#it would also be cool to have hearing aids

[apollolewis]

I tried to make a oln&f character that can’t talk due to a phsychical injury. He ended up being able to talk but preferring not to because it’s painful. I’m not gonna be upset I couldn’t do this. I’m playing a beta build and even if we can’t make a fully non verbal or mute character we can still head canon our way through things. My boy Miłoz will still not talk 90% of the time.

[necrotic-nephilim]

after seeing the poll about who in the batfam could be Deaf, I am now obsessed with how the masks could affect their sign. If they use their signing space differently when in the vigilante persona or not. Signing is so distinctive to each person that the code switching they do would be interesting to see play out in their ASL. Also thinking about what family signs the family would use to refer to batshit things in their lives. q

YEAH YOU GET IT.

(the poll in question) i am deeply fascinated by the mechanics in which Deaf culture could play into the Batfam. bc most of them are wearing masks that would heavily inhibit ASL (given ASL is an expressive language) so i think it's more likely they'd use something akin to Makaton or Military Hand Signals that are not a fully developed language, but a communication aid, with a given set of signs for the typical things that need to be communicated in the field. meanwhile they'd be more likely to use ASL casually. (i'm unsure who all in the Batfam is confirmed to know ASL, but i know at the very least Bruce and Tim are)

i'm also very drawn in by the idea of other firms of assistive communication/tech used aside from just ASL. i personally find it believable that the masks of any of the Batfam could include automatic captioning tech that only they see through the inside of the mask, similar to captioning glasses at movie theatres, if they were Deaf/HoH. also how you would modify the concept of comm links to be more accessible, potentially projecting the message visually through the person's mask or maybe a wrist communicator sort of situation, depending on their personal preference. how the Batfam in general would interact with each other if one or multiple of them were Deaf would be heavily shaped and i think it's so fun. and i *love* the thought of personal signs they'd have to come up with bc well, ASL is hardly equipped for their lifestyle. also fun to consider sign names and if sign names are unique to the person or unique to the mantle. (eg, would the sign name for Robin be specific to which Robin, or just the mantle at large) there's so many little things that would change and i just think it's Neat. most people are approaching the poll from the perspective of their character of choice having hearing loss from vigilante work (which is a super valid way to approach it and i love those headcanons) but personally i find it fun if the deafness is a pre-existing condition and already something the Bat has been dealing with for years and thus approaches vigilantism needing to modify their gear slightly from the standard norm. how they could influence how Bruce trains them, emphasizing other senses. how they'd likely be far more tactical on the field, pressing their hands against something to feel for noise, ergo their gloves may be designed to more easily pick up vibration. (cannot tell you how much i do that irl) whether or not they'd hide it from the larger hero world is also an interesting question. it's all a fun internal struggle as well, internalized ableism and all. so much you could do with it!!

[wikipediadogdotnet]

my phone isabout to die but i need to complain abt how people draw martin tma RIGH NTOW

[angeliicheartt]

Hii I love your writing, it's so good! Can I request a fic for shoto in which they're kids and the reader's parents had a quirk marriage too and she's worried her parents will force her to marry someone so she asks shoto to marry her and they have a fake kid wedding where they get fuyumi to "officiate" it and natsuo is the flower girl(lol I'm dying just thinking about kid natsuo throwing flowers in a dress) but they act like a married couple even when they're both in UA(she's also in 1a). Please please please I would really appreciate it! But it's completely fine if it's something you're not comfortable with! <333

ɪ ᴅᴏ!

includes: shoto todoroki

fem!reader

a/n: finished right before i had to leave for therapy 😚 i thought this was so cute but i didn't know how to end it but i hope u like it <3

you still remember the warm, summer day you went over to the todoroki household for the first time. you were 5, your parents had been arguing and your nanny thought it’d be good to get you out of the house. you remember holding tightly onto your nanny’s hand, the skin made soft by the lotion she always kept on her.

you watched as she shook a white-haired woman’s hand, her expression timid but welcoming. your eyes drift down to see 3 other children, your eyes lighting up at the sight. a girl and a boy, both with primarily white hair watch you from a few feet behind their mother, their expressions curious, and in front of them, clinging to his mother’s pant leg was a boy with half white and half red hair. you felt your nanny’s hand on the back of your head as you looked up at her.

“go play, i’ll be with mrs. todoroki,” her hand slides down to your back before gently nudging you towards the children before following mrs. todoroki out of the room. suddenly all eyes are on you and you want to shrink. your little hands fiddle with each other before the girl walks up to you. she has an eager smile on her face and you can tell she’s older than the other two, as you have to slightly crane your neck to see her before she crouches down.

“i'm fuyumi,” she says, her hand gesturing to herself, “i'm twelve.” 

she then points towards the white haired boy, “that's natsuo, he’s eight,” her finger moves to point at the smaller boy, “and that’s shoto, he’s five. there’s also touya, but he’s out in the forest right now.”

her head turns back to you and her lips form a soft smile once again, slowly warming you up. “i’m (y/n), i'm five too,” you say shyly, keeping your focus on fuyumi. her smile widens as she turns to shoto, “you hear that, sho? she’s your age.” 

you watch him nod shyly, his cheeks pink as he breaks eye contact, tilting his head to look at the ground. “he's just a little shy, nothing to worry about!” fuyumi states, smiling once again.

“can we go play again?” natsuo groans, crossing his arms as he raises an eyebrow at fuyumi. she sighs, her hand moving to her hip as she stands up again, “yes, let’s go.”

she begins walking, brushing past natsuo as he turns to follow her into the courtyard. you watched her go, unsure if you’re permitted to follow, but before you can question any longer, shoto’s chubby little hand grabbed yours and began trailing after his siblings. the hand holding yours is cool to the touch, a good aid for the sticky summer air. 

you and shoto sit on the stairs as natsuo grabs a ball, kicking it to fuyumi. she laughs as she returns it, the two of them kicking the ball back and forth. you turn your head towards shoto, gazing at him through your hair, “you’re not gonna play?”

he shakes his head, “i don’t get to play a lot, and i don’t really feel like playing,” he murmurs and you hum in response, burying your chin in your arms as they rest atop your knees. 

“do you get to play?” he asks, his two-toned head turning towards you. you shrug before lifting your chin from the juncture of your arms, “i'm allowed to, i just don’t have anyone to play with.” you say, watching as natsuo and fuyumi laugh and run around, “my parents argue a lot, s’cause they married for quirks ‘nd not love,'' you say, your five-year-old mind not having any idea of a filter.

“same with mine,” shoto says, his eyes still trained on you.

“mine might make me get a quirk marriage,” you say, looking over at shoto once again before your eyes widen at him.

“what?” he mutters, his cheeks flushing once more as you smile and grab onto his arm. “we could get married, that way you and me don’t get pushed into a quirk marriage,” you exclaim, your lip getting caught between your teeth as you wait for shoto’s response. 

“okay,” he mutters, his focus on the way you're holding onto his arm. you get up, grabbing his cool hand once more to pull him up before hurrying over to fuyumi and natsuo, “me and shoto are getting married.” you say as fuyumi looks down at the two of you.

“oh, you are now?” she asks with a grin as shoto and you both nod.

“alright then,” she says cheekily before grabbing natsuo and telling him to grab a dress from her closet and flowers from the garden.

after a few minutes, natsuo comes back and fuyumi bullies him into being the flower girl as she proclaims herself the officiant, with the reasoning that, “she actually knows what to say.”

during that time, shoto had run into the house to his mother before shyly saying he was marrying you and needed a ring. rei chuckled before getting up from her seat, muttering a small, “be right back,” to shoto and your nanny.

she comes back a few minutes later, a small, dainty, ring in hand. She crouches down, holding it out in front of shoto.

“will this work?” she asks and he nods, thanking his mother shyly before running back out to the courtyard. 

once everyone’s back in the courtyard, fuyumi began to orchestrate everything. she calls shoto over to her, where she’s set up a small arch made of ice. she stands under it as she guides shoto to the little ‘x’ she drew in the ground. she tells natsuo to “just throw the flowers on the ground while you walk,” before walking back to you, crouching before you.

“and all you gotta do is walk behind natsuo, got it?” she smiles as you nod. she pats the top of your head affectionately before walking back to her officiant spot.

natuso begins walking as he hums the wedding march, tossing bits of flowers across the ground. you follow behind him a few feet, your hands fiddling with themselves once again, almost as nervous as when you first got here. natsuo makes it to the arch before moving to stand behind shoto, and as he moves out of your view, you make eye contact with shoto. your shoulders relax and you let out the breath you were holding as you walk to the ‘x’ fuyumi drew out. 

“now, hold hands,” fuyumi directs and you and shoto obey, both of his hands moving to grab your fidgeting ones. 

she begins reading out the officiant script, cutting out the longer parts in the middle, before she finally gets to the end, “shoto, do you take (y/n) to be your wife?” she bends down slightly as she asks, watching as he nods.

“you have to say ‘i do’” she says and he repeats it, muttering out a small “i do,”

“and do you, (y/n), take shoto to be your husband?” she turns to you, as you nod and say “i do,”

fuyumi straightens up, a grin on her face as she proclaims, “then, by the power not vested in me, i pronounce you husband and wife!” her hands move to her hips as she rests her weight on one leg, “now give the bride a little kiss on the cheek.” 

shoto leans forward, gently planting a soft kiss on your chubby cheek, and the two of you hear a camera shutter, before turning to see shoto’s mom and your nanny watching the two of you, a camera in rei’s hand. 

“we've got to go now, (y/n), we’ll come back another day, hm?” your nanny reaches out her hand for you to grab. you almost run over to her before shoto grabs your little hand.

“you almost forgot the ring,” he murmurs as he slides the slightly-too-big ring onto your ring finger. you grin as you kiss his little cheek in thanks.

“i’ll see you soon,” you murmur before running off to your nanny, her soft hand taking hold of yours, commenting on the little ring you received.

and that was the beginning of you and shoto’s relationship. the two of you have never explicitly stated that you two are together, but you’ve always been with shoto. you've been ‘married’ to him since you were five, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

your head turns as you look at shoto, sitting on one of the dorm couches, your hand in his as he plays with the little wedding ring he gave you over a decade ago. you smile at him as he glances over, and you lean your head in to give him a small kiss on his cheek.

“i'm glad you asked me to marry you,” shoto mutters, his eyes flickering down to the ring his fingers continue to fidget with. 

“i'm glad you agreed,” you giggle before mina stops dead in front of you, “did i hear the word marry?? you two are married??”

you laugh at her reaction, patting the seat next to you for her to sit so you can explain how you’re ‘married’ to shoto.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @satelitis

[beddybites]

Ok so what can you tell us about those obamitsu fankids if they aren't just random cool designs

omg.... uhhh lets see... i dont have any names for them so I'll just label them with their birth order!

obamitsu family...... feel free to make up headcanons abt them too idm!!!! free real estate

eldest daughter / first child

she's close with her father and regularly aids him due to his blindness

her mom, aunts, and uncles tell her all about how she has her dad's eyes, so it became a feature she takes great pride in

she's close with her aunt Shinobu, who sorta takes her under her wing. she is also close with her uncle Kyojuro and likes hearing stories about her parents

she and her younger sister (second eldest) are close

second eldest daughter

she has her mom's appetite and love for sakura mochi, thus the pink & green hair

sensitive like her dad and a bit defensive with everything

Uncle Nemi is her favorite. he would babysit all the time when she was little

she doesn't get along with the middle child. they have a obanai & giyuu dynamic-- second eldest thinks her younger sister is entitled and isn't grateful for anything their family does for them

third eldest daughter / middle child

she looks a lot like her grandpa (Mitsuri's dad) / mostly inherited genes from mitsuri's side of the family

she comes across as bratty , but in actuality, she's got awful middle child syndrome

close with her Uncle Gyomei... Gyomei gifted her the beloved cat plushie when she was a newborn

she's closer to her aunts and uncles than she is with her siblings-- middle child moment

fourth daughter / second to youngest

quiet like her dad, but friendly like her mom

she would play with Kaburamaru ever since she was a tiny baby. the two are very close

she's timid and not talkative whatsoever, so she tends to keep to herself or clings to one of her parents (usually Obanai)

when she does come out of her shell, she will play with her Uncle Muichiro or Uncle Senjuro-- on rare occasions, her Uncle Tengen and her aunties... she likes playing dress up with them, though she usually needs to be encouraged to do so!

she loves her baby brother!!!

youngest child / only son

the baby ... he is a mama's boy and he loves his big sisters to death

got most of Obanai's looks, though he did inherit his Mom's moles and personality

curious and sweet little guy

his favorite babysitter is his Uncle Muichiro

his least favorite babysitter is his Uncle Rengoku, purely because of how loud and eccentric he is most of the time

he learned from his Mama to kiss his Dad's scars. whenever Obanai holds him, the baby gives him a little kiss on both eyes, then both cheeks, mimicking his mother. Obanai tears up every single time

im so fond of them. obamitsu u will forever be famous. and ur children are real. idc what canon says. family

[bekolxeram]

I'm usually very block happy, but sometimes a couple of hot takes from the opposite side of the fandom manage to slip through. I'm no saint, I admit I do get quite worked up at first, but after some time, I realize they give me new perspectives to scenes I've watched countless times and discover things I didn't pick up before. So this one is for all of you, staunch Tommy haters, thank you for enriching my viewing experience.

In 7x04, when Tommy goes to Buck's loft to talk things out, this line gives some people the ick, because it echoes what Taylor said in 5x05. In that episode, Buck thought his team was off because they blamed him for Chimney leaving. He talked to Taylor about it, she shared her own experience with her boss being sulky around her, and it turned out her boss was just in a lot of physical pain, she ended the conversation with "maybe not everything is about you". While what she said was absolutely right, and she made an effort to make Buck feel appreciated at the end of the episode, but I can also see Buck not feeling supported emotionally at the time the conversation occurred. In a fashion true to her profession, Taylor delivered it in a very blunt, direct and advisory way. Her being right did not cancel out Buck feeling insecure about everyone acting weird around him and him not knowing why.

What Tommy says here though, is in a a completely different context.

Before all of this, Tommy has already reassured Buck that he's not trying to replace him, that his place in Eddie and Christopher's life is irreplaceable.

Look at Buck's smile, he's apparently in a better mood than before. It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

So going in this next part, Buck is more receptive to what he frankly needs to hear: Eddie isn't hanging out with Tommy because Buck did something wrong, he just enjoys Tommy's company.

We've witnessed Buck's growth over 7 seasons, now he can recognize that getting jealous easily is one of his character flaws, he tends to overthink and make other's action personal when he's feeling insecure in a relationship. He's telling Tommy this probably to signal that he understands he messed up and he understands what he did wrong. He never expected Tommy to validate his feelings.

But Tommy does empathize with his predicament.

Buck doesn't understand what Tommy, the cool, confident (and hot) pilot would be jealous over. And he almost can't believe Tommy gets what he's been feeling.

Tommy tells Buck that he's envious of the ride-or-die familial bonds within the 118 nowadays, as if he didn't also put his career and life in danger just to save Athena and Bobby (probably Hen's career as well), after one phone call from Chimney.

Now it's Buck's turn to reassure Tommy.

Another hot take I've seen from the other side goes like "if Tommy was nicer to Hen and Chimney back in the days, he wouldn't have to be jealous over what the 118 has now". You know what? Judging by Tommy's face here, he probably would agree. This is not the face of a man who is proud of what he did. This is the face of a man who is burdened by guilt and regret, this is a man haunted by his past, this is a man who doesn't think he deserves the praise.

Buck even cites fake mouth static as an example of Tommy's effort in aiding the 118's clandestine rescue mission, and they naturally fall into a flirty dynamic. I have no explanation for that, except, your honor, this is exhibit A against the "no chemistry" allegation.

Buck then spells it all out for Tommy that he also put everything on the line just for the 118, without hesitation. Tommy looks like he still has a hard time accepting it as an act worthy of redemption for his past behavior.

We've all made mistakes, and we all know we can't go back to the past and change what we did, so the best way forward is to change ourselves and be better. Judging by Tommy's "and [Gerrard] didn't make me a better person" line in 7x10, he quite possibly reflected on this a lot. Yet, sometimes you still can't help but doubt yourself over if you've learned enough from your past, if you're a good enough person now. I can't imagine how good it feels hearing Buck say out loud that he actually likes the person Tommy is now.

Apparently Buck likes Tommy so much that he came up with excuses just to hang out with him and get to know him.

Tommy is pleasantly surprised, because he did tell Buck to call him when he wants to go up. In fact, Buck can call him for whatever reason, Tommy accepted the Harbor tour request, there's nothing indicating that he would feel weird just hanging out with Buck. Tommy just doesn't know how much of a overthinker and bi disaster Buck truly is yet, but that's the story for another time.

Buck and Tommy really don't know much, if anything, about each other at this stage, as you can see in 7x05, but they're already validating each other's feelings. We've seen Buck get his feelings ignored, hurt, dismissed and kind of fetishized for 6 seasons, now this is something he's been looking for the whole time, for someone to understand what he's going through. At the same time, this interaction must also be quite freeing for Tommy, who's been haunted by demons from his own past.

[smallestapplin]

Do you think Overlord from transformers would be type of guy "I love kinda of woman who can beat the sh t out of me"

Ok ok soo i imagine cybertronian reader who was able to beat the sh t out of Overlord who's now in love with cybertronian reader.

What would her team aka the lost light would react to this 😂😂

This had me cackling. Also I apologize I know you said fem but I don't know how to make the gender important to the story (I'm gender blind I'm so sorry.)

-

-

- you beating Overlord's aft was a miracle and a half. You utilized his pride and slowness against him, though struggling more than you'd like to admit, you managed to out pace him and put the large bot in his place.

- "I don't know what I did! I beat his aft and now he won't leave me alone! I even tell him off and that just seems to get him more interested!" Is what you cry to Rodimus about.

- "I'm gonna be real with you, I don't know how to help you with that. I mean, at least he's not going off the rails and starting fights?" It's all he's got. You know he's right, but it doesn't help you one bit, so yog end up groaning and slumping over in your seat. Roddy tries to pat your back and show you some cool earth thing he has, before Overlord finds you, and coos about how worried he was when you weren't in your habsuite, and glares at Rodimus.

- Overlord still tries to fight everyone, and by Primus Megatron gets it the worst, but he's happy all that's needed is for you to angrily yell Overlord's name and call him back like a dog. Megatron always breathes a sigh of relief when your enraged voice echoes through the room, calling for Overlord to "bring you aft over here right now, I swear to primus if I have to put down my report!-" and watch as the equally large bot instantly drops his fighting stance, rushing over to you, looking far too happy and pleased to be called by you (even if you aren't'.)

- You're tired, you just want to do you job and go about your day, not wake up from a statis to the large blue mech over you, holding a thing of energon for you and asking to spar.

- Ratchet and First Aid hear and see it the most, and believe Ratchet gives you high an audio processor full. You send Overlord to the med bay frequently, and he can't even scold the bot into being more careful cause he's not even listening! He has to deal with Overlord staring at you and not even hearing him.

- First Aid tries to help in that regard, explaining to you that this is getting out of servo, but Overlord nearly throws a medical berth at him for it, only stopping when you glare at him.

- "I fight him, he likes it, I ignore him, he likes that too! Nothing I do sends the massage home for him."

- Ultra Magnus wants to help, trust him he does! This is classified as harassment and he swore to always help his crew members....but....you are literally the only thing keeping Overlord docile, and First Aid and Rodimus have already reported that Overlord does try to swing at them for interfering.

It's safer for everyone to not, after all you seem to handle yourself just fine! You're a strong bot that can handle one of the strongest gladiators in history! He lets you vent as much as you need, but eventually has to tell you he can help once Overlord oversteps.

- Lucky you, you don't have to worry about that. Overlord is obsessed with beating you in battle, but also he loves fighting you, you carry yourself with such strength and confidence once against him, he's smitten. With your speed, to him, it makes your battles feel like a dance! Your movements and skill have him smitten, as does your attitude, your fire and sass have him weak in the knees.

- Prowl is somehow your only ride or die here, he's more worried about what Overlord could do but doesn't think before shouting at him to give you space or to frag off, the temperamental officer goes into protective mode when it comes to you.

- Overlord does not like Prowl because of this, but you cling to your friend in thanks.

- "It's every damn cycle, don't you have a hobby!? Frag I don'tknow, watch a movie, pick up blacksmithing, SOMETHING!" Prowl barely has time to dodge a swift punch, but he manages, and next thing you know there does the fourth table of the week, followed by more shouting, and you having to yell for Overlord to knock it off.

- Rung is definitely getting good use as a therapist, he's trying his best to give you coping skills to help ease your frustrations with your situation, and while they work, you just come back to tell him you came back to your habsuite to Overlord on your berth, and pulling you into his lap.

- "It's rude he didn't ask before doing so."

- "AND THEN HE ASKED TO SPARK BOND, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?"

- "Oh my, he asked to spark bond-"

- Even just trying to have a professional conversation with you turns into a chore, not because of you, but because of the angry look guard dog standing behind you, glaring down at anyone speaking to you.

[wasteddmoondust]

teacher || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 863 words, preschool teacher au, james is a single dad (not for long...?), kindergarten teacher!reader, gender neutral reader, harry is her student so you know how it goes a/n: sorry this took months i have been in the slumpiest slump ever. hope you enjoy :,) I'm not too sure about how preschools fair in other countries but this is mostly based on my own experiences!

"Mr Potter! Lovely to see you today."

James walks into your classroom, and it's humourous to see you seated in a chair and table meant for six-year-olds.

He smiles at you and waves. Unfortunately, you're swooning on the inside.

Yes, it's unprofessional to have a crush on a parent, let alone the parent of one of your beloved students. Very unprofessional, actually. But you can't help but be enamoured by his looks. He looks exactly like his son, Harry. Messy hair and gold-rimmed glasses.

Or maybe he's just one of the only few parents who are the same age as you. And it doesn't help when you know he's a single father and always strikes a conversation with you whenever he has the chance to. In your head, maybe it wouldn't hurt to make a move.

"Of course, I'm happy to be here today, though it's the last time," he says as he sits down in an identical tiny chair.

You know you have to push these thoughts aside, because this was the last parent-teacher meeting for your kindergarteners who will be graduating in a few weeks. No matter your feelings, your job was to tell parents how their child has faired so far in their education.

You take a deep breath and fix your hair. "Okay, let's get started."

You adore Harry, a joy to have in your class. He is very friendly and communicates very well with his peers and teachers. He actively participates in class. He is developing well in the different aspects. You explain everything in layman's terms so he can understand, and he nods along, listening.

"Needless to say, Harry's definitely ready for primary school. If you'd like, it would be great if you continued his learning at home as well, before he officially starts school." you finish, nodding at James. You unconsciously bite the inside of your cheek, knowing that it won't be long until you'll never see this man again.

"That's great," he says, looking up from Harry's portfolio from over the year. "Harry really appreciates you as a teacher, you know? He always loves coming to school."

You smile at that, it warms your heart. "I'm glad to hear that. I'll definitely miss him when he graduates."

There's an awkward silence between the both of you, not particularly knowing what to say. You both nod and look down. You know it's the end.

"Well..." you start. "If you don't have any more questions, that will be it. Thank you so much for joining us on this journey, Mr Potter."

"I do have- um- a question?" he says abruptly. He suddenly seems more fidgety and nervous, gripping the binder of Harry's portfolio.

"Um..." he scratches his head. You look at him expectantly. "I appreciate you as Harry's teacher, of course. He always says that you're very nice and pretty... I also think you're very nice and pretty..."

You nod along, trying to keep your cool by controlling your facial expressions.

He continues, his shoulders slowly rising in a shrug. "So if you'd let me, we can meet outside of school for once," he spits it out quickly like he's ripping a band-aid off.

Blinking slowly, you process what just happened. "Did you just ask me out?" you ask, eyes wide.

His eyes dart to the side and then back at you. "Yes," he says.

"Mr Potter-" you start.

"Please, you can call me James-"

"Your son is my student."

"He won't be by next week."

"It will be very unprofessional of me-"

"I don't hear a no, though..."

And you're both in silence again. You sigh and bring a hand to your face, resting your chin on your palm as you look away from him. You try to think of your next move.

Aside from all of the consequences that may occur, this is a golden opportunity. Your teacher life always gets so hectic and you barely have time to go out and meet people. If you miss this chance you may never get to have one like it again.

You bite your lip and accept whatever fate may come.

You speak in a hushed voice, willing that no one hears this conversation. "Fine, yes. I'll give you a chance. But if anything goes wrong, my priority is my job and yours is Harry. Got it?"

James let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He looks up at you with sparkling eyes. "Yes, okay. I will-"

He's cut off by a knock at your door. Your colleague opens it and her head pokes into your classroom. "Hi, sorry to interrupt, but the next parent is waiting outside," she says. You nod at her and she leaves. You stand up, and James does too.

"Well, this is... unofficially goodbye, Mr Potter. It really has been a pleasure teaching Harry," you say, stretching your hand out for a shake. He takes it, and his hand is warm.

You mutter quickly to him, "My contact is in the binder."

He grins at you, childlike, and you watch him leave your classroom with a wave. You wave back, smiling.

You sincerely hope you won't regret this decision.

a/n: RRRAAHHH i really hope to make this a mini series of some kind because i have the softest spot for kids and i start being a real teacher in a month! asks are open if you have any thoughts <3 thanks for reading!

[fanaticsnail]

Drinking Drabbles

Masterlist Here

Themes: Two of scenarios with a few one piece characters x reader, gn reader, suggestive in some, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, romance, friendship. Drink responsibly!

Characters: Rosinante/Corazon, Mihawk, Buggy, Sir Crocodile, Koby, Smoothie, Fukaboshi, Vivi

Notes: Trying to get my sparkle back. Expressing gratitude to Discordant's OP OC discord server for hanging out and suggesting characters for me to try for. Love the characters, and I adore writing for new ones to me.

Drinking with Rosinante / Corazon

Looks like: sharing a glass of wine over dinner, hearing the uproar of laughter at the head of the table - his brother cackling at a joke he told. Sharing subtle glances, pouring a new glass for one another while stealing a moment where your fingers brush together while reaching for the same bottle.

Also looks like: Sharing rum in the cold, willing your bodies to keep warm while caring for the sick child in the snow. The burn ignites in your throat, but the heat is makes the night pass in a more comfortable fluidity. The only blanket available to you is tucking the child in, but you both make do by sitting beneath the dark cloak. Shrouded in feathers, sharing those touches you longed for back at the dining table, the rum feels more like home now than that wine ever did.

Drinking with Mihawk

Looks like: a bottle of his private reserve label, uncorked by a methodological approach of a saber to the glass lip. Expertly decanted, rested for the appropriate amount of time, and shown how to enjoy the glass properly. He does not invite your glasses to touch, for fear it would disturb the wine with such a crude approach, but he does indicate for you to drink it with him in unison.

Also looks like: drinking straight from the bottle neck, poured by his hands and coaxed back into your lips by cradling your head and ensuring you don't spill a drop, before doing the same for himself. Anything to get through the voice of the clown at the table. He will have you closer to him for moral support, and will enjoy ensuring you are both equally topped up while glaring at Buggy for the duration of your stay with Cross-Guild.

Drinking with Buggy

Looks like: Something fruity, decorated with an outrageous amount of umbrellas and shaved ice dancing at the brim. It's too sweet, too bubbly, and too much all at once. Paired with a nasally cackle, lively music, linking his arms with yours and dancing a jig on the table, drink sloshing from the side, everything is perfect for the clown: the star of the show.

Also looks like: Aiding him to drink straight spirits as he sits on the bathroom floor, icing the bruises he's received at the hands of Crocodile and Mihawk while he openly sobs and apologizes for looking pathetic. A quiver to his lips, the swell in his bruised eye, he expresses his gratitude by silently whispering it as intimately as he can to you.

Drinking with Crocodile

Looks like: a circular short glass with a small cubic stone cooled by frost, drinking the most expensive and lush whiskey to ever be produced. Not dampening the flavor with water falling from ice, simply cooling it to enjoy over the palate. Everything is lush, filled with luxury, and likely paired with a cigar as he gazes at you with a predatory look in his beady expression.

Also looks like: Sneaking it in your clothes and fishing it out once below the cells in Impel Down, feeding him through prison bars and apologizing that it's not his favorite. He's looking up like it is his lifeline and an angel is offering him their tether to the great beyond. Those eyes that once looked like a predator on the prowl now humble themselves before you as he sits on his calves and drinks messily from the glass lip of the rum bottle.

Drinking with Koby

Looks like: Sitting at the table surrounded by Alvida Pirates, letting the pink-haired ‘chore boy’ fill your tankard from the barrel and giving him praise for it. Alvida chastises you for expressing gratitude to the smaller pirate, but you hush her with a crass joke and continue to dote on him while you drink. You offer him a sip from your glass that he throws back with practiced precision, causing you to laugh with him and invite him to sit with you for the remainder of the evening.

Also looks like: Bound in chains, on your knees and contained within the brig, a pink haired captain, once pirate from long ago, offers you a kindness of a drink while transferring you to Impel Down. He was not as quiet as he once was, but his kindness was still present as you knew it to be. You humored him by drinking all he offered you with your hands tied behind your back, as submissive as he was all those years ago. Your gratitude is on your lips, smiling as a drop is collected and wiped by the pad of Koby's thumb. He utters apologies, and you reassure him that you won't take it personally.

Drinking with Smoothie

Looks like: Sitting at the table, surrounded by her siblings, enjoying something a little on the sweeter side. Something mixed in with juices, a precious concoction that paired beautifully with the sweets offered at the table. Brushing glasses with one another, your eyes meet hers and she gifts you a rare, soft smile reserved for when he desires to showcase her sweetness.

Also looks like: Draining the life out of her enemies, blood gushing over her full lips and spilling down her chin, she bows her head to you and gives you a mischievous grin. Pulling up a cloth, you press the material to her lips and remove all blemishes of fluids from the human she drank from. You would rather watch than participate in this brew, but she enjoys watching you squirm as she presses her lips delicately to yours soon thereafter.

Drinking with Fukaboshi

Looks like: A room filled with tension, barely a look shared between you while negotiations between humans, mink, and fishfolk sit and discuss how to progress in a proper manner. Once decided, all raise their sake bowls and salute them with one another. Finally making eye contact with the mer Fishman, you both share a glance before pressing the sake to your lips and draining it of their contents to solidify your fresh alliance.

Also looks like: Tucked beneath the figurehead of the vessel you served aboard, sharing a moment with one another in the silence. All softness, all secretive, all in a world carved just for you, you both enjoy a swap of culture. He, a bottle from his homeland, you, a bottle from your own. Discussing the differences in textures and flavors, you both feel a pull in your chests as the sun slowly slips over the horizon.

Drinking with Vivi

Looks like: Sitting around a table, shrouded in darkness and surrounded by the vapors of sour cigar smoke, and raising your glass to your glorious leader a the head of the table. Bananawani in the corner, several of the members strike up conversation, and you and Miss Wednesday are no different. There was something in her tone and demeanor that seemed out of place, but you paid it no mind because you had secrets of your own. Drinking and cringing a little at the burn, you both drank and discussed the various interweavings of Baroque Works and where your missions would take you next.

Also looks like: An uprageous celebration for the return of Arabasta’s princess, drinks of all bubbles and honeys swirling in a variety of glassware. Watching as she flawlessly navigates the room full of her supporters, she gives you a look like the one not so dissimilar from your years serving together in Baroque Works. Catching you in the corner, she brushes her glass against yours with a hidden smile peaking at the corner of her lip: a silent promise that she will keep you by her side all the remaining of her days as ruler.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.

Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

[ppnuggiex]

Hello can I request a unserious s/o who is rarely mad(gn reader if possible) with the octavinelle trio and riddle, and one day they js see their s/o pissed af and being a badass

So sorry if this made no sense😭if it doesn't make any sense js reply to this I'll try my best to put it into understandable words(??) Pls ignore if u can't do this request or anything! :)

　　　　　　TWST x gn reader

　　　　『　riddle ,, azul ,, jade ,, floyd ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　->

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, tw for side characters being jerks

　　— sorry for how late this is 😭🙏 but ive finally gotten to it !! hope you enjoy :))

| • hes more used to seeing you playing around with ace and deuce ,, used to you making a joke about anything at any moment possible

| • seeing you get serious and mad with a student ,, more specifically one from his dorm ,, is enough to let him know something was wrong

| • he's quick to figure out the situation ,, the student being apart of a project for one of crewel's assignments and shirking their responsibilities onto you ,, it was understandable to be upset about

| • riddle will reprimand the student ,, disappointed they would do this to you ,, let do it in the first place . he prides himself on keeping his students well educated and up-to date with their assignments . if they need help ,, then they would get it if they'd ask

| • hes not too sure how exactly to deal with you being angry ,, as hes more used to your more softer and joking side

| • least to say ,, riddle will be on your side depending on the situation when you get angry

| • he's the same with riddle ,, also not used to seeing you mad ,, even during his overblot you didnt express any anger as you did now

| • a pomefiore second year ,, one that was in his history class ,, was pestering you about notes regarding the assignment azul and the rest of his class had gotten

| • the student was probably aware of what azul used to do ,, or maybe theyre aware of his new plan of purchasing so much from monstro lounge and getting hole punches to meet with him

| • either way ,, they werent letting up about notes for the assignment ,, nor leave you alone about it

| • and thus it led to your yelling ,, catching him by surprise to even hear you yell

| • even when floyd pestered you ,, and when jade would jokingly (possibly) say he put poison in the food you offered to taste test ,, you never truly got as angry as you were with this persistent student

| • benevolent as azul was ,, he was quick to come to your aid and help with the problem . escorting the pomefiore student away ,, letting you cool off for a moment ,, and deal with this troublesome being .

| • needless to say ,, he definitely didnt want to be on the receiving end for your anger

| • jade had tried in the past to see what makes you tick ,, what could possibly get on your nerves but to his disappointment he wasnt able to figure it out

| • he would joke that he slipped a intoxicating mushroom in your soup ,, or say he couldnt remember where he placed your gift during a holiday

| • yet nothing he did would ever give him the reaction he's witnessing in front of him now

| • it was meant to be a relaxing trip to beach ,, but instead he was on the sidelines watching a showdown

| • it happened when you offered to get something from the snack bar provided ,, you got a little peckish swimming out there and jade wasn't hungry at all ,, used to having to swim

| • one of the customers behind you had cut ,, and at first you werent going to make such a deal out of it ,, until he had purposely got out of line and then got back in ,, except right in front of you

| • with that ,, you had pointed it out that he had cut the slowly growing line not once but twice ,, to his reply was something regarding your attitude and to "what who you're talking to like that"

| • and then it spiralled down hill from there . jade heard the commotion from your guys' spot on the beach ,, not too far from the ocean but far enough to not get splashed by the waves

| • jade was surprised to witness your anger ,, and watched for a moment before stepping in to help

| • thankfully others were eye witnesses to the situation ,, and the others were there to back you up and testify for you

| • not that jade wouldnt believe you ,, but it also helped difuse the situation and the guy soon left ,, and jade had finally witnessed what your anger would be like

| • if he had to compare your anger to someone ,, it would be that of jade's . its not often you get angry ,, and jade does but he never truly shows it flat out ,, rather hidden under his mask of deception

| • though its high time you stood up for yourself ! floyd knows how much people can push you over and you'd just laugh it off and reference something from your world

| • though after a customer had gotten too close to you and tried to put the blame on you ,, it was evident you were angry . floyd wasnt present at the scene ,, but another staff member had witnessed what happened and informed floyd ,, hoping he could get rid of the guy at least instead of adding fuel to the flames .

| • and that's what he did ,, not without leaving a small threat to the guy that if he were to cause such a ruckus again he would be given more than just a warning

| • floyd ,, having witness your anger ,, knows that he would rather you joke around and be playful than witness that again ,, having to calm you down was not something he'd want to experience again

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[aayakashii]

could you feed us lyca simps?

I hope you don't mind the little slice of life fluff I ended up writing for this request, I just think he's too cute for his own good (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑) and thanks for the request!!

neapolitan

Warnings: none. Just tooth rotting fluff and slice of life. Lyca knowing nothing about the world, while MC holds his hand to introduce him to the fun things of life.

“You know you don't have to follow me right now, right? I'm just going to the store to restock my first aid kit…” you say, sighing in defeat, as you side-eye the tall boy prancing right beside you, almost attached to your hip.

Lyca puffs his chest, a small pout appearing under his sharp fangs.

“No, I have to! I don't trust that shop man. He is weird… He looks at you weird!”

Well… You couldn't quite deny that fact.

“But don't you have homework from Professor Moby?”

“Who is that again? You know I don't remember their names” Lyca asks, scrunching his brows and scratching his head, as if he was searching his brain for the right face to attach to the name.

“Professor squirmy” you suppress a smile as you use Lyca's nickname for the eldritch teacher.

“Oh! I have already done all my homework from his class, though?”

“Really?” you look at him with widened eyes “That's very responsible of you, Lyca. That's great!” you smile, giving him two thumbs up.

You do wonder how he managed to finish it all so quickly, since he had difficulty reading harder kanjis, but you just chalk it up to Subaru helping him out without your knowledge.

He huffs, cheeks just a little bit rosy.

“Of course! That's nothing for someone like me. I'm gonna be an exemp… exemp… eggs-emm-puh-larry… member of human society!” Lyca says, slapping his own chest with a loud thud.

“An exemplary member of human society, right?” you repeat his words, more fluently than him, so he can hear how it's usually pronounced.

“That's what I said.” he mumbles and pushes the door to Darkwick's local store open, pointing to the inside of the dimly lit shop “You first.”

You widen your eyes once again, and chuckle.

“Wait, when did you learn to be so gentlemanly?” you say, as you walk through the door with him right after you.

“The blonde gigolo has been teaching me some things. He says being a gen-tle-man would make people respect me more.”

You nod at his words right as the door closes loudly behind him, the chime bell slamming against the door frame.

Okay, well. Maybe he still needs a bit of practice.

You wince at the loud sound, but after just a few seconds, you immediately relax, feeling the cool air inside the store hit your body. The fragrant scent of pastries being displayed inside a small shelf and the gentleness of the low lights also lull you into a sense of tranquility.

It seems like the effect is the same on Lyca, because you see the way his shoulders slump a little bit and how his grumpy face gives way to an eased expression.

You decide to browse through the shelves for a bit, absentmindedly, before getting your supplies. Lyca stood close, his nose sniffing every little thing you pointed out.

After a lot of explaining about products (No, Lyca, you cannot eat tide pods, those are for washing clothes. Yes, Lyca, you can actually eat hard candy, they aren't made for biting though. No, Lyca, just because tide pods and hard candy look similar, doesn't mean they're the same thing), you grab all your needed supplies and make your way to the cashier.

Thinking hard about how to keep Lyca from growling at the shopkeeper, you barely notice how the werewolf walks towards a small freezer a few steps to the side of the cash register. You finish paying when you hear his voice calling at you.

“Hey! Hey! What's this?” he points to the inside of the freezer and you walk to his side, his hands instinctively grabbing your bags so he could carry them for you.

“Those are ice cream pots.” you look at the multi colored labels that advertised a small range of different flavors. “Have you ever eaten ice cream, Lyca?”

“What's that?” he looks inquisitively at the small containers.

“It's a type of frozen sweet. It has lots of flavors and it's usually eaten when it's hot outside.”

He hums, still staring at the pots.

“Do you like sweets, Lyca?”

“Hmm, not really…”

“Oh, I see...”

“But! It's, um. It's hot outside, right?” he replies quickly, looking at you expectantly.

You smile to yourself, thinking about how his tail would probably be wagging if it was out right now.

“That's true, it's very hot outside. I think ice cream sounds great right now, what do you think?”

“I- I agree! Of course.” he huffs, as if he wasn't almost hopping with joy at the idea.

You chuckle and open the freezer, grabbing a small pot for the both of you. After paying for the frozen treat and grabbing two spoons, you two go out into the merciless heat of Darkwick's campus.

“Okay, so.” you sit under a huge tree overlooking a lake, hiding from the sun rays under the cool shade, and grab the ice cream pot.

Lyca sits right next to you, back straight as a plank, paying full attention to you and the mysterious treat you bought.

“I bought this one because it has three of the most classic flavors, and since you never ate ice cream, I figured you should taste the most common ones first. It's called neapolitan.” you explain, opening the lid and giving him a spoon “It's vanilla, strawberry and chocolate”

His eyes sparkle, looking at the frozen sweet. Your eyes widen as you see his wolf ears and tail pop out instinctively, but you choose not to mention it.

“Oohh! It looks good! Which one should I try first?” he asks, tail sweeping the grass under him.

“You can try whichever you want. Go crazy!”

You immediately regret your words as he shoves his spoon deep into the ice cream, grabbing more than one flavor, and eating a huge spoonful in one go.

“Ugh!! My head!!” he yells after a little while, clawing at his own forehead.

“Lyca! You can't eat cold things so quickly, you'll get brain freeze” you scold him, rolling your eyes.

“Well, tell me that sooner!” he groans, still holding his head, eyes shut tight.

“You're supposed to know that instinctively!”

He grunts, shaking his head as the sharp pain disappears slowly.

“Grab just one flavor at a time for now, so you can see which one you like more. Then you can mix everything. Like this” you say as you scoop a bit of strawberry ice cream into your spoon and eat it.

He mimics your action, scooping a bit of vanilla ice cream first.

Lyca's face falls as he smacks his lips repeatedly, tasting the ice cream.

“It's not that big of a deal.” he says, visibly disappointed.

“That's okay, now try the pink one.”

He does as you say and immediately scrunches his face.

“Uwah! That's awful! I don't want to eat it!”

You sigh, thinking about how Lyca seems more like a werecat than a werewolf at times.

“That's fine, it's just your personal taste. Now try the brown one. It's chocolate.”

Lyca hesitates, not really trusting your words after the previous experiences, but scoops a bit of chocolate ice cream either way. As soon as he eats the treat, his ears and tail perk up.

“Ohhh!!! This one is good!!” He yells, tail wagging a thousand miles per hour and eyes sparkling as he scoops a huge amount of chocolate ice cream again.

“Careful, or you're gonna get brain freeze again!” You scold him, but immediately give up, sighing and smiling at the sight of him happily smearing chocolate onto his face, like a big baby.

“I like the brown one mixed with the white-ish yellow-ish one! The pink one is gross though!” He says grabbing the ice cream with his hands, spoon immediately forgotten.

“Ah, Lyca! You're not supposed to eat it with your hands! You'll get all dirty…” you fret, afraid he'll get his uniform stained once again.

“But it's better this way, because I can feel how cold it is with my hands. You humans are so weird with all your rules…” he grumbles.

You sigh, as he pouts and licks his hands clean, grumpiness fully back.

“You have to learn these rules to become human though? But…” you trail off and he looks at you as you rummage through your pockets, fishing out a handkerchief.

You hold his cheek, wiping his face clean, ignoring the little blush that tinted his face as you got closer.

“But as long as it's just us, you can eat however you want. Just don't do it in public. And don't tell Rui I said this! He thinks I spoil you way too much. Deal?”

Lyca looks away, clearing his throat that suddenly got parched, despite all the ice cream he had just eaten.

“Hmpft. D-deal.”

[brucewaynehater101]

Thoughts on the idea of Tim being Gotham’s child in a “the city has a conscious and pushed Jack and Janet together” kind of way? As in Jack and Janet separately made deals with Gotham in order to be able to fund their company/travels and Gotham was like “I’ll help the two of you conceive and you will leave give me a child, to be left within my boundaries, so that I can raise him”

Tim growing up as a cryptid/eldritch child because Gotham wanted a champion that could communicate with her people, and would do her bidding. His bat stalking and becoming Robin being Gotham pushing him to get to a place where he’s ready to hear her and help her. Her going to his aid in a way the bats can’t ignore, them questioning Tim and Tim just being like “that’s normal??” And “she’s always looked after me, how do you think I managed to follow you when I was little without dying???”

Hmm... So, it's kind of like a combination of "give me your first born child" and that one pregnancy thing where someone else carries the child to term for you? Except, do the Drakes still have some parental rights, or do they actually never return to Gotham?

Regardless, how communicative is Gotham? I've seen some stuff where she'll do subtle things (such as pull the shadows tighter around her chosen ones, ruffle their hair with the wind, make clues easier to find, and slowing down criminals). I've also seen her have an actual personification to chat and hug.

It'd be lonely, but it would be kind of cool if Gotham didn't have an actual personification in this. Tim would see the signs and thank Gotham after he figures it out.

The other Bats would range on how much they believe that Gotham is a real spirit and whether she specifically is there for Tim (particularly if Tim never mentions the cost of her aid [i.e. Tim being her champion]).

As an extra cruel dagger, maybe Tim turns more to Gotham when everyone around him dies. Maybe this is an added layer to the belief of "Tim's losing it."

When Tim leaves Gotham, how does that affect his abilities, his relationship with Gotham, and everything? Does she feel him dying in that desert?

[queer-little-demigod]

Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader

Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites 😭) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???

Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!

Thank you! :)

you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue

summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings none

The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.

So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.

And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.

"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.

For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.

"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.

"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"

This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.

If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.

The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.

Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.

One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.

You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, “Clar, you cannot pick favourites!”

Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.

"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.

"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.

But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.

Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.

But for you it just made your love for her grow.

One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.

"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.

"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.

You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.

If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.

"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."

You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.

Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.

However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.

But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.

Nor did you.

"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.

"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."

"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"

"What do we tell the little ones?"

"The truth?"

"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"

"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."

"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."

The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.

"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"

She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.

"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"

The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.

"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"

Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.

"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."

While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.

You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.

She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.

Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.

You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sun’s rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.

But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.

Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.

The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.

At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.

Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.

Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.

When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...

"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.

She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.

Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.

Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"

Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?

She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.

"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.

Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.

Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.

Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.

"It's a date, L/n."

hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

consider: scout tf2 but with a cane instead of a bat. good at running but can't stand still for very long because legs ouchie

giving this to you because you are the only tf2 artist who is cool about disability and it makes me so extremely happy and i am so glad you exist

bestie, you are on some BIG BRAIN shit rn, holy crap. I especially approve of this idea because I also don't feel my knee pain until I'm standing still (for some reason??) And the bat/cane combo is peak brain fr, multi-use mobility aids my beloved <3

ANYWAYS, have this neat little tf2 cane user doodles I whipped up <3

You guys can send me more mobility aid hedcanons for the mercs if u want!! I'd love to hear more, or even just design ideas for weaponized mobility aids >:) or how the mercs would personalize their stuff. ALTHO take everything I say with a grain of salt because other than some chronic joint pain I don't actually use any mobility aids :')