#sorry this is the only place i can be critical in any shape or form w/o being jumped

[briankang]

i'm saying this as someone who's favorite bts member is jin (and taehyung) but the way army will go online and say the most delusional thing possible is honest to god admirable at this point i wish i lived like this they seem so happy

[newtthetranswriter]

Silence Can Be Good - Takashi Mitsuya

Word Count: 1375

Paring: Takashi Mitsuya x Gn! Reader

Summary: Having a speech impediment as an adult is difficult and sometimes you just need to go quiet.

Warnings: Reader has a speech impediment, mentions of criticizing someone for a disability

A/n: Hello, I want to start off by saying sorry for my absence. My ADHD is once again kicking my ass. Secondly, I want to make it clear I, THE AUTHOR, of this imagine have a speech impediment and so this is written from experience. Any double s’s that should be only one s or when you see ‘...’ it is supposed to represent pausing to find the right word. Even if I myself have a speech impediment, it was difficult for me to find a way to turn it into something you can read, so please be kind. Also I am aware that toge form jjk technically won the poll for this fic, but I’m sorry i couldn’t figure out how to make this story work with him. Anyways, please enjoy, remember my requests are open and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

   It was normal for Takashi to come home from a long day at his studio and be greeted with music and the sounds of his partner playing video games in the living room. So when he opened the door to their shared apartment and was greeted by a deafening silence. “Y/n, I’m home.” He called out as he made his way through the apartment, taking note of Y/n’s keys and shoes thrown haphazardly by the door like always. When there was no response he suspected that Y/n had decided to take a nap after their long day at work and so he quietly made his way to their shared bedroom.

  Opening the door, Takashi took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the space. When he was able to make out shapes in the dark room he could see the outline of his partner curled up on the bed, and had it not been for the slight shudder in their shoulders he would have assumed they were in fact asleep; but Takashi knew better and so he quietly approached the bed sitting down behind them and turning on the bedside lamp. He gently nudged their shoulder to let them know he was there and when they rolled over and just buried their face in his side he made no move to stop them.

  The two of them sat like that for a few minutes before Takashi broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently while running his fingers through their hair. Y/n just shook their head clinging to Takashi just a little tighter. It took him a moment but he slowly started to piece it together. In all their years together Y/n had only gone silent a handful of times. The main cause was normally when one of them had to go to the doctor, as Y/n has a fear of hospitals and being in them typically caused panic attacks. Seeing as the two of them were in the safety of their home, there was only one thing Takashi could think of that would cause Y/n to go nonverbal. Someone made fun of the way they talk.

  Letting out a quiet sigh, Takashi began forming a plan to get Y/n to open up again. “Do you want to pick out a movie while I order dinner?” He asked looking down at where they had their face pressed to his chest. After a moment Y/n slowly pulled back, nodding as they grabbed the remote from Takashi’s outstretched hand. Takashi placed a gentle kiss on their check before grabbing his phone and ordering pizza from the little shop down the street that they always got.

  When the pizza got there, the two continued to sit in relative silence while eating and watching the movie Y/n had picked for the night. Occasionally Takashi would ask if Y/n needed anything, sticking to questions that could be answered with only a nod of the head. He’d been through this before and while the first time it scared him, he was now accustomed to allowing Y/n to speak when they felt ready.

  After the credits rolled and the leftover pizza was put away, Takashi retook his spot next to Y/n, ready to go to sleep and see if Y/n felt better in the morning. But before he could pull them close and fall asleep, he was stopped by Y/n’s quiet voice. “Do I talk like an … idiot?” They asked shyly, not looking at the lavender eyed male.

  Taken aback by the sudden question, Takashi froze for a second. He knew their silence was because of something someone said to them about their speech, but it still shook him everytime he heard about it. “Not at all. You talk like everyone else, and if anyone says otherwise I’ll gladly have a chat of my own with them.” He said sitting up and pulling Y/n to lean into his side. “What brings this on?” He hoped to understand, not to confront the person who hurt his love, but so Y/n could just get the problem of their chest.

  Sighing, Y/n took a moment to collect their thoughts, clearly trying to plan out each word before speaking. “While I was at work… s-a lady got up… got mad at me for ssomething that I didn’t do, a-and when becausse I had dealt with a bunch of angry cusstomers, I got overwhelmed and…” They paused as they realized they’d started slipping again. “You probably already can figure out what happened next.” Y/n finished, trying to end the story quickly before they started slipping and stuttering again.

  Takashi nodded along, he knew that their speech impediment is a source of a lot of insecurity and anxiety for them so he wouldn’t push them to talk about it. “It’s okay you don’t have to talk if it’s too much for you right now.” He reassured, rubbing their back as they leaned further into him. “Just know that you just had an off day and that changes nothing about how strong you are. I can’t sit here and say I know what it’s like because I don’t, but I can tell you that you are incredibly brave. I don’t think I could handle having every word I say criticized for something I have no control over.” He spoke only the truth. He had heard first hand what people have called Y/n after even only a single mistake in a long winded sentence and he couldn;t imagine dealing with that nearly everyday.

   Y/n nodded, before pulling away again, facing Takashi. “I just wish I could talk like everyone else.” They said, clearly concentrating on getting the words to work right. “I wish I didn’t have to think … so hard to not … sound like a two year old just learning to form a … sentence.” Their frustration was clear as they paused every few words to make sure the right sound came out. 

  They were so focused on getting their words out that they failed to notice the tears that had started to slowly roll down their face, only noticing when Takashi reached up and wiped one away. “I know it’s frustrating, but all you can do is let the bad days pass and keep moving forward.” He began, hoping they understood. “I know it upsets you when you have slip ups and I know it’s even more upsetting when people point it out and use it against you but you have to just let it pass. And if you can’t let it pass, let me know and I will gladly be your voice while you gather the energy to speak again.” He finished with a gentle smile. Y/n managed a matching smile and a small nod. This wasn’t the first time they had a conversation like this, and they both knew it wouldn’t be the last, but they relaxed at knowing that for now everything would be ok.

  “Now, let's go to sleep and in the morning you’ll text your boss that you won’t be going in and you can have a ‘talking optional’ day. If you don’t want to talk you don’t have to, you can text or write down whatever you need from me and if you want to talk that’s up to you. How does that sound?” He asked slowly, positioning them both to begin laying down facing each other. Y/n thought on the offer, it was always nice after a rough speech day to take some time and reset their brain, so being offered an entire day where they could be nonverbal without problems was a dream. Deciding it was a great idea, they nodded quickly before cuddling closer to Takashi. 

  Feeling Y/n nod against his chest, he couldn’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He said rhetorically as he placed a kiss to the crown of their head, already planning a day that would require little to no talking on Y/n’s part to truly give them a break from talking.

(dividers by cafekitsune)

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

When Imogen wakes it is with an ache in her neck

a drop into reality unusually cushioned

a hand combing through her hair

and she can’t help the smile that breaks when she meets Laudna’s watchful eyes peering down at her, flushes shortly after.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep?”

Laudna smiles back at her, halts the hand playing with her hair.

“You did.”

An unspoken mutual agreement allows the moment to stretch in silence –

that or time is still fucky from Imogen only just waking up. It gives her enough of it to contemplate.

The sun must be high, the atmosphere muggy and the fauna all bustling as if it were a market day and the critters had stalls to set up and produce to bring home for their litters in the burrows. She feels the layer of sweat on her skin wherever the sun directly touches it, smells in waves where it heats the floor and diffuses the groundcover as if it were potpourri-

Above her, backlit - Laudna’s wearing a halo. The giant leaves of the giant trees are so high above them that the scale almost looks normal, the light breaking between the canopy in beams, sparkling in places where it catches insect wings and pollen, silhouetting edges of wiry strands of hair that act as though curtains on a canopy bed, all giving cover from the storm (should it come). It all feels so hazy, could be the vision starting to turn to grains of sand in her eyes like before a migraine but it’s also unusually clear, her head weightless despite the aching neck – funny what a handful of hours of good sleep can do.

The unspoken mutual agreement is ended.

“Did you rest well?” what did you dream about?

“I did, yeah...”

Unintentional, excusable really - waking with her defences down.

Wouldn’t be outta the ordinary to share.

“…dreamt we were back at Oddrún’s, was nice-” she withholds the details, just to save a little face. Exposes it anyhow, when she finds herself inadvertently taking the hand that had stilled in her hair, holding her palm up above her head with Laudna's lying flat on top of it “-then the roof caved in again and the place got swarmed with birds.”

“Birds?”

Imogen's thumb traces the knife-edge of the long nail on Laudna’s.

“Birds.” Imogen confirms, distracted, half-awake, giddy. The word already sounds funny; thrown back and forth between them. She chuckles at how her lips form around the repetition of it, says it again in Marquesian to see if it feels as abstract- that causes Laudna to quirk her brow from behind the fan of their fingers. “All different kinds, real cute and stuff, mostly. Place got furnished in feathers, was pretty chaotic - parakeets nestin’ in the cups and saucers and kingfishers in the rafters…” Laudna exhales a single syllable of a choral chuckle and Imogen has never felt so relaxed. “There was a kinda shady lookin’ big one standin’ on one leg in the corner by the hearth though, kept squawkin’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, think it was a shoebill. You ever seen one of those?”

“You know, I’m not sure. I wonder if there was any significance…”

Their fingers interlace, under Laudna's initiative. Imogen stares at the long nails now reaching to her wrist like plates of fine ebony gauntlets.

“I could try draw it for y’all, but I don’t think it’d help…” comes out audibly distracted, the points of Laudna's talons gently making contact with Imogen's scarred skin-

“Allow me to get my notebook~” Laudna enthusiastically sings – nearly cutting Imogen, their hands separating - and Imogen is left staring at the empty space that was occupied by the shape that the two of them made, wonders if there is a word for that, like ‘bird’ - each hand a wing of some amalgamation, dream chimera, released between palms.

Probably a word she doesn’t have the language for.

Laudna unthreaded their hands and after that, she doesn’t move.

Imogen remembers her position in her lap

sits up abruptly on her bedroll, turning back towards Laudna’s skirts with the same instinct as for making a bed

“No, really, I can’t draw. It’ll just be embarrassin’. It won’t help any.”

“It’s good to draw regardless-”

Imogen would call what falls on Laudna’s face a pout. Hates that she is, unsurprisingly, intrigued to see what lines the pages of Laudna’s notebook. Apparently hearing inside her head is not enough.

Greedy. (maybe she’s hungry?). Gods, Laudna’s been sat cross-legged with Imogen's thick heavy skull in her lap for hours. How does Imogen show her gratitude?

“-have you even eaten? I should make us breakfast.”

She clumsily scatters away before Laudna has the chance to really answer.

(thanks as always to @distant--shadow for the illustrations <3)

[a-fantastic-time]

Guide to a Fantastic Time!

Hello everyone! Thank you for coming, I hope we have a grand old time. First things first, this is a 18+ Rp area, so I hope you please respect that we should do just fine. Rps do not need to go down that route, I am 100% down for SFW rps, but I mainly prefer NSFW. Just pointing that out now. Also I will absolutely will not do anything with anyone under age, characters or people.

Muses! Unfortunately I do not have a set listing for muses. I actually love to play as many characters as I can from different fandoms, or OCs that I have sorta made up and never really put them to pen and paper. So feel free to ask me about them, and I will gladly talk your ear off. Note that I do play any gender, be it Male/Female/Herms.

Fandoms! I will do my best to get as many of my favorite Fandoms/interest listed down, I will be editing this when I can, so if you ever have an interest, or show, or game that you like and you do not see it on my list. Please feel free to ask me about it, and maybe I can add it to the list.

List of Interests-

She-Ra The Dragon Prince Glitch Tech Transformers (series, not movies) TMNT(series, not movies) Steven Universe Big Hero 6 RWBY Marvel(Comics/Shows) DC(Comics/Shows) Halo Pokémon Digimon Mortal kombat Mass Effect Dragon age Final Fantasy (Any game/series) Boku no hero UnderTale DeltaRune Sonic(Series) Ben 10 Diablo League of Legends Wakfu Miraculous Ladybug Bleach D&D Yu-Gi-Oh Gargoyles Aliens(Franchise, and in general) Kaiju(Monsters in general, not just the franchises) Gundam (any series) Hazbin Hotel Helluva Boss Murder Drones Starwars Critical Role Destiny Warframe Panty & Stocking Resident Evil(all series)

RULES: More may be added at a later time. But for now please read and follow.

I absolutely do not "one line", I have told many people this and sometimes I do make exceptions depending on the situation like if you are tired and its late, or you are not feeling up to rp. If you continue to one-line after I give you a warning, After that, I will simply not reply.

I do not in any shape or form condone rape. I am ok with rough sex or maybe being dominate with my partner, but I will not participate in rape of any kind sorry.

I will do my best to message you first as soon as possible. If you do not get a message from me right away, its most likely because I thought I did or I forgot. So please let me know if I have yet to talk to you yet. I do not treat anyone as a number.

If you have a problem with the way I RP, then please let me know. I have no problems changing things to make the rp more pleasant for both parties. Whether it be either grammar, or possibly with how you prefer actions or talking to be placed in either ** or "". Please just let me know, and I will see how I can change it to make it more pleasing to you.

I am completely fine with rough to kinky sex, but I hate abusive sex. Examples: forcing me to suck, ride, fuck you when I do not want too. cussing me out while we fuck for the sake of demeaning someone during it to make yourself seem superior or saying you can do that just because your Dom/alpha is bullshit. If you do this I will tell you to quit it, but if you whine about not being allowed to be yourself you will be blocked enough said.

I enjoy futas/shemales/dickgirls as much as everyone else. But if you plan to stick anything in me, you will get the same treatment in return. Its how I see its fair. I do not care of your "DOM" or "Your only comfortable with giving". With that said, I do have a preferences towards woman, and futas.

Sorry guys, not into you! Especially not into fembois, sissies, or traps. With that stated, didn't think I would have to emphasis this, but I am not into Men. I will play them, but will not ship with them. So to make it clear. I do not do M/M, nor Futa/Male. Trans is questionable, and needs to be discussed with me.

AGAIN!!! I PLAY MALE MUSES, I DO NOT RP WITH THEM!! if you see on my page M/F, it means I am playing male. It does not mean you get to be reply with a male muse and expect me to play what ever muse you think I am playing.

[sleepy-aletheas]

It's interesting how Hoyo manages to put a "love-interest-by-default" fem characters in each location, and just leave it at that.

On Herta's Space Station it's Ruan Mei, who we cannot call out, or go much against in any shape or form. She is pretty blatantly posed as the marketable "Hot Mommy with issues" and just threw her to the wolves (I really like her, I just wish TB could have had more variety of interaction with her, to not force feed us affection towards RM, who didn't even ask for it).

Belobog has Natasha, who TB can, if not outright, flirt with, it's pretty much just gushing over her at all times (understandable). She is the most maternal-but-not-actually-a-mom character we got, but since she wasn't even build up with bad habits and grey characteristics, it's pretty nonintrusive and gets a pass (that's wholly my own bias and I don't take criticism for that one).

From the Luofu, if we don't take factions into consideration, then it's definitely Kafka who is the Chosen Mommy; which again, I'm not complaining about. They at least let her be...however she is. She has her complexities and secrets, and TB at least has a choice of going the "i like you" route out of their own will, and not the dialog rewording compliments only.

And now in Penacony we got Firefly, and my poor baby has to suffer by the fate of "a writer's fave", and is so heavily pushed, any personal characteristic that is just about her (for her) is immediately overshadowed by the annoyance that she is pushed to be the obvious fancy of TB in that place (To me it's 10x funnier to me, cause I played 2.0 and 2.1 in one day, so I didn't even have a month-long time to ruminate about her between the story beats; I literally knew her for an hour and already was told we were this ridiculously close). She truly is getting the Ayaka treatment, and I'm so sorry for the suffering she will carry for hopefully shorter time than Ayaka did (she was also done dirty by the writers, but the players took her wanting to have a friend after a lonely childhood of basically forced on social isolation, and just made her a love sick puppy...).

Depending on if they give Jade the RM treatment, she could have enough wiggle room like Kafka and TB can decide how to talk to her, but I'm not even gonna think about it now, and simply wait and see.

Conclusion: Making pretty characters desirable by force at the cost of their perception from the player base is bullshit, and I will put all of them in my pockets for safe keeping, since no one wants to treat them (specifically Ruan Mei and Firefly) right on the writing team.

[buddieslovecore]

TL;DR : As if there's not enough drama in the fandom. As if there is no toxicity in the fandom.. probably the worst timing ever to confess something. Because again there's always something negative about me apparently. So let's get over with it. I'm Yelena and this me addressing myself about everything in very long post. I'm sorry for everything. And whatever you like me or don't, i wish you the best. 💖🩷

But even my understanding has its own limits. My compassion has its limits. Because that's a way of advertising about something that is important. And there's a way of being a bully that just want to make people feel bad because for many reasons. Because if someone is not following the "right " path or not saying the exact words like many people are saying, is just morally wrong and somehow the villains of the society. Can people have a different opinions of many topics and issues and still be friends along with disagreements? Can people acknowledge that people are not their government ? Can people accept the complexity of other people and the environment that they are in?

So I'm Yelena aka yelenasbuddie and I think that my silence is conforming to what people had said about me, that I'm that person. And first I'd like to say that I'm sorry for desiving you with pretending to be someone else. It was wrong and unethical to you guys. I feel like if I'll try to explain myself to you guys ,I'll come as someone who is trying to make an weak excuses and perhaps I'll be pointed as someone who is trying to manipulate you to see me as a victim. I, by making this post, let them win the game. But honestly, they didn't break me. Because by their actions, I learned their true colors. I honestly thought that they were caring a good heart and having sincere interests about fighting for human rights for Palestinian people and maybe having some criticism about the war and Israeli government. Thought they might not have understood the complexity of this ongoing conflict through many aspects. I did and still do separate the political views and the personality. After all, we do share some things in common, which are the fandom and our love for the show and for buddie and some silly things and positivity and etc.. So I kept following those people who are part of the fandom and clearly are supportive of the Palestinian people. And I never came at them for that matter in chats or asks anonymously. I only created a new account with a different name because mostly I didn't want those people to come after my mutuals or other people for associated with me. Even though my blog is apolitical and buddie and 911 centered.

I'm choosing my battles, and tumblr is my escapism. Therefore, my escapism has no moral values. I just filtered those posts that relate to the Israel-Palestinian conflict. So I won't have to unfollow people knowing their opinions on this.

Well, I'll admit that zionist is a strong word for me, and I honestly don't feel like it. I take that as being patriotic, which truthfully doesn't describe me at all. I'm just a little girl who tries to live the best life in a very, very difficult world. Although I do believe in Jewish people right to self-determination and for having a safe place. And for some people, that belief is enough to identify me as a zionist. And absolutely in no shape of form, I would agree to suffering Palestinian people and killing them in the name of zionism. I believe in Palestinian people's rights for liberation and self-determination as well. If there's a genocide in Gaza, I won't support that. No decent human being would support genocide at any kind. What is happening in Gaza is so heartbreaking, and my heart goes out for the families and children. At the same time, I won't support the dehumanizing of Jewish people and Israeli people. The same goes for dehumanizing Palestinian people. Even today, I still believe that there are innocent people in Gaza who just want to live a peaceful life, and yes, the Israeli government and military are too harsh in their responses and actions. I really wish that the war would stop soon along with the return of hostagers and ending the suffering of the Palestinian people. I didn’t choose this war, just like I hope many Palestinian people didn't choose this as well. I just happened to be an Israeli because well I moved here from Ukraine simply because of my parents' search for a better life quality for me as a girl with CP. Which is honestly it's true that Israel has better qualifications when it comes to people with disabilities wellbeing in comparison of Ukraine. It's definitely not perfect, but really, is there any other perfect country? If I had stayed in Ukraine, I wouldn't have had so many accomplishments as I have so far now. And that's not really in the name of zionism for myself and my family. But it was an easy way for us to move in another country without having to deal with too many obstacles due to the fact that my grandfather was a Jewish and holocaust surviver.

Since October or maybe since I seem to be associated with openly zionist buddie and 911 fan, people were questioning my relation with zionism. They done it by sending me this anonymously and partially giving me a choice to rather address that or not. Because I guess my blog is apolitical and safe place for fandom stuff. My blog and my choices right?

If after my explanation, you don't accept my perspective and my thoughts and (not) respect them, then you are welcome to unfollow me and block me. No hurt feelings. But DO NOT COME AFTER PEOPLE IN THE FANDOM FOR ASSOCIATED WITH ME , FOR REBLOG FROM ME. Because I won't accept this behavior and I will dare to say that this tactic is not helping for the cause of the Palestinian people's rights for liberation. I really think that you can do better than that.

I guess that no matter how polite and compassionate I try to explain myself to you or address my political views without dismiss other people's opinions and perspectives, people will always have something negative to say about me. People will always try to find something wrong about me and therefore will paint me as the worst person in the world, no matter which side. Some would say that I'm naive for still believing in peace. Some would say that I'm a people pleaser and don't really have the balls to say anything that is so certain. Either this or that. Some say that I'm manipulater who tries to lure people to my side aka pro Israel side. Some would mad at me for not saying the exact words they wanted me to say. And some would just twist my words to something I never said. Honestly, I don't care about this anymore because I know who I am, and I know how I treat other people. And I think that if other people from the fandom would be honest with themselves, they know very well what kind of person I am .

To those of you who will still (hopefully) decided to stick with me despite or not the difference in our opinions and perspectives, you are truly good friends and kind people 💖 it's a humongous honor to have you as my friends and mutuals. I don't deserve you and I'm so appreciative for you. I also want to apologize for not trusting you in this because it's really tough days. And I again want to apologize for desiving you with my other name.

[florbelles]

sorry to continue being woman screams at clouds about the most overexposed topic of late but because i’ve spent the past few days dealing with ai relentlessly (even moreso than usual, which is really saying something) at work it’s at the forefront of my mind (and a lot of us in an impacted field, which, being honest, is most of them).

here’s the thing. i get why those who aren’t in a creative field or simply haven’t been touched or impacted by it yet don’t understand the animosity towards it. i understand their confusion. i understand why they ask, isn’t this a good thing? doesn’t this make art more accessible? isn’t this a valuable tool? because it absolutely fucking should be. it should be a valuable tool. some forms of it have been; the automatic spelling and grammar checks in word processing software is the most obvious example. and yes, that’s genuinely helpful in a lot of respects. but only to a point; it will still misunderstand context, it will still try to substitute in the most common misspelling of a word because that’s what it’s been trained to believe is the correct one, it won’t catch errors that could be correct used differently, it will try to make verbs agree with the wrong nouns. so, certainly, it can and should be helpful — but again. to a point.

the same could be said of most forms. ai could, theoretically, be a useful resource for artists to find references. it could be a useful form of generating rudimentary plot ideas to be built upon by writers. it’s been used, in its most basic forms, for both of these things for a long time — even software like writeordie will pop up with a madlibs-style “write a blank about blank who blank” prompt upon opening it.

but here’s the thing. ai, as it presently is being used, as it is increasingly being promoted to use, is not about accessibility. it’s not about being a useful tool for human creatives to inspire and improve and promote versatility in their work. the reason artists hate it, the reason we’re offended by it, the reason it is actively hurtful and frightening, isn’t only about our jobs. yeah, that’s part of it. obviously it’s part of it. no one has ever liked being used without their consent to train their replacement, and we like it even less when data mining is being used to attempt to replace entire fields. but on a more personal level, it’s not simply because ai in its present form eyes eventually being able to replace us in the workforce. that isn’t really a new fear, and it’s certainly not one limited to creatives.

but the way ai is actually used? the way it’s promoted by techbro bitcoin musklites? it comes from a place of active disdain for us. it comes from a place of genuine malice towards artists and human creativity. it comes from a place of, if we’re being honest, ego fragility — oh, you think you have a talent i don’t? watch this. and where it leads is, ultimately, the hope to make us irrelevant, not merely because they don’t want to cut us a check, but because our existence is threatening to them. if humans are not the ones creating art, then art is the result of trained formulas. and those are a hell of a lot easier to direct and control in their messaging. those are hard-pressed to communicate much of anything at all. if art is meaningless, if it’s simply entertaining or a pleasing combination of words, then humanity’s longest standing outlet of protest, revolution, criticism, and straight up fucking empathy is gone. 

i don’t say this from a place of doom and despair. i don’t think there’s any merit in that. the fastest way to ensure artists are exterminated is to communicate to artists that there’s no point in pursuing it and we should all pack up and go home now, so, no, there’s nothing helpful in wailing about our inevitable demise, particularly because it is absolutely not inevitable. look how well bitcoin shaped up. that lacked the fundamental issue with ai taking over creative endeavors, which is that it’s literally formulaic — it functions on an if x then y basis, and good luck capturing the human experience in that. good luck ignoring the fundamental fact that humans do not create for profit, or out of obligation, but because it is literally what keeps us sane and alive. we’re going to continue creating whether we’re getting paid or not, and yeah, there will continue to be a disparity in what’s being produced, and yes, that will be visible, and no, we’re not going anywhere.

but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s fucking horrifying and infuriating that people want us gone and are self-congratulatory about the fact they believe they have the eventual means to do so while trying to sell the public on the idea we’re the ones trying to gatekeep creativity.

[the-yoru-whoru]

Unfinished Yoru x reader fanfic I started lol — idk if I’ll finish it and post it up on ao3 but here’s what I got so far ^^ any criticism or comments on if I should continue it or not would be great . ( also I just love the idea of tsundere protective Yoru I’m sorry I keep using it ,,, :,)

You couldn’t help but wince with each step. The side of your torso was soaked in a dark red, the sticky liquid already staining your shirt.

“Hurry up,” Yoru ordered without looking back, gun up and ready for any lurkers that could be between sites.

You just gave a nod even though you knew he couldn’t see it, quickening your pace and trying to ignore the sharp pain. The male was flicking his crosshair back and forth, clearly focused on the mission. You felt bad that he was carrying the responsibility of both himself and you; if only you hadn’t got caught off guard by that last lurker, who had jumped out of a corner and could only shoot off a few bullets to your torso before getting taken out by Yoru. He had looked at you in distaste, warning you to pay attention and to trade your vandal for his spectre. He was the better shot so it made sense, but it still stung.

“Sage is at B site. She can heal you then.” He suddenly said, voice quiet.

You stared at his muscled back, eyes wide, “Okay.”

This sucked. Not only were you in pain, but one of the strongest agents on the team was treating you like some kind of kid. You rubbed at your eyes quickly, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you.

The snow crunched under your footsteps, but besides that it was dead quiet, the silence only broken by stray gunshots every so often. Ice box was your least favourite map purely because of how cold it always was, but you knew Yoru loved it. He was always a little less grumpy whenever Sage announced it as the drop off location.

Finally the yellow box came into view, the tall woman pressed up against it, holding the corner with her gun out. You and Yoru hurried to her side. She turned to the two of you, surprised.

“She needs healing.” He stated bluntly, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you forward.

Sage frowned, looking you over carefully before forming her healing orb, the soft glow painting all of your faces in cyan.

“Who is covering A?” She questioned as she released the orb next to your wound, the radiant healing already making your shoulders slump in relief.

Yoru crossed his arms while he waited impatiently for the healing to complete, “No one. She needed healing immediately or she would have been vulnerable.”

The healers' concerned gaze suddenly turned furious,“ What!? You two left A open? Are you not taking this mission seriously? You know that our job is to prevent them from planting spike, do you not?”

You flinched, lowering your head in shame.

Sage wasn't finished, “ I can excuse Y/N, but I expected better from you Yoru. It’s your job to set a good example for younger recruits; and abandoning site for one wound is not appropriate radiant behaviour.”

For some reason that hurt more, knowing that Yoru would be getting in trouble because of your mistake.

But the man next to you bristled, “With all due respect, Y/N was in no shape to take the trip from A site to B site alone, me accompanying her here was the next best option.”

Sage didn’t flinch from his cold tone, “Yoru, in these situations we have to take that risk sometimes, for the greater good of the team.”

“Risk? The girl was one pistol shot away from fucking dying, I think that deserves a little more caution then sending her out on a death mission.” His voice was incredulous.

Their leader didn’t back down, “You had no problem leaving Phoenix behind on our last mission despite being injured, this is the same case.”

A calloused hand was suddenly placed on your shoulder, “Phoenix is an overconfident bastard who takes unnecessary risks all the time and knows how to handle it,” his grip tightened, “Y/N just got unlucky despite being cautious, it’s unfair to punish her for that.”

There was silence. You felt awkward being the subject of the argument, as if you weren’t even present.

The silence was broken by the telltale sound of the spike being planted, the bomb sending out pulses that could be felt even from this far away. All three of you tensed up .

“Y/N, could you apply your shields? Yoru, teleport back and see if you can find out their positions. Wait for us to catch up.” She ordered, argument set aside for now.

You were nodding your head even before she finished speaking, pulling out purple mist and sending it Sage and Yoru’s way. It disappeared briefly after, but you could see the faint purple outline that covered their bodies.

Yoru nodded as well, but paused, “I can take Y/N through the rift with me, she’s small enough to not get stuck between the dimensions.”

You recoiled back, but Yoru’s hand kept you steady.

“Do you think you can handle that Y/N? How does the wound feel?” She leveled you with a serious gaze.

You touched your side nervously, feeling a bit smothered under the two adults who were watching you intensely. Besides a bit of soreness, almost all the pain was completely gone. If it weren’t for the red still staining your shirt, you would have mistaken it for nothing more than a bruise.

You have a shaky smile, “I can barely feel a thing, thanks Sage.”

“And the rift?” Yoru pressed.

You bit your lip, “Sure.”

Yoru and Sage straightened, the look on their faces grim.

“Then it’s settled.” Sage said, “ You two go ahead, I’ll try to resurrect someone and catch up with you soon.”

The two of you nodded.

“And Yoru,” Sage stopped him from turning away, “This conversation is not over.”

He just brushed her off, eyebrows creasing, “Yeah, yeah, save it for when we’re back on base.”

Sage left, and you were alone with Yoru again.

He stood in front of you and leaned over so he could look you directly in your eyes. His gaze was intense, the sharp set of his jaw tense as he spoke.

“Alright, you are going to hold onto me very tightly. Do not let go under any circumstances, do you understand?”

“Y-yes!” You squeaked out.

No one in your team has ever been in the rift with Yoru before, and you were so worried it was making your stomach churn. What if you got stuck in there? What if something went wrong?

Yoru must have sensed your anxiousness, because he ruffled your hair lightly. His hands were warm against your cold head, and you were reminded just how numb you really were.

“You’ll be fine. Now come here, we don’t have time.” He said, opening his arms wide as if trying to hug you.

You stepped into his space, and for a moment his presence overwhelmed you, the sheer intensity of the strength that surrounded you stunning you into compliance. You let him scoop you up into his arms as you hooked your arms around his neck and tucked your face into his neck. He was so warm, and you nuzzled your face into the heat gratefully.

You hear a sharp inhale and the body underneath you seemed to stiffen, but before you could ask anything, Yoru’s shoulders were moving, the muscles under his clothes pulling at the unknown. The two of you were dunked into darkness, the cold, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

You dared not look up for even a second. So this is what the rift was like. It felt extremely windy, like the whiplash you get when you stick your hand out of your car window while driving down a highway. You clutched into Yoru for dear life, trying not to make any embarrassing sounds.

And as soon as it began, it was over. Yoru climbed out of the rift before tugging you off himself.

His hands seemed to linger on you for a moment as you regained your balance, but he pulled away quickly.

He looked you up and down, “You alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Besides some dizziness, you could still stand straight, and you pulled out your spectre and readied your stance as Yoru did the same.

You glanced over at him, and noticed that the collar of his jacket was extremely lopsided on one side. You must have crumpled his clothes when you had pushed your face into the crook of his neck….

You turned red, and suddenly icebox didn’t feel so cold anymore. You turned away from him, adjusting your shirt nervously.

But before you could react, you heard a whoosh of air behind you, the hard barrel of a gun hit your head. You slumped forward and a pair of warm arms caught you before you hit the ground.

When the last thing you heard was a deep voice next to your ear, betrayal filled your mind.

“I’ll handle this.”

——

You were avoiding him.

Yoru stalked the hallways moodily, teeth gritted together in annoyance. It’s been a week since the mission, and you still didn’t want to talk to him. Couldn’t you see he was just trying to protect you?

The mission had gone successfully, and Sage had reluctantly admitted that he did a good job at securing the spike while also minimizing casualties.

Y/N on the other hand was distraught. Seeing your eyes start to water when you came to, and then watching you run out of the room quickly when you saw him…

Silly girl. You did know that you were a support asset, did you not? Your job was to shield and provide aid to the duellists like himself, not to go rushing into a 2v5 timed battle. You being there would only have hindered him further, maybe even cause him to slip up and miss a few shots. Not that he could ever tell you that. Your confidence was fragile, your voice quiet and meek, and always taking orders from others without complaint. Weaklings like you usually pissed him off…

Usually they did. But after being assigned as your mentor and guide for your first few months on base, he couldn’t help but feel protective over you. You were quiet and meek, however, in the heat of battle he could always see that determined glint in your eye and almost desperate air of wanting to prove yourself useful. And he could respect that.

But for now, he just wanted to get rid of these annoying pangs in his chest, the illogical guilt welling on his mind. Finally arriving at your door, he knocked loudly, knowing you would be in there.

After a brief moment, the door swung open. You stood there, face tilted upwards to look at him, the top of your head barely even reaching his shoulders. The male leaned against your doorframe, looking you up and down quickly.

You were wearing a big shirt, the oversized fabric draping precariously over your shoulders, the long cloth revealing the small indent of your collarbone. The soft white of your skin was unblemished, the only evidence that you were a fighter were small, barely noticeable scratches that lined your neck. But he always noticed them. Yoru was there when that clone Jett had been aiming for your head, sharp blades missing their mark and lodging themselves into your throat instead. There had been so much blood, and as you lay in his arms gurgling and red, he swore that he would never let that happen to you again.

It had only taken a quick healing from Sage to rid you of the wound, but the knives had dug deep enough that they had already created permanent scars.

“Y-Yoru?” Your small voice called to him hesitantly, “What’s wrong?”

You sounded concerned, and it took a second to realize that he had been frowning at the scars in silence for way too long.

“You haven’t been showing up to your lessons,” He states bluntly, pushing off the side of the door and leaning forward to look you in the eyes, “Are you giving up already?”

He watched your eyes widen, before you shook your head rapidly.

“No! Of course not! I just…” you trailed off, looking to the side nervously, “I didn't think you would want to continue teaching me…after I got you in trouble with Sage and all.”

Yoru blinked. Then sighed.

“Kuso…Don’t worry about her.” He wouldn’t admit it, but he was glad you weren’t avoiding him because you were mad, “Let’s go right now, alright? Make up for lost time.”

He turned around, expecting you to follow him. And sure enough he heard the scrambling of hands grabbing at proper clothing and then you were right behind him, taking two steps for every one that he did. Just another thing that made it hard for you to be a fighter…you were so small, even the bigger guns you practiced with had to be made custom fit by Killjoy in order not to jostle you too much with the recoil.

When the two of you arrived at the shooting range, he picked up a vandal, and watched you do the same. The base was big, and so were the training areas. As such, they were usually empty, only used when certain agents wanted to compete in skill or warm up before a mission. You, on the other hand, had been using it to catch up with the others. Steel walls lined the range, and the two of you stood just behind the low metal bar, where guns of various models were hooked up and ready for use. He tapped at the screen latched onto the bar, starting up a basic simulation.

“Alright. Warm up.” Yoru ordered.

You nodded, lifting the gun up and crouching slightly. The bots in the practice range whirled to life, and he made sure to keep a neutral expression as he watched you shoot headshot after headshot. Finally, you finished, 30 bots killed.

Breathing a little heavy, you turned to look at his expectantly, gun almost falling out of your small hand as you lifted an arm to wipe at your face.

Yoru frowned, “We talked about this. No crouching, flick to the head, and move faster.” He watched your posture visibly slump, “in the middle of a fight no enemy is gonna be standing still waiting for you to shoot them. You must be flexible and faster than your opponent; that’s how you win fights.”

He could see your brow line crease, “Again.”

The bots came to life again, this time, shifting from side to side noisily. You heaved the gun back up, straightening your back and holding onto your gun tighter.

30 kills later, you were red and sweaty from effort. You looked at him again, eyes big and hopeful as always.

He just scoffed, “You think I didn’t notice you also shifting from side to side? Move with your arms, not your legs. You are only bringing yourself down with that movement inaccuracy.”

He watched you grow dejected again, eyes turning to look away from him. That wouldn’t do.

“Here,” He was suddenly next to you. Large frame pushed up against your backside, and large hands enveloping your own, “Keep steady and raise your crosshair.”

——

You couldn’t hold back the squeak of surprise you made when you felt his hot breath against your ear.

Fumbling with the gun in your hands, you let him guide you to position, pulling you up with him as he aimed down sights at the bots carefully, and easily flicking to each head with ease. Your body jerked back and forth with his movements, and you could feel your face turn red as his face nearly pressed up against the back of your head. Not to mention you felt completely surrounded by his presence, his tall frame easily towering over your own. You let your mouth fall agape, numbly nodding your head as the words he spoke went through one side of your ears and out the other.

“…hey! Are you even listening to me?” His voice unintentionally rasped again in your ear.

Your voice trembled as you spoke, “Yes sir! You are just v-very close and it’s a bit,” You felt him jerk slightly behind you, “Distracting.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he pulled away slowly, straighting as you turned to catch a glimpse of his face. To your surprise, he was looking away from you, a hint of red tinting his face.

“Alright,” He clears his throat, “Alright,” He repeats.

You grew worried that you might have overstepped. The two of you had been working together for only a few months now, it wasn’t like the two of you had anything more then a strictly professional relationship.

You let your grip on your gun slack a bit, “Yoru? What’s wrong?”

He just closes his eyes and sighs frustratedly, hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Nothing. Just…keep shooting.”

The room was suddenly too quiet, and you hurried to raise your gun again, letting the sounds of shooting cut through the awkwardness.

You were sure you were still blushing, the back of your body still pleasantly warm from the previous contact. Even though he was only your mentor, it was inevitable to admire him, even fantasize of him wanting you in a way more than platonic; if you were even considered a friend to him, that is. But you knew it was impossible and you knew it was just wishful thinking. You frowned as you knocked down the last bot. Why did he have to do things like that to make your heart race? It was maddening.

“Focus!” He suddenly snapped, making you jump in surprise.

[chiwhorei]

the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[milf-harrington]

THEO ME AND MY FRIEND SIGNED UP FOR A LIVE DRAWING CLASS ON THE 29TH AND I CANT DRAW AT ALL CAN YOU GIVE ME ANY TIPS ON HOW TO DRAW A PERSON LMFAO HELP ME

( @hella1975 )

HELLA OH MY GOD I COMPLETELY FORGOT IM SO SORRY I HOPE IM NOT TOO LATE - i filmed a video but apprently its too long and i am fuming bc there are things i literally do not know how to explain without demonstrating but here are some hopefully helpful tips

everything is made up of shapes!! when you're drawing a body, rather than trying to draw the exact anatomy, try looking for the different shapes that you can put together? its like a little puzzle for example:

you can see where my mums shirt is just a big rectangle or where my dads forearms are triangles, like,, theyre just shapes

practice gesture drawings!! fast paced outlines of shape and form, which are what the above drawings are but unfortunately it wont let me post the video i made showing you ):

have fun!! dont take yourself or your art too seriously or you'll be stiff and overly critical, embrace the fact that you might suck!! bc at the end of the day youve still made something and thats always fucking awesome

try looking at your paper as little as possible, you really only want to be looking away from your subject to check that your pencil/lines are in the right place - if you look at your page for too long you start to draw what you think your subject looks like rather than what it actually does and that can make things go weird (dont stress too much tho i still get caught up in drawing and forget to lool at my subject sjdjd)

learn some basic anatomy, just so you know where things are in relation to each other but dont focus too hard on how proportioned things should be bc often placement and perspective mess with those things anyway

use light/soft lines at first, dont press too hard, and then slowly build on those lines and get heavier/darker, this stops things from getting muddy and messy

loosen up your arms, try draw from the shoulder if you have a bigger canvas, it'll give you more range of movement and a generally looser drawing

Im not using to teaching but i hope some of these are helpful!! good luck and have fun!!!

[doctorofmagic]

Strange #2 review

I already mentioned on the preview that I loved the fact that Jed understands and respects magic, allowing Clea to explain how hard it is for her to keep two mantles at the same time. She’s indeed struggling and I wonder if she’s only able to manage it because of her Faltine heritage.

Also, she’s worried about becoming a monster. I’ll get to that in a sec.

Okay so... I was definitely wrong. I assumed Harvestman was the one summoning the dead to fight for him but in fact he’s actually taking care of things that are going awry in the realm of the dead, Thunderstrike being one of them.

Clea just happened to sense the necromantic energy and they both ended up finding Thunderstrike, who is out of control for being possessed by countless souls.

As I also mentioned previously, Clea met Thunderstrike in Infinity Gauntlet and helped save his soul/body after it was shattered by Thanos. You can read this story in Doctor Strange - Sorcerer Supreme #35.

Back to the chapter, Clea is really pissed and I love how possesive she is here *chef’s kiss*

In the meantime, while they’re arguing, Thunderstrike, well, strikes. Clea is sorry that she has to hurt a friend, but he has to be stopped, mostly because of his mace. And so she pulls the Infinity War trick, cutting his arms off.

Harvestman finishes the job and cuts his head off, freeing the souls trapped in Thunderstrike’s body.

The chapter then follows as Clea tells Wong that Harvestman forbade her from bringing Stephen back to life. Honestly, this conversation is actually hilarious. Wong and Clea dissing Victor and Tony is GOLD, I love it.

They talk about how Death has her own “Sorcerer Supreme” to take care of her realm, which could be good for them since Death would be busy and not paying to attention to their quest. Wong also addresses Clea’s duties and she really doesn’t want to do any of that LMAO.

Clea be like:

Also they keep mentioning Victor and this is the peak of my existence. YES, PLEASE GO TAKE OVER DOOM AGAIN, CLEA, I’LL LOVE IT

Okay so the one knocking is a survivor from the Shrouded Bazaar. He says the Blasmephy Cartel took Clea’s warning as a bluff and returned with guns and magic, hurting people and destroying things. Clea and Wong head to the place.

And here we have Clea manifesting all her rage in HER FULL FALTINE FORM, LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

For those who do not know, she only manifests this form once, in Marvel Team-Up v1 #77, when she loses control inside the Orb of Agamotto.

We usually don’t see the Dormammu’s family in Faltine form, mostly because Umar decided to adopt human shape, whereas Clea is half-faltine, half- Mhuruuk (humanoid residents of the Dark Dimension). So that explains why she looks more human, not to the mention that she was absurdly nerfed for like, her entire existence as a character. Jed was the first one to tap into her true potential as a sorcerer and a Faltine. And I’m deeply grateful for that.

Now, the monster bit. I’m not sure if this is going to be part of the narrative, but I feel like Clea doesn’t want to embrace her “monster” side (as in, going full rage Faltine just like she did). If she is, then the more she’s denied, the more she’ll succumb to the monster. And you know me, mates. I’m always down for monster x person who loves the monster trope. I love corruption and I adore how love saves the OTP. Yes, count me in if this is the case.

Lastly... Mmmm... There’s only one criticism I’d like to make. This chapter felt too short. I see why, it’s Marcelo’s art and Jed’s writing style. It’s SUPER cool, don’t get me wrong. I love the dark and graphic style of limbs flying and epic fights. I adore my shounens, okay? And yet, at least mangas are release weekly (if you’re not reading Hunter x Hunter, that is). Thing is, I am not fed enough. If only the chapter was biweekly, I’d never complain about this. But bruh, I have to wait ONE MONTH for crumbs. I’m loving this series, I NEED MORE. Please give me more, PLEASE, I’M BEGGING. This gap between issue 1 and 2 was TORTURE uuuughhh.

That said, I’m glad that Nexus of Nightmares is coming in two weeks. FOOD AT LONG LAST.

Oh, wait, there’s another thing. A moot told me that there are some theories saying that Harvestman is actually Stephen working for Death (manipulated? controlled?), and I’m also all down for it. Y’all know me, I love that delicious angst mmmm~

[thetargaryenbride]

A break [Levi x Fem!Reader]

Requested by: @emmaandemmal  Hi, I love your works! Can I request one where Levi and his fem s/o have been a couple since before they were captured by the scouts in the underground? After the deaths of Isabel and Farlan, the reader tries to convince Levi to leave the scouts with her to go and live together in a safer place, but he refuses saying that he believes in Erwin's vision of the scouts and the two begin to fight badly. The reader eventually stays in the scouts because she doesn't want to leave without him, but the relationship between Levi and the reader is getting colder and more detached. The reader begins to think that Levi is no longer interested in her after noticing his growing friendship with Petra and she decides to leave the scouts thinking it's the best decision for her and for Levi. When Levi finds out, he tries to find her, but without success. Only a few years later, he catches a glimpse of her in the crowd after the scouts have returned from an expedition and he follows her. Once they arrive at the reader's house, she and Levi make up and the reader claims that she has been selfish in the past and that she would like to return to the scouts to fight against the titans and to claim the deaths of Isabel and Farlan. Eventually the reader and Levi resume their relationship and Levi promises her that nothing would separate them again. I'm really sorry that it's so long, if you consider this idea feel free to modify it as you wish. Sorry for my English too... it’s not very good. Thank you so much, you're one of the best Levi writers I know! ❤️

I’m sorry for the delay, dear. I was struggling with a mini writer’s block and was focusing more on art but I’m slowly getting back on track! Thank you so much for the request and thank you for your kind words. This really means a lot to me! As far as modifying goes, the only thing I modified is the timeskip. Instead of a few years, I made it one year. I hope you don’t mind ^^

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Very Brief mention of suicide, prostitution and self-harm

Hope you like it  ❤️ Feedback is deeply appreciated! ^^

Also, if Levi seems OOC, please feel free to correct me~ I accept constructive criticism ^^  

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You were arguing.

You never argued.

But the situation that had befallen you made you feel all sort of ways and neither of you knew how to express those emotions, that stress, which is why it had slowly turned into a fight.

“You shouldn’t have agreed! We have no idea how the world above works! We’re going to fuck up, Levi,” you raised your voice, hands clenching into fists by your sides, levels of anger rising at Levi’s indifference at the situation. You knew that it was only a façade and that deep down Levi wasn’t indifferent. You knew he was probably worried just as much as you were. But right now you were so scared and you wanted him to just show some more emotion, fight back, shower you with words of reassurance, hug you…anything…not just stand with crossed arms, staring at you.

“So what, I should’ve let the bushy eyebrowed bastard send us in prison?” he raised an eyebrow as if challenging you to give him a good reason for your big distaste of joining the Survey Corpse. He couldn’t understand why you had exploded like that when he had agreed. It was the perfect opportunity for the fulfillment of your mission…Not that you had been very accepting of the mission either. Your paranoia and distrust always clawed at you, many a time ripping any semblance of reason and logic. But he couldn’t’ exactly blame you. He was similar in a way. He supposed that this is what living in the Underground did to you.

Living?

No. More like struggling, digging in the mud, to survive.

And the two of you had been doing this since you were kids.  

“I’d rather rot in a prison cell than a titan’s stomach. And since when do you trust nobles anyways? It’s mostly because of them that we all fester here in this dump,” you spat out and he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh.

“If you are so against this mission, why are you even joining?” he shot back and you choked on whatever words you had the intention of spilling.

You took a deep breath as you slumped next to him on the couch, body completely slacking in defeat as your anger simmered down a bit.

“Do you even have to ask me that?” you muttered as you stared at the ceiling, the hands in your lap fiddling with your fingers. “It’s because I would never turn my back on my family…on you,” you murmured as you straightened up and turned to face him. “Even if it’s the stupidest decision which would probably result in something shitty, I’ll still stick with you. You are all I have…I love you,” you timidly uttered the last words, casting your eyes downwards as a slight blush spread over your cheeks. The man sighed before his hands went to grab yours, successfully stopping your fiddling and wringing, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Look at me,” he ushered you gently yet firmly and you lifted your head, locking eyes with his. “We’ll be fine.”

You let out another sigh before you leaned, letting his arms encircle your form as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I pray that you’re right,” you whispered and just when you thought you could have a moment of peace, Farlan entered the room with a constipated expression. You couldn’t blame him. You were all beaten and battered by the soldiers and your ego was bruised, even though you let them capture you. And now they were all standing in your home or surrounding it while you packed the little of your belongings, breathing down your neck.

It was suffocating.  

“We’ve packed everything. It’s time to go.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You wanted to blame him.

You wanted to tell him – “I told you so.”

But that wouldn’t bring back Farlan and Isabel.

It wouldn’t stitch back their ripped bodies.

They were gone and the only thing you could blame was this world.

Because it was so cruel.

And the only beauty you found in it was your love for Levi and his love for you.

He had no fault. Nobody knew that things would turn out like this. That fate would decide to cackle in your faces.

The two of you stuck together like glue more than ever after that day. You even went as far as to disregard rules as you would sneak into the men’s barracks just to sleep with him because he was the only one who managed to chase away the nightmares and wipe your tears. And you knew, even without him saying it directly, that you were the only one who could comfort him when he was feeling the burden of the world crushing his shoulders. And Farlan and Isabel’s deaths really did feel like the whole world just crumbled on top of you two. The only difference was that you were more prone to emotions and didn’t find such a difficulty at expressing them unlike Levi who preferred to bottle everything inside, feign indifference and coldness and find toxic coping mechanisms like not sleeping which as time passed shaped into the ugly form of his insomnia, despite all the scolding you’ve done.

Time passed. The first weeks after Isabel and Farlan’s deaths, you had been inseparable. But that slowly began to change after the date of the next expedition was announced. Your paranoia spiked up one night after you had tried suppressing it for days and that resulted in a breakdown.

You wanted out.

You wanted to leave the Scouts.

You had even gone as far as to talk to Erwin and the Commander, literally begging them to help you with the citizenship matters and let you and Levi leave. But of course, they refused and Erwin even went to speak to Levi about this, not knowing that the man had no idea about your plans and wishes.

Levi was angry that you did something like that behind his back. He understood your fear. He understood very well because he was afraid too. He was afraid that he was going to lose you too – the only person he had left. But he didn’t appreciate that you hadn’t been straightforward with him regarding such a serious matter, only revealing everything you have done and felt at the heat of the moment.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl, hiding in the wardrobe, listening how man after man would use my mother every night. Dreaming about a life, safely tucked in the corner of the world, surrounded by beautiful nature, peace and quiet, alongside my beloved person... Is it so bad that I want this for us?” you had asked with trembling voice and Levi’s expression had softened, a sign that he had forgiven you for everything and that he didn’t want to argue anymore.

“As much as I want that too, we can’t have it when the titans are roaming everywhere, threatening to wipe out Humanity. If we don’t destroy them now, we are only delaying our doom,” he muttered as his hand went to softly caress your cheek, making you sigh as you leaned into his touch. “But that man, Erwin Smith, sees something that I don’t. He has a plan to save humanity and… he sees victory… That’s why I want to stay in the Survey Corps and fight,” he admitted and at that moment, you found yourself captured by that determination burning in his eyes.

His desire to fight for a better future.

Not only for the sake of you two, but for the sake of thousands of people.

And while you weren’t completely sure yet that you were ready to sacrifice your happiness and life for a bunch of people you didn’t know or care about, you knew that you were ready to sacrifice anything and everything for him.

And that’s why you stayed.

And he knew that. He knew you better than you knew yourself. But he chose not to call you out for this. Because he understood how you felt. He didn’t belittle you. He didn’t call you selfish or insensitive or a bad person just because you didn’t want to care about anyone else but him. What does selfish, insensitive or bad even mean? They are just vague concepts that are different from every person’s point of view.

And as more time passed, after every expedition, he could see why you wanted to leave. He could see why you didn’t want to fight. Every expedition, every death, left an impact on you, stealing bit by bit from your sunny personality and shaping you into a depressed, miserable person.

Even if you claimed that you didn’t care about strangers dying, deep, deep down, he knew you did. It was just the person you were, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about anyone but him in order to protect yourself. But on a deeper level you still cared and you were still affected and he knew that you hated feeling like this – it brought only chaos, confusion and misery to your mind and soul as you desperately tried to live up to your own expectations and build walls around yourself only for every brick to be broken as a comrade would send you a smile or compliment you or help you out with something. And after every expedition, he would gain a better understanding as to why you wanted to be selfish and leave. Why you wanted – why you tried forcing yourself – to stop caring about anything and everyone and run away with him – the one and only person who – you tried to convince yourself – mattered.

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t follow you. On many occasions, he felt the same. But somehow, for some reason, he would always find a way back to Erwin – back to the goal they shared for humanity. He didn’t know where that sudden loyalty for the blonde had come from – the same blonde who more or less had been the reason as to why Farlan and Isabel had died. But it was exactly this loyal bond that had formed between them that prevented Levi from following you and he hated himself for it because he could see how this life of soldiers was destroying you from the inside out and there were moments when he would lay at night and dark thoughts would cross his mind – of your body hanging from somewhere or him finding you drowned or with sliced wrists or a bullet stuck in the head.

It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to turn to self-harm as a coping mechanism and some even committed suicide.

The fight against the titans wasn’t something to be underestimated and it left an irreparable damage on everyone.

And he could see you were heading that way and he hated himself for not being able to put a stop to this and just grab your hand and run away from everything – as you wanted.

That’s why he decided to distance himself from you. He thought that maybe if he started ignoring you, if he was being cold and distant, it would put a rift in your relationship. It would make you think that he didn’t love you anymore. That you were a painful reminder of the past. And once your bond was severed, nothing would be holding you back. Nothing would stop you from leaving. Because he was the only thing, the only reason, as to why you were still sticking around. And then maybe you would finally be able to find the peace and quiet you had been seeking for ages.

His conversations with you became shorter. His answers – curt. His affection and acts of service decreased. It had brought you to tears, thinking that you had done something wrong and it tore him apart when he caught you crying one night. But it was for your own good so he had to grit his teeth and bear with it never mind how much it hurt that he was causing you this suffering.

Him being promoted to a Captain helped a lot. Now he didn’t need to find reasons or excuses to not spend time with you because he was genuinely so busy all the time. The stress was making him snappy too so he tried avoiding conversations altogether, not wanting to actually say something hurtful because then he would feel even more pain and regret and that would have his resolve crumble and he would go back to being loving and affectionate which was far, far from the goal he had.

Then Oluo and Petra had entered the picture – two members fresh into the Survey Corps, graduated from the same trainee squad with incredible talent and promising skills. He had taken them into his squad but he didn’t know that this would be the final straw to put such a rift in your relationship.  

It was true that Petra was a bit clingy. Her infatuation, devotion and loyalty to him were obvious. But he thought it was a childish, fleeting crush which is why he didn’t find it necessary to confront her about it. He thought it would disappear over time, especially with how both she and Oluo seemed like an old married couple more and more with each passing day. He didn’t want to push away the members of his own squad. He wanted to embrace them. To embrace their friendship. On a subconscious level, he was trying to fill the gaps left behind from the people he lost. The gaps oozing loneliness and pain. The gaps you couldn’t fill because he wasn’t allowing you to in his haste to push you away.

And when one day he went to have lunch with Erwin, as the two needed to discuss important matters in his office, he wasn’t expecting the blonde to deliver such mortifying news to him.

“Look, Levi…I’m sorry to say this but… Y/N left the Survey Corps,” told him the Commander with a sombre tone and Levi felt his entire world shift.

Suddenly, regret flooded him, chilling him to the very last atom.

Erwin saw each and every emotion flashing in his eyes. And even if he wanted to remind his friend of the words he had told him years ago, he couldn’t.

Because there were things in this life that were impossible not to regret.

Like losing a loved one because of your or their own demons.

It was one thing to lose a loved one to death. And completely another to lose them because of your decision.

Levi didn’t utter a word, pressing his lips in a thin line as he swiftly stood up and turned on his heel, leaving the office with ebony bangs covering his eyes, shielding him from his friend’s look of pity and compassion.

He needed to think.

He needed time.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You don’t realize how much someone or something means to you until you lose them.

No, that’s not exactly it.

Levi cherished you a lot. Levi loved you a lot. You meant the world to him. That’s why he wanted you to leave. He wanted you to find peace. He wanted you to live a good life away from that misery and bloodshed.

Even if it killed him on the inside.

Because if you truly love someone, you would let them go if it was for the sake of their happiness.

But now that he’s finally gone and done it. Now that he not only pushed you away as a lover but pushed you away from his life altogether, he felt lost.

He felt lost and miserable.

As if life was drained from any sound and colour, leaving him to float in some abyss, soaking in his own negative feelings.

The sorrow, the pain, the dread, the loneliness.

If he had to list them all, he would waste all of Erwin’s expensive parchment.

And as he laid there in his bed, after thinking and reflecting on everything for hours on end, staring at the ceiling with an empty bottle of alcohol shattered into pieces against the opposite wall – alcohol that barely got him tipsy – he realized that maybe he wanted to be selfish too. That, combined with the regrets of pushing you away, burned at his soul, melting any doubts he had, like a blacksmith melting steel, and solidified his resolve to find you and bring you back, like a new sword being forged.

So next day after he had gotten all his emotions, thoughts and feelings in check and after he had taken a decision, he approached Erwin and asked for your location.

He was unpleased when his friend told him that he had no idea where you went off to. Part of Levi wanted to be angry and yell at him. Accuse him of lying. But he was so tired after the emotional and mental battle he had wielded that he just gave up on his anger and frustration and decided that instead of letting such negative emotions rule over him, he would brush them aside instead and pave way for that same scorching determination he had for the Survey Corpse’s cause, now combining it with the determination of finding you.

And he didn’t stop.

Once he started, he didn’t stop.

He would visit every town, every village, whenever he was free from his duty.

He never stopped looking for you.

It took him roughly a year to scout most of Wall Rose’s lands.

But it was during one fateful evening, after the Scouts were returning from an expedition, when he spotted you.

The sun had just set, allowing the sky to be painted in purples and blues with shimmering stars being sprinkled onto the canvas. The street lanterns shone brightly and the comforting light spewing from them had illuminated a very familiar form.

A form that Levi knew like the lines of his own palm.

He hadn’t wasted time to jump from his black mare and chase after you. He didn’t want to approach and confront you right away so he just settled for walking at a slow pace behind you, trying his best to not be noticed or come off as some creep.

He seriously couldn’t believe his luck.

Knowing your thought pattern, he believed that you had run away somewhere far. Back in the days when you lived in the Underground, whenever you had arguments – which was very rare – you would always run away from home and hide somewhere far, knowing that it would be hard for him to find you and nearly giving him heart attacks because of it. But this time you had decided to hide right under his nose – near Trost district which was not far away from the SC HQ.

He counted himself outsmarted and he didn’t know whether to be annoyed by this or proud of you.    

You looked radiant even in the dusk. The cream dress you were wearing made you look like a vision, glowing in the dark. It reached a bit past your knees, revealing some of your calves while the upper part left your collarbones in the open. He longed to run his fingers over your skin. Through your hair. To touch you. To feel you. To hold you. To tell you what an idiot he was. How he wanted you back in his life because he couldn’t exist without you by his side.

To apologize.

“Are you going to keep following me or are you going to help me carry the basket?” your voice interrupted his train of thought and he cursed lightly under his breath. You chuckled and stopped in your tracks, turning around ever so slightly, eyes finally landing on the person you were so anxious to see again but didn’t have the courage to approach.

He wordlessly took the basket from your hands and began walking next to you.

All the way to your house you stayed silent.

He didn’t even comment when you exited the District and neared the woods, only lifting an eyebrow.

Your shoes and his boots clinked against the cobblestone pathway, the little door of the wooded fence creaking under your touch as you pushed it. His eyes scanned the yard, taking notice of the freely roaming chicken, a few lambs, one cow and one horse – your horse from the Survey Corps. He could vaguely make out a garden peeking from behind the house so he supposed you also had a backyard where you were growing your food. He almost flinched when a huge dog – almost as big as you and him – came running in your direction, demanding head pats which you gladly gave.

Levi was impatient. He wanted to enter the damn house already and talk. But at the same time, a part of him was happy about the delay. He almost gulped nervously at the thought of the following confrontation.

Almost.

At last, you unlocked the front door and the two took off your shoes, putting on slippers, and moved into the house. You took the basket from his hands and placed it on the kitchen counter before you grabbed a rag to wipe the table and beckoned the man to sit down. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, taking a step towards the chair before halting, looking at you rigidly, and resuming his journey until he was finally sat. You clenched and unclenched the rag before you threw it away and sat across him, fingers now playing with the soft fabric of your dress. You looked at the ground and he looked at your feet, noticing your toes curling and uncurling from nerves even through the slippers.  

“I-“

“Levi-“

You both said at the same time and you chuckled lightly at the cliché situation.

“You first,” uttered the man and you gulped, sending him a wobbly smile.

“I want to apologize-“ you took a short pause and an intake of air when you saw his eyes widening as his features twisted in a dumbstruck expression as if he was unable to process why you were apologizing. “-for leaving so suddenly without uttering a word. It was…childish,” you quieted down and he closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “You were walking further and further away from me, getting extra busy with being a Captain and…and then Petra came into the picture,” you muttered but were fast to wave your hands in defence, “Not that I ever doubted your loyalty! My trust in you would never waver but…I just thought that maybe we both needed a break. We needed to breathe and clear our heads and start thinking properly. That’s why I decided to leave and give us some space. I never truly intended on leaving the Survey Corps or abandoning you…You mean so much to me…but I’m still sorry that I-“

“Stop,” he rose to his feet and you quickly followed, anticipation and fear at his next possible words, building up inside of you, making you feel like burning. “You don’t have to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

That calmed you down a bit, the fear leaving your mind, but instead, worry settled as you looked at the way he lowered his head and bit his lip.

“I acted wrongly…I was foolish by thinking that pushing you away would bring you the freedom and happiness you sought,” he muttered and your face softened. “I just,” he sighed as his trembling hand went through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. “I just saw how impacted you would get after every expedition…how you started losing that glow of yours, your bubbly and sunny persona…I saw how hard you were trying to force yourself to stop caring, to be selfish and leave, but you still couldn’t because…because you’re not like that… damnit,” he grit out as he tugged on a few strands before letting his hand fall and rest against his hip limply.

He kicked himself inwardly. He was never good at expressing himself. The moment he had seen you in the crowd, the moment he had set a goal to talk to you and sort everything out, he had been reciting in his head and thinking what exactly he was going to tell you and how he was going to explain himself and the reasoning behind his actions.

“I just-“

“-wanted me to be happy…So you thought that by being a dick and pushing me away, you would make me leave so I can find my peace and quiet somewhere far, far away,” you finished for him, deciding to help him out which caused him to halt in his speech and just stare at you, waiting for your next words, the terror of you rejecting him or telling him that you didn’t feel the same anymore felt like a nettle rope around his neck, getting tighter and tighter with each second, suffocating and scathing him. “Listen, while you might have been partially right, you were also wrong. Because even if I do find happiness away from all the bloodshed, it just wouldn’t be the same without you, silly,” you shook your head as you sent him a sad smile. “I’d rather endure all the pain and suffering in the world than be separated from you,” you finally took the courage to close the space between you as you laid your head on his chest, arms slowly sliding around his torso. He didn’t hesitate to return the hug, sharply bringing you closer, if that was possible, and squeezing you so hard you didn’t know whether to groan from pain or chuckle at seeing him express himself so openly and in such a sweet, boyish manner. It kind of brought back memories from the days you lived in the Underground and how he would hug you exactly like that when you would do something stupid that would put you at risk, albeit a bit more awkwardly since back when you were teenagers you both had no idea how to express your love for each other.

“Deep down I knew you were onto something. Because why would you start acting like that so suddenly? It just wasn’t in your style. But at the same time I felt…” he tightened his embrace even more and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and letting it comfort his tortured mind. He had missed you so unbearably much.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” he whispered and you sighed as you ran your hands over his back in a soothing manner.

“I forgive you, Levi…I understand that you did it for my own good. But believe me when I say that I can’t find true freedom or happiness without you by my side,” you placed a kiss on his shoulder before pulling away to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever try to make me leave. Let’s just stick together through thick and thin as we’ve done since we were kids, ok?” you asked and he nodded, leaning hesitantly. You met his lips halfway and you kissed gently which slowly turned into a passionate, hungry, heated and desperate make out as you tried to feel one another after a whole year of being apart. When you finally broke it off, needing air, you rested your forehead against his and let yourself soak in his presence. He did the same. You just stayed like that, foreheads touching, arms around one another as you swayed ever so slightly.

“Want to help me pack?”

[restlessfandoming]

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!” 

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt. 

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air. 

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked. 

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze. 

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.” 

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.” 

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering. 

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it? 

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed. 

Of course. 

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon. 

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak. 

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him. 

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more. 

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow. 

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose. 

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up! 

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed. 

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically. 

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin. 

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist. 

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing. 

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there. 

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response. 

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity. 

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her. 

An Abyss Mage! 

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it. 

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us. 

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably. 

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake. 

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground. 

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body. 

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!” 

Lumine looked past the mage. 

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief. 

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe. 

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm. 

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle. 

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully. 

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage. 

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling. 

“Childe!” Lumine screamed. 

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion. 

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air. 

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered. 

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured. 

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod. 

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest. 

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier. 

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface. 

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained. 

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.” 

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.” 

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.” 

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. 

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world. 

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand. 

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them. 

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth. 

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking. 

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

[that-was-anticlimactic]

22 with Zukka for the prompt list? Also hi :)

"Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you." + zukka

Zuko was angry.

He supposed that wasn’t that shocking—he was angry a lot—but the amount of genuine anger and frustration he was accumulating due to his hair, now that wasn’t fair nor normal.

It was stupid—he had to attend some dumb public event since he was the Fire Lord and stand at the side applauding politely, then say a few words. Really, he’d been through more stressful times in his life than that.

Even still, there was an hour left before he had to arrive, and he was getting ready in his chambers. Or, he was supposed to be getting ready. He was still in his sleeping robes, aggressively pulling a brush through his hair

Honestly, at this point, he was just beating his scalp.

No matter how carefully or slowly he ran the brush through his hair, it was still tangled. It still looked greasy, and even when he said “screw it” and just threw his hair in a top knot, he nearly chopped it all off because it looked terrible. The bumps at the top of his head were so large it looked like he hadn’t even brushed his hair in the first place!

Logically, he knew that his dad was far far far away right now and would in no way, shape, or form be attending the same event or see said event, but he couldn’t block out Ozai’s voice in his head telling him how big of a disappointment he was due to the state of his hair.

Zuko grunted, throwing the brush across the room and leveling the cursed object with a furious pout. It’s what the brush deserved.

“Hey, Zuko! I can’t decide whether I should wear my cobalt robes or my lapis robes. I know you don’t think there’s a difference, but I swear to you—are you okay?”

The angelic sound of Sokka’s voice caused Zuko’s face to shift from fury to a soft smile. He turned around, his fingers twitching when the brush left his sight because it needed to know how angry he was, and shot Sokka what he hoped was a soft look.

His boyfriend was also wearing his evening robes, something far too casual for the event they were attending, and it took everything in him to focus his gaze on Sokka’s face rather than his shoulder where the fabric was slowly slipping off.

In his hands were two tunics which absolutely looked the exact same color-wise, but he just chalked that up to Sokka being picky about his wardrobe (no, he wouldn’t acknowledge that he was unsure whether it was that or the fact that he couldn’t see properly out of his left eye).

Sokka’s hair looked impeccable, tied tightly in a wolf tail, much unlike his own.

“Sunshine?”

Oh, he’d been staring, hadn’t he?

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a hand over his face and collapsing onto his bed. “I’m just trying to get ready.”

He watched as Sokka’s eyes flickered between Zuko’s tapping foot, his hair, and the brush on the floor behind him.

His face morphed into understanding and he carefully draped his clothes over the back of Zuko’s vacant chair, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair for you,” he said gently, nudging Zuko’s foot with his own.

“Get it yourself, Lazy,” Zuko muttered, but either way he shifted his position so he could roll onto the other side of the bed and reached, swiping the brush off the floor and tossing the cursed object at his boyfriend.

Sokka poked at him with his finger (and Zuko tried not to melt at the way Sokka tapped in patterns of three—it was the nonbender’s favorite type of pattern, he did everything in three’s. It became Zuko’s favorite number as their relationship developed and became not only a form of comfort for Sokka when he had his bad days, but also for him) until he got the signal and turned so his back was to Sokka.

“Your hair is very pretty,” Sokka remarked, gently grabbing a small chunk of his hair and starting at the edges.

“It’s greasy.”

“No, it’s really not. You know I don’t like touching greasy hair. I wouldn’t touch it if it was greasy.”

They both knew that was a lie—Zuko’s hair was an exception.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Sokka asked, twisting the edges of the now brushed section of Zuko’s hair while separating it into a second section.

“My hair.”

“I got that.”

“It’s not… it’s not perfect…”

And that was it, wasn’t it? The event wasn’t that big of a deal—in fact, it was so insignificant to him that he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was, but when his hair wouldn’t work the way he wanted, he started getting stiff and on edge.

If his dad saw him like this… Zuko couldn’t help but shudder at the mere thought.

“Babe, Sunshine, light of my life,” Sokka began and oh how Zuko practically melted, “you don’t need to be perfect.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Zuko shot back. “But I do have to be perfect. Everyone’s watching me—I’m the Fire Lord! If I don’t look perfect then…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to focus solely on the feeling of Sokka’s fingers in his hair.

“Oh, I get it,” Sokka said softly. “This isn’t about your hair, is it, baby?”

Zuko just sniffed.

“I know I’m not the best person to talk to about being okay with things being imperfect, but something I’ve begun to learn over the years is that there’s never a time when everything’s perfect, no matter how hard you plan… or brush…”

Zuko chuckled.

“But something that you can always count on is me being there; you know I’ll always be there, right? Because I will be,” he continued. At this point, Zuko was certain Sokka had set the brush down and was just using his fingers, which was somehow more comforting despite the slightly uncouth method.

“Besides, you’re already perfect to me. You don’t need to try and please everyone else anymore. Quite frankly, they’re all idiots.”

Zuko laughed. It was quiet and more half-hearted than anything, but it was a laugh all the same. He could feel water beginning to pool in his eyes, and Zuko let out a choking gasp. “Sorry.”

“Shush, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just… I saw my hair and it wouldn’t—it wasn’t right and I didn’t know what would—“

“Shhh.” Sokka coaxed him into silence, purposefully taking deep breaths along the way to remind him to breathe (which was really helpful since he had forgotten).

“It’s just me. No one else is here—he’s not here. It’s just you and it’s me. And I, personally, think you have the prettiest hair in the entire world, even when it’s greasy.”

Oh, what did Zuko do to deserve someone like Sokka in his life?

Sokka stopped running his fingers through his hair, and Zuko felt the bed shift as Sokka adjusted his position. The nonbender flung his arms around Zuko’s neck, holding him close.

“You’re going to have the best public appearance in the history of pubic appearances today,” Sokka informed him, and Zuko hummed, allowing himself to fall back into Sokka’s embrace. “And if anyone complains about your hair, they may have a run in with my boomerang.”

“Thank you.”

Zuko opened his eyes, allowing his face to fall into its natural frown, but prayed to Agni that Sokka could see the appreciation and adoration in his eyes.

He slowly rose, pushing himself off of his bed and turning so he could see his reflection in the mirror.

His hair it… it wasn’t bad. But it still made his muscles clench and his breath hitch. There were some strands tumbling out of his top knot, falling out of rhythm with the rest of his demeanor.

It was so insignificant, but that’s what Zuko thought when he was younger.

(There was nothing insignificant when it came to Ozai.)

He felt more than saw Sokka stand beside him, and together they gazed in the mirror.

Despite knowing he was being self-conscious, Zuko found himself biting his lip in anticipation as Sokka looked at him. He knew Sokka didn’t think he was disfigured or that his hair was an awful mess, but that wasn’t enough prevent his heart from racing and his fists at the ready to raise to block his—

“You’re beautiful,” Sokka breathed, his eyes so wide that Zuko thought they could contain the depths of the entire ocean, encompass the entirety of the night sky. What made his face flush was that the stars in Sokka’s eyes were directed on him—focused solely and only on him.

“Oh.”

It pained him that that was all he could say. Sokka could compliment him like it was nothing, but Zuko couldn’t do any more than reply with one word.

Sokka frowned and no, that wouldn’t do. Zuko didn’t like when he frowned—more so, he hated being the reason his boyfriend’s smile vanished.

“Are you still…” He cut himself off, his neck jerking and lips pursing, then he waved his hands around for emphasis, as a way to finish the sentence.

Shamefully, Zuko nodded.

Without warning, Sokka grabbed hold of Zuko’s hands and placed them on the top of his head. He intertwined their fingers, almost as if they were holding hands, then started moving them.

For a moment, Zuko held his breath because what was this idiot doing? His hair was the definition of perfection—no strands were loose, he looked regal, the blue and red beads in his hair were perfectly placed… and here Sokka was, guiding Zuko’s hands around his head and messing it up.

Zuko tried to pull away—tried to free his hands from Sokka’s grasp because they couldn’t do this—they couldn’t mess up is hair! The Fire Nation was already terribly critical towards Sokka, being Water Tribe and all, not to mention being the Fire Lord’s boyfriend meant more publicity than either of them were comfortable with… the public would tear Sokka apart if he walked out with messy hair.

“What are you doing?” Zuko hissed through grit teeth, still trying to yank his hands away to no avail. “You’re messing up your hair—I’m messing up your hair!”

Sokka ignored him, but Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to glower at his idiot because his tongue was sticking out of his mouth the way it did when he was concentrating and it was so authentically Sokka and so adorable and—

“There,” Sokka said, interrupting his thoughts. “Now we match!”

It was then that Zuko realized his hands had been released, and he clutched them close to his chest defensively.

Sokka was cheekily grinning at him, his eyes shining, and his hair… oh. His hair was a travesty. His wolf tail became undone and half of it was falling out. The top of his head looked like someone build hundreds of tiny bridges with the way his hair had been tugged at.

As terrible as it was, Zuko was basking in the absolute adorableness of his boyfriend.

“It may not be perfect,” Sokka started, locking hands with Zuko once more, “but we’re doing it together. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Penguin.”

Sokka leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Okay, then: should I wear the cobalt or lapis tunic? I feel like lapis is a more luscious color, but cobalt brings out my eyes…”

Most of what Sokka was saying made absolute no sense to him, but Zuko knew Sokka so he knew that his feeling weren’t being brushed aside. Sokka was just trying to distract him—to make him laugh.

So, Zuko sat back down and listened to Sokka ramble about the pros and cons of each color, even though they had to be at the event in half an hour.

Sokka was right (he always was)—it was never about his hair (maybe it was a little about his hair, whenever Ozai was involved, it was about everything). He spent the majority of his life trying to live up to the standards of everyone else—his hair had to be perfect, his back had to be perfectly straight…

The Fire Nation thrived on the idea of perfection. So much so that Zuko knew if Sokka had been born and raised here, he would have been isolated or forced into muteness due to his imperfections, or his tics. It was a terrible thought that was proved true by the looks he saw shot his boyfriend’s way by some elders—from the way that some people would address Zuko rather than Sokka when they were together or ask Zuko why he hadn’t fixed Sokka or what places he took Sokka to to do so.

But they weren’t imperfections, Sokka’s tics. Zuko reminded him countless times that they were just a part of who he was, something that made him as special as he was. And he supposed that’s what Sokka was trying to show him… though through his unorthodox and irritatingly charming methods.

Zuko never did fix his hair for the evening—he wanted to continue matching with Sokka.

[this can be seen as a mini prequel to threshold of eternity hence why zuko gives azula the advice about how to 'handle' her hair and toe kind of inspired this one hehe]

'101 ways to say i love you' prompts

[alwaysmarveling]

The Incident, The Aftermath

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Amputation, an explosion, hints at PTSD (it’s a wee bit sad but I promise it gets happier)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: So I finally got the guts to post something... If you like it, thank Camz :) If you don’t, sorry mi dude, I’m working on it (but constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!).

You’d slipped into the tank top and shorts easily enough, and here you were standing in front of your dresser. One look at the unruly mop atop your head caused you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You carefully ran the brush through your hair, allowing the knots to loosen up one by one.

You’d been leaving your hair down every day since The Incident, but that was two weeks ago. Assuming everything healed properly, Tony and Bruce were going to fit you for a prosthetic in a week, but until then you had to work with what you had… which was one less arm than you were used to having your entire life.

The universe wasn’t being very thoughtful of your adjustment—it was supposed to get up to ninety-five degrees today—so maybe today would be the day to try putting it up. You had seen some people do it on YouTube, and it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, if you had enough dexterity to wield a knife with one hand and still leave your opponent in pieces, you should be able to put up your hair with one hand easy peasy.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to really do with it. You didn’t see a braid working. You could pin some of it to the side so that it wouldn’t fall in your face, but with the heat, you wanted it completely up. A messy bun could work, though; it was simple, got the hair off of your neck, and it was meant to be a bit untidy. Perfect. With the style in mind, you pushed an elastic around your wrist and set off to work.

Twisting your hair was easy enough. Looping it around to actually form a bun was slightly more difficult, but you managed. When it came time to actually loop the elastic around the bun, though, things got more complicated.

You copied the video, pressing your head against the wall to hold your hair in place while you secured the elastic. However, looping the elastic around the bun without significantly shifting your hair was proving to be extremely difficult. Nevertheless, you managed to do it. The mirror then filled with your reflection as you examined your handiwork.

Handiwork was one word for it. Simply put, it looked like a toddler had done your hair. You weren’t sure how exactly you had messed up since you couldn’t really see behind your head, but you could see the result, and it wasn’t pretty. You let out a puff of air, pulling the elastic out and reaching for your brush. One glance at the clock told you you had enough time for two or three more attempts before you had to call it a day.

Five tries later, you were no better off than you were before. Sure, the bun was supposed to be messy, but there was a certain art to a messy bun. This just looked like a giant cat spit a hairball on top of your head. On top of that, you were now running late to meet Wanda for grocery shopping.

“Miss Y/N,” FRIDAY started.

“Tell her I’ll be down in five,” you sighed, your eyes brimming with tears. You supposed one more day of leaving your hair down wouldn’t kill you even if it was going to be hot, but you just wanted to be able to take care of yourself. You hated seeing the looks of sympathy your teammates gave you every time you had to ask for help for the simplest things, whether it be grabbing a plate at the bottom of the stack or setting up equipment for training.

Sure, things were getting a little easier, like dressing yourself without help. You could deal with the phantom pain. It was excruciating, but pain was one part of the job that you were used to. You had also managed to hide your frustration from the team pretty well since The Incident, but you weren’t sure if that made it any better; half of them seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you.

When it came to the nightmares, though, that was much harder to hide, especially considering you shared a bed with one of the lightest sleepers in the world. You hated waking her up every night, your body soaked in sweat and chest heaving as you forced yourself to remember that it was all over, forced your mind to believe that you were safe even when your body didn’t.

Before you could really understand what was happening, your emotions from the last few weeks bubbled over. Anger, frustration, anguish, and countless others flew to the surface, demanding to be released. Your fingers dug into your hair, yanking on the elastic—along with several strands of hair—until they flew out, hitting the floor somewhere you didn’t care to find. The hairbrush was next, being snatched from the top of the dresser and chucked at the door as hard as you could manage.

“What the- Y/N? Are you okay, babe?”

The thwack of the brush hitting the door caused you to flinch even though you were the one who caused it. Not processing your girlfriend’s muffled words at first, your eyes widened as you stepped back, and for a split second you were transported back to The Incident.

---

You grabbed the last civilian who had fallen behind the others, practically tossing them out of the building before it could explode.

“Y/N! Get out of-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, the building burst into flame, and the blast sent you flying in the air.

When you came to, the only thing you could focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from your elbow. You couldn’t make out exactly what had happened to it, but, wow, to say it hurt was an understatement.

It was several minutes later before the ringing cleared from your ears and you finally realized someone was talking to you.

“Y/N! Y/N, love, please, where are you?” The familiar voice drove you to use the little energy you had left, lifting your head off of the pavement to scan your surroundings. The dust and debris from the explosion made it difficult to see, but you could just make out her shape a few feet away from you.

“Turn… around, you doofus… I’m… behind you,” you wheezed out before letting your head hit the ground.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I thought we-” The second the former assassin saw you, her mouth dropped.

“What is it, Natty?” you asked weakly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just give me a second, okay? I’m going to get the rest of the team so we can get you out of here.”

“Liar,” you wheezed, half-teasing, half-panicked, but your girlfriend had already turned around. Squinting your eyes, you could just make out the small movements of her lips that told you she was talking, but the chaos and your pain and exhaustion—and probably blood loss, but you didn’t know that at the time—was making it impossible to hear what she was saying.

“Okay, they’re coming,” she reassured you, kneeling down next to you.

“What happened?” you tried again.

“You’re a hero, babe,” the redhead murmured, smoothing back your hair and brushing dirt from your face.

“Yeah?” Your voice was growing weaker, and you were becoming loopier than someone who had just come out of wisdom teeth surgery. Natasha knew it was only moments until you passed out.

“Yeah, you did it, sweet girl. You saved them all.”

“I did? I seriously hope Helen is a superhero too because someone’s going to need to save my arm. God, it hurts.” Natasha only let out a huff at your poor attempt at a joke, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? Can you do that?” Something wet hit your cheek, making you realize that your girlfriend was crying.

“Of course,” you scoffed. “Don’t…” You left her hanging.

---

After what felt like years, you finally regained your breath and returned to the present. “I’m fine,” you yelled out, your voice wavering. You knew Natasha wouldn’t believe you. Not only was she your girlfriend, but she was literally one of the best spies in the world. Sure enough, she tried to open the door, her efforts in vain since you’d locked it when you were changing.

“Hon, can you please open the door?”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you breathed out, your tone slightly more stable.

“Just let me in,” she pleaded. “Please?” Her soft voice made you sigh in resignation as you wiped your eyes. You tugged your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest on your head at least a little before showing yourself to her.

“Hi,” you practically whispered, not making eye contact with her once you had opened the door.

“Hey,” she responded softly, taking your hand in one of hers and using her other hand to lift up your chin. Rather than saying anything else immediately, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead as her second hand slid down to completely wrap your one hand in both of hers. The two of you stood in the doorway for a while, eyes closed and hand in hand. You weren’t a super soldier, but you were sure you could hear both of your heartbeats, yours slowing down to beat in tandem with hers.

“You okay?” she finally asked. You nodded slightly, your breathing now back to normal and the tears no longer streaming down your face.

Natasha always had a way of calming you down. You didn’t get frustrated or angry often, but when you did… the rest of the Avengers always joked that you were seconds away from becoming the next Hulk.

The former assassin slowly reached up to untangle your locks, noticing how you flinched when she first reached your hairline.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with the faintest hint of uncertainty, “It’s been a while since I did your hair, and I saw this new hairstyle online that I thought would look really good on you…”

“Thank you,” you sighed quietly as you leaned into her touch.

“My pleasure,” your girlfriend smirked, pushing you inside your shared bedroom and closing the door behind her. She guided you to sit on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed behind you. Brush in hand, Nat started sectioning off your hair. A small smile graced her face when you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully enjoy the contact.

Now halfway down your head, she spoke up again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

“Nat…” you warned, although you had nothing to say afterwards, and the redhead took advantage of that.

“I can only imagine how upset you feel about losing your arm-”

“Nat,” you interrupted, your voice slightly harder this time. Natasha sighed as she continued to braid your hair.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m here for you. I was here for you before, and I’m here for you now. The number of limbs that you have doesn’t affect that. It also doesn’t affect your worth. You’re not useless, Y/N. You never were, and you certainly aren’t now.” Despite your best efforts, tears began to trail down your face. Natasha pursed her lips at the sight but continued, knowing that if she stopped now she wouldn’t have another chance to say what she needed to. “You are-” Nat’s fingers froze when you mumbled out something unintelligible, the hand over your mouth preventing you from enunciating. “What was that?” You sighed before speaking again.

“It’s not the arm. It’s not just the arm,” you corrected.

“Then what is it?” She resumed braiding your hair, her voice matching the tenderness in her hands.

“It’s- it’s the- god, this is embarrassing.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, love. I’ll never judge you for anything you’re feeling,” the redhead promised, pausing once again to brush her lips above your brow bone.

“It’s the fear, Nat. I can’t go one second without thinking about the explosion. About… losing it. I’m scared 24/7, Nat, and even if I could forget about it for even a moment, I have a constant reminder.” Natasha didn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes had flickered to the remainder of your arm that hung by your side. “And, god,” you laughed bitterly, “god, does it make me feel weak. What kind of Avenger constantly lives in fear and panic? How am I ever supposed to help anyone like this?”

“Y/N.” She stopped braiding your hair for the third time, pulling on it slightly so that you were forced to meet her eyes above you. “You are the strongest person I know. I know you’re scared, but guess what? You went through something super traumatic. It’s okay to be scared. Honestly, I might be more concerned if you came out of that and you weren’t scared at all. All of us get scared, and that’s perfectly valid because being scared does not make you weak. Being scared means you value your life, and that’s a good thing.” She paused her speech to relax her grip on your hair, but your head remained tilted, captivated by the passion and emotion that filled your girlfriend’s face and voice.

“And the Avenger that lives in fear and panic is the same one that was ready to give up her life to save people. You helped people in the past not because you had two arms or because you weren’t scared of stuff. You helped them for the sole reason that you made a commitment to helping others, to making the world a better place, and that is the sole reason why you will still be able to help others.” Natasha’s whole body was trembling. The hands that held your hair were white at the fingertips as she clenched them. 

“I admire you more than anyone else in the world. You’re a hero, Y/N. Not ‘were,’ but ‘are.’ You’re the hero of every single person whose life you saved, and you’re my hero.”

“I didn’t-” Despite your interruption, the spy didn’t stop talking.

“You saved my life, Y/N, the second you walked into it. You give me a reason to live, to wake up every morning. And you’re my hero even more so now than before because you get up every day with a smile on your face, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“Not much of a smile now,” you sniffed. Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up slightly. Nat laughed at the juxtaposition, finishing up the intricate braids woven in your hair before turning you around to face her.

“But look how quickly that changed,” she teased, pecking your lips after she wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

“It was my pleasure. Plus, I was right, this hairstyle does look really good on you.” You bit your lip in embarrassment as you turned your gaze to the floor. “I’ll always do your hair for you, milaya.”

“I was actually thinking of shaving it off,” you smirked. As you examined your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but agree with Natasha. You looked good, missing arm and all. A little teary-eyed and runny-nosed, but amazing nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare,” your girlfriend scoffed. “I know I said I wasn’t leaving, but I might at that,” she winked.

“Hey!” You tackled her to the ground. Reaching for her abdomen, her eyes widened as your grin grew larger.

“Y/N, don’t you dare-” You talked over her, not paying attention to her threat.

“I can still tickle you with one arm.” The spy didn’t get the chance to respond before you pounced, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

“Stop, Y/N, please!” she managed to get out.

“Are you going to leave me then? Huh?”

“No, no! I won’t! I’ll never leave you! Please, just stop!” You let up on the tickling, gently brushing away the hair that was thrown over her face seconds ago. “Great,” Nat groaned, “now I need to redo my hair.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly. Seeing the pout on her face, you bent down and met her lips with yours.

“I meant it, though.”

“That you need to fix your hair?” Natasha laughed at the way your head had adorably cocked to one side.

“No, silly, that you’re my hero. That you’re the strongest, most admirable person I know. That I’ll always be there for you, and that I’ll always do your hair for you, even when you don’t need me to do it for you any longer.”

“I love you.” You kissed her again. “And I will always love you.” Noticing a slight shift in her face, you paused, studying her expression. “Don’t you dare start singing that song.”

“Miss Y/N, Miss Maximoff is wondering if you are alright.”

“Shoot, I need to go grocery shopping with Wanda!” You scrambled to get off of the floor, smoothing out your clothes before looking for your shoes. “Uh, FRIDAY, tell her I’m so sorry and I’m coming down right now.”

“One more for the road?” Nat pouted just before you reached the door.

“Of course. Thank you again, for everything.” Your lips melted together for a second before you pulled away.

---

“Wanda, I’m here, I’m so, so sorry!” You half-ran, half-slid down the hallway to meet your best friend at the door.

“Hey,” Wanda turned to greet you. “What took you-” She paused upon making eye contact with you. “I like your hair,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” you smiled back, “Nat did it for me.”

[inkformyblood]

You Speak Of Grace

Commander Cody Week Day 02 Origins [ @commandercodyweek ]

Pairing: Codywan

Summary: Cody is about to meet his new Jedi, but he will make sure his men are as prepared as they can be. Little does he know that Obi-Wan is anything but what he was expecting.

“Once more.” Cody’s voice rang out as the test alarms died away, eliciting a fresh wave of groans from the assembled clones. From behind his helmet, Cody glanced over the group, running through the list in his mind once again. The heavy gloves hid the faint trembling of his hands as his fingers danced over the datapad, drawing up another scenario. “Test Scenario 00726. Oya!”

Distantly, Cody could almost hear Alpha-17’s low rumbling laugh echo forth from his memory at their displays of grumbling compliance. He carefully ignored the brother at the back — Crys, he thought, judging from the bright yellow daubed over his pauldrons and the dark hair growing up through the unnatural yellow dye — who ducked behind a console and emerged after swallowing down the last dregs of his caf.

The consoles rang shrilly as they ran through the necessary checks once more, heads lowered as the other clones focused on their own work. Cody sensed movement just behind him, but didn’t turn, watching the grey painted shape of Helix, their medic, move up behind him in the reflection of a console.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Helix’s voice was soft but no less filled with purpose, expecting to be heard and understood. Cody was the Commander of the Battalion, but Helix was the medic, and that was something entirely different.

“Granted.”

Helix tapped the comm on his wrist, shifting to a private channel, and Cody stifled the reflexive twinge of fear that rattled down his spine. Fear was useful, Alpha-17 had barked at the younger clones in the Command Track, echoing the words of the trainers before him, but it was also dangerous. Drawing in a deep breath, letting it flow through him rather than rule his thoughts, Cody switched to the private channel as well.

“You are doing a good job,” Helix murmured, his voice slightly distorted over the comm. “You are already a good commander, and having a Jedi won’t change that.”

Cody didn’t respond, didn’t want to think about what Helix could read in the sudden stillness of his hands or the lines of tension that flickered into life along his shoulders, but merely nodded, his throat tight.

Helix lightly tapped the back of his wrist guard against Cody’s hip in a silent benediction. “I’m going to head down to medical. Over the next few days, I’ll need to check on the troopers and the Jedi to get a baseline.”

“I’ll draw up a rota,” Cody promised, adding yet another item onto his mental checklist. Dimly, he spared a thought for how his brothers in the command track were faring. Their own comms channel had been eerily quiet since they had received their battalion allocations and left in the early hours of the morning with one final message each of “Oya”.

“Appreciate it,” Helix said with an inclination of his head and stepped away. The other medics, Border and Patience, shadowed him like ghosts, barely half a step behind in a haunting unison that would have made the trainers proud.

Cody turned back to the men, tracking their progress as they worked through the machines, feeling a warm glow of pride settle in his chest. This would work. This had to work.

A warning prickled at the base of his skull, and Cody was already turning to face the doorway by the time his mind had drawn the context clues together.

As Helix left, his pace had slowed slightly, and the soft whoosh of the doors closing took longer than it should have. One of the troopers had raised his head, gaze fixed at something over Cody’s shoulder as one of his hands formed the beginning of the symbol for ‘Mother’, a warning of being watched back on Kamino. But the critical clue was the message flashing from the Command Track Chat from Bly that only read ‘oh no my Jedi’s hot.’

“Hello there.”

“Hello, sir,” Cody said, running on instinct as the rest of his mind went blissfully blank. The only information he had been given was a name and a grainy holo picture to recognise his Jedi by. A small thrill ran down his spine at that thought. Possession was still something all the clones were getting used to, and the knowledge that this man was his, was theirs, was more than Cody could have thought possible.

“Jetti on bridge,” Cody barked over his shoulder to the others, feeling the weight of their eyes on his back.

Obi-Wan smiled, the edges of his eyes — so unbelievably blue, like the point where the ocean met the sky — crinkling. “Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody repeated with a nod, further committing it to memory. He was grateful for the helmet that was still covering his head as he felt the heat settle in his cheeks. Full armour was cumbersome for now, but it had been better to be safe than sorry.

“From what I understand, you have names as well?” Obi-Wan’s gaze darted around the room; his voice pitched low. “I don’t wish to cause any offence; this situation is very new to me.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves, clasping them in front of him.

“CC-2224 is my designation. But my name is Cody, sir.”

It was as if Cody’s words ripped the oxygen from the room, every trooper freezing in place in perfect military rest. Obi-Wan had to feel the pressure lowering onto his shoulders, but he merely grinned once more.

“Cody. That’s an excellent name and a good choice.” Obi-Wan paused, glancing around the room and meeting the gaze of every trooper who quickly lowered their heads back to their consoles at Cody’s signal.

“I trust I can count on you to keep me right, Cody? I will defer to your expertise.” Obi-Wan’s grin was as warm as sunlight, intoxicating when it was directed at just Cody, and he felt his cheeks burst with heat once more.

“Yessir,” Cody said, snapping back into parade rest out of habit.

“I’m not sure what the Kamioans have told you, but if you’re amenable, full armour outside of active combat isn’t required.” Obi-Wan paused with a heavy sigh, looking far older than he was for a moment before he pushed whatever memory it was away. “This isn’t my first war, but no need to make it harder than it needs to be.”

“So,” Cody swallowed, turning his head slightly to track Boil and Waxer’s whispering, their heads pressed together out of the corner of his eye, “Permission to dismiss the men to store their extras?”

“Permission more than granted, Commander.”

If Cody had thought that his mind went blank before, it was nothing compared to being alone on the bridge with Obi-Wan. In every scenario, every training simulation or exercise, nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Alpha-17 and the others took after Prime almost perfectly, and that applied to his lack of attraction as well, at best able to offer rough support to a heartbroken trooper in basic training.

Obi-Wan began to move around the bridge, glancing over the simulated manoeuvres that had been programmed in with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “If you want, Cody, you can store your belongings as well. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I see no reason to start out with extreme formality.”

Cody’s hands were steady as he reached up to remove his helmet, subtly pressing at the itch that had erupted two hours ago at the nape of his skull as he did so. Obi-Wan’s face softened as he watched him, unable to hide the obvious curiosity in his eyes.

“I can definitely see the resemblance.”

Cody laughed, the noise startled out of him, jaw snapping shut with a click.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Please, don’t apologise, Cody. If there is anyone at fault, then it is me.”

“No, sir.” Cody paused to find the correct words, tapping his fingers against the edge of the datapad as he thought. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, Obi-Wan wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he always had been quick on his feet. “As you said, no reason to start out with extreme formality. No fault here.”

Obi-Wan hummed quietly as he thought, and Cody took a moment to inspect the Jedi he would be serving under. The robes hid much of his frame, but Obi-Wan had moved with confidence, despite the fact that the fabric wouldn’t give much protection or possibly act as a hindrance. Cody made another note on his mental list, needing to confer with the other Commanders once everyone had settled again.

“I think this is going to be an excellent partnership, Cody,” Obi-Wan said at last. “With that in mind, with the full reassurance that you can tell me no at any time for whatever reason, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I believe there is some final paperwork to go over.”

“Yessir,” Cody answered before the full implication hit him. Obi-Wan would be sharing, even serving most likely, something precious of his, something he had deliberately chosen to bring aboard a battleship, knowing the cargo restrictions. “I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent! Anakin, my padawan—” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody wordlessly fell into pace at his side, a few inches shorter than the other man as he titled his head to continue watching him, “—he never quite got the taste for it, unfortunately.”

“I am looking forward to it, sir.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, his grin all fond curled edges.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself. He felt like a fool to hope, but it was a hope he held onto tightly.

Out of sight, Cody tapped a message into the Command Chat before silencing it, knowing the explosions it would spawn. ‘Mine’s better, vod.’