character design that I’ve grown to really like is when certain colors, and sometimes patterns or accessories, are used to convey or hint at some type of connection between the characters involved. 

Here are some examples that I really like:

(Please note that a lot of these are my own speculation. I have no idea if these details and meanings were the artist’s and designers’ intentions when designing these characters, so please take this with a grain of salt)

Sonic The Hedgehog

Tails looks up to Sonic, and they’re close friends. Sonic and Tails both wear red and white shoes, as well as similar gloves. (I love that most of the Sonic characters’ gloves look like the basic cartoon white gloves at first glance, but they’re stylized to fit that character’s personality)

Later in the Sonic IDW comics, we get Surge and Kit, who are based on Sonic and Tails. Obviously, they wear the same shade of yellow, and their gloves and wrist bracers are identical. In this case, they were literally made for each other, so I think it would make sense for Starline to have them be matching to a degree. 

Encanto:

Encanto is full of examples of color used like this! A lot of details in the Encanto characters’ character designs show their connection. But for now, I’m going to focus on color specifically.

Okay, first, all the Madrigals are shown wearing white at their gift ceremony, before switching to a more colorful outfit afterwards. This is most prominently shown with Antonio, and briefly in Mirabel’s flashback.

Pepa’s side of the family wears warm colors. Mostly shades of yellow and orange. 

Dolores is shown wearing mostly red, which makes her stand out, but also blend in with her parents and siblings, at least to me. I’m not sure if that means anything. Antonio also wears a red scarf, so in that regard, Dolores matches her brother. 

Julietta’s side of the family wears shades of blue. 

Everyone except for Isabela that is. I’ve seen some people say that Isabela’s dress is pink, and I’ve heard others say that it’s purple or lilac. I think both make sense for her. Pink is Abuela’s color, and Isabela is shown to be the favorite grandchild. And if you really look into it, Abuela Alma seems to try to live her ideal life through Isabela, hence she might have influenced Isabela’s wardrobe, hence them both wearing pink.

Or, if you think Isabela’s dress is a pale purple, that also works, because purple can be made by mixing pink, Alma’s color, and blue, Jullieta’s color. 

In her song “What Else Can I Do?” Isabela’s dress gets painted with several colors, the most prominent of which being blue, yellow, and red, which are the colors of the Colombian flag, where Encanto is based.

At the end of the movie, Isabela’s dress is colored mostly blue, the same color as her parents and sisters.

Bruno wears green, which is yellow and blue mixed together. In other words, Bruno’s color is his sisters’ colors mixed together. 

And Mirabel’s dress contains lots of images that relate to her family’s gifts, but there’s no image relating to Bruno. However, Mirabel’s connection to Bruno is shown by her glasses being green, Bruno’s color.

Danganronpa:

The most obvious one: Junko’s outfit is black and white with red details. Similar to Monokuma.

Mukuro’s outfit when she’s disguised as Junko has a similar color palette. Makes sense. She’s in disguise, so she’s supposed to look identical to Junko at first glance. Does this count as foreshadowing to the mastermind reveal?

Chiaki’s design shares multiple elements with Usami/Monomi, including a similar shade of pink.

Not sure if this was intentional or not, but Hajime and Nagito have similar colors in their designs (mostly white and green). They are very much foils for each other.

Kaede and Kaito have similar colors in their design. There’s a lot of parallels between them and they play similar roles, particularly when it comes to supporting Shuichi. This one might be coincidence, but still.

Last but not least, Kaito’s associated with the color purple, Shuichi is associated with blue, and Maki is associated with red. Blue and red mixed together makes purple. In other words, Kaito’s color is his sidekicks’ colors mixed together. 

I think this is my favorite example on this list because it's subtle, and it doesn't register until well into the game.

At the start of V3, Shuichi Kaito and Maki have no meaningful relationship with each other, so you don’t think the colors used in their designs have any meaning. Then as the story progresses, their friendship gradually forms and develops. Key word being GRADUALLY, until you get to the scene in chapter 4 where they sit down and chat, and that scene has a dedicated image of them sitting together in a circle (also, Kaito is pictured between Shuichi and Maki, which makes the detail of their colors even more apparent). And you can look at that image and go “oh, that detail makes so much sense now!”.

Thank you for reading!

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya: Ladybug learns the truth

“Hold on a minute,” said Alya as she scrutinized the billiard-ball sized object on the bed in front of her. It glowed with several different shades of purple that swirled around each other just slightly faster than was comfortable to look at. “This is a very difficult case.”

Sitting next to her on the bed, Juleka stifled a giggle. “What’s your prognosis, Dr. Alya? Am I going to make it?”

Alya grinned at that. “Your soul looks mostly fine,” she said. Her tail flicked in pleasure; Alya liked it when her ‘cult’ — or, as she had learned to think of them, her friends — were doing well, and Juleka was one of the closest friends she had. Alya’s wings fluttered a little too, creating a slight breeze which blew a few strands of hair into Juleka’s face. Juleka blew them back with a mock-grimace while Alya chuckled and then continued. “No blemishes or spots that I can see. Just a little agitation. And as for what might cause that…” An idea came to her. “Are you planning on asking Rose out later?”

Juleka blushed, her skin reddening to the point where it almost matched Alya’s devilishly-red hue, and the colors in Juleka’s soul began swirling even faster. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’ve been, um, trying to build up the courage for a week or so, but it’s hard.” Her hair drooped over her face, and this time she didn’t try to push it back. “She’s so amazing,” Juleka went on. “And I’m—“

“Also amazing,” Alya cut in. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the best high priestess ever. I know that Rose likes girls who are kind, compassionate, wise, and have a strong moral code—and you’re four for four. Forget that prohibition against angels dating humans; if you ask her out, I’m certain she’ll say yes.”

Juleka smiled a little, but she said, “Everything you say makes sense, but I just have trouble making myself believe it. It’s hard to feel it, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Alya, thinking about one of her other friends. She’d been hanging out at Marinette’s house a couple hours ago, listening to the girl excitedly detail the pastries she was going to make for a charity bake sale, and she’d found herself wondering once again if she could risk revealing her true identity. It would be so easy to let her demonic veil fall and show Marinette her true form, and surely Marinette was kind enough and non-judgmental enough that she’d be able to see past the horns, wings, flickering tail…

But if she wasn’t, if Marinette panicked at learning that Alya was a literal demon from Hell, then the friendship would be over. And Alya couldn’t risk that. Even if Marinette didn’t do anything else (like call Ladybug to banish Alya back to Hell for the next few eons), Alya would be devastated to go through her time on Earth without being able to call on her best friend. And so Alya had once again decided the risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how much she yearned to be able to tell Marinette about her true self.

But even if she couldn’t solve her own problem, she was sure she could help her High Priestess. “Let me try,” said Alya as she cupped Juleka’s soul in her hands. “I think I can calm your soul enough that you can at least ask Rose without panicking halfway through.”

“Thanks,” said Juleka with gratitude in her voice. Alya could tell that she’d been worried about losing her nerve at the worst moment. 

Alya focused on Juleka’s soul, reaching out with her demonic senses until she could feel Juleka’s love-fueled agitation. Then she began to exert her will on it. “Yield to me,” she chanted in quiet Latin. “You who have entrusted me with your soul, yield and let me calm you…”

After a few minutes, the colors in Juleka’s soul slowed down a little, and Juleka took a breath. “I feel better,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Alya as she continued to focus on Juleka’s soul to make sure no traces of agitation could remain and screw things up for her later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Juleka said. “You told me that demons usually use their soul-influencing powers to torment the people whose souls they take, as part of their torture. You know, like making them fanatically loyal and ready to sacrifice everything else for their demon, or driving them into fits of rage, or things like that. But you use your powers to make me and the other people in your cult feel better and be more functional. Do you have different powers than other demons? Could other demons act like you if they wanted?”

“They could; my powers aren’t unique to me,” said Alya as she inspected Juleka’s soul again and noted that it was now in perfect order. “After all, any of the things I’ve done for you guys could be used to hurt someone. Take right now: I just calmed you down, and that’s good, but another demon could calm the soul of a soldier to mellow him out so much he couldn’t be roused to defend his position, resulting in the bad guys overrunning it. Or look at yesterday. Aurore was still feeling a grudge against Mireille for beating her to get that TV job, and she asked me to help her get over it so she didn’t get angry whenever Mireille was on TV. I was able to use my influence over her to make her more forgiving and remove that blemish in her soul, and everything was fine. But another demon could do the same thing on a judge so that judge decided to ‘forgive’ criminals and release them, even knowing they were going to commit more crimes.”

Juleka inclined her head. “I see. But I guess most demons stick to the more obvious types of harmful influence? Making people angry, or greedy, or things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Alya. “The seven deadlies are classics for a reason. They usually work for tempting and damning people, and they don’t require a lot of knowledge—make a human really angry and he’ll usually commit a sin. So they’re useful for demons who aren’t interested in humans, the ones who just want to bag their quota of souls and go back to Hell.” She grimaced. “But those demons are idiots. And the idea of squishing all humans down to being a bunch of angry, greedy jerks is just… it’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “I mean, I was taught otherwise and I even believed that at first when I showed up here, but that crumbled as soon as I met actual people.”

“Specifically, Marinette,” Juleka noted.

Alya blushed a little, but said, “Not just her. So many of the humans I’ve met are amazing, and I’d rather help you be the best humans you can be than turn you all into a bunch of psycho cultists. Yes, there’s humans who are already awful, and I’ve got no problem yanking their souls and doing all the traditional devil stuff to them. You guys heard what I did to that exorcist who tried to banish me, I’m sure. But corrupting someone like you, or Mylene, or Alix… taking away what makes you girls unique so you can become yet another generically-terrible person… that would just be wrong, no matter what my bosses say.” She paused. “If you girls are in my cult, if I’ve got your souls, I want to use that to help you. Not torment you.”

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing demon yourself,” Juleka said. “And we appreciate that.”

Alya beamed at that. “I do try,” she said in a faux-haughty voice. “And as long as my high priestess continues to supply me with regular deliveries of Dupain-Cheng pastries and anime to watch, I’m sure I shall continue.”

Juleka laughed, then stilled herself while Alya picked up her soul and gently pressed it against her chest. After a moment the soul slid in through Juleka’s shirt and body, and Juleka gasped slightly at the now-recognizable (but, somehow, never totally familiar) feeling of suddenly being more ‘herself.’ Once her soul was back inside her, she let out a happy breath and said, “I really do feel calmer now. Thank you so much, Alya. I think I can ask Rose out without panicking.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know who to call.” Alya hopped off the bed and stretched, her wings flaring out and her tail flicking backwards to poke Juleka’s nose. Juleka giggled and playfully flicked at it, and it recoiled for a moment only to dart in and begin tickling her under her chin. Juleka quickly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Alya glanced back and smirked for a moment before laughing herself, and it took a moment before either of the two girls could stop. Then Juleka managed to get up, a silly grin still on her face. “I’ll look over the souls,” she said as she motioned to the large shelf where Alya kept the now-considerable number of souls from her ‘cult.’ “See if anyone has any new blemishes or spots.”

“Just don’t mix them up,” Alya said. “I remember the last time my little sisters got in here and put them all out of order, and then when Mylene needed her soul back for the day so she could go to church, she accidentally got Chloe’s soul and spent the whole service calling the priest ‘ridiculous’ because he kept asking for donations to buy fancy artwork for the church but wouldn’t commit to using any of the funds for actual charitable causes.”

“I won’t,” said Juleka. She went over to the shelf and began looking at the souls. First was Chloe’s, which was yellow and orange and vaguely spiky (though the spikes were gradually shrinking as Alya and the others worked to bring the prickly girl out of her shell). Then came Alix’s, which was pink and almost vibrating with energy, to the point where it actually bounced if dropped or tossed against a wall. (Alya knew this because Alix had idly tried to dribble her soul one day, and it had bounced around the room until it bonked Alya in the head, at which point Alya had instituted a no-dribbling-souls policy). Next was Nino’s, a gentle blue ball in a comfy little doll bed and had tiny headphones playing Nino’s favorite music. And so on, down the line.

While Juleka looked over the souls, Alya gathered up a few dishes and went to put them in the kitchen. Technically, it was the job of her cult to do any chores that she needed done — and it was Juleka’s job to manage the cult and make sure that happened — but Alya didn’t feel comfortable making them do that. Besides, Marlena would get mad, and—demon powers or not—Alya knew better than to disobey her.

Alya entered the kitchen as she idly whistled a tune she’d heard on the radio. Her little sisters were over at Nino’s house, which meant that there should have been nobody in the house who didn’t know that she was a demon, which meant she didn’t need to bother with her veil. As such, she was in her full demonic appearance, with red skin, horns, wings, cloven feet, and a flickering tail as she rinsed off the dishes.

And then, when she turned around, she saw Ladybug staring at her.

For a few moments Alya didn’t believe it. Then her mind almost crashed as she realized what was going on — that one of the superheroes, someone who wielded the power of the kwami and was more than capable of banishing her to Hell for half an eternity, knew her true nature — and scrambled to find a way out of it. But none came to mind. Ladybug was staring at her, Alya Cesaire, in her demonic form. 

A half dozen potential options for escape flitted through Alya’s mind, but none survived a second of scrutiny. Ladybug was fast, strong, fiendishly clever, and she could summon magic objects which always somehow managed to be whatever she needed to catch her quarry. Then Alya thought if there were any possible ways to fight Ladybug and win — if she could throw Hellfire, or Whisper distractions, or draw on her cult — only to dismiss those ideas too. This was Ladybug. She couldn’t win a fight against her. And besides, even if she somehow did, that would leave Paris defenseless against Hawkmoth. It would leave her cult—her friends—without protection from that lunatic.

And so Alya didn’t run or fight. She just lowered her head and whispered, “Please don’t banish me…”

“I wasn’t going to banish you,” said Ladybug.

Alya blinked. “You weren’t?”

Ladybug shook her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have waited for you to notice me,” she pointed out. “I’d have zapped you from a neighboring rooftop.” A slight smile appeared on her face. “You’ve fought alongside me for how long, Alya, and you think I’d give someone a free shot?”

Despite everything, Alya couldn’t help giggling. “No, you don’t usually subscribe to the ‘that akuma needs to have a fair chance of killing me or else it’s not honorable’ school of thought. You’re more about wanting to win.”

“Damn right,” said Ladybug, which made Alya smile a little more. Ladybug returned a smile of her own, though it quickly faded. “So no, I’m not here to banish you. But I do want to talk to you. I need to know what you’re doing in Paris. And if you’ve…” She took a breath. “If you’ve done anything that, as a hero, I would need to correct.”

Alya nodded, but then something occurred to her. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m, uh, who I am,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks,” Ladybug said. “Do you remember how Mayor Bourgeois signed that law to bulldoze that forest preserve and put up a shopping mall?”

“Yeah,” Alya said. 

“I knew that a local girl named Mylene cared a lot about saving the park, and I was worried that she might get akumatized once Bourgeois crushed her hopes,” said Ladybug. “I went to her and found her just in time to see one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies touch that pin in her hair. Before she actually got akumatized, though, I could see her trying to fight it off. And I could… sense, I guess… something helping her. Something was trying to keep her calm and urge her to fight off Hawkmoth’s promises.

“Whatever was helping her, it was able to keep her from giving in for long enough that I was able to get to her, smash the pin, and purify the akuma.” Ladybug shrugged. “She thanked me and said she felt better, but I could tell she was still a little tense, and that whatever was helping her was still influencing her. So I tried to follow that magic, and it led me to your apartment, where I looked in through the window to see… well, to see you, looking like that, holding a lilttle rainbow-colored ball and chanting something at it.”

Alya frowned as she thought back. “Wait a minute,” she said after a moment. “Two weeks ago, right? I remember. I was home when I saw her soul begin flashing red and vibrating, like something was attacking it. So I tried to calm it down.” Then, despite everything, a tiny smile spread across her face. “You’re saying I stopped her from being akumatized?” she said. “I didn’t even realize that was happening, but… I’m glad I was able to help.”

Ladybug nodded. “You did. But Alya, I need to know why. I talked to my kwami afterwards and she said this isn’t normal for demons; they don’t usually stop destruction in the human world unless there’s some ulterior motive. But you did stop her. So: why?”

Alya hesitated. “I mean, Mylene’s one of mine, you know? She’s in my cult and she’s my friend. I have to look out for her. I don’t usually like messing with my cult’s souls without their permission, but if one of them’s about to self-destruct, I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“Why not?” pressed Ladybug. “Isn’t that why demons come to Earth? To lead humans astray, get them to sin, and ultimately take their souls to Hell?”

Alya’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Alya,” Ladybug repeated. “This is important. If there’s some weird demonic plot going on, then as the protector of Paris, I need to be aware of it so I can derail it.”

“I know, but… I don’t want you to think less of me,” said Alya softly. “You’re an amazing hero and a good friend.”

Ladybug smiled a little at that, then went to Alya’s side. “I don’t want to think less of you either,” she said. “And I promise you, whatever I think, it’s not going to be influenced by your species. So just be honest with me, Alya. Tell me everything.”

Alya paused, again torn. But she finally said, “Okay. I will.”

The two girls sat at the kitchen table and then Alya said, “When I first came to Earth, it was exactly like you said. My job was to collect souls and that’s all I cared about. I figured I’d just find people, tempt them, grab their souls, and move on. That’s what most demons do.”

“So what changed?” Ladybug asked.

Alya blushed a little. “You might think this is stupid, but I met someone. This girl in my class. Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Ladybug froze, though Alya didn’t understand why. She was pretty sure Ladybug knew Marinette; after all, Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous once, which presumably meant Ladybug had given it to her. Then Ladybug shook her head. “What about Marinette?” she asked.

“She was so kind to me,” Alya said. “I was new to the human world, I didn’t have any friends or connections, but as soon as I got to school—that was my cover, I was a local student—she befriended me and helped me fit in. And… look, I know humans are nice to each other a lot, but in Hell, that never happens. Everyone’s always out for themselves. The only reason someone down there would help me is so I would owe them a debt or a favor. But Marinette was just so compassionate, so kind, and she genuinely didn’t care about being paid back.” Alya smiled a little dreamily. “She was amazing. And she made me want to… to be different.”

“Different how?” Ladybug asked, still seeming slightly stunned.

Alya shrugged. “She’s the kind of person who can… inspire people to live up to her example, I guess. At least, she inspired me that way. I loved her kindness, the way she so obviously cared for me and for others without worrying about herself, and I found that I wanted to be like that too. I wanted to keep feeling the way I felt when Marinette was kind to me, or when I was kind to her. And also, the idea of doing the standard demon thing, of using twisted magic to warp some innocent person into committing a heinous sin so I could seize their soul… it didn’t feel right anymore. It felt awful. Cruel. I couldn’t bear to be like that, not after having experienced real human kindness.” 

“So m—Marinette’s kindness helped convince a demon to stop tempting people?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah,” said Alya with a little chuckle. “Seriously, if you haven’t met her, you should. I think you two would be amazing friends.” Then Alya paused. “But, um, it wasn’t just Marinette. I don’t want to sound like a stalker or something. I made other human friends too and they also helped me be better.”

Ladybug seemed to shake herself, as if breaking out of a stupor. “So you don’t take souls for your bosses?” she asked.

“I do,” Alya admitted. “But only people who have already committed serious sins. Criminals and the like, especially the ones the police haven’t caught yet. I get their souls so I can fulfill my quota and stay up here on Earth, and I don’t mess with them too much. Mostly I just influence them so they won’t work with Hawkmoth by making them too despondent to respond to his summons, or too paranoid to trust his promises, or other things like that.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, that’s you?” she asked. “So that’s why Hawkmoth never worked with felons and why he’s just picking random people who happen to get mad one day! I would have figured they’d be the most likely to join him! That makes a lot more sense than my prior theory.”

“What was your prior theory?” Alya asked.

“That Hawkmoth is an idiot,” Ladybug said.

Alya couldn’t help giggling at that. “Well, he did summon Mr. Pigeon dozens of times, so that wasn’t a bad theory,” she joked. “The man is not as smart as he thinks.”

“Nope,” Ladybug agreed. “Seriously, I mean, the guy has total control over the powers he gives people, and yet half of them are useless. What was Reflektra even supposed to do? Make us look ridiculous while we kicked his butt? How does that help him?”

Both girls laughed before Ladybug brought the conversation back around. “If you’re really just targeting people who have already committed serious crimes—and making sure they don’t commit more—then that’s one thing,” she said. “But I do know you’re collecting the souls of others as well, like Mylene. Why is that?”

“To make sure other demons don’t get them,” Alya said. “I’m not the only one here. And I can’t tell you who the other demons are—literally, I’m under a demonic geas that will set me on fire if I say their names to someone who doesn't already know them—but I can tell you they’re a lot worse than me. The other demons have no problem at all with warping innocent people into Hellbound monsters. But if I get the souls of my friends first, the other demons can’t lay their claws on them.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug gave Alya a long look. “I imagine you had to trick these friends into losing their souls at first.”

“Yes,” Alya admitted. “Some made deals—Mylene wanted me to resurrect her pet ferret, for instance--but others, like Alix, lost bets or fell into a minor temptation I set up. I didn’t love doing that, but if I hadn’t, they’d be in the clutches of a far worse demon.” She shuddered at the thought of what Lila would have done. 

“Now that they know the truth,” Ladybug went on, “If these friends wanted their souls back so they could leave your cult, would you let them?”

Alya hesitated. “It hasn’t come up,” she admitted. “They aren’t hurt by losing their souls, except that they can’t go into churches or do a couple other ‘holy’ things. And I don’t use my power over their souls to make them worse. I try to help them when they ask for help, instead.”

“Even so,” Ladybug went on. “If Mylene went to you tomorrow and said she wants out, what would you do?”

Alya was tempted to just lie and say that of course she’d return Mylene’s soul, but she had a feeling Ladybug would be able to sense that. So instead she tried to give the question as much thought as she could to come up with her honest response. “I’d be worried about her, and I’d try to convince her otherwise,” she said. “But if Mylene was adamant, I’d give her soul back. Some demons treat their cults like slaves or prisoners, but I can’t do that.”

“Because Marinette would disapprove?” Ladybug asked.

“Not just that,” Alya said. “Maybe for the first few days after I met her, but I’ve moved past that. My ‘cult’ are my friends and I wouldn’t keep them against their will.” She let out a breath. “But again, it hasn’t come up. Honestly, I think they like knowing that if something goes really wrong and they become upset or angry, there’s someone looking out for them who can calm or polish their souls. Especially Chloe. Her mother is… not great, and Chloe has panic attacks when she’s around. She was really happy when I said I could monitor her soul and try to soothe it when her mother came to visit.”

Ladybug carefully considered that. “You wouldn’t mind if I didn’t just take your word for it, right?” she asked. 

“I can give you a list of the people in the cult,” Alya said. “You can ask them for yourself. Plus my high priestess Juleka; I don’t keep her soul on my shelf, since she’s got both warlock and paladin powers to defend it with—long story—but she'd be happy to talk to you about what I'm like.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug said.

The two were silent for a moment, and then Alya asked, “So… what now?”

“Well, now I need to talk to your cultists,” Ladybug said. “But assuming they verify what you said… I don’t see anything here that I’d need to banish you for. As far as I can tell, you really are trying to be a good a friend, and you’re doing a good job of it too. As long as you don’t take any innocent souls, and you don’t do anything abusive to your friends in your 'cult,' I don’t need to get involved.”

Alya felt a wave of relief rush through her. “Thank the Devil,” she breathed. “I’m glad.”

Ladybug smiled. “Out of curiosity, is being banished that bad?” she asked. “My kwami said it’s not permanent and you could come back once the spell wore off.”

“That could take centuries,” Alya said. “All the humans I knew would be dead by then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, especially Marinette.”

“Maybe you could see her after she dies,” Ladybug noted. “Her soul has to go somewhere, right?”

“It won’t go to where I’m from,” said Alya at once. “Seriously, I peaked at her soul once when I was sleeping over at her house and…” She smiled wistfully. “It was so incredibly pure… the purest I’d seen. No, she’s Heaven-bound for sure, and I won’t be able to see her once she dies because I’m not allowed up there. So I just… I want to make as much of my time on Earth with her, and all my other friends, as I can.”

Once again, Ladybug didn’t seem to know how to respond for some reason. Alya, though, thought of something else she really needed to say. “Speaking of Marinette,” she said. “I… look, I loved having the chance to help you fight Hawkmoth as Rena Rouge. I’d give anything to be able to do that again. But if you can’t trust me because of… of this…” She gestured at her horns and tail. “If you need a replacement, I’d suggest you look at her. The girl’s heart is so pure I can’t imagine Hawkmoth ever corrupting her, and not only is she strong, but she’s incredibly clever. Trust me, she’d be a great hero.”

Ladybug’s cheeks colored slightly. “Thank—I mean, I’m sure she’d thank you if she’d heard that,” she said. “But like I said, unless I learn that something you told me wasn’t true, I don’t see any reason to take your powers away from you. I’m happy to have your help in the battle against Hawkmoth. In more ways than one, apparently.” She smiled. “In fact, once you give me the list of the people whose souls you have, if I learn that one of them is getting upset or is likely to get mad about something, I hope it’s okay if I text you and ask you to check on their souls.”

“Of course,” said Alya at once. “Anytime you need.”

Ladybug nodded. “You’re a good friend, Alya,” she said. Then she turned on her heel before pausing. “Ah, one more question. You said you took your friend’s souls to protect them. Why not Marinette’s? You don’t have her soul, right?”

“No, I don’t,” said Alya. “I thought about it, because I know there’s other demons who would love nothing more than to corrupt someone as pure as her. But I…” She hesitated. “If I took her soul, she’d know what I really am. And I can’t bear the thought of her rejecting my friendship over that. She’s… she means a lot to me.”

“I see,” said Ladybug. “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but I’d encourage you to tell her. I know her pretty well, and trust me: she might surprise you.”

Alya smiled, though inwardly she wasn’t sure if even Marinette could be that tolerant. Still, though, Ladybug’s word had a lot of weight. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last. “And I’ll also keep a close eye on Marinette. I might not have her soul, but if I see demons moving to attack her I’ll do everything I can to hold them off. And I’ve got my paladin/warlock high priestess to help, plus this angel I know. We should be able to keep her safe.”

“An angel?” Ladybug repeated. 

Alya grinned. “Yeah. I know demons and angels aren’t supposed to get along, but this one’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose Marinette influenced her too?” Ladybug said in a teasing voice.

“Marinette seems to influence everyone for the better,” Alya said. “Marinette will never know it, but yes, I think the angel is happy to know her too.”

“Why won’t Marinette know it?” Ladybug asked. “Are angels not allowed to reveal themselves?”

“It’s more that they only do so if they’re smiting an evildoer, or if they need to save a human from temptation,” Alya said. But Marinette’s so pure that she’s not really in any danger of that, so I don’t think she’ll be getting any angelic intervention unless she spontaneously gets tempted to rob a bank or something.” She giggled. “Which really isn’t like her.”

Ladybug laughed too, though she seemed slightly disappointed for some reason. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Alya. Thanks again for all that you do.”

Alya waved as Ladybug launched herself back out the window. Then, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she went back to her room to tell Juleka everything.

——

The next day, Alya found herself invited to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Hey, girl!” said Alya as she walked inside. “What’s up?”

“Alya!” Marinette said. She ran over and exchanged hugs with her best friend. “I just came up with some new pastries and I wanted you to be the first to try them!”

“Anytime!” said Alya. “What’cha got?”

Marinette took a few pastries off the shelf. “This one here is a Mexican chocolate cake,” she said. “I remember you saying you liked the spicier pastries, so I made it with a little cayenne pepper. Please, try it!”

Alya bit into the cake and grinned as the fiery sweet flavor danced over her tongue. “This is really good,” she said. “Seriously. And—“

“Oh, there’s also this other one,” said Marinette suddenly. She took down a donut. “I wanted to get back to my roots a little,” she said. “But I also wanted to make something you’d like. So this is a cinnamon donut with green and red chilis, the sort you find in Hunan cuisine.” She handed it over. “What do you think?”

Alya tried the donut and gasped, because it was possibly the best thing she’d ever tasted. The sweetness matched the peppers perfectly. “This is amazing,” she said. “Damn, girl, you know how to bake. Although, I thought you said you guys weren’t working too hard on developing spicy pastries because your parents didn’t think they’d sell well?”

“I’m going to prove Maman wrong about that,” said Marinette firmly. “Because people who enjoy spicier deserts should be able to get treats they love, just like anyone else. I’ll make spicy treats that are so good they sell just as well as everything else we’ve got.” 

Alya blushed. Marinette really was one of the kindest people around, she thought.

“Besides,” Marinette went on, “even if these didn’t sell, it’d still be worth making some for you. After all, you’re my best friend.” She moved closer to Alya. “You’re an amazing person and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “I don’t think anything could drive us apart.” She gave Alya a quick hug. “Maybe I don’t tell you that enough, but it’s true.”

“Um.” Alya wondered if Ladybug had maybe hinted to Marinette about some of the conversation they had. “Right back at’cha,” she said. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

Marinette smiled.  

Alya hesitated, on the verge of asking Marinette to go somewhere private so she could remove her demon veil… but she still didn’t feel quite confident enough. Someday, she thought. But not just then. “If I”m so great,” she said, “maybe you could let me have a few more of these?”

“Have the whole tray!” Marinette chirped. “But one thing in response: the concentration of chilis is slightly different in each one, so I need you to rank them. That way I know which one is the best one!”

“You’ve got it!” Alya grinned and reached for another donut. She was truly blessed, she thought, to have a friend like Marinette.

——

Later that evening, Marinette was in her room with Tikki, trying to relax after a long day of helping her parents in the bakery.

“I’m just saying, Tikki,” Marinette said quietly, though her voice was light and she was clearly joking. Well, mostly joking. “It would just be one bank. I might get to see an angel, and then I could give the money right back!!”

“No, Marinette,” said Tikki in a stern voice.

“It could be a bank owned by bad people!” Marinette went on. “It—“

“No, Marinette,” Tikki repeated.

Marinette smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. But I hope I get to meet that angel anyways.” She blushed. “I can’t believe that I convinced a demon to be good.”

“You’re a very special person, Marinette,” said Tikki. 

Marinette grinned before settling back on her bed. The idea of having helped to make Alya the amazing, compassionate warrior for good that she was… well, it was stunning. It made her feel really good. 

Of course, as Alya had explained, there might be such a thing as being too good. “What if it wasn’t a bank, but it was just some jerk like XY?” Marinette asked. 

“Marinette!” Tikki complained before tossing a pillow at her. “No sinning just to meet an angel!”

Marinette giggled. “I know,” she said. “Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Across the neighborhood, Alya was also dreaming. “Someday,” she promised herself as she thought of telling Marinette the truth. “I promise.”

“Hey, Alya,” called Juleka from across the room. “We’re about to start the show. You want in?”

“Sure!” Alya said. She scurried to the couch and slid down between Juleka and Mylene. And then she settled back to watch the show with some of her best friends in the world.

-------

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

I loved that thank you!

Just imagining this is how the akuma charms are made, via Alya being a smart cookie and smart soul user. That was just so delightful

[dreamingpartone]

you're one of my favorite artist, i just adore your art style!! and if you dont mind explaining a bit, can i ask how you get all those bright colors to look harmonious and put together in your art? your coloring style is gorgeous and id really love to learn a bit about how it works <3

thank you so muuch, I’m so glad you like it!! <3

and that is a very good question that I will try my best to answer…!! to be honest, some of it is just trial and error, but I would say it mostly comes down to a bit of patience and colour theory knowledge (and probably also the benefit of my favourite yellow-blue colour combo, which I use a lot)

*general disclaimer that there’s no wrong way to use colour and that most of this is just stuff I’ve absorbed over years of art exposure and my own practice; I am by no means an expert*

the obvious place to start:

COLOUR WHEEL BASICS!

Admittedly, it’s not really something I think about consciously anymore, but I think understanding the basic combinations/groupings of the colour wheel (warm and cool colours, complementary, analogous, etc) is particularly useful when it comes to bright colours

To look at it in practice: a majority of my art can be broken down into a complementary colour scheme (usually warm yellows and cooler blues), then the addition of one or two other prominent colours, and then a spread from there

For example, this asny piece is just the primary colours (red, yellow, blue) + everything on one side of the colour wheel:

The yellows and oranges contrast nicely with the blues and purples, and then I’ve got my red-pinks which both pop out and blend with the other colours

I also made sure to use all those colours across different areas of the artwork (e.g. the ribbons match each others’ clothes, the cloud colours crossover, etc), which leads me to...

PLACEMENT!

When I’m using a lot of bright colours, I find placement can be just as important as actual colour choice itself. And that’s probably where a sense of harmony comes into it too!

Where you put certain colours can dictate the overall balance of a piece, and how your gaze is directed. Often, unless I want the focus to be on a specific area, I’ll make sure any bold colours are used at least twice across a larger artwork

(Like how I mentioned for the previous piece; there’s a lot of matching colours between their outfits and the background, and it works with the composition in moving your eye across the whole thing)

However, obviously, you can use colour placement in the opposite way (as a single source) to make a focal point as well!!

Like one of my few successful uses of bright green (which, for anyone paying attention, is something I don’t often touch with my yellow-blue preferences...) is in this Kiss artwork:

and I suspect it works here because your eye is drawn down the piece anyway. Plus, it’s mingled with flowers that have the same colours from the rest of the image, so it still strikes enough of a balance overall

Other Things To Note!

I try to pay attention to the value (how light or dark a colour is/how close it is to white or black) of the colours I'm using — particularly in relation to the subject and background, because that’s gonna determine contrast and depth between them

I'm not super fussed about making lighting look ~realistic~. I’d rather get a mood across, so that gives me a bit of leeway with colouring!

One of the last steps in my process is often adding a blue fill layer set to ‘lighter colour’ and a yellow set to ‘darker colour’ which kind of helps blend tones together as well

Oh and hot tip that basically every artist gets told: if you’re going for vibrancy, avoid using black or grey to adjust the shade of your colours. I pretty much always use blues or purples as my darkest colour (aside from lineart and select details)

Also, START SIMPLE!!

I never go into an artwork knowing exactly how colourful I’ll make it. Quite frankly it’d be daunting jumping from a sketch to “yes I will use ALL the bright colours in this one :)” !!! so for me it’s about beginning with a rough idea and editing and/or adding colours from there

(And actually, any artists out there struggling to balance colours, I feel like it might be a useful exercise to limit your palette to say, 3 or 4 colours (a light, a dark, and something in between) and then slowly add more variation to see what works or what doesn’t?)

It isn’t the most colourful, but I think a useful example of this is my Karasuno piece bc it had a specific colour scheme that I had to balance across fourteen different outfits. So to keep my sanity I just started with the same orange, cream, two blues, and “black”, and refined it from there:

To conclude: there are multiple things going on to make sure my colours look good together — some conscious choices, some more intuitive... And I'm still learning/trying new things/getting it wrong sometimes, but that’s just a part of the art process :’)

Anyway I have definitely talked enough here but if you want me to explain anything else or if this raises more questions, let me know!!

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

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

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #20: Love Delivered

Words: ca. 1,200 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: none

Did Elsa have any idea what she was doing? No, of course not. She was completely out of her element. Her heart was pounding and she desperately wanted to turn heel and head back out the way she had come in. She didn’t though, and tightly clasped her hands behind her back as she ventured forward. She had already been at the flower shop for half an hour. Nothing was standing out.

She paused in front of a flower with long, pink petals. She stole a glance at the name card: geraniums. Maybe she would enjoy these? For fuck’s sake, Elsa, you should have paid attention when she rattled off her favorite flowers. Why didn’t you?

Elsa snorted at herself. You know why; it’s the same reason you’re here to buy these damn things. Get a grip; her favorite was a spring flower with…yellow petals? No no, that can’t be right; yellow is one of her least favorite colors…

“Can I help you find something, miss?” Elsa jumped and swirled around to see an apron-clad young man standing behind her. A crooked tag on his apron told her his name was Kristoff and that he was a “flower expert.” Though she didn’t much feel like talking to anyone at the moment, Elsa sighed and admitted defeat to herself.

“I’m looking for a specific flower for my s-friend. But for the life of me, I cannot remember what it’s called. I‘m positive it’s a spring flower with… purple petals?” Elsa said as she made vague hand gestures. Kristoff’s lips twitched and Elsa could see the laughter in his eyes which brought her irritation to a new level. She breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded, gestured for her to follow, and headed off in a different direction.

“What about these?” Elsa looked at the flower that Kristoff was pointing to. It had long, purple petals cupped protectively around an orange stem. The card said: crocuses. Although the name sounded familiar, Elsa knew that these weren’t the right ones.

“Mmm, no. I recall the petals being wider than that.” They moved down a few displays.

“What about pansies?” Elsa eyed these new flowers that could have been what she was looking for, except there were too few petals on the stem and the purple hue was too light of a shade. So, she shook her head.

“No; too light, not enough petals.” Kristoff hummed and stroked his scruffy jaw. His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“Primrose.” Elsa just stared at him with a blank expression. Once again, there was laughter held back as he led her over to a bouquet of flowers that were just what Elsa was searching for. She rushed over with a grin on her face.

“Yes, yes! Thank you so much! I’m quite surprised you were able to decipher what flower I was vaguely describing,” she commented. Kristoff chuckled.

“Of course; we aren’t called flower experts just for the heck of it. How many would you like?” 

“A dozen, please. And the nicest vase you have.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Elsa couldn’t believe she was actually going through with this. She readjusted the collar of her shirt for the fifteenth time as she slowly walked up the pathway. Her hair was free from any restraints and rested on her shoulders; a heavy contrast to the dark blue fabric of her suit jacket.  

This was definitely the cheesiest thing she had ever done. The tapping noise of her heels against the pavement echoed in her head. This had better be worth it. Finally, she was at the bottom of the few stairs that led to the door of the house before her. She took several deep breaths before climbing them.

It took her a few more minutes to work up the courage to knock. She raised her hand, but before her knuckles made contact with the door, it opened. Her sister leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. Though Anna’s expression was nothing short of annoyed, Elsa could hear the sharp intake of breath as she glanced over Elsa’s outfit.

“What do you want?” Anna asked quietly. Anna was wearing a robe and it was quite obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.  Anna cleared her throat and Elsa’s grip on the flowers in her hands tightened, reminding her of them. She suddenly thrust her arm out and it collided with Anna’s side, causing the younger woman to wince in pain.

“Oh, Anna!  I’m so sorry!” Elsa said and made a move toward her sister but was stopped when Anna held up her hand. Her eyes fell on the flowers that Elsa held and her jaw dropped.

“Those are…” Elsa beamed and carefully held her hand out to Anna, tapping the flowers against her hand.

“Primrose flowers.” 

“Are those for me?” Anna asked in a small voice. Elsa swallowed and nodded. Anna gently took them from her. Elsa slid the box of exotic chocolates from beneath her arm and handed them to Anna as well.

“Favorite flowers, favorite chocolate, favorite suit, and an apology from your favorite person. Or, well, I hope I’m still your favorite person,” Elsa said. Anna looked up at her with her jaw set.

“Well that depends, doesn’t it?  What are you sorry for?” Anna’s direct tone only increased Elsa’s nervousness and fueled the fire that was building inside of her.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been preoccupied these last few weeks; working late, missing meals, not returning calls. I’m sorry that I put work before you,” Elsa paused to take a deep breath.

“Most importantly, I’m sorry for missing our anniversary. There isn’t really an excuse. I was just focused on earning more money so we could move out of this dump and I took it too far.”  Silence fell except for the chirping of crickets and other insects that usually make their presence known in the dusk. Elsa shifted her weight uneasily.

“I’ve got a reservation at Finelli’s, if you’d be willing to join me for dinner.” Anna hummed and, instead of answering, she turned around and walked into the house. Elsa wasn’t sure if she should follow or not and opted for the latter, hoping Anna would return. She did just a few minutes later wearing a short, slitted black dress that had Elsa’s jaw on the ground.

Anna closed and locked the door. She faced Elsa with her hands on her hips. She took a moment to revel in the stunned face of her sister. She hooked her arm through Elsa’s, shaking her gently.

“Let’s go,” she said, tugging on Elsa’s arm. Elsa’s feet finally decided to move and they began to walk back to her car.

“So… am I forgiven?” she asked while opening the door for Anna, who took her sweet time sliding in so that Elsa got an idea of just how short the dress was.

“It depends,” Anna replied as Elsa shut the door. Before she could step away and walk around the car, Anna grabbed her tie and pulled until their lips met in a passionate kiss. When they finally parted, Elsa’s face was flushed and her breath was coming out in short pants.

“On what?” Elsa managed to breathe out. Anna smiled and licked her lips; there was a mischievous glint in her teal eyes.

“Dessert.”

[myherowritings]

The Language of Flowers

— “Hello may I request a Bakuogu x reader imagine, where […] Bakugou has a huge crush on her. She has a nature quirk and always gives him flowers (which he tuts at but acc loves lol) and one day they’re hanging out and she makes him a daisy chain and then a super cute confession happens? Thank you very much~” by anonymous.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warnings: swearing, cheesy flower symbolism

a/n: AH ANON THIS WAS A SUPER CUTE REQUEST i didn’t add in the kiri’s sister part bc i just couldn’t figure out how but i hope you still enjoy!! ;c

“What flowers did Y/L/N bring you today?”

“Don’t know or care.”

Kaminari snorted and Kirishima laughed disbelievingly from his seat against the foot of the bed. The three were in Bakugou’s room on a Friday night after class, and for the entirety of their walk to the dorms, he wouldn’t stop muttering curse words under his breath with the bouquet of flowers you made for him clutched between his hands.

“Right, you don’t care…” drawled Denki. “Which is why you’re putting the flowers she gave you in a vase right next to your bed?”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do with them?” he fumed, gently arranging the bundles of lilacs despite the deep scowl etched onto his face.

“I don’t know. Maybe toss them on your desk and call it a day? They’d wither up eventually, but you know Y/L/N could just produce some more to replace them.”

Bakugou glared at his dumbass of a friend. Toss them on his desk? Didn’t he know how cluttered and disorganized that would look? (Or how Katsuki would rather chew through glass than place the flowers you gave him in anything less than a clean vase? Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone…)

“I just put them in a stupid jar I found lying around– It’s not that deep, dumbass,” he scoffed.

Kaminari raised a brow as a cocky little grin formed on his face. “Sure.”

“Hey!” Kirishima popped in before Bakugou could send Sparky flying off the edge of his bed. “No matter the reason, I think it’s cool you keep Y/L/N’s flowers.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes dubiously.

“You do?” voiced Denki.

He nodded. “It’s kind of manly when you think about it. Bakugou keeping the bouquets and learning the meanings of each flower just for Y/N–”

“I don’t learn their fucking meanings, dumbass!”

“Is that right?” Eijirou asked challengingly. “What do peonies stand for?”

Katsuki made an indignant noise. “Hell if I know.”

Kaminari raised his hand with an excited look. “I know! I know! It represents how much she wants you to smash the living daylights–”

“Watch your fucking mouth!” he hissed, hurling a pencil at him with full force, only for it to be stopped in the nick of time by Shitty Hair’s quirk. Bakugou glowered. “I’ve already told you before peonies symbolize a bashful yet compassionate love. Or can your two and a half brain cells not recall?”

His two friends–if they should even have the privilege of being called that–exchanged glances that made Bakugou want to kick them both out of his dorm room. Who the fuck let them come over in the first place?

A grin spread on Eijirou’s face, showing off his sharp teeth. “So she gave you the peonies to tell you she loves you but is too shy to say so herself?”

Katsuki’s face burned. “No! What the hell–?”

“Or maybe she’s saying she knows you love her but you’re too much of a pussy to say anything?” suggested Denki.

“First of all, fuck you. And that’s not it either, you dumbass!”

“Then what else could it mean?” he asked.

“That she liked peonies?” cried Bakugou incredulously. “Why are you asking me?! How should I know?”

Katsuki kept his fists clenched by his sides, seconds away from completely losing his temper at the two idiots in front of him.

Kirishima raised a brow. “You’re telling me you don’t care at all about the flowers Y/L/N gives you.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he lied through his teeth. He hated how he felt an uncomfortable pang in his heart as he said those words.

What the fuck was that? he thought, glaring down at his chest.

“Interesting,” Kirishima mused. “So, if I were to unlock your phone, I wouldn’t find tabs of ‘flower symbolism’ open on your browser?”

Kaminari grinned, looking over at the vase of purple flowers. “He probably searched up ‘the meaning of lavender’ and is currently reading through ten different flower blogs.”

Bakugou’s left eye twitched. “Lilacs.”

“What?”

“They’re lilacs you dumbass! Not lavender. Can’t you tell by the color?”

Denki blinked. “No?”

“Tch. Stupid,” he grumbled, rubbing a petal of the flower between his thumb and forefinger.

Lavender represented serenity and calmness– Dumb shit he didn’t care about. But lilacs were a different story.

Lilacs, specifically the light purple ones you gave him, symbolized first love. Love, happiness, passion… All those things reminded him of you. It was a thought so gentle it brought a strange feeling to his stomach, but he couldn’t say he hated it.

Bakugou stiffened. What the fuck was he thinking?

Shaking his head fervently, he forced himself out of his thoughts and turned to his two bumbling friends.

“…what do you think, Bakugou?” he heard Eijirou ask.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Think about what?”

Kirishima glanced at him curiously, noticing the uncharacteristic way Bakugou has been spacing out recently. “I said me, Kaminari, and Sero are going to the comic store tomorrow. You should join us.”

Katsuki internally cursed, knowing what he was about to say would bring along teasing that came with no end.

“I would,” he said carefully, “but I already have plans.”

“Oh, are you going home this weekend?” piped Denki.

“No.”

“Hero training?” asked Eijirou.

“No.”

“Are you banned from leaving campus grounds again–?”

“No!” Bakugou growled, rubbing his temples in slow circles. “For fuck’s safe, you two make my head hurt. I can’t go because I already made plans with someone else.”

Dumbass Number One gave him a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. “Someone else, huh?”

“And who is this someone else?” the blond-haired Dumbass Number Two questioned.

Kirishima nudged him with his elbow, causing Kaminari to nudge him back until the two were on the verge of wrestling on the floor of Bakugou’s dorm room.

Bakugou could only look back and forth between them and sigh. Dumbasses.

“He obviously means Y/L/N,” Eijirou said in a matter-of-fact tone, giving Katsuki a thumbs up. Katsuki responded with an eye roll. “He just didn’t want to say it because he likes to pretend his enormous crush on her isn’t obvious.”

“I don’t have a crush on Y/L/N,” he protested, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

“Right, and who exactly are you hanging out with tomorrow?” asked Denki.

“Listen– Just because I agreed to hang out with her doesn’t mean I like her!”

Kirishima hummed. “Sure. Have fun on your date tomorrow.”

Katsuki fumed. “It’s not a date!”

“Yeah, but you wish it were.”

With a final twitch of his eye and clenching of his jaw, Bakugou marched over to their seats on his floor, fingers flexing as the sweat that popped off his skin mad a sound so menacing his two idiot friends exchanged nervous glances with a visible swallow.

Laughing nervously, Denki shoved Eijirou in front of him for more time and made a dash towards the door.

“Have fun on your date!” Kirishima called, whacking Kaminari in the back of the head as he ran frantically away from a seething Katsuki.

“Use protection!” Denki warned, tripping over the carpet as he rubbed his sore neck, struggling to scurry away before Bakugou could lay hands on him. “Lots of protection!”

“I’LL MURDER YOU. BOTH OF YOU.”

- - - - -

In the end, Bakugou didn’t murder anyone.

If he had, Aizawa probably wouldn’t have let him leave campus grounds and he would’ve missed his not-date with you. (Not that he cared if he saw you or not. He just figured slaughtering the two idiots wouldn’t be worth a week of cleaning duty.)

“Thanks for coming with me, Bakugou-kun,” you thanked once more, picnic basket swinging in hand as you walked beside him.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

Just stop fucking talking, you asshole, he scolded, wanting to punch himself in the face.

But his words didn’t seem to phase you in the slightest. You were well aware of his blunt, harsh persona and yet you chose to stick around him anyway.

You laughed, brushing off his dismissive remark with a sideways smiles he couldn’t look away from. “Well, I’m glad you had nothing better to do then.”

“Pfft.”

By the time the two of you arrived at the nearby park, the sun was resting lazily atop the clouds, rays shining through as you found a spot in the shade for the picnic blanket. You finished setting up the food before getting comfortable, offering Bakugou a sandwich as he took a seat next to you.

“Thanks,” he said, awkwardly taking a bite as he tried to think of what to say.

“No problem,” you replied, clearing your throat as the silence settled between you. “Did you like the flowers I gave you yesterday? They’re one of my favorites!”

Bakugou snorted. “You say that about every flower.”

“Because every flower deserves to be loved!”

Although he scoffed externally, on the inside he couldn’t help but feel a begrudging flutter at your words. It just wasn’t possible for someone to have such a kind heart– There must’ve been some catch.

“The lilacs were fine. Thanks,” he mumbled under his breath, uprooting a strand of grass as he rested his palms behind him.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous. Katsuki had hung around you plenty of times, but something about this moment sent his nerves on edge.

You beamed, a smile so bright it was capable of disarming all his defenses. “I’m happy you liked them! And you knew they were lilacs? I’m impressed. Most people would mistake them for lavender.”

Bakugou thought back to his certified dumb blond friend and scoffed at the memory. “Tch. Only idiots would mistake a pale purple lilac for lavender.”

With a teasing giggle at the somber frown on his face, you nodded. “Right. It definitely didn’t take me months to learn the difference, or anything.” You nudged his shoulder with your own at the sight of his wide-eyed expression. “Maybe you’re just a natural-born flower expert.”

He bristled. “Don’t call me that.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that,” you protested, folding your arms across your chest at his indignant tone. “I think it’s cool. Besides, flowers are amazing!”

“They’re whatever.”

Katsuki shrugged dismissively as he tried to ignore the knowing look on your face.

“Come on, Bakugou-kun. It’s me,” you said, poking his arm with your index finger. (If it were anyone else, he would’ve shoved them off. But since it was you… He sighed.) “You can admit that you like flowers. I won’t judge.”

“Hmph.”

You pouted, lip jutting out in a small frown. “At least tell me what your favorite flower is.”

He thought about it for a while. “I don’t have one.”

“You have to have one!”

“Don’t you have like 50 because you can’t choose just one?!” asked Bakugou incredulously.

“Yes, but… I have one flower that I love slightly more than the rest,” you said conspiratorially, tapping the bottom of your chin.

Crawling over to the edge of the picnic blanket, you held your hands about the fertile soil and sprouted bundles of white-petaled flowers with yellow centers.

“Daisies?” he guessed.

You nodded in excitement. “Yes! See, I told you– Flower expert!”

Katsuki fought the blush off his cheeks. “It’s just common knowledge.”

It most definitely was not because he spent hours researching all the different types of flowers after the first week of you constantly giving them to him.

“Sure.” You grinned. “I love daisies for a lot of reasons, but one of the reasons is because they make the prettiest flower chains.”

His brows furrowed. “Flower chain?”

You turned towards him with a disbelieving look on your face. “You’ve never made a flower chain?”

“Never even heard of it.”

Your eyes looked as if they were about to bulge out of their sockets as your held your hand above your chest. “My… My heart is hurting.”

Bakugou dismissed your over-exaggeration with a tsk, but felt the corners of his lips quirking upwards nonetheless. Glancing down at the cluster of white daisies you had just sprouted, you took one between your thumb and index finger and pinched it at the stem.

“Can I show you how?” you asked with a hopeful expression.

He blinked in surprise but managed a shrug. “I guess.”

“Great!” you cheered. You beckoned him over to the spot beside you as you kneeled against the soft bed of grass. Gently plucking a bundle of flowers you had just sprouted, you handed them to him. “There are lots of different ways to make a daisy chain, but I think the braiding method is the best.”

Bakugou wasn’t sure how the fuck there could’ve been different methods for sticking flowers together, but he nodded despite himself. “You can show me that one then.”

Moving closer next to him, you held three daisies in one hand and showed him how to braid–one strand over the other. As you went down the stem, you slowly added more and more flowers to the chain, twisting as it began to curve into a circle.

“Am I doing this right?” he asked gruffly, looking between your chain and his with a slight frown. His was sparse with some areas looking like they were about to fall apart.

Taking in the condition of his flowers, you stifled a laugh. “Looks fine to me.”

“Hmph.”

After a few minutes of grumbles and complaints, Bakugou slowly got the hang of making the daisy chain. In a way, the repetitive movements were sort of relaxing.

You were seated beside him, so close your thigh was brushing against his and he struggled to remain focused on the task at hand.

“Did you know daisies are actually a mix of two flowers?” you said, drawing his attention even more towards you. “The yellow centers are disc florets and the white petals are ray florets.”

He peered closer at the head of the flower in between his fingers, examining the small floral discs that made up the yellow center.

“That’s why, in flower language, white daisies are known to symbolize true love,” you told him. Katsuki looked over at you to find a small smile on your face as you finished up the last of your daisy chain. “It’s the joining together of two different types of flowers, and they fit perfectly. One wouldn’t be the same without the other.”

Your gaze flitted to his as a flush filled his cheeks at your intimate words, and for once in his life, he was at a complete loss for words.

There was a slight twinkle in your eye as you stared with your lips slightly parted. The tension in the air grew when neither of you wanted to look away first in fear of ruining this moment. The setting of the sun cast gentle shadows of your eyelashes and cheekbones and Katsuki was completely annoyed but how disarming your smile in the sunset was.

Clearing his throat, he glared down at the floor as you bit your lip, toying with the petals of the daisy in your lap.

“Ahem– Um, well…” you trailed off, opening and shutting your mouth as you tried to form your thoughts into a sentence. “I made this for you!”

Fumbling with the daisy chain in your hands, you extended your arms out, offering the flower crown to him with your head bowed. His eyes widened in alarm as you waited for him to take the gift.

“W-What are you doing, baka?! You don’t need to bow!” he cried, an intense blush making its way to his cheeks as you peered up at him through your lashes.

“But I wanted to give this to you.”

“You don’t have to give it like that!”

You huffed, puffing your cheeks out in an embarrassed pout. “Do you not want it?”

“I never said that–! But even if I did, it’s not like it never stopped you before,” Katsuki said defensively, muttering an oath under his breath when he felt even the tips of his ears heat up at your actions.

Fighting the flushed expression off your face, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You withdrew your extended arms, hugging the daisies close to your chest as you absentmindedly stroked a white petal.

“Do you want me to stop?” you blurted, your voice quiet.

He looked taken aback. “What?”

You avoided his questioning stare as you continued, “I like giving you all these flowers because the look on your face for the fraction of a second you let your guard down is something I always want to see–” Katsuki’s palms grew sweaty as he felt his temperature rise to inhuman heights. “But, if it annoys you and you want me to stop… I will.”

Bakugou glared down at his lap, unsure where the hell your thought came from or how the fuck he should reply. He didn’t want you to stop– He thought that much was clear.

“Tch.” He shook his head, mumbling under his breath. “Baka.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry?”

He looked up at you, meeting your confused gaze with his intense one. “If you were annoying me, I would’ve told you. I don’t– I don’t mind you giving me all these…dumb flowers.”

Tilting your head to the side, you asked cautiously, “So you like them?”

The most Katsuki could bring himself to do was shrug, but it was enough for you to understand the true meaning he couldn’t bring himself to admit. Slowly, a grin lit up your face as you nudged his side.

“Well, good. Because they like you, too.”

The smile you gave him made it clear there was something more behind your words as well. He glared, flustered. “We’re talking about the stupid flowers, right?”

“Of course,” you said with an all too innocent nod. “What else could we be talking about?”

The two of you shared a knowing smile before he rolled his eyes, taking the daisy chain in your hands and placing them on his head. It felt weird and awkward, but he figured he could put up with it for you. As you stared at him, a weird expression dawn on your face that made him frown in embarrassment.

“What are you looking at, baka?”

You hid the secretive smirk on your face behind your hands. “You. You look cute in that.”

“Yeah… Whatever,” he scoffed, despite the warmth spread in his chest.

And by the time the not-date came to an end, Katsuki wasn’t sure how the two of you ended up walking back to the dorms, smiling dazedly as you walked hand-in-hand. All he knew was, one day, he wanted to be the one to bring you flowers.

a/n: okay honestly i just want bakugou to fall in love so we can see this tsundere but also soft and sweet side of him ahhh i would die. anyway, this was very cheesy hehe but i hope it made you smile! xx sofia

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Could you do a little fic where the reader super nervously asks Yennefer to help her look beautiful to impress Jaskier? Like maybe they're going to a fancy ball or something and she knows she needs to stand out among all the gorgeous women, and shes super intimidated by Yen but loves her dresses and makeup and wants some help?

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Platonic!Yennefer x Reader, Jaskier x Reader, Geralt x ExasperationWord Count: 1,822Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak a/n: Genuinely, truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Love me some Yennefer x Reader bonding.

You’d been standing outside of Yennefer’s door for about 10 minutes trying to summon the courage to knock. You knew, logically, that the worst thing she’d likely do is say no. Even if she laughed at you that would be survivable. But she also might say yes, a thought that equally frightened you but also gave you a glimmer of hope. You were out of your depth in preparing for the ball tonight and while Jaskier had offered his services you wanted to make sure he didn’t see you until you were ready. You just needed to get past this damn door first and then, if she said no, you’d throw yourself on the mercy of the shopkeepers and maybe that was the better plan anyway because Yennefer was likely quite busy and-

“Are you going to come in or not?”

The door had swung open mid-thought and Yennefer stood before you. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and her makeup was already applied, a jewel-toned emerald shade gracing her lids and her lips a deep berry red. She wore a robe, not yet dressed, and she gave you an amused expression as you stood there gaping.

“Oh! Yennefer! Hello! Fancy meeting you in your room! I had a question,” you began. Yennefer patiently waited for you to continue speaking and when you felt certain she wasn’t going to close the door in your face, you continued.

“I’m going to that ball tonight and I don’t now much about… any of it,” you said.

“Any of it,” she echoed.

“Yes well I mean I know how to dance, sort of, and I’ve read about them but getting ready for one is totally foreign to me. Literally. They don’t really have balls where I’m from. Small village and all,” you were babbling but Yennefer considered your dilemma thoughtfully before standing to the side, leaving room for you to enter.

Though you all had similar rooms in the manor you were staying at, courtesy of the host of tonight’s ball, Yennefer’s struck you as much more refined. There were a couple of dress options, it seemed she was leaning towards either a black or gold gown, and you saw the vanity where the makeup she’d used was still sitting.

“Do you have a dress?” she asked, circling you.

“Um yes and no?” you said and when she gave you an inquisitive look you gestured to the simple grey frock you were wearing.

“Alright let’s start there,” she said, pulling open the wardrobe where you saw flashes of colors, dresses of varying hues and fabrics.

“Yennefer, that’s very generous and kind but what are the chances of a dress you own fitting me exactly the same I mean you’re much taller for one thing and-”

“Magic,” she said offhandedly as though it were obvious.

“Wait really?”

“Yes, did you choose grey or was that just what was available?” she asked, quickly moving past the many questions you had about the kind of magic that could make any article of clothing fit anyone.

“It was available,” you replied.

“What is your favorite color?” she asked, hands skimming through the dresses as you thought.

“I love purple but it doesn’t look good on m-”

“Try this on,” Yennefer says before you can finish speaking, tossing a dress into your arms. The silky fabric is cool to the touch and you have to grip it so it doesn’t slide right through your arms. You hold it up in front of you and then turn it around a couple of times. When you start to turn it upside down Yennefer stops you.

“I’ll help you put it on,” she suggests and you give her a grateful smile. Once you’re down to your shift Yennefer waits, still holding the dress.

“I’m ready,” you say.

“No, that has to go too,” she says, “There’s a slit.”

You didn’t know three words could inspire that much panic in a person but you were learning a lot of things today. You dutifully took off the slip, down to a simple corset and small clothes, and Yennefer unlaced the side of the dress and had you step into it. She murmured a few words you couldn’t understand and then slid the dress up your frame, the fabric contouring onto your body as though it had been tailored to you specifically. Once she finished lacing up the sides she turned you towards the full length mirror and you gasped.

“Oh no,” you say, “Oh no this is… Oh.”

The dress is held onto your body through the amethyst toned strap on the right arm which winds down, tucking into the bodice of the dress which is made up of mesh and detailed flowers in complementary violet hues. The skirt is long and loosely flowing with a little train and a slit that runs from halfway up your left thigh to the ground. Your leg peeks out boldly and you don’t quite know what to do.

“Do you like it?” Yennefer asks.

“It’s gorgeous but… it’s maybe too gorgeous?”

“Let me ask you a question. Why did you ask for my help tonight?” she asks.

“As I said I wanted help,” you repeat.

“Yes but why?”

“Because it’s my first ball and I want to look put together.”

“That’s not the real reason, is it, Y/N?” Yennefer asks, violet eyes peering into your face as though they already knew the truth but needed you to say it. You take a deep breath.

“I want Jaskier to notice me,” you say, “Really notice me. There are going to be many beautiful women there, women that look more like you than me, and I just don’t want to get lost in the crowd.”

“Alright,” Yennefer says, still eyeing you appraisingly, “Now tell me, how do you feel when you look at yourself in this dress?”

She redirects your eyes back to the mirror, hands on your shoulders and you aren’t sure if it’s to keep you pointed at it or just for moral support.

“I feel… powerful,” you answer. Yennefer smiles and meets your eyes in the mirror.

“This is the one,” she says with certainty and you can feel it too, nodding and nervously biting your lip. “Ok, there’s much more to be done.”

She pulls you over to the vanity and begins to brush through your hair with surprising tenderness. She doesn’t ask you what you want done with it, both of you trusting that she knows what to do from this point on. Instead you talk about the balls she’s been to in the past and she answers the questions you’d felt too stupid to ask like which fork to use and if there was an order to who was able to dance first and how often she’d have to curtsey. She braids your hair into a loose French braid, tucking it together with little ornaments that complement the dress you wear. She threatens to spell your face frozen while she puts on your makeup but you manage to get your twitching under control long enough for her to brush your lids with a soft purple shade and identical wings of black eyeliner. She chooses a subtle shade not much different from your skin tone for your lips but even the subtle change helps emphasize their fullness.

“Thank you for not laughing when I told you about Jaskier,” you said as she held up two pairs of earrings, trying to choose which goes best with your ensemble. “I know I must sound like any number of his adoring fans.”

“You sound like a woman in love. I don’t judge. For all of our blustering I’m not unaware of the bard’s charms,” you look at her in surprise and with a tiny bit of possessive suspicion.

“Luckily my taste in partners is much less refined these days,” she adds with a little smile and you smile in return. Once you’re done she quickly slips into her own dress, choosing the gold one which you help lace her into though you know she could do it on her own. You look each other over appraisingly and while you can’t help feel a bit overshadowed with Yennefer standing beside you, you feel much more prepared for what’s to come than you did before.

“Is Jaskier going to walk you down?” Yennefer asks as you leave the room.

“No I wanted to surprise him,” you answer. Your heart is skipping a few beats as you stand out in the hall where people are starting to enter, on their way to the ball as well. You see a few admiring eyes looking you over and it simultaneously makes you feel bolder and scares you. As though she can sense your distress Yennefer links an arm through yours and stands up a bit straighter causing you to unconsciously mimic the movement.

“Shall we?” she asks. You nod and the two of you join the growing throng walking to the ballroom.

“Have you seen her yet?” Jaskier asks Geralt, the fifth time in as many minutes.

“Still no Jaskier,” he replies.

“I knew I should have gone to walk her down myself. What if she gets lost? What if someone is trying to make advances on her? What if she changed her mind and doesn’t come down at all?”

“What if she’s standing right over there,” Geralt says, pointing towards the entrance of the ballroom where Jaskier sees Yennefer and a woman walk in together.

“I was talking about… Y/N?” Jaskier turns back, eyes still catching up with what he’s seen. He isn’t sure at first if it’s you but then you catch his eye and smile and he’d know that smile anywhere. Then his eyes travel further down and he sees parts he is nowhere near as familiar with. Yet.

“Geralt, Jaskier,” you say when you finally reach them, fighting the urge to curtsey at Yennefer’s suggestion to avoid making any such gestures unless those around you do the same.

“Y/N,” Jaskier breathes but says nothing more, mind fruitlessly searching for the right words. Geralt gives you the briefest of nods and then his eyes are back on Yennefer’s.

“You look wonderful,” you say as the silence grows awkward, Jaskier’s big blue eyes still as wide as they can get.

“You… I… Y/N… There are no….”

You see Yennefer look between Jaskier and Geralt and she gives him a meaningful look.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance, Jaskier?” Geralt asks with a heavy sigh. Yennefer smiles approvingly and gives you a supportive wink.

“Y/N, would you do me the great honor of having this dance with me?” Jaskier asks. You giggle.

“Gods, Jaskier, it’s still just me,” you say, taking his hand and letting him lead you away, past a crowd of nobles, past the Countess de Stael whose presence he neither notices nor cares about in the slightest.

[gvnchvcks]

the sleepover ask with the facepaint got me thinking about the crew dying their hair together (specifically lindsay, fiona, jeremy, matt, and maybe trevor and alfredo for obvious reasons) but also like. the main hair dyers conning the rest of the fahc to let them put in some temporary dye and going absolutely wild with the colors

I LOVE THIS TOO OMG, alright so, here's how I imagine this:

Lindsay: It was her idea to begin with. She was talking about how she didn't know which color to go with next, and Jeremy was like "yeah me neither :/" So ofc she's like!! All of us should dye our hair!!!! Jeremy, Matt, Fiona, and the twins are DOWN for it, but the rest of em ehhhh not so much. Her and Jeremy sort of spearhead the project since they have the most experience, and literally speed to the nearest store to buy a ton of hair dye, both permanent and temporary. When they get back, Lindsay gets hers done first because "Hey guys it was my idea so fuck you" and I LOVE the idea of Lindsay with like,, pastel pink hair, and she wants to try something new, so pastel pink it is!! It ends up being more white at the tips but has a nice ombre effect, and she actually loves it! She says it's a good way to trick people into thinking she's all soft and nice before she shows em who the real Queen of Chaos is :)

Jeremy: Jeremy was actually a bit unsure. He didn't wanna leave behind the vibrant orange and purple of his hair at first, since it would've thrown off his Rimmy persona. He finally settles on simply turning his vibrant purple to a nice muted lavender shade, and turning the orange white as well! It actually doesn't look as bad as he thought it would, and he does miss his Rimmy colors, but it's nice to not have Michael and Gav call his hair an eyesore lol

Fiona: Fiona knew immediately what she wanted. Deep purple that fades to black. She said it would look mysterious and cool and would attract ladies (and she was right, I would die if she had this hair color 🥺)

Matt: This boy had no idea what he wanted at first. He wasn't a fan of dying all of his hair, so he kept to doing the single streak. He ended up settling on orange. It was his favorite color after all, and he had yet to try it. It came out practically NEON though which he did not expect, and actually wasnt a fan of at first, but now he likes how it looks. It complements his vehicles nicely in his opinion

Trevor and Alfredo: These two knew they had to do SOMETHING to match each other, they just didn't know what. They decided to look up complimentary colors, and eventually were like, "let's get the brightest, most vibrant shades of blue and red we can get" and everyone wasn't onboard at first bc, jeez guys c'mon we just got rid of Jeremy's mess, not you too- But nothing could stop them. By the end of it, Trevor's hair was nearly the color of the blue on Ryan's jacket, and Alfredo's matched his vibrant red leather jacket perfectly, which he loved

The others needed some coaxing, but eventually decided they'd let em dye theirs with the temporary dye:

Gavin: Yknow how the twins wanted something vibrant and obnoxious? Yeah, Gavin went with rainbow fucking streaks throughout all of his hair and was a squealing, laughing mess by the end of it, he loved it

Michael: Michael was probably the one who wanted it the least (other than maybe Geoff) but he decided it wouldn't hurt just this once. He WANTED just some frosted tips. Plain and natural colors. But OOPS Lindsay's hand slipped and now his tips are a neon green oh man haha what a funny mistake :) anyways, he was angry of course, but he gets over it before long. It's the same shade as the green on their logo, so Fake pride?? That's the excuse he uses for not killing Jeremy and Lindsay for thinking of this anyway

Ryan: Ryan went all out, which nobody was expecting. He went full black, with a bright, electric blue streak all the way through. One that would still show when he put his hair up. (He actually ended up liking the black, and would dye his hair more permanently in the future)

Jack: She loved the idea! But just like Michael, didn't want anything too insane. That was until she saw the turquoise and over shades of light blue and was like !!! Ocean colors please! Jack loves the beach and you cant change my mind. By the end of it, her entire head faded from a bright turquoise at the top to a very deep, oceanic blue at the tips. It actually ended up looking the best out of the whole group

And finally there was Geoff: He really didn't want this. So much so that he went to sleep before they could get to him. Ah, but poor Geoff. Never be the first one to pass out at a slumberparty. Then next morning, Geoff woke up in his bed. Which is normal. He didn't wanna sleep downstairs with the others. He heads downstairs to find that nobody has left yet, and it's almost like the party never stopped. Sure a few people are still asleep like Gavin, Matt and Ryan who was just waking up, but just the same as he had left the group the night before. Alfredo notices him first, and holds back a chuckle.

"Good morning, old man."

"Morn- Wait, what'd you just call me?! I'm not old, asshole!"

Jeremy chimes in, "I dunno, Geoff. Lookin' a bit rough this morning. Have you looked in the mirror yet?"

Geoff stands there for a second confused before walking to the bathroom. What's heard next is just. A scream. You know, one of those Geoff screams. He comes running back out to find everyone laughing at him. Literally everyone. Gavin and Matt were woken up by the scream. They knew it'd make him mad, but hey. He learned his lesson about being the first to pass out, and they all learned what he'd look like in the future when his hair started to go gray :)

Safe to say, they didn't have another slumber party for a while. Totally worth it though.

[andiandyandee]

Last Words 2/2

   Okay so plot twist I think this might become a whole thing so If you want more Parental Logince Punk AU shenanigans let me know.

Part 1

Taglist! @datfearlessfangirl @cas-is-a-hunter @princemesscharming

This is straight up fluff lads. This is just some fam shenanigans.

Okay the story is under the cut have fun

  When Roman woke in the hospital, he was sure he could tell it had been a long time. His hair, once very meticulously cut to ensure it wouldn’t hang further than his eyebrows, was now brushing his cheekbones. He hoped that was his hair. There was quiet talking somewhere in front of him. His bones felt stiff like he hadn’t moved in years.

     He was a big fan of dramatics, but he did really hope it hadn’t been years. There was a weight on his chest, pushing down and keeping his lungs from expanding.  

      Wait. Was the weight... Moving? He opened his eyes and was blinded immediately by white light reflected on white walls. There was light ginger hair brushing his face. He was NOT ginger.

      For that matter, he only knew one ginger. “Patton?” He croaked it out, wincing at the way his voice rattled. “Baby, I need you to move, okay? I can’t brea-” The weight was lifted suddenly, by someone in a black dress shirt. Roman breathed deeply, flinching at the sudden stab of pain from his side. He coughed a few times, then looked at the man who was holding his toddler. Blue eyes, almost white, stared at him with a look of both frustration and complete and utter relief. He was not wearing his glasses, his tie was nowhere to be seen, but it was his Logan. 

     “If you ever do that again, I will kill you myself,” Logan said in a flat, monotone voice with an eyebrow cocked. “And then I will resuscitate you, so Virgil can kill you too.” Roman glanced around the room, finding his older son curled on the lap of someone in a black and green sweatshirt. Remus. 

      His brother was telling Virgil a story, one the child had heard a thousand times, though it was obvious from the look on the child's face it was being told from a new perspective.

     “And the strong, scary knight told the scared dragon-”

     “You will never be welcome here, foul beast. There is no room for someone like you in our lands” Roman finished the line, trying his best to put on the regal voice saved specifically for this story. It made sense that Remus was telling the story from the perspective of the dragon. Virgil looked up with wide eyes, almost exactly the same shade of white-blue as Logan’s. 

     “You never told me the dragon was a momma dragon!” He cried, sticking out his lower lip. “Why did the knight have to kick her out?” Remus winked at his brother, a smirk on his face. 

      “Yeah, Ro! Why DID the knight have to kick her out?” Roman’s eyes narrowed a bit.

     “She was breaking the village's things! Perhaps the knight did not know the dragon was a mother. The knight was simply trying to protect his people.” Remus raised his eyebrows at that. 

     “Perhaps the knight should have asked the dragon.”

     “I have it on good authority that the dragon and the knight spoke very different languages.” 

     “Yes, one of them spoke trash goblin, and the other spoke drama queen.” A voice from the doorway piped up. A teenager in a leather jacket with a bright yellow t-shirt that read something along the lines of “Punk’s not dead” was smirking at the family. Virgil immediately perked up at seeing the teen. 

     “DeeDee! Look! Papa let me put PURPLE in my hair! Now Ima punk too!” Virgil smiled, showing off the single very light purple streak in his bangs. Logan chuckled at that.

      “Oh, very intimidating, Virge. Remind me to grab you your present before I head home tomorrow. I got you something to match.” Virgil nodded and went back to curling up on his uncle’s lap. “And Pat, I have something for you, too,” Dee promised with a little wink. Roman did not like the sound of that. His nephew’s gifts always ended up with the boys getting dress-coded in their kindergarten class. “Uncle Roman, it’s good to see you awake. I was certainly not scared out of my godda..” He glanced at the toddlers, “..ng mind by your brother calling me screeching about a car accident.” 

     “Why does he get to be UNCLE Roman but I don’t get to be Dad?” Remus whined from the chair.

     “Because YOU are a nightmare dressed up as a functioning parent” Dee smirked at him.

     “Roman is quite fine, Dee,” Logan said. “You did not have to drive twelve hours to come see him.” 

     “Yes, I did, because I took the family brain cell with me to college, and Dad told me you all haven’t left this hospital room in two days.” Logan blushed at that. 

     “I’ve been asleep for TWO DAYS?” Roman screeched. “Why didn’t you TELL ME?”

      “You were too busy bickering with your brother about an imaginary knight’s actions,” Logan said flatly. “And besides, you were expected to be asleep until at least Saturday, so the fact that you are both awake and functioning properly-” Remus snorted at that. “Is indicative that you are completely fine, save for the broken rib and that, er, laceration, on your jawline.” Roman touched his jaw, feeling a large bandage across the left side of his face. His eyes widened, looking over to his brother who had a hand to the vertical scar on his face.

     “Bad news, little brother, We have the same face again.”

 ***

     Roman groaned as he got out of bed, glad to be finally leaving the sterility of the hospital room he had been in for the last four days. The doctors assured him it was only a precaution, and that they were worried about the healing of the cut on his face, but it still felt like he would wake up at any minute to be told this was the end for him. 

      Logan was seated in one of the recliners across the room, typing on his laptop and looking unsurprisingly annoyed. Roman could hear Dee whispering outside the door, either on his phone or more likely- teaching his innocent tiny children how to rebel against the “man” which were often the lessons they kept in mind, and the ones that got them in trouble in school. The teen had decided to stick around for another week or so if only to keep the kids entertained while Roman was recovering.

     “Dee, if you could refrain from encouraging my kindergarteners to form mosh pits, that would be wonderful.” The teenager barked a laugh, sticking his head into the door only slightly.

     “One- I would never. Tiny bones have to be at least this tall” He gestured to only a few inches above Virgil’s head, which was the only part of the five-year-old Roman could see, and even then, only just a bit of his purple hair sticking out, “Two- if anything, your children are punker than I am, dearest Uncle.” Roman was immediately concerned. “Come on in, you two. Show your parents what your favorite cousin bought you.” 

     “You’re our only cousin, DeeDee.” Virgil reminded him, walking in with a big smile. He was wearing a black and purple patch jacket, grey leggings, and the tiniest pair of combat boots Roman had ever seen. Patton, who was standing behind him, was in a light blue sweater, a tiny grey jean jacket, and holographic boots that were very similar in style to the ones Dee was wearing. Both children had eyeliner on, but Virgil’s was smudged under his eyes so much it looked like he was a raccoon. Roman broke into giggles immediately.

     “Logan, Lo oh my goodness they look like you in high school. Oh my gosh, you corrupted our tiny baby children!” Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at his children standing there with big smiles and laughed a bit. 

     “Good.” 

     “Wait- Uncle Lo was a pu-”

     “I love you guys, you know?” Roman cut Dee off, if only to stop that conversation in its tracks. None of them wanted to listen to Logan assure them that he was still very much a ‘punk’. “Like, a lot. All the time, not just when I think I’m going to die. You guys are my whole life.” He looked at Dee, and behind him, to Remus, who was standing there looking a little uncomfortable. “All of you, okay?” 

     He figured, even if they weren’t his last words, they would be the words he made sure to say the most. That had to count for something.

[lilithsgayadoptednephew]

To Be Daumerling

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!   Not Rated Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings M/M Complete Work

Master List

Chapter 8

Mammon had thought MC was small before, but now he was usefully small.

MC stood behind the demon across from Mammon. The tiny human scanned the cards in the demon's hand, then signaled to Mammon his best move. He'd made half a fortune already.

It was surprisingly easy to get MC to agree to the scheme, he had a surprisingly lax moral compass. Mammon knew there was something he liked about the little nuisance. Though sometimes he would purposely signal the wrong plays, probably so his colleagues wouldn't get suspicious.

Little shit.

After an evening of robbing petty demons blind, he and MC head back to the house of Lamentation. Mammon loved the Devildom at night, crazy people out sinning, scamming, fighting. It was like his favorite club but you didn't have to pay to get in and no one could kick you out when you puked on the ground.

MC sat on the arm of Mammon's shades, he remained close enough to speak in the demon's ear so he didn't have to use their pact.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Mammon barked. "He knew somethin' was up but he couldn't prove nothin!" He laughed heartily and MC rolled his eyes.

"Maybe now you can pay off some of your debts" MC suggested, Mammon hissed a breath.

"No...it would take a thousand years profit like this to pay off that mess. Best to just avoid it until it blows up in my face" he laughed nervously. MC pulled on his ear. "Ow hey!"

"Get your shit together man!" He scolded. Mammon rubbed his ear and grumbled.

"Yeah, sure, I'll get right on that."

0Levi stole MC while Lucifer wasn't looking. He'd been heartbroken when MC supposedly went back to the human world, so now that he was miraculously still around Levi was going to hang out with him dangit.

He was showing MC a new game he'd gotten when he realized just how different it was when MC was tiny. He was too small to use a controller and he kept wandering out of Levi's field of vision. After the fiasco with the drain he was terrified of letting the little human out of his sight. There was a lot of water in his room.

After pausing his game for the eighth time to find the little pest he switched things up, putting the human on top of his head.

"You stay up there so I know where you are," he commanded. MC sat cross-legged in the purple locks and pouted. How could he stay still when he was so bored? Watching Levi game was fun at first, but it had long since lost its appeal.

Stretching his legs out in front of him he felt the straight hairs curl around his feet and legs. Levi twitched a bit at the sensation, but he said nothing. MC got a wicked idea. Crawling to his hands and knees he started scratching the otaku's scalp with his little finger nails. Levi shuddered at the unexpected contact and almost dropped his controller.

"H–hey! What are you doing up there?" He tried to sound casual.

"Just scratching your head, you don't mind do you?" MC responded innocently.

"I guess not…" Levi muttered, then he mumbled to himself under his breath, "scritches for Levi" before returning his attention to his game.

MC continued diligently itching the demon's scalp, sinking deep into the lilac hair. He must've showered recently because it wasn't greasy, and it smelled good.

Levi found the sensation soothing. Too soothing. His eyelids became heavy and it was hard to focus on his game. Eventually he couldn't fight sleep any longer and resigned to pause his game and rest his eyes. Just for a few minutes.

MC watched Levi slump over, controller lightly falling from his hand. With a satisfied grin he hopped down from the demons hair and moved to continue exploring his room.

0Satan knew about MC's knack for getting into things, he'd found Belphie in the attic after all. But one would think he'd be tired by now. He'd climbed stack after stack of books, Satan chuckled at the antics as he set up more complex obstacles for MC to conquer.

Sometimes Satan would get nervous when MC climbed particularly high or jumped particularly far, but he comforted himself knowing he'd be nearby if anything happened. Far be it from him to say MC shouldn't be exploring his new stature.

Eventually MC did tire of the obstacles. His legs were too tired and he signalled to Satan he was done by crossing his forearms in an x shape in front of him. Satan picked the little figure up and set him on his lap.

"Finally out of steam?" He asked. MC shook his head vigorously. "What now then?" MC looked around, he was sore but he still had energy. He surveyed the room and it's clutter, it would be the perfect place to get lost for a while. The perfect place for a little hide and seek.

Motioning for Satan to lean down he spoke his idea in the demon's ear. Before Satan even had a chance to respond MC hopped down onto Satan's bed, then slid down the bed frame to the floor. He scurried off at full speed to hide in the mess.

Great, Satan thought to himself, find the human in the book-stack.

He started searching, moving each tome carefully so not to accidentally hurt MC. The human snickered from his place under the tall bookshelf, it would take Satan forever to find him.

Satan searched consistently until he'd cleared a portion of his room, it took him an hour. Stepping back he realized the portion he'd cleared was probably two foot square. He sighed and kept working.

This human was gonna keep him there all day.

0Asmo was more than ecstatic when Satan gave the little human to him. He'd had so many tiny outfit ideas and because they were so small it took basically no fabric and he could make them really quickly.

Grabbing his new doll he ran back to his room to get started, tiny MC waving his arms in protest.

It wasn't nearly as bad as MC thought it would be. Asmo made a little dressing room for him out of a tissue box so he could change in private, which was surprisingly thoughtful given Asmo's scandalous nature.

MC was never wealthy enough to afford his own wardrobe. All his clothes were thrifted or hand me downs. He liked those clothes, but the ones Asmo made were tailored specifically for him. Every measurement was to a T, everything was cut for his body type. MC quickly found himself looking forward to trying on each outfit the demon laid out for him.

Asmo had to take thousands of pictures, that's how cute MC was. He just had to document every angle for every outfit. In the end he made a whole devilgram just for MCs tiny fashion line. MC didn't like having photos of himself online but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

The account completely blew up.

Asmo was already pretty popular on devilgram but his following paled in comparison to the cult MC accumulated. He'd get lots of feedback as well. People saying things like "Wow Asmodeus this is your cutest line yet!" Or "I want to eat him with cheese and red wine".

In the end Asmo couldn't resist showing the page to MC, earning him a whole silent lecture. Asmo just watched MC pace and yell in obvious adoration.

0Evening was settling on the house of Lamentation when Beel got his time with MC. He was so happy to hear the human wasn't gone that he'd almost cried. MC had reunited his family, rescued his Belphie. He was one of Beels very best friends, practically another brother. He was so happy he decided to celebrate it with a snack.

Sitting in the kitchen he devoured slices of cake and whole loaves of bread and peanut butter.

Burp

"Oh...sorry" Beel apologized to MC. Finally coming up for air from his food he realized MC had barely anything to eat. His cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. "I guess I should've shared…"

With a crinkle MC surfaced from the bag of shredded mozzarella he was sitting in, face and arms covered in cheese powder.

"Trust me B I'm more than ok." He laughed, nibbling the shred of cheese in his hand. It was the size of his head. "I could use something to drink though"

Beel nodded at the human with a smile and got up to get him some soda. "We only have cans" he mumbled. MC thought for a moment.

"What about straws?" He asked. Beel nodded and put a straw in the cola can, placing it on the table next to MCs cheese bag. While he was up he grabbed two entire boxes of cereal and brought them to the rest of his pile.

MC tripped slightly getting out of the bag and brushed himself off, walking over to the can of soda. The can was significantly larger than he was and he circled it analytically. Standing on a box of mac and cheese he still had to balance on his toes to reach the straw.

"I wish I was small" Beel rested his head on his hand while he shoved fistfulls of cereal in his mouth.

"Why?"

"So I don't have to eat all my brother's food." He paused his cereal eating and cast his eyes downward. MC leaned on the soda can and immediately regretted it as he was covered in condensation.

"Yeah but you also couldn't do a lot of stuff" MC reasoned, Beel looked at him. "Like working out or carrying Belphie around... protecting your family." Beel smiled a little, he did like doing all those things.

"I guess"

"You've got a lot going for you and you're a great work in progress, don't mess with it." The human waved his hand dismissively as he got back in his cheese bag.

Beel laughed a little and continued scarfing down cereal.

0MC must really be exhausted to fall asleep in his hand like this.

Belphie looked down to the vulnerable little creature in his palm. Surely his brothers wore the human out through the day, that's why he'd passed out here. MC would never willingly sleep in his hand like this.

But as the human curled around himself, nuzzling into Belphies skin, he couldn't help but feel his breath catch.

These hands had once murdered this human.

Didn't MC understand how dangerous he was? Didn't he see Belphie wasn't fit for normal demon society, much less a humans company? How could one be so stupid, so naive, so disgustingly trusting to be so calm in his presence. To bear his most vulnerable state to a cold hearted monster.

The rise and fall of MCs tiny chest reminded him that MC was alive. He was alive. Belphie almost didn't get to know this crazy wonderful human who'd done so much for his family. He'd almost snuffed him out for no crime other than his own life. Now he was alive, though Belphie had almost lost him the day before.

He was small, so impossibly small he couldn't protect himself. He was in danger from everything, even a short fall or a shallow puddle. Belphie could crush him like a bug in his hand if the desire struck.

Who would protect him?

Belphie looked to Beel sleeping on the other side of the room. His better half had never hurt MC. He'd never hurt a soul unless they deserved it. Belphie could understand if MC wanted to let his guard down around his gentle brother. But who would protect MC from Belphie now that Beel was asleep?

MC rapped his arms around Belphies thumb and the demon looked down quickly. MC's hair was shrunk so fine it felt like feathers. His little fingers gripped his hand and his skin was so soft...he weighed about as much as a sponge.

Belphies heart beat faster and it rushed in his ears. It was like holding a baby bird in his hand. So breakable and innocent and trusting.

He would protect him.

Belphie felt his resolve harden like concrete. He was dangerous and broken and unstable...but if he vowed not to harm MC then that was the biggest threat out of the way right?

He put his free hand over the first, bringing both of them close to his chest. Nothing would dare touch the human in his hands. He was the Lord of the Gap dammit, and nothing could take a family member from him again.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Local Teen Unaware of how Weird Family is, Local Goth Decides To Go All In and Learn Magick, Exhausted Teens Do Fun Dumb Teen Stuff 

It was the day after they’d taken down Skulker, and Tucker had to collect up the armor.  Danny helped him, of course, and he flew home with some help from his favorite ghost boy.  They landed in Tucker’s room, and Tucker gave Danny a hug as soon as the suit was set down.  Danny returned to his warmer flesh and blood self and hugged him back before they got to work searching for a port to plug Tucker’s laptop into.  Thankfully even the dead respected the U in USB and they manage to connect. Before long, however, Tucker’s mind wanders from his code-breaking program that’s now hard at work with Skulker’s head and to his situation with Sam.  And considering what all he’d learned about Danny’s family so far, he might as well ask. “Danny do you have access to transparent solar panels?”

“Yeah, all the windows at Fenton Works are solar panels - I think they run at uh 50% efficiency.  Why?”

“Danny, that’s like, the exact last piece I need for my solar-powered car design.”  Tucker was tempted to inform Danny of how amazing that fact was, but he knew Danny wasn’t a fan of being extraordinary, so he’d let it slide for now.  “Now I just need some way of building it.”

“Well, you have the design itself saved right?”

“Yes…”  Tucker wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was hopeful that it’d be a place he liked.

“We can just print out the design at my house?”  Danny shrugged, as though that was obvious and the most simple thing in the world.  “We have like, a pretty big 3D printer, it’s uh modular, and we use scrapped metal from junkyards that we liquified as filament.  We can print a car pretty quickly.”

Danny was going to say something that made Tucker fall completely in love with him one of these days, the idiot.  “Danny I need you to take me to this 3D printer.  Now.” Skulker’s head was left where they’d put it on his desk, the rest of the suit stuffed in Tucker’s closet, and the pair flew off to Danny’s house.

When they arrived at Fentonworks, they turned to one of the other buildings on the block and set down there, Danny taking the time to unlock the door and everything.  “So this 3D printer you guys have…”

“Well, Dad calls it the Fenton Fabricator.   See, there's a theory that went around a while ago when 3D printers and fabricators first started, it was the Recursive Loop Theory. It goes like this. You buy a 3D printer. Mid-range, sorta useful, but with enough detail and strength that you like it. But then you need something a bit more detailed. So you look online and you find a set of 3D models for a second printer. This one you can build on your machine, and with only some minor parts you can make the more detailed printer for a tiny fraction of what it would cost.”  

Danny took them to a set of stairs and Tucker was so focused on his friend he nearly missed all the art Danny’s ever done hanging all over the walls.  

“So, you can make more detailed parts. And you find designs for a bigger printer. It's modular and sorta rough, but it needs those detailed parts. So you can then build massive somewhat detailed pieces… and so you do. And now, with your 3 printers, you find designs to a fourth. Bigger, better, more detailed, it's another generation, and you can print it off your current designs. Boom, bam, rinse and repeat.  Eventually, your diminishing returns drop till you can’t make a more detailed printer, but at that point, you have one hell of a machine, particularly if you have a couple of crazy hackers building your final design as a custom project. Course, it’s not quite that easy. We had to fabricate a lot of weird and unique bits for them in other ways - well, my folks and their friends in the Secret Scientists did anyway."

“So the Fenton Fabricator?”

“Is a massive, customized high detail 3D fabricator that can even print metal and glass, yes.”  Danny turned on the lights as they entered a large underground workspace. Tucker saw the fabricator and felt he might’ve gone to heaven.  It was a massive aquarium tank, easily twenty feet from corner to corner and at least eight feet tall. Above it, hanging like a mechanical spider on segmented green and red limbs with shiny metal joints and points, was a motorcycle sized 3D printing extruder. Tucker could see a set of lasers for dust printing, a pair of high-heat high-speed extruders for wires, several dozen smaller legs with colors and specific grades of wire, all of which fed up and around the room to spools of plastic and cylinders of dusted metal.

“There are hidden parts in the walls with directed gravity manipulators and some arms kept out of the way until needed for assembly-based stuff.  I think Mom and Dad built a car or something down here recently. The canisters are all refilled completely.” Danny shrugged, moving around the lab and grabbing up papers - notes about what feeds to use, hints for setting things up.  “I can help you connect up and plug in your stuff - though you’ll have to leave it here so that the thing can print. If you’re legit making a car here, it’ll take about 2 days to finish printing it out at all, let alone assemble.”

“Danny, after I finish with that, we are so using this place for other projects together, do you understand me?”  Tucker saw doors that likely lead off to other rooms in the lab and wondered just how Much of Fentonworks there was.  “This is too amazing.”

“If you say so, bro.  Here, let’s get started.  I can help with setting up the print file.”

Sam had to say, going through the bs of school was beyond irritating when both of her friends were barred from the school until they could get around the weapons the Fentons were installing.  Paulina’s gratingly loud personality was especially difficult to tune out that day, and Sam found herself feeling proud of her self control in not throwing something at the shallow cheerleading idiot when she started going on and on about the upcoming spirit week.

Once school was out, Sam grabbed the board that Danny apparently made for her after he finished Tucker’s, though she wasn’t sure how, and put on her helmet.  New, magnetic boots planted firmly on the board, Sam pulled out her phone, put in the address of the Skulk and Lurk, and activated the Nav AI that Tucker had managed to make an app for to download.  “One of these days Tucker is going to overwork himself into an early grave.” Shaking her head Sam took off into the sky, and no amount of gothic reputation could keep the smile off her face or prevent her from cheering.  “Woooohoooo!” Who could possibly blame her? She was flying .  There was nothing more awesome than this that she knew of.

When she arrived, Sam had her board hover itself up to the roof, where it was less likely to get snatched by someone who thought it’d be cool to snag a hoverboard.  Walking into the store, Sam took off her helmet and grinned. The Skulk n Lurk was one part book store, one part poetry reading area, and one part coffee shop. It had the gothic, occult theme down pat with black, blue, and shades of purple being the only colors to be found around the store.  Heading straight into the books section, Sam managed to flag down an employee and nudged him in the arm. “Nice mohawk, Chris, I see you’re branching out.”

Chris turned around, hair dyed a brilliant blue and his clothes all pastel shades of purple and grey with a bat-shaped nametag pinned on his chest.  He smiled and elbowed her right back. “Yeah, just got it done the other day. How’re you holdin up, Sam? Parents still trying to push you into being a prep?”

“Such is my curse.”  Sam sighed and leaned heavily on Chris while he laughed.  “But, that’s not what I’m here for today. Think you can help me find some books on magick?”

“Cursing people is wrong, and will always go wrong for you, I hope you know that.”

Sam rolled her eyes, standing up straight.  “It’s not for cursing anyone, Chris, it’s for something else.”

“Hitting that cheerleader with a love spell is not the way to go about getting over your crush on her.”  Chris smirked and turned away from her, walking steadily while Sam scoffed and scowled at him.

“That’s gross on two fronts.  A love spell sounds ridiculously creepy, and I don’t have a crush on Paulina of all people.”  Sam made a gagging noise and Chris laughed yet again.

Ludicrous notions about cheerleaders aside, Chris lead Sam to a section about magick and left to go help another customer while Sam browsed.  She held her hand up, letting her fingers brush over the spines of the books as she read their titles and stilled. There was a vibration, warm and far more humid than any bookstore should be and humming so much like Danny and Agatha and even that piece of trash Grovsner did when she was close.  It was a feeling that she hadn’t really noticed until now that all of the ghosts she’d encountered shared, however few of those there were. The tiny hairs all over her arms and the back of her neck stood on end and Sam grabbed the book.

Roots, stems, rain, warmth, leaves, petals, heat, crushing cold, withering emptiness, life granting rain and growth .  Sam dropped the book and just barely bit off a loud swear, staring at the cover.  Magick: The Life Blood of the Earth.  “Well.  Danny can see weird shit, I guess I can feel it.  Being that close to the portal must’ve done something to me.”  Picking up the book slowly, Sam waited for any weird feelings to hit her again.  When none did, she grinned slowly. “Let’s see what I can do with that.”

Danny takes some of the time after fighting Skulker to relax at home, get his schoolwork done that was emailed to him, and figure out a plan for working around the school's new anti-ghost security system.  It had been two days already and he was coming up blank. Of course, it's at dinner that Danny thinks to ask his parents. "Hey Mom, you said the Fenton Finder works by keeping track of a ghost's ectosignature, right?  What is that, exactly?" Jazz, as she standardly did when Danny instigated ghost-themed rants, looked as offended as one might have had their mother been described with every cuss word in the dictionary. She stabbed her chicken alfredo while holding this look for 5 continuous seconds without blinking.

Mom smiled wide and ecstatic.  "Well you see, Danny, an ectosignature is the frequency of electrical signals running throughout a ghost's body, shaping its form and directing its actions."

"Like brainwaves?"

“Exactly, hon!”  Mom reached into her pocket and pulled out a macaroon, which Danny devoured immediately.  “When a ghost manifests outside of the Ghost Zone, its ecto signature is a signal being broadcast from the Ghost Zone into our reality.  Since ghosts are 4-dimensional constructs made of exotic matter that of which exists beyond our standard perceptive abilities, a ghost can receive this ectosignature from just about anywhere on Earth or beyond.  Like the best cellular reception in the universe.”

“Like any signal though, an ectosignature can be tracked!  And that signal can be disrupted and blocked!” Dad only spoke in exclamation points Danny realized some time ago.  He waved his fork around in presentation at the blueprint that his mind had likely superimposed on the air next to him.  “The Fenton Thermos™ uses charged ectoplasm and what I’ve coined as Fentonite to isolate any ectoplasmic mass contained inside of it from its corresponding ectosignature by creating a four-dimensional enclosure!  The filthy ghost is still charged with the ectosignature though, there’s a centralized network of energy that allows the ghost to immediately take on its form after it’s released.”

“So the ghost is conscious within the thermos?”

Mom shrugged.  “As conscious as a ghost can be, sweety.  It’s not an actual person or anything, just a static imprint of what used to be a person’s thoughts.  Like an A.I.”

“The Fenton Finder™ used scanners specially made to detect ectosignatures that are on our satellites up in space!  It’s also how our security system works, though that works off of scanners here in the house!”

"So is there a way to track down ghosts by their specific ecto signatures?  If you can track the general signals maybe you can create a way to lock into a specific one."

"Mm, I suppose we could!  That'd be useful for tracking down that scum that attacked you and friends!  We've got the blueprints for the ecto signature scanner down in the lab somewhere if you wanna try the idea out, son!"

"Will do, Dad.  I'll tell ya how it goes."  Danny grinned around his chicken and pasta.  He had a game plan now. 

After dinner, Danny raced downstairs to print out the blueprint from the computer - his father stacked the blueprints in an infuriatingly chaotic way that Danny hadn't the patience to sort through - and then ran through the door on the left.  Behind it was a hallway into a tunnel, one that lead Danny to the alternative lab under the building right next to the house. Hopping into his wheely chair, Danny slid over the linoleum floor to his work table and laid down the blueprint.

"Alright, I can work with this.  A signal can be tracked, and it can be isolated.  Which means that My signal can be isolated and tracked specifically."  A smirk crossed his face. "Which means the scanners can be set to ignore my signal.  Perfect!"

Danny slid over to the laptop connected to a second Fenton Fabricator, glad that his parents were always thorough enough to make a back up of everything they did.  "This should be done in no time. Then Sam can help me test it and Tuck can- speak of the devil." Danny whipped out his phone and hummed, tilting his head at the simple message his best friend had sent him. 

FriarTuck: Hey Dan, almost fin breaking the security in Sklkr's suit.  Bout to crack this badboi open n make it mine. Muahahahaha! Hyd?

"Ugh, stars, I don't wanna think about that asshole."  Danny shot back a quick reply and set his phone down, finding a notebook he typically kept around.  Writing in a code only he, Tucker and Sam knew, Danny got everything down that he could. "Skulker has been a major set back in my plan to prove not all ghosts are evil to Mom and Dad, and a few other weird developments made themselves known.  I can now see everything in the lower intensity ultraviolet spectrum 24/7 instead of having to concentrate, as well as the electrical currents running through everything; I can somehow see my emotional connections with people I'm close with and use those connections to influence their emotions as well as read them clearer than other aurae."  He stopped, taking a breath and looking over what he'd just written. " Mierda , ain't that creepy?"  Danny pulled on his hair a bit while he wrote.

"Joining that on the list of creepy-ass things about Danny: I can reach across that link to everyone and pull on their love and affection and all that and use it to heal myself.  Stars, that's such a gross way to look at everyone's care for me. Just a fucking- a bandaid? A free trip to the nurse in a minute?"

Turning back to the parts being made, Danny huffed and dragged his nails against his scalp a touch too roughly.  "Physiological changes in my ghost occur when Tucker and Sam are in danger; Canines grow into fangs and according to Sam my voice starts to echo as though it's coming from everywhere.  Thankfully a check in Tucker's mirror proves that the changes are temporary. Reaction to my temperament? On that note: being a psychoreactive exotic material, the ectoplasm that makes up my ghostly body reasonably reacts instantaneously to my emotions, but it seems to be enhancing them as well.  It's either that or maybe puberty, but I have a feeling puberty doesn't make you violently angry at the slightest provocation and likely to turn any ghost you see into a splatter on the ground." Danny groaned, closing his notebook. "I fucking Executed Skulker. What the fuck? Why didn’t I just suck him into the thermos?"

A ding from his phone and Danny snorted.  

GardeningClaws: Hey Star boy, don't go angsting without us there to hug you.  We will know and you will pay the price.

"And what price is that, being buried in a pillow fort?"

GardeningClaws: do you know how many pillows I have in this house??  Do you think, like a fool, that I won't use them against you?

Danny laughed, sending a quick 'fair point' before heading to the door opposite the one into the house lab. Behind it was a room with rows of lockers, each holding three sets of suits.   Danny didn't need them though. At the far end, there was a large octagonal metal rim, blast doors sealed shut within.

Opening it up to just the right coordinates, Danny watched the doors pull back and felt the building charge of the portal's startup.  For a fraction of a second, Danny was filled with a bone-deep fear that gripped his entire body and held him stock still. With a thunderous crack, the fabric of space-time was folded around and torn, and Danny relaxed, staring out at an expanse of white and grey.  Opening the blast door, he let the void fill him up and spread outward to chill his bones and freeze his veins. Skin blue, eyes and freckles green and his fluffy hair snow-white, Danny flew past the event horizon and gasped silently at the sight before him.

The moon is so much more beautiful when you can look with your own eyes instead of through the lens of a helmet visor.

Sam, smartest of the group that she was, called Danny and Tucker both to head to her house for a horror movie marathon.  “After what we’ve been through, none of these B rate movies are gonna scare us.” It was so close to inarguably true that the boys both shrugged at their phones and headed on over.  Danny came down from the sky in that space where everything was heat and impossible colors, everything around him highlighted in a panorama view that almost made him dizzy. Landing in an alleyway, Danny checked to make sure he didn’t see anyone around him and took a deep breath.  He folded himself up, cold edges practically trapped within him tugged and bent until the brilliant moonlight that bled from his form retreated into the center of his chest, light and freezing cold as it hummed in an offbeat pulse next to his heart.

Pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, Danny jogged out of the alleyway and down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.  He looked around the neighborhood properly and hummed, wondering how he never put together that Sam was rich when the address she’d given them ages ago was very obviously in the rich part of town.  “Stars, we’re really just that oblivious aren’t we?” The stars in mind, Danny cast his gaze up and smiled at the full moon that greeted him, counting the tiny dots of the stars around it while he walked.  Thankfully, his odd kaleidoscopic vision seemed to extend to his human form a bit and his foot froze mid-step as a car drove past him at an intersection. “Sweet mother of the gods, why can rich people not drive right?”

When he got to the gates of Manson Manor, Tucker was there typing away at his phone.  When he looked up Danny waved and grinned, pointing a thumb at the huge mansion behind the gate.  “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s just so much .  Why does anyone need that much space?  How do they keep it clean?”

“If I meet some butler named Alfred I’m going to eat your hat.”

“Are you sure you wanna make that bet, Danny?  This is looking Batman-ish.”

The gate opened up before Danny could respond to that and instead, he nudged Tucker’s side before jogging toward the door.  Sam was there, opening it before Danny could trip on nothing and faceplant into the mahogany or whatever expensive wood the door was probably made from, and he instead landed on a soft carpet.  Tucker nudged his foot with his shoe and Danny groaned, resigned to simply laying there for the rest of his life. Two pairs of hands lifted him up from the ground however and Danny laughed, getting up properly.

“You can’t just let me wallow in my shame in peace, can you?”

“Of course not,” Sam scoffed.  “If you’re going to be ashamed, I have to be there to make sure it’s appropriate.  Now, c’mon!” Sam dragged Danny down a few halls, and up some stairs, followed closely by Tucker.

“I need to make a map of this place so we don’t get lost the next time we come to visit,” Tucker muttered, and Danny nodded.  When Sam opened the door she was headed for she let Danny go and grinned at them like a cat that’d eaten the canary. Walking in, Danny felt his jaw drop and took a moment to soak in what he was seeing.  “You have an entire movie theater in your house?”

“I know, it’s grossly excessive and we absolutely don’t need it, but-”

“Sam, what the heck are you talking about?”  Danny waved a hand in the goth’s face and snorted when she swatted at him.  “This is awesome! We can marathon every Dead Teacher movie here and it’ll be like when we went to see it in the actual theaters but better !”  Danny pulled down his hood and hopped over one of the chairs - of which there were two whole rows - and plopped himself into the soft cushioned seat with a laugh.  “The only thing that could make this room better would be if you had movie snacks.”

“Well, good thing I have a popcorn machine right back there full of fresh popcorn, a cotton candy machine, and ordered us pizzas.”  Sam grinned, sitting next to Danny with a bowl in hand full of greasy buttery popcorn, and Tucker sat on his right. “What should we watch first?”

Halfway into Dr. Sleep, the pizza arrived and three laughing teens had to pause the movie and pull themselves together from the heap of giggles that they’d become.  “Oh, oh stars, that hurt , laughing so much hurts!”  Danny leaned on Tucker while Sam leaned on him, the bowl of popcorn practically forgotten next to Tucker.  After a few minutes, Danny took a deep breath and patted his friends on the back. “I can grab the pizza - I can fly, so unlike you two I can actually go and be back before the things are cold.”  Before either friend could protest, Danny let the shimmering void of silvery dark cold spread out from the center of his chest to every hair on his body in a flash of light. He slipped through Sam and Tucker like water through the air and flew off toward the red aura of the pizza guy, diving to transform behind the front door when he appeared outside.  In just a moment he was back inside and setting three pizza boxes down on the snack table. “I see we got ourselves a meat-lovers for Tuck, a veggie everything for Sam, and-” Danny gasped. “A dragon’s tongue pizza for me! Aww, Sam~”

“Oh stuff it you goof,” Sam said as she and Tucker grabbed slices and plates.  “I just knew that you’d complain your pizza isn’t spicy enough unless it has ghost peppers, reaper peppers and every other kind of spice known to man and dolphin on it.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, already scarfing down his first slice.  “Dolphin? Really?”

“Dolphins are the closest animals to humans in behavior and observed intellect, Tucker.”  Danny took the time to go through three slices of pizza while Sam ranted about how dolphins might as well be classified as non-human people before pointing accusatorily at her.

“There is nothing wrong with my sense of taste, thank you.  Anyone with a strong enough tongue can handle this pizza, Sam.”  Danny took a bite to emphasize his point and smirked when he was flipped off.  “I’ve just got the strongest stomach here.”

“ Excuse you? ”

“Unlike you, I can eat veggies without my stomach declaring a mutiny.”

“Um, go fuck yourself?  That was the lowest of all low blows, I am utterly betrayed !”  Tucker covered his forehead with the back of his arm and half fell backward.  “Truly, my trust has been shattered by mine own brother, how could you? And I’ll have you know that the amount of capsaicin you consume is well beyond what any human being should have in their body.”

“Funny, I’m pretty sure I’m not human.”  Danny paused mid-chew, ignoring the look of disgust on Sam’s face over the two of them talking around their food.  “I wonder… what smaller changes like that might be going on because of my ghost? Like, regular puberty is already horrible enough but now I’ve got like, ghost puberty to deal with.”

“First of all, ghost wise, you’re baby.”  Danny pouted at Tucker, feeling mildly offended.  “You haven’t even been half-dead for a whole year yet, you’re baby.”

“Tucker, can you be reasonable for one moment?”  Danny nodded, gesturing to Sam, who was clearly the only one with her head on straight between them.  “Danny is always baby, not just because of his ghost.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Danny rose up in front of the movie screen, less crossed in the air as he frowned down at his friends.  “I am offended, I am revolted, I dedicate my life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ and this is the thanks I get?”

“I wonder,” Sam said loudly as she walked toward his pizza box.  “What it would taste like if I put cotton candy on your pizza?” Danny dove for his pizza box, nearly crashing into Sam as he grabbed it up and flew toward the ceiling.  He flipped upside down and stood with his feet to the ceiling, grinning down at his friends. Carefully opening his box he took out a slice and stopped.

“Sammy that is a wonderful question!”  Gravity shifted, reasserted itself in the correct direction, and Danny flipped with it, landing in front of the cotton candy machine.  He dipped his pizza slice into it and smirked at the despaired wail of his friend while he ran away from her, munching away at his unholy pizza slice.  “This is so sad, Alexa-”

“You don’t think I’d have Alexa in my home, do you?  First you defile my cotton candy, now you insult my common sense?  Do me a favor and parish.”

“Been there, done that.”

“As amazing as all that is, I was wondering something about you, Danny.”  Danny flew over to Tucker, landing on his shoulders with a snicker. “So like, can you do that thing from the movie?  Like, turn your head all the way around like an owl?”

A wide grin spread over Danny’s face and he set his food down on the table, before pulling the void up and out and around himself.  Bright silver light illuminated Tucker and cast odd shadows on his face. To think about later.   Danny turned his head slowly, cautious of being wrong, and almost stopped when he heard the pop of the joints in his neck.  Still, he kept going until he was looking at Sam’s gaping face right behind him.  He raised a hand to give her a thumbs up and winced at the sound of more popping joints - though, fascinatingly enough… “None of this hurts at all.”

“Well now I gotta see you spider-walk up the walls, that’s just the natural result of you showing off like this, Danno.”  Turning his head the rest of the way around, Danny saw Tucker’s phone pointed at him and snorted. “Dude this is wicked !”

“Oh my gods, we have to time you, hold on.”  And like that, Danny was doing laps around the walls and ceiling, reversed on all fours while Sam timed him and Tucker recorded.  When he dropped back down to the two rows of seats, Danny crossed his legs behind him with a hum.

“Anything else y’all wanna test?”  Tucker raised his hand and Danny let his gaze slide from Tucker himself to the brilliant yellow-gold-grek air around him.  “I’m going to regret hearing out this question, aren’t I?” Tucker nodded, his grin widening and the grek in his aura growing brighter.  Danny sighed and pointed at his brother.

“Can you possess people?  Cause that would be pretty fuckin cool.”  Tucker T posed as if that would help Danny with the wave of discomfort that crashed over him at the idea.  “How would you know? Go ahead, try me. See if you can like, take me over.”

Danny drew the darkness back into his chest, warmth and the beat of his heart and the weight of gravity tugging relentlessly against him like countless invisible chains made themselves known to him.  Digging in his pocket, Danny pulled out a coin, looking at Tucker with as much seriousness on his face as possible. “Heads I tell you to yeet your PDA into the cotton candy, tails I try to possess you.”  Danny flipped the quarter and caught it in his open palm. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and let it out the same way. “Shut.”

Slipping back into the void, Danny stared at his Tposing best friend and considered just how he was supposed to do what he had asked.  The only thing that made any sense, of course, was to slide even deeper into the void. Light and sound and even the air circulating through the room all faded away and the world shifted like a gradient scale from Xtreme Indigo to a deep dark blue sprinkled with green that lit up the empty world in bands, rivers, and threads that Danny could’ve stared at for the rest of his life and probably never grown tired of.  The only constants were the gold and green aurae at the ends of silver threads that shone like solid moonlight. Danny dove for the golden light and dipped a hand in where he guessed Tucker’s head was. The silver thread practically yanked him in, and Danny sank into a desert of yellow and glittering light.

In the next instant, he was blinking unfamiliar eyes, falling out of a dumb pose he hadn’t taken, stumbling on legs longer than he was used to and warmer than he’d been in months.  “Holy shit.” Danny held out his - Tucker’s hands and turning them over each other again and again. He took a few testing steps forward and back, turning and stretching every way he’d ever seen Tucker move, and felt a laugh bubble out of hi-Tuck’s mouth.  “Sam holy shit!”

Sam was staring at Tucker-Danny like he was the most out of this world thing she’d ever laid eyes on and she wasn’t sure how to react to him.  The cheer of figuring out yet another ability dimmed at the sight of her expression and what might’ve been horror was building itself up in his chest.  Then Sam schooled her expression and pointed at him. “You sound the way you do when the two of you are speaking in unison.”

“I feel like I’m wearing a costume that doesn’t fit right, I’ll be honest about that.  Stars, Tucker’s vision is horrible.”

“Alright, that voice thing is actually getting annoying, can you like, leave him now?”  A moment of silence passed, the room growing incredibly small and Sam stepped closer. “Danny, you can leave Tucker’s body now, right?”

“Gimme a second, Sam, I didn’t know I could go into him in the first place.”  Danny huffed and closed his eyes. He focused on what was different and wrong about being in Tucker’s body instead of his own, thought about floating upward to the surface of a large body of water, the moon coming to his mind’s eye and he reached for it.  There was a solid kick at the edge of his shadows, golden sands rising up and filling the empty space to push him up and out toward the moonlight and-

Danny flopped onto the ground face first, sensing a trend of him faceplanting on Sam’s floor, and Tucker let out a loud gasp.  “Holy balls, that was weird as fuck !”  Danny flipped around onto his back, letting his own familiar warmth and heartbeat fill his senses before he looked up at Tucker and found him wiggling his fingers and toes.  “It was like blacking out or something. I had the weirdest dream where I was like, I dunno, made of fire or something?”

“It was a lot of weird, hard to describe feelings on my end but mostly like a suit that doesn’t fit right.  Like, I know what my body feels like and that wasn’t mine, ya know?” Sam and Tucker nodded and while Danny knew they had absolutely no idea what he meant, it was relieving all the same.  Standing up, Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the scanner he’d printed earlier. “By the way, I made something that’ll help me get back into school.”

Tucker, without missing a beat, said, “That sounds like a horrible evil device.”  Sam snorted and Danny nodded. “What does it do?”

Danny launched into an explanation of what he’d learned about ectosignatures and his idea for tricking the security system at school.  “Also,” Danny added when it came to mind, “the car should be done printing in my basement by now.”

“Wait, you not only finished designing it but also started making it?”  Sam looked between them with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean printing?”

“The Fenton Fabricator™ is a giant, modular, high detail 3D printer that can make complex metal technologies - like our hoverboards.  The first 3D printed car took a couple of days and it wasn’t as complicated as this so I guessed about 48 hours.” Danny shrugged. “Probably done by now.”

“Isn’t that cool?”  Tucker practically had stars in his eyes.  “We can build anything in there, Sam!”

“Before that, we gotta get this ecto signature of Danny’s recorded."  Sam held up the scanner and Danny nodded. Things had to happen in the right order or things would go wrong.

Danny reached inside of himself and pulled the dark, endless space between space that rested within him out to wrap around him like a cool, relaxing blanket.  The extreme indigo of the world rose to an even more brilliant blue and purple that blended together and unwove from each other and wrapped around everything. Tucker shone from within with gold that glittered like desert sands and Sam was wreathed in the viridian green of the forests.  The threads between them were silver and thick as though woven from many. "I never need to take drugs cause all I need to do to get a trip is go ghost. I swear."

"Yeah, well, I think I have the reading on you right here.  Tucker, can you make any sense of this?" Tucker rolled over and stared at the data on the Fenton Finder remake.   After a moment of silence, Tuck started tapping away at his PDA ferociously. "I'm gonna guess that means yes."

"I can record this signal and have a filter to keep the school's system from recognizing you as a threat by tonight.  Think we can break in and do it then?"

"Probably," Danny shrugged, flipping a few times in the air.   "Ishiyama probably had them set the security system to an activation button or lever or verbal input.  They wouldn't want them to make something automatic in case a ghost was too close to a student."

"Fair.  Tomorrow night then?"  Tucker grinned as Danny tucked that blanket of not so empty empty space back into the very center of his everything and flopped onto his seat.

"Sooner I can tell my family we beat Skulker the better.  I don't like worrying them like this." Ever since his Spirit Vision or whatever got turned permanently on, Danny could feel the undercurrent of anxiety that ran through his family.  It made his skin crawl with the itch to make them all feel better and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Agreed, I can only keep this info from my parents for so long."  Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. With a grin she handed the scanner fully over to Tucker and ran a hand through Danny's hair, messing it up as much as she could.

Danny swatted away Sam's hand after a moment and sank further into the soft cushiony seat.   "Your chair is eating me, Sammy."

"You've been getting a healthier amount of meat on you, so yeah it might be."  Tucker was steadily getting engrossed in his task and Danny knew they had precious few seconds before he was completely lost to them so he decided now was a good time to be a dick. 

“So like, when the first hoverboard exploded and I put up a forcefield on a reflex we completely skipped over that cause of hyper-focus but like.  Should we talk about that?"

"You have protective instincts," Tucker mumbled, "and ghost stuff reacts to the deeper parts of your mind right?   So it's just you defending someone you care about."

"Which reminds me."  Sam poked Danny in the sides until he was squirming and giggling to get away.   "You're keeping like, a journal of all the things you can do right?"

"Mostly notes on what I learned about ghosts in general, like a bullet point list of the stuff that happened with Agatha and Skulker, and stuff but yeah.  I need to add ‘owl neck’ and ‘possession’ to my list of Things I Can Do."

“And what, pray tell, is on that list?”

"I can turn intangible or invisible, defy- no, actually, with what happened at the zoo I guess I can influence gravity, I can see all the radiation in the world, which is a trip lemme tell ya, I can apparently make a wall of ectoplasm?"  Tucker and Sam were staring at him for a long beat of silence before both were tackling Danny and pulling him into a big group hug. “I know, I’m awesome, but so are you guys and you should celebrate it.”

“Yeah, I am pretty awesome,” Tucker said with a grin.  “You guys are lucky to know me. I feel I deserve a reward for the amazingness I bring to this group.”  Tucker was promptly dropped by Sam onto the floor and Danny laughed.

“Another cool thing you can do is heal yourself and other people.” Sam poked Danny in the side until he was squirming away from her in that unreal state of being, slipping through her fingers like the space between air and flopped onto Tucker’s lap before solidity came back to him.  “That’s probably one of the coolest powers you have.”

“One day, Tucker is going to copy everything I can do, but with technology.”  Danny poked Tucker a couple of times and got his hand swatted away for his trouble.  “He’s already copied my language-”

“Spanish doesn't belong to you just because your dad is Mexican, Danny, try again.”

“And now he’s tryna say what’s mine isn’t even mine, can you believe this guy?”  Danny didn’t even try to hold in his laughter now, waving a hand emphatically in Tucker’s face.  “Next he’ll say I’m not the greatest ghost fighter in the world-”

“Your Mom.”

“Or the first boy to step foot on the moon-”

“Neil Armstrong - also, did you just say you walked on the m-”

“Or the unthinkable, like I’m not the very first Fenton that’s gonna be built like a brick house.”

“No no, you can’t just talk your way out of this one, Danny, you were on the moon? ”  Ah, Danny loved riling up his friends.

[redrebecca]

Interview Interests

When you go on your favorite chat show to promote your new movie, a lot can happen, especially when you’re sharing a couch with Tom Holland. 

Tom x actress!reader

Warning(s): three or four curse words

A/N: This is my first ever fic, so bear with me, I just wanted to turn my idea into something for people to (hopefully) enjoy, feedback is always appreciated. Anyway thank you hope you enjoy!

Words: 2.4k

*

Tonight was the big night, you were going on the Graham Norton Show - the first big chat show that would kick off the press and promotion you were dong for your new highly anticipated film adaptation of the book Legend (By Marie Lu), in which you played June Iparis, who was one of the two main characters in the film.

From your space backstage you could hear Graham announcing Tom's arrival on the stage, that and the loud applause that followed after Tom walked up the steps.

"Last but definitely not least, we have a very talented guest on tonight. The two time Oscar-winning actress, who is now appearing in the new big hit film 'Legend'. Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in welcoming to the stage Y/N L/N!"

Giving your dress one last check, you walked up the stairs to the red platform, waving and giving your award-winning smile as you did so which received a large cheer from the audience - whom you'd sat in front of many times - before giving Graham a warm hug and greeting Tom Holland with a polite kiss on the cheek.

After making yourself mildly comfortable on the all too familiar couch, you reached forward to pick up your drink, taking a sip before placing it down again. The audience had just started to calm down when Graham spoke up.

"Lovely to have you here Tom and Y/N. Y/N, I'll come to you first, can you explain what your upcoming film is about?"

"Yeah, of course. Well it follows the life of two people, Day, and my character June. In the film June is trying to find and avenge her brothers murderer, Day. But without realizing it's him they sort of kind of fall for each other." You finish off, not wanting to give anything away that you shouldn't have. It was only the first interview after all. Graham nods and there are a few cheers from the crowd.

"Do you mind if I show them a clip from the film?" He asks.

"Of course," You chuckle, "That's what I'm here for." You tease, already feeling comfortable in the surroundings of the studio - after doing countless interviews here it was fair to say you were a good friend of the show.

You could hear Tom laugh from beside you, before the rest of the audience followed. Graham turned slightly pink before jokingly muttering a "Why do we invite her on this show." which caused you to laugh too.

The clip played showing the scene where your character June met the elector and his son Anden. In the scene you were wearing a very tight, cleavage showing, sapphire colored ball gown which, although you never told anyone, you may or may not have hanging up in your closet at home. As the scene ended the audience, Graham and a flustered Tom clapped. You smiled happily, thrilled to have a positive response. When the clapping - and the odd wolf whistle - died down Graham spoke up.

"Y/N, I think I speak for everyone when I say that you look hot." You blushed, a lot. It didn't help that basically all of the audience were showing at least some sign of agreement. You turned to your left, hoping for some kind of support from Tom, only to find him nodding along too.

"Not you as well." You groaned. Tom chuckled, at first looking slightly embarrassed that he had been caught, before he embraced it.

"I'm sorry love, but you do." Now, if you weren't red before, you certainly were now. You could actually feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, the Tom Holland called you hot, Tom freaking Holland! 

Everyone cheered in agreement with Tom, whilst you turned an even darker shade of red - at this point you wouldn't have been surprised if you had turned purple from amount of blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Can we move on?" You asked, a pleading tone to your voice, not wanting to stay on this subject for any longer.

"Fine, fine. If you insist." Graham playfully huffed before asking Tom a few basic questions about his new film, 'Spiderman From Far Home'. None of which needed your direct input or focus. So you used the time to calm yourself down, especially the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

"Well Y/N I was told that you also had an unfortunate experience in a hotel." You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your name, luckily hearing what he had said so you didn't make it obvious that you were paying very little attention to what was going on.

"Now you're going to have to be more specific than that, I've had way too many and I'm not going to start telling a very embarrassing one only to find out that it wasn't the one you were talking about." You said with an airy laugh, a hum of light laughter came from the audience.

"Does one that involves a umm how do I put it... gift on the middle of the floor give you any ideas to which one I'm talking about?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to think back to what it could possibly be, as embarrassing experiences often happened to you, probably why you found chat shows easier than most people as you could always bring one up to make people laugh if things seemed to be getting a bit dull. Then it clicked, obviously shown to the audience by your reaction, your eyes widening suddenly before you threw your head back, a laugh escaping.

"Oh my god! How could I forget?" You said before explaining to everyone in detail about the time in a hotel in Spain, there was an actual shit on the floor of your hotel room and you had no clue what to do about it. The audience howled in laughter as you explained the confused reaction the hotel manager gave you as you showed him the shit on your floor, the language barrier making the situation much more hilarious (and humiliating then) as he had thought you were showing him your shit instead of someone else's. Using your hands you described the story perfectly, animatedly over-exaggerating certain parts, which had everyone in fits of laughter.

"And yeah that's basically it." You said. Looking around you saw the aftermath of your story. Graham had somehow fallen off his chair and was on his all-fours practically wheezing, the audience was in tears of laughter and all of a sudden you realized that Tom had his hand on your thigh, doubled over, his eyes and nose scrunched up in laughter. 

Cue the strange feeling in your stomach as you became more relaxed under his touch, the sight of the people around you was alone enough to make you laugh as well.

"O-oh my god." Graham laughed out as he pulled himself back onto his chair, a laugh escaping your lips as he did so.

"You know what now I remember why we invite you on the show." He chuckled, the audience joined him in his amusement.

"Tom are you okay?" Graham asked in a teasing tone. You looked to your side and there he was, furiously wiping tears off his cheeks. You giggled and his eyes found yours, you raised your eyebrows with a smile on your face as you waited for him to answer.

"You know what Graham, I think I peed." He said in a strained voice before laughing again, the whole room burst back into laughter, including you.

The chat show continued without a fault, glances and jokes were shared between you and Tom and there was an effortless conversation between the three of you. Although Graham had to regularly stop one of you from going too far off the topic of his or each other's questions, you definitely got to learn a lot about Tom and he got to learn just as much about you.

As the chat show reached the end it was fair to say you didn't want to leave. You always had a great time on the Graham Norton Show, I mean they gave you alcohol for heaven's sake, but this time you felt more relaxed and as if you had known the two for years.

The audience gave their last loud round of applause as Graham shouted goodnight at the cameras. You and Tom waved before reluctantly standing up from your seats. You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning round you froze as Tom wrapped two muscular arms around you, before quickly relaxing and returning the gesture, hugging for a bit longer than you expected before he pulled away smiling at you. You returned the warm smile.

"Nice meeting you Tom, hope your new film goes well, I might even go and watch it." You teased, he practically beamed - thrilled that someone understood sarcasm. He hummed a thoughtful expression appearing on his face

"I mean I would go and watch yours but I would have to check my schedule first. Being Spiderman takes up most of my time."

"I completely understand, just in the same way that being hot takes up nearly all of mine." He let out a laugh, nodding.

"You're not wrong darling." He bashfully replied, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks. You mentally cursed yourself for being so obvious.

"It was lovely having you two on tonight, I'll be sure to have you on another time." Grahams cheery voice broke through your Tom induced haze, turning your head towards Graham. You were both grateful for the distraction but also slightly upset that it was no longer just you and Tom, but you pushed those feelings down whilst telling yourself not to be stupid.

"Thanks for having me Graham." You said before checking your phone and sighing.

"Right, I need to get going, I've got to go home, anyway thanks again, see you Tom." You turned and started walking towards the exit.

"Wait Y/N!" You turned quickly, confused, only to be met with the sight of a brown haired boy jogging towards you. You waited for him to catch up and didn't say anything, waiting for him to speak.

"Any chance of getting a drink or two in sometime? I know a really nice bar." He said, his face full of hope and anticipation for your answer. You smiled slightly a response forming in your head almost immediately as you remembered his words from earlier.

"Well I mean I don't know," His face dropped he opened his mouth to speak before you cut him off with a cheeky grin on your face. "I'm gonna have to check my schedule." You winked a beaming smile now on his face.

"Yeah you do that, see you love." He leant in and placed a kiss on your cheek. He lingered there for a bit longer than he should've with you praying that he couldn't feel the heat coming from our cheeks the entire time. He pulled back and smiled softly at you before turning away and walked back towards his dressing room. It was hard to miss the spring in his step.

You hesitantly turned, exiting the building. Your shocked expression eventually turning into a massive grin. You grabbed your keys out of your bag, opening your car and then driving to your house.

You went to sleep that night with a smile on your face.

*

You woke up to the sound of constant buzzing. It took you awhile in your sleepy state to realize it was your phone blowing up from texts from your friend and a few twitter notifications. Grabbing your phone off charge and sitting up and leaning against the headboard, you scrolled through your messages from your best friend Isla.

(Isla):

Your fans are absolutely going mad

Y/N

Y/N!!!!

(Y/N):

Why, what's happened?!

You could already feel your palms getting sweaty. You had heard stories about other celebs whose careers disappeared in seconds. And although you were positive you had done nothing career ending, you were still worried.

(Isla):

The interview with TOM HOLLAND

His fans and yours are going crazy

THEY SHIP YOU!

You let out a big sigh of relief, at least it wasn't negative. It took a moment to hit you and you breathed out an "Oh shit." Were you that obvious that you liked him? You took a deep breath preparing an answer that wouldn't make you seem too desperate.

(Y/N):

Wait why?

Did I do something?

(Isla):

Have you seen what the fans are writing?

Did you even watch the interview?

(Y/N):

No but I was there, why what happened?

(Isla):

Just look on any social media page

Taking a deep breath you mentally prepared yourself and clicked on Instagram, it opened in seconds. Selecting to see photos you were tagged in, it became obvious why the interview had caused such a stir between Tom Holland and your fans.

Videos were captioned with different variations of ‘Get a man who looks at you like Tom looks at Y/N’

Others were going crazy about the part of the interview when he had his hand on your thigh, countless edits of that moment were streaming in. You were careful not to like any as that would be like putting petrol on an already huge fire.

But the majority of them were the videos of the moment Tom called you hot. You could feel your cheeks heating up simply at the reminder of it.

You sat there for a few minutes skimming over the hundreds of pictures and videos of that interview that were flooding into your 'tagged' section. You exited the app and went to twitter exiting that too when you saw that your and Tom’s ship name was trending and getting higher and higher up the list.

You put your phone face down whilst thinking about what your next move should be, knowing it would make the situation worse if you did something that wasn't thought out. A sudden rush of confidence ran through you and you picked up your phone, threw caution to the wind and opened your dm's. You swallowed when you saw there was more 'requested' than usual. You shook your head and typed his name into the search bar, smiling slightly as it appeared. You quickly typed in a message and before you could talk yourself out of it. you hit send and waited.

A ten minute walk away from where you were sitting, a certain brown haired boy was grinning at his phone as your message flashed up.

(Y/I/N):

So I checked my schedule, I'm free tonight if you fancy that drink.

He had the widest, largest smile on his face as he dm'ed you back

(tomholland2013):

Anything for you darling, send me your address and wear something fancy. I'll pick you up at 7 :)

[spookysnicket]

Eight People I’d Like To Know Better

Tagged by @voorheehees and @trashyslashers! Which is ridiculous how do either of you know I even exist? You’re both such talented writers, tysm! ❤️❤️

1. Birthday: June 21st

2. Zodiac: Mmm okay so, I’ve been told I’m a Gemini and a Cancer? But I’ve also been told I can only be one? So I’m not sure!

3. Height: 5′5

4. Last Song I Listened To: Neroche - Earth Druid

5. Hobbies: Ranching! I love working with horses, and I also like reptiles, vulture culture, sewing, reading, and writing! (Which is a bit obvious)

6. Favorite Color: Any pastel colors, but specifically most shades of purple

7. Last Movie I Watched: It Chapter 2

8. Favorite Book: This isn’t going to surprise anyone, but it’s Stephen King’s Carrie

9. Dream Job: Clinical psychologist! But I’d love to be a full time ranch hand or a librarian as well

10. Meaning of my URL: It’s a slasher-ish ‘spooky’ play on Lemony Snicket, or Daniel Handler, who was one of my favorite childhood authors! I was initially going for slashersnicket, but spookysnicket had a nicer ring to it (:

8 tags, don’t feel pressured to do this though!: @proxywitch, @itsamemicke, @squidskyink, @demonicpumpkin, @prussiasgurl23, @miscellaneousjunkk, @slasherscream, and @stumacherstan! (My special 9th tag is you, if you’d like to fill this out! Please feel free to tag me in it!)

[mysticsparklewings]

Fairy Enchanting‪

A bit later than I expected, but here we have the art that I used for the examples on my Commission Sheet! (Unoriginal title is unoriginal and also a pun based on "very enchanting") When I started thinking about putting together a commission sheet in the first place (which was something I wanted to do for the new year, as before I was just using a lengthy pricelist), I knew that I wanted to make a piece of art specifically for it and track my progress as I went, so that I would have an example for each stage in the process I take commissions for. And for the art, I more or less wanted to "go all out" since it's supposed to be an example, and I figure the example needs to be as close to top-notch as possible. Admittedly, I probably could've done even more than this, but me being me I procrastinated and ended up having less time to work on this that I initially expected, so... In deciding what the drawing would be, I also decided to return to my roots a little, and a do fairy as an homage to back when I used to do Winx art all the time. Likewise, as Enchantix to this day is my favorite transformation from the show, I drew heavy inspiration from it, and I'm sure that's so obvious that if you know the show I probably didn't have to point it out to you. Anyway. I actually didn't start completely from scratch with the sketch; I re-used this pose from a previous sketch I did that never saw a full-finished piece. I liked that other sketch okay, but it didn't feel like a "finish me" project. I did have to alter the feet because the original sketch was made with feet for ballet slippers (bigger heels, more rounded/curved toes, etc.) and much later on in the process I ended up angling the leg on the left more outward, as that felt more natural for the direction I was taking this new sketch in. In sketching all the bits that make this sketch otherwise unique from the old one, as I mentioned, I was taking heavy inspiration from Enchantix. One of my favorite parts of the transformation has always been the leg-wrap/barefoot sandals, for reasons I can't explain. So those were a must. I also really like how the Enchantix outfits tend to be short dresses that are more form-fitting at the top and more flowy and soft at the bottom. Here, I decided to bring the ribbony look on the leg wraps up into the bodice, and to frame the collar/shoulder area I used a sleeve & choker style similar to what I did for the dress for Ink Dance, which itself was based on a dress I actually own and love to pieces despite never getting a chance to wear it because of how fancy it is. The main difference for both of the drawing versions is that I skipped the lace overlay that connects the sleeves and choker, mostly because both pieces are traditional and drawing lace/mesh traditionally, especially when it's so teeny, is a nightmare I do not want to engage with. And the choker part fits nicely, as in Enchantix each fairy has a necklace (usually a choker) that holds their fairy dust bottle. I'm not sure if this fairy has one or not, but she very well could! Enchantix usually has long gloves, but I altered these to be shorter and fingerless (more like Magic Winx or Believix gloves) since this fairy is also based partially on myself, and I'd be more likely to wear that kind than the full-length formal gloves. And for the hair, as is maybe obvious, I was primarily inspired by Stella's for her Enchantix, since I've always loved that part of the transformation sequence for her's. Also, even though it doesn't look that way on my commission sheet, IRL I drew only one wing and left it separate, off to the side, to make positioning and flipping it easier. Once the sketch was done, I did try inking it traditionally/by hand once, and I just really wasn't happy with how it turned out. And I also realized I had drawn the skirt billowing/ruffling in completely the wrong direction anyway; It was moving to the left when it should've been moving to the right like the hair. So I had to take time out to fix that. As opposed to wasting more paper trying to ink traditionally after that fiasco, I instead went with what had been my gut instinct anyway; I scanned the sketch in and did the lines in Photoshop. Well, most of the lines. I was a dumb-dumb and when I did the lines for the wings, 1. it took forever because they're large curves everywhere and 2. I used a slightly bigger brush than for all the other lines, as I had mistakenly thought I was going to be re-sizing them significantly and the lines would be altered to for me when I did that. When I realized that wasn't the case, I did not want to have to redraw most of those curves again and risk not being able to get the right a second time. So I ended up booting a copy of the wings I'd already done into Paint Tool Sai and made use of the linework layers to redo the wings without having to draw the same line fifty times. Then I booted that back into Photoshop and adjusted the wings to be angled/aligned with the rest of the lines as I saw necessary. It was also at this point that I played around with positioning the leg on the left more outward than what it was on the sketch and ended up going with the position you see here. I could have then gone back and added weight to the lines in some places, but at this stage, I was already thinking that I wanted to print the lines out and use my digital lines to hopefully get cleaner traditional ones, as opposed to just printing the lines off outright. (Mostly because I wanted to use some super thick mixed media paper that I would bet serious money will not go through my printer.) That's what I ended up doing, and I have to say that attempt went a lot more smoothly than me trying to ink from the original sketch. And once I had the initial lines done, then I went back and thickened them in certain places. And I should probably mention here that the wings were a little tricky to figure out how to handle traditionally, as that's not something I've had to do very often. I ended up using my clear stardust gelly roll when I did the normal inking, and then, later on, I used colored pencils to go back over the outlines before coloring them in. After doing some tests, I started coloring with markers for the hair and skin, and a little colored pencil for some blush. I tried to get a little more bold with the shading than I usually do, which I'm sure still looks pretty tame compared to most. But I'd rather the shading be too light than too dark. Originally, I thought I was going to do all or mostly all of the coloring with alcohol markers. (Sidenote: is it just me or does it seem like there’s a lot of alcohol marker related stuff going on in the art world lately??) But then I did some testing with the lines I originally inked and didn’t like, and was reminded why I normally don’t use alcohol markers for gradients like the one on the skirt...frankly, I’m not very good at them...yet. Even though the test went better than expected, I still wasn’t happy with it. Then I tried a few more tests with watercolor, and that didn’t fare much better. Watercolor would’ve worked if the gradient wasn’t also supposed to be shaded, I think, but trying to shade it without using another supply wasn’t working. That left me with good ol' tried and true colored pencils. But colored pencils are relatively slow and textured, and I didn't really want that for the skin. The texture would've worked for the hair, but I didn't want to make the time investment for it either. And so I ended up sticking to my mixed media instincts and I used the colored pencil exclusively where I had to (on the dress so I could get the gradient for the skirt right) and then I used alcohol markers everywhere else, shading and all. With the alcohol marker doing most of the work, then I came back and added additional shading/highlights with the colored pencils as needed to everything except the skin. I added blush, but otherwise, I was quite pleased with how the skin turned out and didn't want to touch it for the risk of ruining it. The dress is supposed to be black/really dark gray, but I did brighten it up a bit with some of the blues from the skirt gradient as opposed to pulling out specific grays, so it definitely looks/feels more navy in the final product. Although my relatively dark/saturated color choices for her outfit made figuring out what to then do with the wings more challenging. I didn't want the wings to be the exact same colors as the rest of the drawing, because then they'd blend in too easily and be too distracting from the rest of the piece. But at the same time, I wanted them to match/look like they belong. (Again, similar to how the wings are in Enchantix) After some back-and-forth testing and a LOT of color sampling, I decided to color the wings in with alcohol markers in colors that were similar to her clothes but overall lighter/more pastel and outline them and the sections inside the wings again in colored pencil. Most of the colored pencil is slightly darker than the marker colors I picked, but I went with purple for the black/gray rims of the wings because I thought a dark gray or black would be too harsh. I'd already decided I wanted to do a slightly more complex background digitally, but even with that in mind, the traditional drawing still felt like it was missing one more thing after that. Namely, the wings didn't seem special enough. I realize that sounds a little weird; I was just talking about how I didn't want the wings to be too distracting, but I think there is a delicate balance to having them be special in the way fairy wings should be while still not overpowering everything else. And I'm not sure I achieved that, but I at least tried to. Though not a perfect solution, I ended up adding some metallic watercolor on top of the "true" (less purple-y) blue and pink sections on the wings.  You can't really tell here on the scan, and what little you can appears to be the wrong color, but in person, both colors now how a lovely pink or blue sheen to them when you move the picture in the light. (The metallic paints, in this case, are very opalescent, so they're almost completely transparent when you see the flat color despite still have a really pretty metallic sheen in the light.) After that, I felt there wasn't much more I could do traditionally, so I scanned it and moved on to that background. At this point, I was kinda pressed for time because me being me, I had unintentionally put making my commission sheet off to the last minute. I really wanted to have it finished before the ball dropped on New Years' Eve ("new year, new me" and all that jazz), and I still hadn't finished my example art by sunset time the day of. So I had to keep things moving. Early on, I'd had the idea to either digitally make a slightly more complex (but not too complex; I wanted to keep at least a little of the sanity I have left) background or perhaps make a special watercolor piece to use as the background. Unfortunately, I just didn't have the time for that anymore if I wanted to have the commission sheet finished by my self-imposed deadline. (And if we're splitting hairs, in theory, I could still go back and change the background if I wanted to, for reasons I'm about to go over, so of all the things to get rush-cut that's really not so bad.) What I ended up doing instead was taking some of the left side of my Starfall Mountains painting (I was looking for a background-type thing I'd already done/made that would suit this drawing or that I could quickly tailor to make it work, and I'm just as surprised as anyone else that this frustrating tiny painting ended up being the one I liked best of my options) and I blew it up to comfortable cover the background here, flipped it around so the colors would flow a bit better, and used the hue/saturation slider to make it more of teal color for a little more contrast. But of course, there was still just one more thing missing, even after all that. After a little tinkering, I decided I didn't like trying to making the wings transparent (I could do it, I just didn't like the way it looked in this case), so I went in and added a touch of sparkles digitally to both tie them more into the piece as a whole and to give them a little more pizzazz. And finally, blessedly after all of that, the artwork was finished, I was very happy with it, and I could move on to making the actual commission sheet.   I have to say, for as rushed as it was towards the end, I do really like how it turned out. More particularly I like just how blended both digital and traditional art ended up being here. To me, this is the next step beyond what I was able to do for mixing digital and traditional art with my Doodle Moon piece, and if I weren't currently in the middle of a tablet crisis, I'd really want to do more with this concept of going back and forth between the two on one artwork. However because of the tablet situation, the thought of really trying to do that right now kinda fills me with dread, so we're gonna have to wait a little while on that. I do also really like the anatomy/proportions in this. Which is not something I normally feel comfortable saying.   It's not the best art I've ever made or anything, but looking at it makes me happy. It's good to see it finished and it's good to think of where a lot of the ideas for it came from. (Re: Nostalgia for my life a few years ago) I'm not sure if I will since it kinda counts but also kinda doesn't(?), but I'm tempted to put this and some of my old Enchantix drawings up on the "Draw This Again" template, just to show how far I've come. I'm still thinking about it, we'll see. Speaking of "we'll see," I got word that the sketchbooks from the contest I made Designiest Design for back in October are finally in, which means the prize packs should be sent out anytime now! I'm excited to see how the sketchbooks turned out and get my hands on the Powder Pack and see how said powders work! I was admittedly starting to wonder how that was coming along, so that was some good news and a nice surprise I'd really been needing here lately. Rest assured, there will almost definitely be an art piece talking about that stuff once I have it in my hands! 

____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[raendown]

Here we have it folks, the very last chapter of what began as a simple Secret Santa gift for @sealkay. Thanks to everyone who left such wonderful comments all the way through!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 18/18 Word count: 2844 Summary: When Tobirama is exiled from the Senju clan without warning, without even the chance to plead his case, it feels like his life is over. What does he have to live for now without his older brother to believe in him? Captured by the Uchiha in his moment of weakness, Tobirama slowly learns to live again with the last people on earth he would have ever expected to care for - or to fall in love with.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the blog header!

Chapter 18

“Wakey, wakey, sleepy head. You look stupid with your hair sticking up like that.”

Tobirama frowned through the lingering haze of sleep. He knew that voice. That was the beloved voice of an annoying asshole. Cracking one eye open, he tilted his head down to glare at the face grinning up at him from below. Madara snickered and Tobirama noted that he looked much too awake for – well, for whatever time of the morning it was. Odd for a man who usually stayed in bed until he was physically dragged out of it.

“How do you always have worse bedhead than me?” Madara asked. “You hardly have any hair to mess up.” He lay his head down to muffle a few quiet chuckles against the chest he’d been using as a pillow and the sound was so joyful that Tobirama found he just couldn’t stay mad when he got to wake up to such sweet things as a happy Madara. Not that he would ever say so while the man was still laughing in his face.

“Rude,” he grumbled with a pout. “At least I don’t have an entire rat’s nest on top of my head twenty-four-seven. Get off me so I can get up, you octopus.” Instead of contrition, Madara’s face took on a suggestive look.

“Why get up? I’m sure I can think of something that might entice you to stay in bed a little longer.” With a raunchy leer he shifted until he had one leg thrown over Tobirama’s hips to perch above his lap, eyebrows waggling in way that was probably meant to be sexy but really only made Tobirama bite his lip to hide a rush of amusement at such a ridiculous expression.

He did find himself interested in what the man was offering, though.

Running his hands up the outside of the thighs straddling his own, he hummed with rising interest and tilted his head like he was giving the matter deep thought. “You know what? Keep talking. You’ve caught my attention.”

Madara gave a low, dark chuckle and bent down to kiss him. Their lips had only just touched and Tobirama’s fingers ventured further inward to cup two handfuls of firm buttocks when the bedroom door slammed open without warning, Izuna strolling in unannounced.

“The hanky-panky can stop!” he cried. “I made breakfast so now you have to eat it!”

“Get out!” Madara snarled. The pillow he snatched up and threw was easily blocked and thrown back at him without mercy.

“Nope! Breakfast! No sexy times while I’m still home; that’s just gross to think about.” Izuna grinned, not even having the decency to wither under the combined weight of their annoyed glares. Tobirama cleared his throat to catch the other’s attention. After a year of living together he would be supremely unimpressed with himself if he didn’t have a perfect comeback for that.

“What makes you assume we haven’t already done those things while you were still home?” he asked innocently.

Izuna’s disgusted screeching was almost worth the interruption. Madara, at least, was laughing so hard he almost couldn’t stand to make it back to his own room so he could grab some clean clothes for the day. After Tobirama had wrestled Izuna out in to the hall as well and slammed the door shut for a bit of privacy, he started getting changed himself. It was little surprise to be interrupted yet again before he’d done more than pull on a clean pair of pants but at least this time it was only Madara letting himself back in to the room.

His partner was wearing a sheepish look that quickly turned to hunger at the sight of so much exposed skin. Tobirama smirked and simply let him look. Regular exercise had replaced all the muscle he’d once let melt away in his hour of weakness and it was always nice to have such accomplishments admired. He was still preening when Madara cleared his throat and came forward to tug the shirt he was holding out of his hands and set it aside, his ears pink and his expression oddly nervous.

“I have something for you,” he said. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I wanted to get them all done at the same time but I didn’t want to presume…”

“What is it?” Tobirama blinked in surprise when Madara revealed something from behind his back. It just looked like a lump of material until it was unfolded to become a short tunic in his favorite shade of blue. Then Madara turned it around to reveal the Uchiha crest carefully stitched on the back just like every piece of clothing a proper member of the clan wore every day. Tobirama’s fingers trembled as he reached out to accept the shirt being handed to him. Once his hands were free Madara rubbed his palms together awkwardly, not looking away from his unexpected offering.

“Don’t just wear it because you think you have to, okay? You know you can stay here even if you never decide to officially adopt in to the clan. O-or marry in or whatever. I just wanted you to know that the offer is there and I already have the approval of the rest of them – we had a clan meeting while you were away on a mission–”

“Madara,” Tobirama cut him off shakily. “I don’t want to misunderstand what you’re saying. Are you asking me to wear your colors or…?”

Shaking his head, Madara straightened his back and visibly braced himself to speak. “Whether you choose to take the Senju name again or not, there will always be a place for you here. As of this moment you bear no clan name and, maybe it’s selfish of me, maybe a little territorial, but I would like to gift you mine to carry. Whatever your answer, as clan Head I hereby grant you the right to wear our crest to show the world that we consider you one of our own – uh, if you want, that is.”

Finding it suddenly very difficult to breathe, Tobirama clenched his fingers tightly in the material of the shirt and blinked his eyes rapidly to clear away the strange mist in his vision. What Madara was offering him was more than just a home. He didn’t have the words to describe just what he was being offered but what touched him the most was being given the choice and being assured that Madara would not resent him for whatever path he decided to take.

It took a few tries to clear his throat before he realized it wouldn’t work, he was simply too overwhelmed at the moment. Shyly, embarrassed to show such blatant emotions even if this was by its very nature an emotional moment, Tobirama shifted closer and drew Madara in to his arms. The two of them stood in a silent embrace for a long time while they both waited for themselves to calm down. Tobirama clung to his partner with one hand and let the other rub the material of this most precious gift between his fingers, feeling the soft cotton like a gentle kiss against his sensitive skin. He wondered how long Madara had been planning this for.

“Are you two coming to eat this damn food or not!?” Izuna hollered from the kitchen. The indignation in his voice had Tobirama pulling away with a snort, smiling when he noticed Madara trying to wipe his eyes discreetly.

“We’re coming, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” he called back. Then he ignored Izuna’s retort in favor of dipping his head to press a messy kiss against Madara’s lips. “Hold this for me, will you?”

He handed the shirt back to Madara to hold so he could slip his arms in to it, humming pleasantly over how nicely it fit. It was obvious that this had been tailored specifically for him; if the cut of it and the lack of traditional high collar wasn’t enough of a clue, he didn’t know any Uchiha who wore such bright colors. Most of them preferred their clothing in black or deep shades of purple.

“Does that mean…?” Madara eyed him as he tied the shirt in place and Tobirama flushed, standing still so that could be admired in his new clothing.

“You mentioned you wanted to have my entire wardrobe updated. I would honored.”

“But are you just carrying the crest or…”

“Uchiha Tobirama does have a certain amount of appeal,” he murmured. “If you think it would suit me then I will do my best to uphold the honor of the Uchiha name.”

Madara pressed his lips together, nodded, and lunged forward to drag Tobirama in to him again.

From the kitchen they could hear Izuna yelling, “Fine! Watch me eat all these damn eggs myself! You guys don’t get any now! I slave and slave over a hot stove and what do I get? Ignored!”

“Should we go tell him the news?” Tobirama murmured, glad for something to focus on other than his thundering heart.

“Maybe he’ll change his mind about the eggs,” Madara said, holding in a hysterical giggle.

Tobirama bit his lip and distracted himself with making sure his shirt was settled perfectly, smoothing out a few imaginary wrinkles. He knew that as soon as he had an entire closet full of things with his new clan symbol on them he would feel comfortable being less careful with them but for now this shirt was his most prized possession.

As it turned out, Izuna did indeed lift his ban on eggs in celebration of a new member joining the Uchiha clan. The three of them ate their breakfast with smiles on their faces and then afterwards they headed out together towards the village center where the polls were to be held to vote for the very first Hokage of Konohagakure. Whoever led their village needed to be strong, intelligent, and a good leader, caring for his people yet willing to make the tough decisions. There were only two names on the ballots though and from what Tobirama heard from others the race was pretty much over before it had even begun. Most people seemed to be under the misguided impression that the village existed thanks to Hashirama alone. Considering that, it was no wonder most favored him and his big dreams to lead them all towards a new future.

That didn’t stop Madara from coming out and enjoying the excitement of the day anyway. He didn’t particularly want the job, although he did think he would have been good at it. If popular vote went to Hashirama as seemed likely then he would still have everything he had ever dreamed of having in his life. Tobirama was sort of proud of him for being so self-assured.

Walking through the village in daylight was interesting and more than just because it finally gave Tobirama a chance to properly see all the places outside their compound he hadn’t yet seen in daylight. Someone with an active gossip chain must have spotted him the night before because none of the people stopping to gape at him as he walked by looked truly surprised. All of them had the same look of someone confirming a rumor they hadn’t fully believed until the proof dared to stroll by with his head held proudly and a carefree lightness in his every step. By the time they reached the village square the crowds were all but parting before them as people stepped aside for Tobirama and broke out in to whispers in his wake.

Hashirama met them with a brilliant smile and dozens of curious Senju at his back. An uproar nearly broke out when the first of them spotted the Uchiha fan so prominently displayed between Tobirama’s shoulder blades but Hashirama only gave the crest a long, sober look, closing his eyes and nodding once.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“The decision was not made to reject what I once had,” Tobirama leaned in to assure him quietly, “but to celebrate and honor all that I have been freely given since.”

“No, I mean it. I understand. What I said last night, I meant that with all my heart. I’m just happy that you’re happy now.” Hashirama reached out to take hold of his hand for a brief squeeze and they shared a smile knowing that every eye in the village was watching them. Then they let go and Tobirama stepped back in to the circle of Madara’s arms. Just this once he would allow such an ostentatious display of public affection as cuddling, marking his territory without having to say a word.

He took note of Touka’s expression as she slipped up beside them, lips pinched tightly and dark eyes unhappy as she took in the way they were wrapped around each other, but Tobirama was pleased when she did little more than settle herself close enough to his side that their arms brushed together and caught his eye for a long wordless stare. In a clan of people who had very little problems expressing themselves, he and Touka had always been outliers. She was probably worse than him when it came emotions but they had always understood each other even when no one else did. By the time she took a deep breath and struck up a deliberately casual conversation about something random they had already held an entire silent conversation and Tobirama knew the two of them were going to fall back in to old habits just fine.

As soon as the crowds around them settled down in to gossiping amongst themselves Hashirama and the other clan heads announced the official opening of the polls. Several booths had been set up for each villager to go in and fill out their ballot anonymously without fear of being judged for their decision, Madara and Hashirama standing together to one side in abstention.

Tobirama waited in line with Izuna and Touka, occasionally wrangling an enthusiastic Kagami when his protégé-slash-neighbor got a bit too enthusiastic for his mother to handle. It felt odd being allowed to cast a vote when he hadn’t even been an official member of the Konoha until this morning and it felt even stranger, when it was his turn in the booth, realizing he had to choose between his no-longer-estranged brother and his captor-turned-boyfriend. Knowing who was inside, he could hear several members of his new clan shooing people away outside when they murmured about him taking too long. In the end he slid his ballot in to the box without checking a name. Just the idea of making an impartial decision had always been difficult; in his current circumstances it seemed impossible.

When he told Hashirama what he had done he was surprised to receive a beaming smile in return.

“Excellent! Then you’re completely neutral and you can be the one that counts the ballots! It’s kind of poetic in a way, don’t you think?” His smile softened and Tobirama rolled his eyes but he could see where the man was coming from.

He wasn’t the only one counting ballots, of course. The polls were opened in the early morning but it took well in to evening for all the votes to be cast and tallied by a group of volunteers who had also abstained from voting. Each of them brought their numbers to Tobirama who added them all together and then stepped up on to the raised wooden dais where Hashirama and Madara were waiting, idly passing the time with friendly chatter.

Unsurprisingly, the crowds fell silent at seeing him step up between the two men with a small card folded between his hands and no discernable expression on his face. He felt as if the world was watching him as he looked from Madara to Hashirama and back again and then down at the card in his hands to allow himself the tiniest of smiles.

Then he lifted the red and white hat that had been prepared as a badge of office and laid it gently atop Madara’s head.

“Congratulations, Hokage-sama,” he announced in a clear voice.

As the village erupted and even Hashirama broke out in to wild cheering, Tobirama held his stunned partner’s eyes just long enough to appreciate how ridiculous he looked with such a shocked expression. Then he tossed his head back and laughed long and hard and joyful, free and happy.

When he had been asked to leave the Senju clan it had felt like his life was over, a dark emptiness that could never be filled. He had thought it was the end of his journey. Now he stood between his two most precious people with the future stretching out before them filled with so many possibilities for everyone, for the village, for everything he held dear. This wasn’t at all where he had thought his life would take him – but he was happy that he stuck around to enjoy the ride.