#teal and frills

[yronnia]

Your bouncer in Teal and Frills

stop twinkifying Stede Bonnet. my man is shaped like a shot put star why tf do you think Ed said I wanna eat his dick for breakfast???

[gmanmedias]

MY LEFT BRAIN KNOWS THAT HER LOVE IS FLEETING…

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

🛼 🛼 🛼

💿 💿 💿

(Late) Day 1 of @cocajimmycola ‘s event! (edit vers)

Day One (Monday) : Amasui / Frills

[journey-to-the-attic]

A concept I have dubbed the Friendship Bracelet Chronicles:

One day Solomon gives Ik a bunch of his old human-world things that he has no need for anymore. Mixed up in that collection is a box of some very pretty colorful thread. It'd be a shame to let that all go to waste, so Ik has an idea. She's gonna make friendship bracelets!

The bracelets are made and distributed to resounding success. Mammon cries. Belphie will kill you if you spill something on his. Diavolo won't take it off even for Very Important Announcements. Simeon wears his on top of his gloves even though it's a horrible fashion statement because he loves it with all his heart.

Ik thinks that's the end of it. Boy is she wrong.

One day Satan gives her a friendship bracelet of his own. He's made it with the same color Ik used for his bracelet along with little cat-shaped beads. Cute! Ik wears it proudly.

Then Levi notices and by the next day, he's made one with a goldfish charm. Then there's one from Mammon. Then Asmo. Then Beel. Then Belphie. And for a while that's it. Until one day at the breakfast, Lucifer walks in, and presents Ik with the most fancily woven bracelet so far. It's got little music notes embroidered into it. How the FUCK

It only escalates from there. The other exchanges won't ket their best friend status be encroached on and oh you know Diavolo has to get in on this! By the end of it Ik is wielding twelve bracelets, seven on one wrist and five on the other, and the others keep bickering about whose bracelet is higher in the pecking order

Imagine the added chaos if the newspaper club and season 4 trio got in on this....

this whole thing is so cute oml

om mephistopheles meets ik and when she shakes his hand he looks down and sees diavolo's friendship bracelet practically GLOWING up at him and he's just floored by the sight of it. meanwhile raphael thinks that the many bracelets are like, combat cuffs, and is extremely on-guard until simeon explains things to him

thirteen would be the first of the new trio to make ik a bracelet after becoming friends! it's pink-purple with little skulls and butterflies and bells that make it jingle. then raphael comes along with a pretty laurel pattern (painstakingly embroidered, because he's so good at that kind of thing). eventually, not to be outdone, mephistopheles produces a very elaborate silver thread one that looks like a dragon wrapping around your wrist

ik has to continuously rotate the order she wears her bracelets in because otherwise the others start play-bickering (and then real-bickering) about which one's the favourite

[sunni-stuff]

Standing outside your apartment, Simon tightened his grip around the wooden toy train, the corners of the box digging slightly into his palm. His heart thrummed uncomfortably in his chest—a sensation far too foreign for someone who’d faced down worse odds than this. He was used to calculating risks, taking them head-on, but this? This wasn’t a battlefield; it was something infinitely more terrifying. He was meeting his daughter.

He cast a glance at the train in his hand, a sturdy, well-crafted toy he and Johnny had spent hours picking out earlier that day. The shopkeeper’s amused expression still lingered in his mind—two grown men scrutinizing toy trains as though the fate of the world rested on their choice. You hadn’t been specific, just a train, no frills, nothing cartoonish. And so Simon had chosen the simplest one, figuring it was better to err on the side of practicality.

Beside him, Johnny leaned casually against the wall, spinning a plastic-cased mermaid Barbie in his hands. The vibrant teal-and-pink packaging clashed starkly with the air of seriousness Simon carried.

Simon scowled, his gaze darting to the doll. “I told you, no dolls. She said no dolls.” His voice was low and rough, almost a growl, though it carried more nervous energy than actual anger.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, smirking as he turned the Barbie over in his hands. “What kid doesn’t like a Barbie? Eh? You’re overthinking this, big man.” His Scottish accent lent an irreverent edge to his words. “Besides, it’s just a backup. If she doesn’t like the train—which, let’s face it, is a bloody long shot—I’ve got something she’s bound to love.”

Simon shot him a sharp look. “It’s not about the toy,” he muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s about… makin’ an impression. Proper one.”

Johnny’s smirk softened, his usual teasing tone giving way to something closer to sincerity. “And you think that’s all ridin’ on a train? C’mon, mate, it’s you she’s meeting, not just some toy. Kids aren’t daft—they know when someone’s tryin’.” He tilted his head toward the toy in Simon’s hand. “But, for what it’s worth, that train’s not bad. Proper classic. No gimmicks.”

Simon grunted in response, his attention flicking back to the apartment door. It was a quiet, unassuming building, but the pressure of what lay beyond that door was immense. You were in there with her—Adira. His daughter. The thought still felt surreal, even after the days he’d spent turning it over in his mind. He’d seen her before, from a distance, but that was different. This was too personal in a way he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

“I should’ve brought the others,” Simon muttered under his breath, more to himself than Johnny.

Johnny’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Aye, because showin’ up with the whole bloody team wouldn’t be overwhelming at all, eh? ‘Here’s yer dad, and here’s his army of uncles.’ Real subtle.”

Simon huffed a dry laugh despite himself, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. Johnny always had a knack for cutting through his nerves, even when Simon wasn’t in the mood for it.

The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door snapped Simon’s attention back to the moment. His pulse quickened as the lock turned, and the door creaked open to reveal you standing there, a mixture of caution and curiosity etched into your expression. You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze darting between Simon, Johnny, and the toys in their hands.

“Hi,” Simon managed, his voice quieter than he’d intended. He cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the train. “Uh… thought I’d bring somethin’ she might like.”

You glanced at the train, then at Johnny’s Barbie, raising an eyebrow. “I see Johnny didn’t listen,” you comment dryly, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

Johnny grinned, unbothered. “Insurance, lass. Always good to have a backup plan.”

Stepping aside, you gestured for them to come in. “Well, let’s see how this goes. She’s in the living room.”

Simon felt the air grow heavier as he crossed the threshold, each step bringing him closer to something he’d been equal parts dreading and hoping for. The sound of quiet giggles and the rustle of toys came from the living room, and he stopped short in the hallway, his hand tightening instinctively around the train.

“You okay?” you asked curiously, your question laced with something he couldn’t quite place—concern? Reassurance?

He nodded stiffly, though he wasn’t entirely sure who he was convincing. “Yeah,” he said, masking his unease. This wasn’t the time to let emotions run wild, not when his daughter was just a few steps away. He needed to reel everything, keep composed.. “Just… takin’ a moment.”

Johnny clapped him on the shoulder, his grin unfaltering. “You’ve got this, mate. And if all else fails—” he held up the Barbie with a dramatic flourish—“I’ve got you covered.”

Simon rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered dryly.

He took a grounding breath, then stepped into the living room. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks—Adira, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a miniature train set spread out before her. Her dark hair fell in delicate curls around her face, and her eyes, so startlingly like his own, lit up with delight as she guided a tiny train along the tracks.

The world seemed to narrow, every noise fading into the background except for the sound of her soft laughter. This was his daughter, and for the first time, he wasn’t just watching from afar—he was here.

Adira looked up, her curious gaze locking onto him. Simon’s heart leapt into his throat as she tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Before he could speak, Johnny stepped forward, a grin plastered across his face as he crouched beside her.

"Hey, bonnie lass," Johnny greeted, bringing in  warmth and cheerfulness. He held out the mermaid Barbie, its plastic casing shimmering in the soft light. “Look what I got for ye.”

Adira blinked at him, her small head tilting to the side in the same assessing way she’d done with Simon. Then, in a voice as sweet as it was blunt, she said, “Ugee.”

Simon held back a laugh, but Johnny froze, his grin faltering. Did she just call me ugly again? he thought, momentarily stunned before recovering with a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, come on, lass. That’s no way to treat yer Uncle Johnny,” he teased, though his pride was clearly bruised. He pushed the doll a little closer, his voice softening. “It’s for you. Look—she’s got a shiny tail and everything.”

Adira’s expression shifted, her curiosity piqued as she finally reached for the doll. Johnny’s face lit up with relief, and he turned to you and Simon with a victorious smirk. “Told ya,” he mouthed, his tone smug.

Simon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, while you merely crossed your arms, waiting for what you knew was coming.

The sound of plastic ripping shattered Johnny’s moment of triumph. His head whipped around just in time to see Adira pull the doll free from its packaging with surprising efficiency. She studied it for a moment, her tiny fingers gripping the head and the body. And then—pop—the doll’s head came clean off.

Johnny’s jaw dropped as he watched Adira inspect the decapitated doll with silent satisfaction. She set the head down beside her, then held up the now-headless body, apparently contemplating her next move.

Simon let out a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement as Johnny gawked at the scene, his earlier smugness entirely gone. “Well,” Simon drawled, unable to hide his dry humor. “Guess she wasn’t a fan after all.”

Johnny turned back to you and Simon, his expression caught between disbelief and betrayal. “What… what kind of kid just does that?!” he demanded, gesturing wildly at the scene behind him.

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I warned you about the dolls.”

Johnny shook his head, still reeling as he muttered under his breath, “She’s Sid from Toy Story incarnate, I swear.”

Adira, seemingly unbothered by the fuss, returned her focus to her trains, contentedly adding the doll’s head to a makeshift pile of "cargo." Johnny looked ready to protest further, but Simon stepped forward, crouching to her level and holding out the wooden train.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, his voice steady despite the lingering laughter in his chest. “I brought you somethin’. Thought you might like it.”

Adira didn’t respond right away, her eyes bouncing between him and the toy. Then, slowly, she reached out, her small fingers brushing against the train before taking it from his hands. Unlike the Barbie, she carefully opened the box, her movements deliberate and methodical. She removed the wooden train gently, inspecting it for a moment. Without a word, she added it to the tracks, her attention already back on her play as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Simon stayed crouched, watching her intently. A flicker of relief crossed his face at her acceptance of the gift. The room, heavy with unspoken tension just moments before, now felt lighter, though Simon could feel the enormity of the moment pressing against his chest.

You appeared at his side, crouching slightly to meet his eye, a small grin on your lips. “That’s a good sign,” you murmured, keeping your voice low. “She doesn’t usually let people touch her trains.”

Simon exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His gaze flickered back to Adira, watching as she carefully positioned the new train car alongside the others, her focus unwavering. It wasn’t much—just a small gesture—but it felt monumental. A start.

“She’s got good taste,” Simon adds, a touch of pride in his tongue as he nodded toward the tracks. “Knows quality when she sees it.”

You chuckled, the sound easing the edges of Simon’s nerves. “It’s not just that,” you replied, your eyes lightening as you watched Adira. “Trains are her world. If she’s letting you into it, even a little…” You trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Simon nodded, his throat tightening with a mix of emotions he wasn’t used to confronting. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply watch her, the curve of her cheek, the determined set of her brow as she pushed the train forward, creating a soft click-clack noise against the wooden tracks. He thought of all the moments he’d missed, all the firsts that had come and gone without him. But now, sitting there on the floor of your apartment, watching his little girl play, he felt something unfamiliar: hope.

“It’s a start,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. And for now, that was enough.

Johnny hung back near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the tender scene unfold. Simon, a man he’d always seen as unshakable and stoic, was crouched beside Adira, his usually guarded expression diminished by a rare, genuine grin. Johnny didn’t dare interrupt—this wasn’t his moment. He was just a spectator, standing on the sidelines as a long-standing divide finally began to close.

The warmth in the room tugged at Johnny’s own heart, and though he wasn’t one for sentimentality, the sight was too good to pass up. Without a word, he slipped his phone from his pocket, angling it just right to snap a quick picture. Simon’s grin, lopsided and proud, was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, his large frame almost comically dwarfed by the tiny train set and the little girl at its center.

Satisfied with the shot, Johnny smirked to himself as he typed out a caption: “Big man, small trains. Heart officially melted. ” He hit send, the photo shooting off to the group chat where the lads were bound to have a field day with it.

Moments later, his phone buzzed with a flurry of responses:

Roach: “Never thought I’d see Ghost look so human.”

Gaz: “He’s got the ‘Dad Look’ down already. Almost feel bad making fun of him.”

Price: “I don’t. Send more pics.”

Stifling a snicker, Johnny shoved his phone back into his pocket. He glanced back at Simon, who was completely absorbed in Adira’s world, watching as she pushed the new train along the tracks with the utmost concentration. The sheer joy and focus on her face seemed to draw Simon further into her orbit, as if nothing else existed but the tiny, clacking train set.

Johnny shook his head fondly. Big, scary Ghost, he thought, brought to his knees by a wee lass and a wooden train. It was a sight he’d never forget.

Johnny slipped out of the apartment with a quiet click of the door, leaving the two of you in a silence that felt both comfortable and weighty. His absence left the air clearer, yet filled with the unspoken. As Adira remained engrossed in her trains, her murmurs creating a gentle rhythm in the background, you found your mind racing with a single, unrelenting question:

What now?

Giving her toys was one thing. Simon showing up, physically present, was a start. But the path ahead of you wasn’t so simple. Building a connection took more than gifts and fleeting moments. Adira was too young to truly grasp the gravity of this shift in her world. Telling her outright that Simon was her father didn’t feel right—not now. That conversation would be better left for a day when she could fully understand it.

You rose from your position near him, brushing off your knees as you took a real long look at her. There it was, in her little mannerisms, her sharp focus, the way her brow furrowed just slightly as she concentrated—it was him. So much of him. And the way Simon’s gaze relaxed as he watched her? You could see it, plain as day. He wanted to be there for her.

And you wanted her to be happy.

The realization hit you with clarity: the best way to make this transition smooth was to let Simon find his place naturally. He couldn’t make up for all the firsts he’d missed, but there was still time for so many more moments.

“So…” you began, your voice quiet but heavy, the word hanging between you like an unspoken question. You turned to face Simon, watching him carefully as he sat cross-legged on the floor, his broad frame surprisingly small in this intimate space. He was still holding that wooden train, his fingers gently brushing over the smooth surface like it was something sacred.

Simon looked up at you, his eyes catching yours, and he shifted slightly, his posture relaxed, but there was something else—something vulnerable yet determined. "So," he echoed, his voice unshakable, though you could hear the undertone of apprehension, a slight tremor of uncertainty beneath his calm façade. He wanted to be open, to show you he was ready for whatever was coming next, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

You crossed your arms, not out of defiance but out of the need to ground yourself. It was a physical gesture, a way to hold yourself steady in the face of everything that had led to this moment. “This isn’t going to be easy,” you said, the words a simple statement, but they carried meaning.

“I didn’t expect it to be,” Simon replied, his voice firm, the same way it would sound in the midst of a mission, when the stakes were high. The seriousness in his tone wasn’t lost on you. But there was more than just the soldier in him now—there was a father. "But I’m here. I want to try. For her." His eyes darted to Adira, his gaze lingering on her as she lined up her train set with careful precision. It was a look filled with fierce, almost protective determination, and it tugged at your chest.

“For her,” you agreed, your heart swelling with the truth of it. “She deserves that. But it’s not just about showing up with toys. It’s about showing up for her. Being there when she needs you, even if it’s hard. Even if she pushes you away at first.”

Simon’s jaw tightened as you spoke, and you saw the muscles in his neck flex, as though he was fighting against something—maybe the grandness of what this all meant, maybe his own doubts. “I can do that,” he said after a pause, his voice low but resolute. “I will.”

“You’ll have to.” Your tone tender, but you still held that edge of playful taunting. It was your way of testing the waters, of gauging if he was truly prepared for what this would take. “She’s stubborn. Wonder where she gets that from.”

Simon huffed a quiet laugh, and a faint smirk forming on his mouth. For a brief moment, the walls he’d built around himself seemed to weaken, just a little. “Aye, can’t imagine,” he replied, the humor easing some of the tension in the room.

There was a pause, the room settling into a calm that hadn’t been there before. You watched as Simon glanced back at Adira, his eyes lingering on her as she placed another train down, her little brow furrowed in concentration. The sight was almost too much for him—this was his flesh and blood, sitting right there in front of him, in this quiet, domestic world he hadn’t been a part of.

“First things first—likes and dislikes.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but you didn’t wait for him to respond. You turned on your heel and slipped into the kitchen, the quiet tension that had settled between you both diminishing. Simon, sitting cross-legged on the floor near Adira, was still absorbing the weight of everything unfolding. His gaze followed you as you disappeared into the next room, the brief silence stretching between the two of you.

When you returned, you were holding a file—nothing flashy, just a plain folder. You approached him and handed it over, watching as he hesitated, the weight of the paper in his hands heavier than it appeared.

The sight inside that greeted him threw him off guard—pages upon pages of meticulously written details. At first glance, it looked like a detailed report, every section filled with information about Adira’s daily routine, preferences, and even the smallest of habits. Her favorite snacks, the way she liked her sandwiches cut in triangles. Each page was packed with specifics: her reactions to certain foods, her favorite colors, how she responded to certain sounds and even what she liked to do on rainy days—took him completely off guard.

Simon blinked at it, flipping through the pages as if trying to find a sense of grounding in the flood of information. It was overwhelming, but what struck him the most was how thorough it was—how much you had put into it. Everything about her, everything you alone learned over the years, all laid out for him to see.

The file was thick, packed with details. The more he flipped through, the more surprised he became. Notes jotted in neat handwriting with labeled sections.There wasn’t just filled with cold, clinical notes. It also contained moments of tenderness, small anecdotes about how Adira reacted to certain situations or things that made her smile. You had carefully noted the songs she liked to sing along with, how she would curl up on the couch when she was feeling down, the exact way she liked her bedtime story read.

Simon looked up at you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. “What is all this?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with surprise.

You offered him a faint smile, though there was no real humor in it. “Before you think I’m crazy or paranoid,” you began, raising your hands slightly in defense, “I work at the daycare around the corner, and Adira comes with me. It’s policy to keep these records—just in case. You know, since some kids have allergies, or there are specific things we need to be aware of.”

He nodded, still flipping through the file, as if seeing this list of Adira’s little quirks and habits for the first time made her seem more real. More like a child who had to be cared for, understood, and loved in ways that went far beyond simply showing up with a toy.

“I didn’t know you’d been keeping track of all of this,” A look of genuine surprise crossed his face. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’d been doing so much.”

You shrugged slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “It’s nothing. Just making sure she’s okay.” There was an edge of vulnerability to your words, as if you were downplaying the emotional weight of it all.

Simon’s fingers lingered on the pages, his gaze skimming the words as if trying to understand the depth of the commitment you had for Adira. It wasn’t just about her well-being, it was about every little thing that made her, her.

“You really do know everything about her, don’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It wasn’t about control or being overprotective—it was about ensuring that every part of Adira’s world was in order, even when you weren’t looking.

“I know what she likes, what she dislikes. I know how she reacts when she’s tired or overstimulated. I know what makes her laugh and what makes her cry. It’s not about keeping tabs, it’s about making sure she feels safe. Especially with everything changing right now.”

Simon absorbed your words quietly, the weight of the file heavy in his hands. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. You had been doing this alone for so long—carrying the weight of all these little details, managing the complexity of motherhood without the support he should’ve been offering.

“She’s lucky,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’ve done more than I can even imagine.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The simplicity of his words caught you off guard, making you feel a bit exposed. “It’s just what you do for them,” you replied, your voice softer now, more vulnerable. “You do what you can to make sure they’re okay.”

Simon closed the file slowly, processing what it meant. He felt a surge of something—guilt, maybe, or a quiet ache—as he realized just how much he’d missed. He’d been absent for so many of the small, seemingly insignificant moments that made up Adira’s life. And now, looking at the file, he could feel the weight of his absence more than ever.

“I want to know it all,” Simon said quietly, his voice full of resolve. “Every little thing. I don’t care how small it seems. I want to learn everything about her.”

Your heart skipped at his words, and for the first time, you felt a sense of stability knowing he’d be around to lift some of the hardship off your shoulders. For once, it wouldn’t just be you anymore.

“Good,” Your voice filled with quiet approval. “Because it’s going to take time. And you’ll need to be patient.”

“I can do that,” he replied, his jaw set with determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

By 6 AM sharp, there he was—a solid, familiar figure standing at your door with his sleeves rolled up and a faint, hesitant smile. He never asked if you needed help; he simply showed up, ready to lend a hand. Simon didn’t just want to be in your life—he wanted to belong in it. Every visit to your apartment wasn’t just about showing up; it was about figuring out how to bridge the gap between her world and his. You had been Adira's anchor, her everything. Simon understood that, respected it, but he was intent on creating his own place in her little universe—one small gesture at a time.

At first, his kitchen skills left a lot to be desired. You insisted you could handle breakfast on your own, but Simon waved you off, determined to prove himself. Adira sat in her highchair, small fingers clutching a slice of strawberry as she watched her father with wide, curious eyes. He wrestled with the stovetop like it was an enemy combatant, flipping pancakes that somehow always ended up sticking or splattering in every direction. A particularly ambitious flip sent batter flying, splattering across his shirt and the counter.

Adira paused mid-chew, her sharp little eyes zeroing in on the mess. "Messy man," she mumbled around the strawberry, her tone matter-of-fact but laced with childish amusement.

Simon froze, mid-swipe with a paper towel, and glanced at her, eyebrows shooting up. “What’d you call me?”

"Messy man," she repeated, a little more confidently this time, giggling as she pointed at the batter streaked across his chest.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Simon groaned, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’ll remember that,” he muttered, though there was no hiding the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

Despite the mishaps, he never gave up. Day by day, the kitchen disasters became fewer. He learned that Adira liked her pancakes shaped like stars if you had the time and that a dollop of whipped cream on top made her clap her hands with delight. He discovered she preferred her strawberries sliced thin, not chunky, and that she hated the crusts on toast but loved when it was cut into neat little triangles.

More importantly, while you were around, Adira began to interact with him in ways you hadn’t expected. She would babble at him as he cooked, her little hands waving animatedly as though she was offering advice. He listened as if she were telling him the most important secrets in the world, nodding solemnly and responding in his deep, rumbling voice.

One morning, as he handed her a plate with her favorite star-shaped pancakes, she looked up at him with a toothy smile, “Thank you, messy man.”

Simon froze, his grip tightening on the plate for just a second before he crouched down to her level. “You’re welcome, love,” The endearing nickname left his lips with ease, carrying an edge of something raw and tender.

You stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold with a lump in your throat. This wasn’t just about breakfast. It was about Simon trying—every single day—to show her that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was clumsy and imperfect, but it was real. And you couldn’t help but feel the faint stirrings of something like hope, watching the way Adira’s small world seemed to expand to make room for him.

After some time of this new, unspoken pattern settling in—one that felt like a quiet, gradual understanding—Adira seemed to begin warming up to Simon. It wasn’t as deep or instantaneous as it had been with you, but it was enough. Enough for her to sit at the table, nibbling on the pancakes he’d made. Enough to sit near him and listen to his voice without the immediate urge to run to you. And, perhaps most telling, enough for her to offer him a strawberry one morning before daycare.

Still, there were unspoken boundaries. She wouldn’t let him touch her trains, a sacred realm of hers he dared not trespass. And after a while of him being nearby, she’d often wander back to you, clutching at your leg or climbing into your lap, needing the reassurance of your proximity. 

You saw it in Simon’s eyes sometimes, the flicker of hurt that he quickly masked, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. But it did. You could tell. Adira was studying him from the safety of her bubble, keeping her distance as if trying to figure him out. You couldn’t blame her. Adira had lived her life with you as the constant; Simon was a new element in her world, one she wasn’t sure how to integrate yet.

But you couldn’t help but wonder: Did she need just a little nudge? A chance to have a moment with him—just the two of them—without you hovering nearby to catch her if she fell?

That opportunity came one morning when the daycare announced they would be closing down the toddler classrooms for renovations. Since Adira’s classroom was off-limits, she couldn’t come with you, leaving a gap in her schedule for at least a day or two. It was the perfect chance for Simon to step in and watch her alone, just the two of them.

That morning, Simon arrived as usual, but the atmosphere was different. You were already dressed for work, and Adira sat on the couch, her little frame wrapped in her favorite onesie—a fuzzy lavender number with tiny clouds on the sleeves. Her attention was fixed on the cartoon playing on the screen, her pillow hugged tightly to her chest.

You had considered this moment for a while, weighing the risks and the benefits. You knew how much it would mean to Simon if Adira let him in just a little bit more. But it was still a leap. You couldn’t help but feel the protective instinct rising in you, a sharp edge of caution in your chest. If anything went wrong, if Adira seemed uncomfortable or the situation felt off, you’d be home in a heartbeat. It was your job to protect her, to put her needs above all else—even Simon’s. As much as he was trying, as much as he cared, she was still your child, and her safety and happiness mattered most.

Simon raised an eyebrow as he noticed your state of dress and Adira’s lounging figure. “So, it’s just me and her today?”

You nodded, grabbing your keys. “her classroom is closed for renovations. Figured this would be a good chance for you two to spend some time together.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead Simon seemed to take everything in stride, breathing in deeply, knowing his moment was now.

You couldn’t help but study him for a moment longer, as if reading him for any sign that he was second-guessing himself. But then he smiled at you, it was genuine—reassuring. You had to trust him. You had to let him try.

Walking over to Adira, you knelt beside her, smoothing her hair as you spoke. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna hang out with Simon today, okay? I’ll be back soon.” 

Adira’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a tiny pout. “You go?”

“Just for a little while,” you reassured her. “Simon’s going to stay with you, and you’ll have lots of fun. Won’t you?”

Adira looked up at you with those wide, dark eyes, not fully understanding the implications, but offering you a small, shy nod. She then returned her attention to the TV, her little fingers absentmindedly squeezing the fabric of her pillow.

“She’s had her bath, so no worries there,” you swiftly explained, slipping into your role as her mother. “She’s in her onesie because it’s raining today, and for some reason, she loves wearing it on rainy days—I don't understand it but as long as she's happy. There’s food in the fridge, but after a couple of hours, I’d suggest cutting the TV off. Let her color, read, or maybe play with her trains. It gives her eyes a break from the screen. Oh, and rainy days mean pizza. Her favorite place is ‘Mario’s,’ and the number’s on the fridge. She’ll ask for the stuffed crust and extra cheese, light on the sauce.”

Simon absorbed the instructions like a soldier receiving a mission briefing, nodding along as you spoke. His eyes flicked to Adira, who was now idly kicking her feet as she watched the TV, and then back to you. “Got it. Anything else?”

You hesitated for a moment, then let it subside. “Just… be patient with her. She’s still figuring this out. You’re doing great, Simon.”

His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last glance, scanning for any signs of hesitation or doubt, but his steady demeanor gave you confidence. With a final goodbye to Adira, who waved absently, you headed for the door. With that, you left, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest felt tight, your every nerve on edge as you walked to work. This was Simon’s test, sure, but it was yours too—trusting someone else with the most precious thing in your life. Only time would tell how it would go.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Simon standing awkwardly in the quiet apartment. Adira stayed exactly where she was, her little form cocooned on the couch, eyes glued to the animated animals bouncing across the TV screen. Simon exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he took in the moment. This was it. His chance.

He crossed the room and sat down next to her, careful not to invade her space. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick and uncertain. Adira didn’t so much as glance his way, her focus unwavering as the characters on the screen launched into a cheerful song.

Simon cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the air like an awkward ripple. "So, uh," he started, his voice low and unsure, "you like it when it rains?"

Adira finally looked up at him, her big, curious eyes meeting his. She blinked a couple of times, processing his question, before giving a small, shy nod.

"Yeah?" he pressed, a soft smile creeping onto his face. "What’s your favorite thing about it? The sound? Jumping in puddles?"

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she shifted on the couch, pulling her pillow closer as if using it as a shield. Simon waited, giving her time, not wanting to push. Then, as if finding the courage, she mumbled, “The sound.”

“The sound, huh? Me too,” he said, leaning back a bit to ease the tension. “Kinda peaceful, isn’t it? Makes everything... quiet.”

Adira nodded again, this time a little more confidently. Her tiny fingers started to drum on the pillow in her lap, the rhythm mimicking the pitter-patter of raindrops. Simon caught it and grinned.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I used to watch the rain all the time when I was little. Sometimes I’d sit by the window for hours, just listening. My mum always said I’d get stuck there.”

Adira tilted her head at him, her curiosity evident now. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft and a little unsure, as though she wasn’t entirely ready to start talking freely.

Simon chuckled, scratching his chin. “Dunno. Maybe I thought if I stayed there long enough, I’d see something special, like... I dunno, maybe the rain would make magic happen.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the word magic, and Simon felt a small victory bloom in his chest.

“Magic?” she echoed, her tone a mix of skepticism and interest.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, leaning in just a little, like he was about to share a secret. “The kind that only shows up when you’re really, really patient. You gotta look close, though.”

Adira’s gaze darted back to the TV for a moment before returning to him, her guard lowering inch by inch. She hugged her pillow tighter but didn’t turn away.

“Maybe,” she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear, “maybe I’ll see magic too.”

Simon’s chest tightened, a warmth spreading there that he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, he wasn’t just a stranger in her world; he was someone she was starting to let in.

“Maybe you will,” he said softly, leaning back into the couch. He let the quiet fill the space again, content to sit beside her, waiting for the rain—or the magic—to come.

After a few minutes, Adira reached over to the side table where her sippy cup rested. She grabbed it, then paused, her hand hovering. Slowly, she stretched it out toward him. “Drink?” she offered, her voice small but steady.

Simon blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. It wasn’t much—just a sippy cup of watered-down juice—but it felt monumental. “Thanks, but that’s yours,” he said gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She pulled it back and took a sip herself, nodding like she’d made a grand decision.

Simon chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small step, a tiny opening, and Simon took it as the win it was.

The hours slipped by quietly, the sound of the TV buzzing in the background, and before Simon knew it, the three-hour mark had passed. He glanced at the clock, then at the screen, and with a deep breath, he reached over and clicked the power button.

Adira's eyes widened in shock, her little fingers frozen mid-air as she pointed at the now-black screen. "Why?" she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and mild frustration. "I wanna watch..." Her words trailed off, her pout deepening as she looked back at him, like she couldn’t quite understand why he’d taken it away.

Simon bit his lip, fighting a chuckle. "You’ve been watchin' for a while now, kiddo," he said, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "Time to do somethin’ else, yeah?"

Adira stared at him for a long moment, her little brow furrowed as she processed what he’d said. She didn’t seem convinced at first, her gaze darting back to the black screen as if willing it to come back to life. When it didn’t, she crossed her arms over her chest, her lower lip poking out in a full pout.

“I don’t wanna,” she muttered, voice small but firm. It was clear she wasn’t happy with the decision, but Simon had a feeling it was more about the principle of the matter than the TV itself.

“C’mon now,” Simon said softly, trying to soften the blow. “We can do somethin’ fun. How ‘bout we build somethin' together? Or read a book?”

Her little frown deepened, and Simon almost felt bad for turning the TV off. But this was the first time he’d gotten a moment alone with her, and he knew it was important to break the habit, to show her there were other things to do in the world besides the screen.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and the quiet living room. Then, with a small sigh, she uncrossed her arms and stood up, shuffling toward the toy box with little steps, only to find nothing that interested her.

"Books?" she asked, her voice still laced with uncertainty but tinged with the smallest bit of curiosity.

Simon smiled, feeling a wave of relief. “Books it is,” he said, standing up to join her. “I bet we can find somethin’ that’ll be just as fun as that TV show.”

Adira didn’t answer, but the way she grabbed a book off the shelf made Simon’s heart flutter with a tiny spark of victory. 

Adira returned to Simon’s side, holding a colorful book with a soft, focused expression on her face. The cover was bright, featuring two foxes—one with a bushy tail and the other a smaller, more timid-looking one. The title, No Matter What, was written in bold letters above them. She climbed up beside him and, without a word, placed the book in his lap, her small hands brushing gently against it as if offering him a treasure.

Simon looked down at the book, caught off guard by her quiet gesture. He glanced at her for a moment, meeting her eyes. She looked at him with a silent kind of expectation, waiting.

Slowly, he picked up the book, holding it carefully as if it were something precious. “What’s this?” he asked softly, though it was clear he already had an inkling.

“Foxes,” Adira replied simply, her voice soft but firm. “Mama read it. It’s ‘bout love.”

Simon’s heart tugged at the mention of you. He could imagine the way you’d read to her, the soothing cadence of your voice, the way Adira had probably snuggled up beside you during the bedtime ritual. But there was something in Adira’s face now, something that felt like an invitation—a little piece of trust she was offering him, too.

“Well, alright then,” Simon said, his voice soft as he began to flip open the book. Adira sat close beside him, her tiny hands still on the cover, watching his every move with an intense focus. She didn’t rush him. The silence between them felt comforting.

He began to read aloud, slowly at first, as if still gauging her reaction. “No matter what, the foxes knew that they would always be together, through the rain or the snow, through the darkest nights and the brightest days.”

Adira shifted beside him, her little legs crossing as she settled into his side. Her small hand reached for the page as he turned it, her fingers brushing over the illustrations. She didn’t interrupt, just quietly absorbed the words.

As Simon read on, his voice grew more confident, and the warmth of the moment started to settle between them. For a fleeting moment, it felt like they had bridged a gap, one word at a time, one page at a time. It wasn’t much, but it was something—something to build on.

Adira’s gaze remained fixed on the book, but her body had relaxed against Simon’s, the way a child does when they feel safe. As the last pages of the book came into view, she snuggled closer, her head resting against his shoulder.

When Simon finished reading, he let the book fall softly onto his lap. He looked down at her, her eyes half-closed, but still aware and trusting. She looked up at him again, her tiny voice soft as she spoke. “Foxes love each other... no matter what.”

Simon’s heart thudded in his chest, the simplicity of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what it all meant yet, but in that moment, it was enough to see her so close, so willing to share something so personal. A bond had begun to form—fragile, yes, but it was there.

“Yeah,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper, “no matter what.”

With the last of the kids sent off and the staff beginning to clean up, you closed up shop, ready to call it a day. But just as you were locking up, a loud clap of thunder rattled the building, causing you to jump in shock. Your heart raced for a moment, the suddenness of it making you freeze in place.

“Jesus, if Adira was here, she’d lose it,” you muttered to yourself, trying to laugh off the shock. But then, your words hit you like a ton of bricks.

If Adira was here.

A chill ran through you as it dawned on you just how careless you’d been. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had completely forgotten to tell Simon about her fear of thunderstorms. She hated them. Hated the loud crashes of thunder, the flashes of lightning. You’d seen her curl up in a ball, her hands over her ears, eyes wide with terror when the storms hit.

The sound of the storm outside was only getting louder, the thunder now booming and crackling as it came closer. You could imagine Adira, sitting there with Simon, eyes wide and full of fear, clutching whatever comfort she could find, and Simon… God, Simon probably didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t have any idea how to handle it.

Without thinking twice, you dropped everything—your bag, your jacket, anything that wasn’t crucial to getting home. You shot a quick look toward the staff, offering a hasty explanation and apology. Then, without another word, you bolted through the doors, past the remaining parents who were still talking in the lobby, and into the rain.

The rain beat down on you as you sprinted through the streets, the cold droplets stinging your skin as the thunder rumbled overhead. You couldn’t focus on anything but getting home. Adira needs me. Adira needs me.The mantra repeated in your head with each pounding step. Your feet splashed through puddles, the air heavy with the scent of wet pavement and the growing tension in your chest.

It felt like forever as you raced through the downpour, but at last, you reached the building, heart hammering in your chest. You fumbled with your keys, every second feeling like an eternity as the thunder rumbled louder, closer. Hurry, you told yourself, voice shaky as you turned the key and shoved the door open.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

The air felt thick, and as you stepped inside, your eyes instantly darted to the living room.  

On the couch, Simon was sitting with Adira curled up in his side, wrapped tightly in her favorite blanket. Her little body was nestled against his, her small form practically hidden in the folds of the soft fabric. On the coffee table in front of them were the remnants of their quiet afternoon—plastic plates with pizza stains, her sippy cup placed haphazardly next to the mess. Around them, the stack of books you always read to her was scattered across the table: I Love You to the Moon and Back, The Koala Who Could, What Color is a Kiss?—books that had been a staple in your bedtime routine for as long as you could remember.

The sight of them—Adira calm, safe, resting against Simon—caught you off guard. You’d expected panic, chaos, something more… uncertain. But instead, the two of them looked peaceful. Simon’s hand was gently resting on her back, his other arm loosely around her as she drifted in and out of sleep, her head nestled against his chest. She was calm. And that... that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected.

You hadn’t expected Simon to be so… natural with her. He’d stepped up in a way you didn’t think was possible, at least not this soon. Maybe you had underestimated him. Maybe—no, you knew—you had underestimated this. 

Simon, with Adira, was something real.

Hi so, this took a while, wanted to make this really long for yall. For me as im writing this, it's 5 AM! I've been working on this since 1 PM yesterday. Long Fics are not my strongpoint, I had so much trouble with this because I'm a perfectionist and my tiny brain often repeats words ALOT. I'm working on it and the best way to improve is to keep writing.

As things currently go, I may write shorter things for this family, I want to develop Adira and Simon's relationship more just not with super long stuff like this. I'd also would love to answer any questions or talk about headcanons anyone has about them. Feel free to send asks!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and by the time this goes up I'm sure I'll still be asleep!

P.S can someone tell me if I do tags wrong, like ive noticed sometimes when I tag it doesn't have the little underline so I keep thinking it doesn't go through </3

BIG ASS TAGLIST: @notsochillnerd @xanvasy @nightunite @reyy001 @liliemb04 @doodle-cat16 @wwe1rdc0re @multy-fandom-lover @skylarmitchell @athenianharpy @mxtokko @watu2ka @gifted-aurora @sapphire-jelly26 @janeety @lem-hhn @natdu @honey-teaaaaaaaa @gg-trini @kawaiivanilla-chan @despairinglakepasta @gaida-511 @jayjkay @watersquirtpewpewboomm @nikt-wazny-y @dragon-bubs @thisishwrworld @prettygirlwhoreadsatnite @illusionistlover @just-pure-trash @theliqouricebtch @sullyoung @me-llyssa @drewsuncrustables @phosphoracat @sabrina-senpai @shadowdark00 @imttryi @brokenxintroverted @eevily @aiyaaayei @coffeeandtealol @codcosplayer @scaleniusrm @momoewn @classaysstuff @fancymilkshakewitch @tessakate @a-lil-bit-nuts @beautifuleaglealpaca @vickieesstuff @captainchrisstan @alyyaanna @kaeyasfuturewife @huehuehuehuehehe @allllium @the-number7 @idfkimhereforsmut @katzarantos @tamayakii @7haze @k-bakuhoe @armycaratlover @thecoolestastrophile @montenegroisr @little-b33 @pantheonofbeauty @oooof-ifellforyou @ang3lc @littleracco0n @dravenskye @supaturtl3 @maciswack @carebear209 @bassandlace @3ndar @bespectacledhuman @xshellchenx-blog @astro-stars @avavie @vexillum-moeru @nina-from-317 @gazsluckyhat @1-800-g00ber @yukisdelusional @styx-eclipsed @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @nommingonfood @idkwhattodosooo @noheadcanons-juststories @zaqnette @fluffysmiko @aliciamorov @mageknight-anya @athaliw @princessloveweird @lucypaulette @hikotaru @julesjunimos @xqhro @blushingskulls @foodisbaepinterestislife @thecursebreaker @harperdoodle @taygirl24 @alfie2401 @devoetee @kodokunarisu-blog @lovealwaysserena

[herbgerblin]

I love your Atlanta Miku!!! If/when you post the Southern Gothic Miku (my favorite literary genre!) I'd love it if you could tag me so I could see it ASAP!!!

Sorry this took a million years to finish! I simplified the final look a lot after trying out different styles (lots of frills are fun but it's really too hot and humid to have multiple layers on here.) | Atlanta miku

ID: First image is an illustration of Hatsune Miku drawn as a Black woman with long, teal-blue braids tied with magenta ribbons. One hand is on her hip and the other is waving friendly-like. She wears a black prairie-style dress with sheer sleeves and a lacy hem. She also wears black boots tied with magenta ribbons, and a wide straw-brim hat with a billowing black veil partially obscuring the top of her head. The second image is a group of sketches showing the stage development of the finished drawing, including posing and outfit variations. End ID.

[saliosis]

happy halloweeen!! here's my take on a "core refresh" pack (part 6)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 + more under cut

frankie's fashion is very experimental. they like to explore themselves through what they wear since they're just learning things about the world. to symbolize their personality, they have a "quirky" style of fashion. mostly mismatched, mostly all over the place. there's not really a category for frankie's style... not that i can think of. they like to wear anything, honestly. dresses, suits, overalls, shirts, shorts, boots, heels. they're trying to figure out their style, so sometimes they'll incorporate some more colors. they like black and white, but they add teal in. yellow is another color added.

they don't wear real/natural silver because they've learned that this can harm their fellow monsters. any silver accessories they have is fake (painted grey, because that's a way to work around it)

they experiment with piercings

this was in my og design, but they have a huge patch over their left eye. it's plaid, so sometimes they try their best to match their outfits well enough for them to look aesthetically pleasing

likes patterns. stripes, plaid, etc. etc.

clawdeen's fashion is furry and bold. again, this is the fashionista of the school. she is the queen of fashion. again, she likes fur and animal print. whatever she chooses to wear is what usually sets the trends and expectations for those at monster high. she loves to explore herself though. i'd say her style evolves, but these are the main ideas of her fashion. she loves purple, but she also loves green. maybe has a french fashion inspiration? i don't really know how to label it. it's sort of mcbling, but also the style you'd expect of a very cunty aunt who likes shopping. she likes pants best, ngl. jeans are great. skirts are fine by her, she just loves pants.

i like the idea of clawdeen constantly changing up her style. yes, she can also wear something like her g3 outfits. much more coordinated. what i've displayed is the style that takes up most of her closet, tho

she wears glasses, but she has different pairs for each outfit

green is a color she loves so much but doesn't make use of it enough

the wolf family has a little emblem thing i've snuck onto each. it's a golden circle pendant with a small moon on the inside, two little bars holding up the design so it floats. it could also look like a money symbol... idk like coins. it's good luck. mostly for money manifesting and all. she runs with the gold and goes crazy. only gold, no bronze accessories. ever.

on days of the full moon, she will wear super loose clothing. the moon cycles could also impact her fashion choices.

draculaura's fashion is very iconic. a sort of gothy, classic, and romantic sort of look. i'd say she likes to take a spin on victorian styles and make them modern... while also mashing together those 2010s pink/black skull prints and tees that we all know and love. i really like the idea of her in a long dress that hits the floor. i would say she's romantic goth. she likes frills, long ball gowns, lace, and hats that can cover her from the sun whenever she has to travel outside in the daytime. lots of slip dresses if she wants to be more casual. elegance, but done cutely.

the silhouette of an outfit is what matters most to her when it comes to fashion

if she wears a skirt, she wears a big petticoat underneath. a very big petticoat

her parasol can be used interchangeably with a large hat. she always wants either or to match her outfit. and they are always kind of extra

her "victorian" style is a sort of nod to her immortality. she probably likes that fashion period best and likes to try and honor that

i like the idea of her experimenting with her hair. it was a g3 idea, kinda. but bangs, streaks, half and half, etc. i like to imagine draculaura being into the big goth hair

cleo's style is very similar to her g1 style. gold. blues. elegant, fresh, modern, and incredibly easy on the eyes. obviously, she loves to flaunt her designer clothing around school. and since she is so popular, it's expected for her to serve look after look. you will never ever see her look bad. every cleo portrayal i've seen never has enough mummy wrap. she needs it to survive and yet, she only has like, one or two bands on her arms. my cleo's fashion is all about wrap-themed clothing. she has lots of wraps. sometimes she comes up with ways to mix that or even show off her monster trait and heritage. she loves see-through, glittery material too, obviously paired on top of something. but it's glamourous. it's rich. it's sometimes a little 90s inspired, but mostly fresh.

this cleo loves pants. loose pants work, i suppose. but she likes them baggy. one of the best examples of what she likes to wear for pants would be those baggy pyramid-textued pants i designed for her once

gets custom made jewelry (braclets, earrings, etc) that spell out her name in hieroglyphics

likes shorter skirts, but secretly admires longer skirts ten times more

blue lover. any shade. try her. she will obviously mix around her makeup, nails, and hair to work around whatever blue she's feeling

loves gems. lots of gems. real ones, obviously.

doesn't like socks very much. she can literally just do the same thing socks do for feet with mummy wrap. same with stockings

[revelisms]

Cleaning out the headcanon drawer again. These have no context, just an assortment of things I've been associating with each Papa while untangling all these fic ideas 👽

Primo

Long blazers, pointed boots, velvet

Crimson and indigo

Offputting humor and motherly scolding

Dragon's blood, soil, fresh herbs

Rubber aprons, dirt-dried hands

Wrinkled smiles and soft tenderness

Mandolins, quiet harps

Blood-magick, ritual daggers, elemental spells

Wizards, ornamental hermits, bats

Secondo

Cuffed sleeves, dark vests, suspenders

Teal, viridian, coal

Heavy footsteps, chuffed laughs

Bullish grumbling and hidden kindness

Soft eyes in a rough face

Hand-rolled cigarettes, sweat-stippled guitars

Humanities, literature, historical studies

Fanged beasts and vengeful spirits

Terzo

Black leather, gold rings, half-tamed hair

Violet and burgundy

Razor-sharp wit, constant teasing

Long lashes and dimpled smirks

Incense, neroli and clove

Music rooms, chipped pianos

Poetry and coffee-stained notebooks

Dark Messiah, Cassandra, yin and yang

Black cats, dogs that bite, strays

Copia

Soft wools, heavy coats, frills

Navy and yellow

Freckles, puppyish eyes, twitching lips

Parchment and linen

Grotesquely-sweet tinto de verano

Battered microphones, weathered scarves

Fresh-peeled oranges and rainy mornings

Classic films, romance novels, roses

Demons and dark magic

[areyoudoingthis]

god I truly love the red suit (because it's hot obviously and i am not immune), but also because of the glimpse it gives us into stede and where he's at halfway through s2 (thee season of change and growth).

he's been wearing the same shabby, stained white shirt all season so far because he left everything he owned behind, and he hasn't complained once about ed throwing all his favorite clothes overboard, because nothing was more important than finding ed and finally being able to tell him how he felt about him, and I'm so proud of stede for that bit of growth. the white shirt is symbolic of that growth, of his willingness to put ed and the crew first, of him not needing all his physical belongings anymore because he has people to care about now, he doesn't need things.

but he likes them, and the way his whole face lights up when he sees the red suit and he stops to put it on in the middle of a raid (and almost gets stabbed for it) is so stede. he's grown but he still loves his fancy clothes, he loves bright colors and frills and buttons and gold thread. growing doesn't mean he has to stop loving those things, and that's such an important thing for the show to say, especially given where stede is in his journey of self discovery this season. he's still allowing himself to enjoy those things in spite of the undercurrent of fear of not being good enough and self hatred that thrums under the surface since the opening of episode 1 (and eventually leads him to kill a man and get progressively more butch in his outfit choices as the season progresses). i LOVE that he gets to have that, that he gets to feel hot and pose in front of the mirror and strut around all day (and that he gets to be a righteous bitch when the crew destroys the suit).

it's such a realistic representation of someone on a journey of self discovery, of someone who's figuring out what he's worth and why he's loveable and what he likes and will allow himself to like and how he will allow himself to present in front of others. and he gives it away because he loves his little piratical family and wants to keep them happy, but he still got to enjoy that, and he still looked great in just the red shirt with a low neckline and black lace all over it (and he got a "you wear fine things well" for it!!!!!!! ed saw and he understood what it meant to stede and stede got to hear that!!!!!! I'm kissing the show on the lips).

i still feel some type of way about the teal shirt and the leather pants and everything they say about his state of mind throughout episodes 6-8, and i feel fifty more things about him finally being able to have his romantic fantasy come true and know that he's loved in the color that represents repression and being forced to perform a type of masculinity that's been destructive for him his whole life (as I've said before). I think it was insanely symbolic and important for him to be able to wear that particular outfit at that particular time and stay in it for the entire finale.

but. BUT. i can't wait to see what becomes of Stede's gender expression when he has time to rebuild his wardrobe, when he's not running around trying to keep everyone safe or prove he has worth, when he starts to realize and embrace that he doesn't have to be a certain kind of man for people to respect him and for ed to love him. i can't wait to see the choices he makes when he's finally free to choose. I think s3 might kill me yall

[floweringlamb]

If you’re a fakeboy, you should only be wearing bras and panties under your clothes, it’s the bare minimum… bonus if they’re girly colors or have cute designs, (like teal or pink, or they have bows and frills) ^_^

But if you really want to be a good girl and stop depriving men of the view they deserve, you should quit wearing any boys clothes… if you have to, wean yourself off of it, wear a men’s t-shirt but with leggings, or wear a women’s top with men’s jeans. But eventually, the only tops you should be wearing are crop tops that show off your cute underboobs, or low cut tops that show off your cleavage. And for bottoms, get short shorts that show off your plump butt, or short skirts that will show off your panties when you sit wrong right! Pair this with jewelry and light makeup to make yourself the best girl you can be :3

[thecraftydragonc]

Happy New Year everyone! Here's to a great year of the dragon!

[Start ID: A digital drawing of several dragon Pokémon celebrating the lunar new year. The Pokémon are performing a dragon dance parade on a dull green grassy field with dark blue mountains in the background. Several Pokémon are flying above the parade holding glowing red lanterns. There are also some Pokémon further back in the sky watching the parade. The sky is sunset colors, going from red orange at the bottom, light orange in the middle, to a blueish purple at the top with faint white stars. There are a few dark magenta clouds, highlighted underneath by the sunset with yellowish orange hues. There are also Fireworks bursting in the sky in light red, orange, yellow, and blue colors. In the upper left corner is handwritten glowing golden yellow text that reads "Happy New Year 2024".

At the front of the parade is the Pokémon Druddigon holding up a stick with a puppet of the Pokémon Minior attached. Druddigon's a spikey bipedal dragon and its body is mostly dark cyan, with tan underbelly scales, a red head and red spikes on its arms, legs, and tail. The Minior puppet is a golden yellow color, it has a roundish shape with five star like spikes. There are 5 ribbons flowing off of the puppet which have on ombre from reddish orange to light yellow. The Minior puppet is glowing and is meant to represent the pearl in a traditional dragon dance.

Behind Druddigon are the Pokémon Dragonite, Charizard, and Garchomp holding up with support sticks a large puppet of the Pokémon Rayquaza. The Rayquaza puppet is a long serpentine dragon, with two arms, and is meant to represent the dragon puppet in a traditional dragon dance. Rayquaza is mostly green, with a glowing yellow line pattern traveling down the side of its body, and red accents on the edges of its mouth and fins. Its mouth is open wide and one of its arms seems to be reaching for the Minior puppet. Holding the support stick connected to the Rayquza puppet head is Dragonite. Dragonite is a bipedal dragon mostly orange in color, with a light tan scaled underbelly, light tan antennae, and a teal wing membrane. Holding up the midsection support is Charizard, a bipedal dragon with an orange body, light yellow underbelly, blue wing membranes and eyes, and the tip of its tail is on fair. Holding up the last support is Garchomp, a bipedal shark like dragon with no wings, dull navy blue in coloration, with a red and yellow underbelly, and white spikes on its body.

There are several other young, smaller dragon Pokémon walking with the parade. Between Druddigon and Dragonite is Dratini, a blue serpent like dragon with a white snout, frills, and underbelly, and purple eyes. Between Dragonite and Charizard is Axew, a bipedal dragon with no wings, its dull green in color with a dark green head crest and red eyes. Between Charizard and Garchomp is Bagon and Deino. Bagon is a bipedal dragon with no wings, it's light blue in color, with a tan belly, and light grey head crest. Deino is a quadrupedal dragon with now wings, a dark gray mane with red spots, and a dark blue body. Behind Garchomp is Goomy and Jangmo-o. Goomy is a sluglike dragon, with a dark purple underbelly, green cheeks, and a light purple body. Jangmo-o is a quadrupedal dragon with no wings and is light grey, with a dark grey underbelly, and yellow accents on its scales.

Flying above the parade are Pokémon holding glowing red lanterns. At the front is Altaria, a birdlike dragon with a blue body and white cloud like wings. There is Noibat, a small bat like dragon that is mostly shades of purple with yellow eyes. There is also Flygon, a large slightly bug like bipedal dragon that is mostly light green, with dark green antennae and accents, and red accents on the edges of its wings, fins, and a red translucent shield over its eyes. Lastly is Dreepy, a small serpent like dragon that's a dull green teal with red accents and yellow eyes. Watching the parade from further up in the sky is the real Rayquza, as well as Latios and Latias. Rayquza's appearance matches that of its puppet, being a mostly green serpentine dragon with yellow and red accents. Latios and Latias are both jet-like dragons, with Latios being blue and white, and Latias being red and white. End ID]

This is my second time doing an image ID so feel free to let me know if it needs any changes. I feel like it may have gotten a little too long, but with like 18 characters in a drawing there's probably going to be a long description no matter how concise one may try to be.

[raintailed]

HECK YEAH new Seer ref!!!

This silly goober was created by Clear Focus (with help from Crimson Leaves and Many Seedlings, Tiny Sprouts)! Seer helps Clear Focus find pearls for his archives and Clear Focus absolutely adores this little orange beast

Notes transcript under the cut

Notes transcript:

The Seer; any pronouns

Left side

special MoC

whiskers curve up when at rest

slim build

middle 2 frill pairs are the longest

Right side

has overseer abilities! whisker tips & gem glow teal (#91e5be) when doing this

frills raise when alert

winter coat is silky

[mantra-repeated]

Questioning Dissomei

Pt: Questioning Dissomei :End Pt

A flag for when one is questioning if they are dissomei or not. That's it. That's the post.

Mention / Tags: @dissodic-archive, @kiruliom, @radiomogai

Banner transcript: This term was made by an Endogenic. Anyone can use it however (So don't repost or recoin) :End Transcript

Flag 1 id: a flag with 11 horizontal stripes, the outer 2 stripes have a cloudlike pattern and the 4th and 8th stripes have outward-facing, simple frill patterns with 4 sided stars on them. from outer to inner the colors are dark purple, light purple, pink, orange, dark orange, yellow. on the middle is a symbol of a simplified top-down view of a dark teal brain, with a chunky, blue 4 pointed star in the center. Surrounding the Dissomei symbol are 4 black question marks. :End id

Flag 2 id: a flag with 11 horizontal stripes. From outer to inner the colors are dark purple, light purple, pink, orange, dark orange, yellow. on the middle is a symbol of a simplified top-down view of a dark teal brain, with a chunky, blue 4 pointed star in the center. Surrounding the Dissomei symbol are 4 black question marks. :End Id

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital drawing of Ulli, a triton character with long colourful hair, teal skin, and fin frills on their forearms. They are wearing a pink and teal jockey's uniform and holding a helmet under one arm. End description.]

A kofi doodle request for @thesingingbadger!

If you'd like you can request a doodle yourself on my kofi!

[ormspryde]

A set of stickers based on those deep sea fish I drew in Aseprite a while back.

Available here

[ID: A sticker set of various deep sea fish done mostly in varying shades of teal. Fish include the black swallower, the barreleye, the anglerfish, the gulper eel, the frilled shark, and the lanternfish. There's a ruler along the left side for scale. /ID]

[an3mos-mp]

Summary: Reader is a tailor and gets a frisky request that Venti models for them.

Starring: Venti, reader

Genre: smut, handjobs, dirty talk, light nipple play

Warnings: Venti and reader are somewhat under the influence of alcohol

Author’s note: This was NOT proofread and it's been sitting in my ‘to edit’ list for long enough so here you go. If you know me, no you don’t. (I’m serious 🧍‍♀️) likes, reblogs, comments and new followers will always be appreciated. This is a side blog so I don't post often here AT ALL.

Word count: 1.4k (even i don’t understand how or why i wrote that many words of smut)

You were a well known tailor in Mondstat and it wasn’t surprising that you got the favour of a well known bard that frequented Diluc’s tavern, Venti.

For years, you and him had been the best of friends and often bonded through him modelling some of your new ideas and designs so you could see if they were as good in person as they were in drawing

He was an excellent model and very professional. On top of that, he had a sense of artistic expression you’d expect from a bard and he was able to execute that skill when it came to commenting on your work and helping you fix design issues.

You often went to the same tavern every time to celebrate successful designs and making customers happy, to Diluc’s dismay, to drink the night away but you did have a single problem… though could you really call it a problem?

Venti got very flirtatious when drunk and it wasn’t with just anyone he came across when drunk, it was only with you.

Odd? Yes. Did you mind? No. Especially after developing a small (not small) crush on him.

It was one of those nights where you’d celebrate a successful design with Venti over bottle upon bottles of dandelion wine and Venti was flirting with you, as usual, but got interrupted when a regular customer spotted you in the bar with an anxious expression before stating they needed a design by the next morning.

You then found yourself with a drunk Venti in your shop, running around to grab materials for the design.

“You didn’t look at the design, did you?” Venti voiced from where he was seated behind you on your desk, legs crossed and design clutched in his nimble fingers. With a silent curse, you rushed to where he sat while nursing an assortment of random materials; you remembered grabbing polyester during your panicked state of searching for materials but that polyester was deemed useless by the design in Venti’s hands.

From over his shoulder, the delicate design of nightwear glared at you with its gorgeous frills and obscene disposure. Oh god, would that be able to cover anything important?

“That’s quite…” You trailed off, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.

“Scandalous?” Venti breathed. Opting to steal a glance at him to see his reaction, you shifted your eyes to his teal ones that were already on you as they glowed under the dim light of your workshop. His attention to you encouraged your heart to beat faster than the design made it beat.

You could only nod and when you turned to him his teal eyes were already focused on you, his cheeks reddened by what you could only hope was the dandelion wine.

“Do you… need a model for this design?” His voice was soft and hesitant like he was afraid they would shatter the tension that was created between you, the same tension that increased in correspondence with the decreasing distance between your lips,

“I do,” your voice was quiet, “I have never made anything like this before so naturally, I need guidance from a model.”

“Then should I… strip?” Venti said, his eyes on your lips and the design now crushed slightly in his tightened hold. Your thoughts descended with any sense of decency you normally managed to maintain around Venti because of his word choice. Why did he use ‘strip’ like he’ll need to be naked for you to make this piece? He had a body suit he would wear whenever he’d model for you and this time didn’t need to be any different. It wasn’t rational to believe otherwise because it was just a poor word choice. That poor word choice, however, had wrapped itself around your mind just like Venti’s legs which were now wrapped around your waist. The design was now discarded on your desk and his hands opted for clutching the material of your shirt.

Your hands were over his in an instant as you attempted to loosen his grip on you. “I think I should reject the design while I still can.” Venti protested by pulling you closer with his legs around your waste, you sighed. The dandelion wine was still in effect.

“Complete the design.” He demanded and despite your previous observation, his speech was clear of any mistakes unlike other nights you’d spend drunk together.

“Let’s go get some rest, we’re drunk.” Your words were breathless and half hearted just like your attempt to step away from Venti. He grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“But I want to model for you.” He stated, the hand around your wrist used your hand as an anchor to bring your bodies together. Your heart fluttered at this.

“Venti you’re wasted,”

His hold on your wrist tightened and your eyes were locked together like magnets. “Please.”

The tips of his fingers traced the skin from the wrist of your hand past your elbow to your exposed shoulder as his lips remained hair’s width away from yours, building your anticipation.

His hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you toward him before your lips locked together.

His cold fingers latched themselves around your wrist for the second time that night before he guided your hand to the warm skin underneath his shirt; this gave you enough incentive to slowly trail your hand up his abdomen;

“Touch me.” His lips caressed your own with every word before he locked them together, it was inevitable for you were opposing forces bound to comverge. His lips burned against yours with an ardent flame that fed on the desperation you both emitted into the kiss. Venti’s back arched into you when the tips of your fingers skimmed his left nipple with a feather-like touch. He sighed against your lips as you circled his nipple with the aim to engrave the feeling of his skin on your fingers, the pathetic broken words that fell from Venti’s lips, which had now parted from yours, when you tugged on his nipple left you lightheaded and itching for more of his reactions.

After giving half-hearted and rushed attention to his other nipple. Venti protested but he dropped it when your hand descended from his chest down his abdomen to the waistline of his pants.

As you took your time handling buttons of his pants, Venti took your preoccupation as an opportunity to leave open mouthed kisses along the edge of your jawline and down to your neck; His lips were the paintbrush to the canvas of your skin and like a skilled artist he relished the purples and reds scattered on your skin and while they were not in any particular pattern, they conveyed an important message to him and anyone (archon’s forbid) who would dare cast their eyes on you. You were his.

While lost in his mastery of staining the skin of your neck with love bites, Venti snapped his hips into the palm of your hand with a sound of surprise. You had managed to work your hand into his pants, your fingers now wrapped firmly around his dick. Your other hand had its own firm grip on his thigh to discourage Venti from grinding against your hand as he did when he felt your warmth against his erection. “Don’t move.”

Venti chuckled, his head still buried in your neck. “Anyone would move if someone had their hand on their dick.” His words danced between the skin of your neck and soft lips grazed your neck with every syllable; it was enough to make you shiver but you didn’t forget the task at hand.

Soon enough you had Venti muffling his moans in the crook of your neck as you worked your hand on his dick; your wrist ached with how long you had been at it but the rising pitch in Venti’s pleas spurred you on. His fingers were curled into the material of your shirt as if you were his only anchor as he drowned in the vast ocean of pleasure you brought him with just your hand.

“I’m… so close.” He gasped, vision blurred by tears.

You ran your thumb over his tip causing him to whimper pathetically into your neck, his grip on your shirt tightening as your pace increased.

His hips began to move involuntarily despite your grip on his thigh and Venti was in hysterics.

“Please, please, please,” He moaned repeatedly like it was a prayer, like begging for release was the only thing he could remember to do because his orgasm and your hand were the centre of his thoughts and those prayers were answered through a mind numbing orgasm.

It was the first of many that night.

[party-snake]

Chaos smut-shot

This is nsfw, so minors get outta here.

(srsly. imma come for you if I find out 🫵🤨)

Content: Fingering; Rough sex; Praise; Degrating (kinda?); Breeding kink; implied round two.

A plastic bag rustles as you search for the bottom to your set. 'Where is that darn thing?' You mentally grumbled. You had on a teal lacey bra and some sweatpants. You never knew trying to find the entire set would be so hard. Your fingers finally trailed over what felt like the matching piece to the set and you swiftly pulled it out. 'There you are.'

You smile triumphantly, and slip out of the sweat pants your reagular underwear, slipping on the lacey panties. A mirror on the other side of the room catches your attention, and you trail over to it. The set fit your body perfectly, showing off your curves and bust and making you practically irresistible. The lace on the panties teased the view underneath, and your breast lay just behind the frill of the bra piece.

"Damn," You said, "I look hot." Turning around to get a nice view of your ass. "Hey buttercup? have you seen my-" Chaos had entered the room, but feel silent when he was met with the sight of you. You two had certainly gotten frisky before, but he had never seen you so, sexy. The bra and panties matched his color eyelight, and the lace perfectly matches with the outfits he usually like to wear. Soft, yet spicy.

"Wha- You- uhm... What are you doing?" He walked up in front of you with blush coating his cheekbones. "Oh, hey chaos. I was just trying on some things. Decided I need more outfits like this." Stars, he cursed himself for never really noticing your beauty before, espically if you looked like this. A goddess, was all he could compare you to.

He seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes trailing up and down your body. "What do you think?" You asked, putting your hands on you hips and shifting to the side, doing a little pose. "You look- amazing." He said with a growl. "You really think so?" He could barely take his eyes off you as you trailed past him, getting a nice view of the back of you, before tearing his eyes away and biting his imagery lip. "I got some more sets in here I would like to try on, but this one was a pain in the ass to get on by myself. Can you help?" You bated your eyelashes at him innocently.

His shorts grew uncomfortably tight and he shifted in his spot. "Or, do you need help yourself?" You definitely saw the "little" problem he had in his pants. An appendage came from his back to clean the bed of the bags, then wrapped around your waist. "Did you do this on purpose?" He asked. "Do what on purpose?" You giggled. The tentacle grew more tight and lifted you into the air. He walked over to the bed and sat down, placing you in front of him.

"Before I do anything, do I have your consent?" This shocked you. You knew he was worked up from your actions, but not this worked up. "Of course my love." He huffed and spread your legs, pining you to the bed and catching your lips in a kiss. "I don't know how you are so beatiful." he whispered."I don't think there would be any words to describe how beatiful you are right now. I'm so lucky." His words made your face heat up and he chuckled.

His tentacles kept your legs apart as his hand trailed down your stomach, to the inside of your legs. "Can I touch you here?" You nodded and he pulled your panties down, and placed them next to you. He was careful in his movements - almost like he was scared to hurt you. Two of his fingers spread open your folds, him noe having full acess to you. Fuck, even your pussy was pretty. He moved his fingers between your slit, and entered you slowly. Your breath hitched and you moaned quietly. "I want you to be loud for me okay buttercup?" His fingers moved slow and deep, hitting a sensitive spot as your hips rolled in time with him. You held onto his arm and shivered against him, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"Good girl. Your being so good for me. I'm making you feel good right?" He bit down gently on your neck. "Yes, god chaos~" He huffed against you, you were really working him up weren't you? His finger moved slightly faster and his thumb moved to rub your clit, rolling time with his thrusts to bring you closer to your sweet release. You squirmed with the added stimulation.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter with each thrust he gave you, the pleasure being almost overwhelming. "I'm- i'm close." You whimpered. "Come for me, buttercup." Your back arches as your body molds into his. He silences your cries with a kiss. He pulls away completely and your leg twitches. "You did so good for me sweetness. Can I take you?"

"Yes please." He chuckles "Good girl, asking so nicely." He shorts come down from around his waist, and he grips his cock to line himself up to your entrance.

"Please, I want it." You whine into his ear. He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, "Well, since your being so good, i'll give it to you." He slowly slipped in, your walls gently pulsing around him. Nails raking down his back, he groaned into your ear. You whimpered in response. "So pretty, so sensitive, I love you so much."

He started moving, long and slow strokes that left you trembling. Your legs losely wrapped around his pelvis, driving him deeper into you. "Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this don't you, being so vunerable under me." He speeds up slightly, so close to that spot that makes you see stars.

"Y-Yes, I- oh fuck." You moan out loudly. "I love it Chaos." His hand comes to grip around your neck, "You love it don't you pretty thing." Your eyes roll back into your head as stars cloud your vision, "Yes, Master~" You close your eyes as pleasure rakes through your body, making you breathless. "Fuck, keep calling me that princess."

He hits a spot in you and you clench around him. "Hm? seems I found it." He chuckles darkly. He slips his hand under your leg and puts on his shoulder. This new angle allowed him to drill into that spot repeatedly. It made you scream and drool, losing all sense of the world around you.

"Dumb little baby. Your mine, all mine." His tone is possessive as he repeatedly slams into you. His fingers trail down your belly until they reach your clit, and he starts to rub slow rough circles, rubbing it a tweaking it, bringing you closer to your release. A sudden rough thrust causes you to cry out, as your legs tighten around him.

He stutters and stops, his seed filling you up completely. "I gonna make you pregnant one day. You would like that would you? To be stuffed full of me. I know I would."

You nod, to dumbed out to give a proper response. "Heh, that's okay. You don't have to answer me right now." He pulls out and moves your legs to the side. His arms cometo wrap around your torso and legs, bridal style. He lifted you as though you weighted nothing and carried you to the bath.

He set you on the tolet and turned on the faucet to the bath, filling it with warm water. "How was it buttercup? Was I to rough?" He seemed to be always worried for your safety, afraid of hurting you. Hell, it toke him a long time to get him to bite you, let alone be rough. "Yes chaos, you were fine. I loved it."

You quickly pecked him on the teeth and he smirked at you. "Round two?" He offered and you giggled.

Bet.

And done! I hope you liked it. I also hope I did his character justice lol

Chaos belongs to @derangedanomaly

So credits to her!

Love ya! 💋