#like. the same larger nose. the same OUTFIT

[cor-lapis]

I decided to have a go at doing my own redesigns because these three are my favourites and I love them very much. further notes + sources under the readmore (warning: lots of text). I did my best with the research, but if there's anything I overlooked, I'd really appreciate people letting me know :)

Tighnari:

My main source for Tighnari was this excellent thread, from which I looked up each item of clothing individually. Since djellabas tend to be quite long, and Tighnari needs mobility for forest ranger activities, I figured he would cut and re-hem the lower half. He also has a lot of clothing pieces that are traditionally multicoloured, but to keep his design cohesive I decided to use the same colours across different items, but using a larger palette of colours than I would usually. I like the bright colours on him a lot though!

There are also some minor details I just changed because I wanted to. The flower on his chest is now a nilotpala lotus, because I thought it was nice to include his acension material/the material he asks you to help gather. The dirt stains/scuff marks are because rainforests are muddy and I wanted the design to emphasise Tighnari being very practical and hands-on with his work (see also, the specimen belt).

Finally, I shrunk the magnifying glass on his back (because I'm pretty sure it's meant to be his first magnifying glass toy and that thing is very large for a child to handle) and gave him an undercut because it seemed right. Also, I merged his front and back trailing cloths into a scarf type of thing that he could wrap around his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling spores from mushrooms.

Collei:

COLLEI my beloved. I had a mild nightmare trying to figure out a specific source culture for her design, but nobody seemed to know specifics and her outfit wasn't matching with any traditional dress I looked up, so in the end decided to keep the overall look the same. Just in case I assigned her something else, but then it turned out I missed her actual inspiration.

Anyway, I made her shoes simpler (no fur, heels, and open toes in the rainforest seemed reasonable to me), and gave her shorts. I liked the green colour because it's pretty unique under a dark dress, and pairs nicely with Nahida's white dress + green undersides. Amber's tie stays, but I made most of her jewellery smaller since it felt a little clunky for a trainee ranger.

Her earring and necklace(?) are allusions to the Evil Eye and the Khmissa/Hamsa, both symbols of protection. Especially considering the fact they're meant to ward off evil, and very common across multiple MENA cultures, it seemed fitting for Collei to have them. Also, she has Eleazar scars, and I used the design for her stockings as inspiration for the combination knee braces (similar to those used for arthritis, since Eleazar also causes stiff limbs and I HC that people affected would probably still need some recovery support)/knee pads (in the case of a fall). I like the idea that Kaveh would have helped make them for her (tangent but the fic Here is the House explores similar ideas; it's really really good, I heavily recommend it). Finally, she has curly hair because I thought it would be cute.

Cyno:

Here's the thread I found for Cyno. The main critique was to do with the eras from which each aspect of his clothing drew inspiration, but I admittedly wouldn't be able to do much about this without a lot of research. One thing I did try and verify was the small strip of cloth on the left of his chest, and I found a few wall murals where the people seem to be wearing similar strips of cloth? (example here; rightmost figure) Therefore, I didn't remove it, but if someone wants to explain Ancient Egyptian clothing history to me I'd be really interested to hear it 6.6

I might iterate on the design in the future, but for now the changes are mostly HC territory. Cyno wearing his hair in locs (a protective hairstyle) makes sense for someone who does a lot of hiking after rogue scholars, and I also gave him quite old and faded top surgery scars because healthcare is canonically free in Sumeru (thanks for that information, al-Haitham)(though tbf Cyno makes bank anyway). I also adjusted the colours a bit, since Genshin tends to use desaturated shades for metallic elements.

I also considered giving Cyno more scars, but figured that it could indicate Hermanubis' presence that someone you'd expect to get injured a lot is relatively scar-free (i.e. some sort of godly healing factor/resistance to damage). However, we know next to nothing about Hermanubis, so Cyno having a lot of scars also makes sense. This paragraph is mostly just a cry for help cyno story quest 2 literally any more elaboration about the nature of Hermanubis' pact and the Temple of Silence.

Conclusion

I wasn't intending to write one when I started the explanations but this got REALLY long so if you made it this far, thank you so so much ToT please check out the links; the threads especially were a great resource, and I'm grateful that people take the time to make them <3 genshin's character design department are cowards but I'm glad I learned some new things through the redesign process

#FINALLY #IT'S DONE #I don't know why this took so long. maybe because I was trying new art style stuff #anyway I like how this came out!! my favourite guys #my main thoughts for each of them were like. tighnari <- kind of a chad. collei <- should get to wear shorts. cyno <- gap moe #<- i say having written 9 paragraphs about the development thoughts under the readmore. wahey #big shoutout to everyone who draws the archers ripped. you guys are inspirational #genshin impact #tighnari #collei #cyno #my art

[white-poppie]

VROOM'ING INTO YOU HEART ⎯⎯ ♡ biker!Getou x reader

Synopsis: a surprise, late night, romantic date with your Biker bf Getou at a silent beach with just two of you, the sea and the moon Genre: FLUFF!! Warnings: fluff so cute you will want to take a bath with your toaster, also sugu being all breathy n' shit.. (twirls hair) wc: 0.9k+

Getou’s standing outside your house, leaning on his voguish bike. The steel of the bike glints like dark tides under the moonlight; a fitting imagery for the way his bike glides on the road like the lapping ocean torrents.

He's clad in a turtleneck, hugging his pectorals like a vice, dark leather pants topped by his signature biker-gear, leather jacket.

And of course, his air tied in his hslf up, half down, signature Suguru man bun.

His gaze is stuck to the screen of his phone, eyebrows furrowed in a soft arch. Behind him are two helmets, perched prettily on the bike. A larger black one for him and a white one for you.

As soon as Suguru hears the door close open, he puts his phone inside his pocket, greeting you with a soft lift of his lips into a smile.

"Took you long enough," he jests, walking a step closer such that he just has to peer down a bit to graze his nose against yours. The smell of his label perfume permeating through the air

You smile and point at your pretty outfit, styled hair and makeup. He chuckled, gloved hand coming to your face to gently caress your cheek. Cute excuse, nonetheless he accepts.

Getou hums a random love song, taking the helmet from the seat, putting it on your head, adjusting it to your size. A soft smile on his face as he peers down at at you from the bottom of his lashes, his arms flexing in the tight material of his turtleneck.

“Ready.” You exclaim and he tsks, smacking the helmet gently like you would a naughty cat.

“Not ready, you wanna freeze in the cold or sum’?” He crosses his arms and locks down at you as he clicks his helmet on, his eyes glinting through the helmet vizier; you can never miss the tender glow in them when he looks at you, nothing else.

Suguru removed his leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his wooden turtleneck enough an insulator for him. “There you go, you look even prettier when you show me off.” He him, mounting his bike and lets you to the same.

“Okay backpack, here we go.”

“Hey!” You retaliate at the nickname and he just sniggers, looking back at you as you mount the bike too.

He revs up the engine, gearing the bike with a slight jerk which causes your body to lurch forward and hit his back. Sly mf. Sighing you wrap you arms around his waist and he smirks, turning the gear as the engine revves alluringly as you drive off into the night.

The wispy air hits your face making you shiver as you rest your head against his back. He chuckles slightly, the muscles of his back relaxing involuntarily as the engine hums in the night.

"Hold on tight," he says and takes a sharp turn that has you clinging to the fabric of his jacket for your dear life. His low voice muffled against the roar of the engine and sizzle of the night air against your helmet. His low laugh rumbles through the night.

"Where are we going? Sugu?” you scream, his perfume musk wafting through the the harsh air.

“Just somewhere.” He mumbles, kicking off, speeding off into the night.

You both come to stop at a beach, getting off the bike and handing the helmet to him. You wrap his jacket tighter around yourself, eyes fluttering at the seascape. The moonlight shines on the waves that stir and hit the rocks, silvery sand and dark waters.

Suguru hops off the bike, his dark eyes just calmly looking at you, the moonlight reflecting in your irises, your pretty lips parted as you look at the sea. You would kill him one of these days with how pretty you are.

He looks at you as you take small dazed steps towards the shore, taking out you phone and then clicking a few pictures. He follows suit, his hair blowing in the wind.

You look over at him, he's literally the ocean, dark, silvery, soothing and albeit dangerous. You hear a soft crunch under your shoes and bend down to see some sea shells, scraping them from the sand, you hold them in your palm and Suguru chuckles breathily.

Eventually squatting to help you pick some shells, his thick fingers searching through the sand, trying to find the uncracked ones in the dim light. It were a silent 5 minutes, eventually the two of you collected enough to fill the pockets of his jacket.

The two of you sit on sand, side my side, knees drawn to your chests. Your arm is flush against his, sighing as you play with his hair and he lets you.

"Having fun, angel?" he asks softly and you chuckle, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"So much fun, Sugu. Thank you for bringing me here." You say, looking into his eyes as they gleam with adoration when you peck him.

Getou reaches over and grabs your jaw slightly, your eyes flashing with the sight of your hairtie that he always keeps on his wrist, before pulling you close. He presses his lips flush against yours, your trembling fingers gravitate towards his face, you can feel his skin heat up.

"M' pretty baby." He whisper, parting only slightly. His eyes flicker up from your lips into your eyes, a soft, breathy chuckles leaves his throat at the lovesick look in your eyes.

"Are you trying to make me over heat?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tilt you chin upwards. Getou smiles, his silver ringsand that one chain you gifted him on your 3 month anniversary, glowing in like moonlight shimmering upon the surface and you are underwater.

"Is it working?" He smirks, before he leans in again, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He's the ocean in the night, and you are drowning.

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

"Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! [Synopsis: Read full synopsis HERE ... The year is 1759, London. Shakespeare’s new estate is set on fire by Reverend Francis Gastrell. History repeats itself, 250 years later when Luna Gastrell stands in turmoil due to her ancestry taking a sinister turn. A ploy of vengeance, illusions, betrayals, blooming romance and morally conflicting measures, and the cards lie in favour of none.] I am a 16-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

— JUJUTSU KAISEN - Fanfictions

TAGS: @httpshujii @akumicchi, @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi, @buttercupspotify, @euphoricbi @ynjimenez

﹒ Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!)

#white poppie🌼 #⎯𝒿𝒿𝓀⋆ #[𝓖etou 𝓢uguru] #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto fluff #getou fluff #geto suguru fluff #getou suguru fluff #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #jjk fics #jujutsu kaisen imagines #geto imagines #getou x you #getou x y/n #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto fanfic

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: You show your support for Charles and he shows his support for you. Warnings: 18+only, just Charles being himself WC: 2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

“Hurry up or you’re going to be late to your own show,” Bea urged as she tugged at your arm. “Come on, we have to go!”

You rose on your tiptoes and tried to look over the sea of people. “Just one more minute.”

“I gave you ten.”

You checked your phone again but there was no new message from Charles since his last update that he was just going to quickly shower. You had briefly seen him before the free practice, but other than a few quiet words in the back of Ferrari’s hospitality you hadn’t really spent any time with him since landing in Las Vegas. 

You had thought scheduling concerts in the same city would mean seeing more of Charles but nothing was ever quite that simple.

Sighing, you sent him a message apologising for leaving without a proper goodbye and reminded him not to wait up for you. It would be late by the time you finished the show and he needed an early night before his qualifying race, but hopefully you were able to find a few minutes together in the morning before he left.

The drive through the city was long with traffic congestion and you spent most of it checking your phone to the point that Bea leaned over and ripped it from your hands.

“Hey!” you growled as she tossed it into the front seat beside the chauffeur. “I was using that.”

“No, you were distracted by it.” She grabbed a bottle of champagne from the minifridge and popped the cork. “Here, bottoms up.”

“Classy,” you murmured as you took the bottle and drank straight from it.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and took it back for a quick swig of her own. “At least I know it will get you to relax. Luckily your makeup has survived the day, there won’t be time to redo it.”

“There was a time when you said I didn’t need make up, is this you saying I’m getting ugly?”

“Pfft, bitch, please. If I thought you were ugly I would tell it to you straight, like a good friend. You’re beautiful and I’m jealous, I just thank god I have these,” she said as she grabbed her boobs for emphasis. “They kill my back, but they look damn good.”

“Forget your back, I heard they nearly killed Pierre,” you chuckled. “I think his fans would have a problem if you accidentally smothered him with those.”

“At least he would die happy and doing what he loved. Imagine that obituary.”

“I’d rather not.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought of any type of obituary for a racer, it was an all too real possibility you tried not to dwell on.

Bea agreed quietly with another drink from the bottle and cast her eyes out the window, taking in the bright lights of the strip. She nearly spit out her mouthful at the sight of an electronic billboard advertising the first Las Vegas F1 race. “Wow, they really got him again?”

You leaned over the seat and saw the ad of Charles decked out in a glittering jacket, elvis wig and pink feather boa as a deck of cards rained down. A laugh bubbled up as you took the bottle back and brought it up to your lips with a dopey smile. “He’s too sweet and trusting, a little gullible too.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she joked as the car pulled into the service entrance of the MGM. and she took the half empty bottle away. “Can’t have you drunk on opening night.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

She reached through the front and grabbed it off the seat. “Fine, but no moping like a sad sap because we have to run.”

The door to the car opened to an entourage of people chiding you for the tardiness and you were hustled through the back channels of the building, stopping briefly in a room little larger than a closet to change outfits before you reached the backstage area.

“You have five minutes,” the head coordinator warned as Bea arrived with a cup of lemon, ginger and honey tea to help warm your vocal chords.

You thanked her as you sipped the hot drink and felt your phone vibrate with a notification as Scuderia Ferrari’s Instagram went live. ‘Music Challenge’ was the caption and you waved Bea over knowing they were always entertaining.

“Oh, I love this song,” Charles exclaimed as he nodded his head along.

“You say that every time,” Carlos complained.

“Kill Bill?”

“Correct!” The interviewer confirmed as Carlos groaned and fell back into the couch in defeat.

“How do you know that?”

“I listen to a lot of music.”

They both fell silent as the next song started and they both smashed their hands on their little bells.

“Flowers,” Carlos shouted. “Flowers, flowers, I got it first.”

“You got it loudest,” Charles disputed but the moment the next song started he was jumping up and pinging his bell in time. “Y/N, Love You Need!” He turned to Carlos and blew him a kiss. “It’s my song.”

“That’s not fair, I don’t have a song.”

“I’m sure someone has written a song about you, probably not a love song though,” Charles teased before he checked his watch. “Ay, I need to go or the next song she writes about me won’t be happy either. Ciao!”

“He quit so I win, right?”

“No, no, no I didn’t quit.” Charles paused his exit to point an accusing finger back at his teammate. “You took so long fixing your hair that we started late.”

“Still, I win, because you’re leaving.”

“See this,” Charles turned to the camera, his hand still waving to his team mate, “he doesn’t care about winning, he’s just upset he wasn’t invited to Y/N’s concert. Carlos?”

Carlos batted his eyelashes with a smile. “Yes, Charles?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

Carlos was already on his feet. “I thought you would never ask.”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Vamos, we’re late.”

You turned to Bea as the live feed ended and you shoved your phone into the storage cupboard beside the stairs leading to the stage. “Did you know he was coming?”

“Duh, who do you think set him up with a backstage pass?” She shrugged and put her own phone away along with her jacket. “I gave him a few in case he wanted to bring some friends.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You mean Pierre…”

“I mean friends, and if that happens to be Pierre then I have no problem with that.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to tease her further about the commitment issues the two of them had before a microphone was shoved into your hands and you were pointed to the stage entrance.

“Kill it babe!” Bae shouted with a thumbs up as she jogged around to the other stage entrance for her cue.

The sold out crowd was a swirling mass of energy and it swelled as you stepped into the spotlight, their screams barely blocked by the earpieces that you had pushed into your ears as you took the stairs. The rush of seeing the excitement on their faces never ceased to amaze you and you bounced on your toes eagerly.

“What’s up, Las Vegas? Are you doing alright tonight?” Their responding screams shook the stage and widened your grin. “That’s good to hear, because, for me, well, I’m Fine.”

The music started and remembered the day you started writing the song, taking off from Monaco. It had begun as a tribute to Bea and the friendship you shared but then as the weeks went by and Charles stayed in touch it had evolved. It really was a song for any sort of relationship and why it was one of your favourites after Love You Need.

“Woke up too early, Almost put salt in my coffee, Oh, I thank God that you stopped me before that.”

You grinned to the shadows where you knew Bea was waiting, having been the inspiration for the line.

“Tripped over something, Spilt it all over your front seat, Didn't even say I'm sorry about that.”

You had been so frazzled trying to clean the mess up in Charles’ ridiculously expensive car that you had forgotten to apologise at the time. You had made it up to him later, and luckily it hadn’t stained, probably credit to the expensive upholstery.

“On and on, it's just more of the same And even when you ask if I'm okay… I try to say I'm fine (I'm fine).”

The drummer came in with the heavy beat for the chorus and the hands in the crowd waved in time as Bea jumped into the spotlight for her parts. This was what made it a favourite of yours, when she grasped your hand like she had when you had broken down over your ex. She had called you on your bullshit when you said you were fine and she had been there through the worst. It made performing this with her even more special. 

The entire concert was going to be even more special knowing Charles was going to be in the crowd soon and he knew exactly which songs were devoted to him. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was coming because he balanced you, and everything was equal between you. You supported him in his races whenever you could make it to them and he supported you when he could make it to yours, but you knew how tired he would have been after his day. 

There were thousands of people beyond the blindly bright lights of the stage but somehow you knew where to look when you felt the energy shift halfway into the set. And there he was. 

He must have changed in the car as he was no longer wearing the bold red Ferrari shirt, opting for more sedate casual clothes to blend in with the crowd. It didn’t exactly stay that way when you pointed to him during one of his songs, singing the lines solely for him and drawing the attention to him.

“Can we stay frozen in time, in between hello and goodbye?”

You collapsed onto the bed of the hotel still riding the high from the concert and Charles fell down with you, equal parts of happiness and exhaustion warring in his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” you said as you rolled onto your side to face him so you could cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the 5 o’clock shadow along his jaw. 

“I will soon,” he murmured as his arm curled over your waist and pulled you closer. “I just want to hold you for a little while.” He tucked you into the curve of his body until there wasn’t any space left between you, his cheek resting atop your head. “You make me so proud, seeing you living your dream. I wish I could be at every concert.”

“Me too,” you sighed longingly. “It’s the hardest thing when we have to say goodbye.”

His chest rose and fell slowly as he relaxed in the embrace, bordering on the edge of sleep. “You’ve never asked me not to race.”

“Why would I do that?” You pulled back to see his face and recognised the look. It was something his ex had asked of him. “Would the moon ask the sun not to rise? No, because both are equally important and their paths still cross. We are the sun and the moon.”

You felt his smile as he kissed your forehead. “Am I the moon or the sun?” 

“The moon,” you stated as you tipped your head back so you could stare into those gorgeous eyes if his. “You are there to lighten my darkest nights.”

“And you make my day infinitely brighter.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic

[runningmunson]

A Good Life

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.2k Summary: Aemond wants to take you on a morning ride, you just didn't think it would be on Vhagar. Fluff. Warning: None, but correct me if I am wrong!

Masterlist

You were awoken by the sound of your handmaiden, Margaret, going through your closet. You let out a soft groan and rolled over when you realized the sun hadn't yet risen.

“Good morning, my lady!” she said, too cheery for the very early morning.

“Is it really a good morning if I am awoken at this time of day?” You said dryly. She took no offense to your tone, knowing you hate mornings.

Margaret just chuckled, “The prince has sent me to fetch you. He wishes for you to accompany him on a morning ride”

Of course Aemond, your betrothed, would be the reason for your early start to the day. In the time you have gotten to know him you’ve learned he is an early riser, either reading in the library or already practicing his sword work.

Margaret was bustling around your room, “Hmm, you’ll need your riding pants. Maybe your hair in a braid? What do you think of this, my lady?”

You finally raised your head to look at the outfit she held in her hands, “That would be fine, thank you.”

Once you were dressed and satisfied with your hair, you thanked Margaret for her work and left to find Aemond. You walked into the library and found him sitting in his usual spot with his nose in a book. When he heard the sound of your shoes on the stone floor, he looked up and gave you a closed mouth smile. He placed his book to the side and stood up to greet you.

“You look as lovely as ever. Are you ready to go?” He took your nod as an okay and linked your arm with his guiding you to your destination.

Confusion struck as you walked past the stables, but you didn’t question it and kept walking. Maybe his horse was housed elsewhere? But once you saw the dragon pit in your sight, it hit you. Oh, he meant for you to ride his dragon.

“You-you meant a ride on Vhagar?” You questioned, stopping right before you made your way inside.

Aemond let out a laugh, showing off his beautiful smile. You could get lost looking at his smile. It wasn’t something he showed very often, usually opting for a reserved look, but you would give anything to see him more happy and relaxed. “Yes, on Vhagar. What else would I ride?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a horse like the average person?” You said, shifting your weight.

“My dear, I am a Targaryen. We are anything but average. Soon enough you will share my name and bear our children. You have to get used to dragons eventually,” he smirked, amused at your fear. He grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before dragging you past the pit and toward a clearing a bit out of the way.

Despite courting for some time, you had never actually seen Vhagar up close in person. You had heard stories of the battles she fought and her sheer size, but nothing could prepare you for the real thing.

You let out a gasp. She was significantly larger and looked worn down with age but just as strong as the other dragons you passed. Aemond watched as you took her in, studying your face for any worry, but he didn’t see any. There was only pure amazement on your face.

“Vhagar, this is my betrothed. Now you take kindly to her. She means a great deal to me,” Aemond whispered to her while stroking her on the face.

“She’s amazing,” you smiled. You looked to Aemond as if silently asking permission to touch his dragon.

“Come here,” he beckoned you over. He grabbed your hand and placed it on her body. The texture of her scales was foreign under your touch. You slowly began stroking her the same way he had. Vhagar closed her eyes in contentment. “She likes you.”

He gave you a few moments to get acquainted with one another then made his way to mount her. Once he got situated, he had a dragon handler boost you up. His hands securely grabbed yours when you got high enough.

Aemond placed you in front of him on the saddle and grabbed the reins. You spoke before he had the chance to go anywhere, “This is safe, right?”

“I would never intentionally put you in harm's way. I am right here behind you,” Aemond said, and with that, he signaled Vhagar to move.

She got up from the ground. A squeal of shock left your lips. She reached the opening and stretched her wings, taking off. Your back was flush against Aemond's, and his arms tightened around you to prevent you from sliding.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as you ascended further into the air, not wanting to see how high you were getting. “It’s not as bad if you actually open your eyes, (Y/N).”

“How do you know my eyes are closed?” You asked, your voice shaky.

He chuckled, “Just a lucky guess. Trust me, the view really is amazing.”

You slowly pried your eyes open, and sure enough, you were faced with a view of Blackwater Bay in front of you. You turned your head to look behind and noticed the sun rising over the Red Keep. You started laughing, “You’re right! We are flying, Aemond! This is amazing. The view is just beautiful!”

“I told you so,” said Aemond. Except, he wasn’t looking at the view, he was looking at you. He looked at the way your loose hairs blew in your face giving you a wild look, the excitement and wonder in your eyes, how you turned back to smile at him as he finally took you to experience something important to him- even if you were hesitant at first. All he felt was pure unadulterated joy at this moment. He felt free.

Vhagar landed once they reached his favorite place in King’s Landing. It was a secluded spot that overlooked the water, a place that was just his, and hoped that it could be yours too. He slid off the saddle and onto the ground. You followed his guidance, sliding off and waiting to be steadied by his strong arms.

He led you to a patch of grass and sat down, patting the spot next to him. As soon as you sat down, he pulled you between his legs and wrapped his arms around you to pull you close.

“Do you ever think about running away? You could go anywhere! I mean, the possibilities are endless when you can fly,” you asked him, curiosity in your voice.

“Sometimes I do. My life would be easier if I could. But unfortunately, my innate sense of duty prevents me from doing so,” he frowned. “And where do you wish to go?”

“I would love to travel west, explore lands that have yet to be found. How amazing would it be to have our own little place where no one can tell us what to do? Somewhere we can escape and be our true selves,” you leaned in closer, nuzzling your head in his chest.

“I cannot promise to run away with you to lands unseen. But I can promise to give you a good life wherever we are.” Aemond placed a kiss on the crown of your head, dreaming of the life you will form together.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen

[chrollohearttags]

I cannot get over hard shelled detective eren and his pretty, eccentric P.I. rival turned girlfriend! An iconic duo me thinks 😫

cw: black!fem reader, sexual content, mean eren, just a lil thought while I finish up my next commission

detective eren! is a notorious asshole, around the city and the force but he’s the best at his job. Top graduate in the academy and highly decorated at only 27 years old.

detective eren! solves almost any case he’s put on but he doesn’t work well with others, not even his three partners he’s been assigned.

detective eren! who finds himself at the scene of a gruesome crime one day is quick to pick out all inconsistencies and evidence, thinking he has it in the bag. He wastes no time directing all the officers and giving orders.

“Get this down to the lab, have them run prints and tell them I want it by this afternoon.”

detective eren! who’s in the midst of interviewing witnesses is shocked when he hears another voice doing the exact same thing but it’s not one he recognizes. It’s when he turns to see a woman in a pink plaid skirt, white turtleneck and thigh high boots so he figures you to be a reporter or inquisitive mind, getting in the way.

“Excuse me, this is a crime scene. I need you to wait with the other press.” “Oh, I’m no reporter, sweetheart. I’m (y/n) (l/n)..private detective. It’s nice to meet you.”

detective eren! who’s rarely if ever swayed by anyone or impressed by anything is immediately taken aback by your presence. The larger than life personality and pretty face..he’s captivated. Even so, he has a job to do.

detective eren! who finds himself stumped on this latest case frustrated when he can’t figure out the missing piece of the puzzle decides to do the one thing he can’t stand: interact with people to get more information.

detective eren! cross paths with private investigator (y/n) once more when he starts questioning people down at a infamous club but gets no response.

“Sweetheart, you’re not going to get any info talking to people like that. This is the Southside. Know who you’re dealing with before you come demanding things, pretty boy detective.” I don’t need some little girl playing Sherlock lecturing me. Sit this one out.”

detective eren! who gets so flustered when you one up him in solving the case and it keeps occurring. So much so, his reputation as a detective is brought into question.

detective eren! who can’t understand why someone so silly and whimsical is so good at this decided to confront you at your office one day.

“I want to know how you did it. What the hell did you do to solve this case?! There’s no way you can keep beating me!”

detective eren! who’s always so tense and serious doesn’t know how to handle your calm demeanor, especially when you hand him the missing piece of evidence that he had discarded as useless. But you don’t rub it in his face, rather..you offer to help him! But he’s stubborn as hell.

“It was right under your nose this entire time, pretty boy detective.”

detective eren! finds himself caving when you brush the side of his face, run your finger down his chest and bat those big brown eyes at him. With that sweet angelic voice. It’s easy to see why you’re able to get information out of anyone.

“I don’t see why we have to be at odds, sweetheart. We’re doing the same job so why not work together, hmm? Can we be friends, Detective Jaeger?”

detective eren! can’t resist you any longer finally caves and gives into your charm. In more ways than one…

detective eren! who can’t keep his eyes or hands off of you as you corner him against the desk in your office. Knowing that he’s watched you strut around in those cute little outfits that show off your body, he can’t help but to pull those platinum blonde butterfly locs that compliment that beautiful brown skin so well as he bends you over and hits you from the back.

“God, you’re far less annoying when you’re moaning my name.”

detective eren! who realizes he can’t quit you even if he wanted to now, always looks forward to seeing you on the scene of the crime, even if your hyperactive ass works his last nerve. But he knows you’ll always come through when he needs you.

“Bestie, I got a new lead for you. Wanna hear it?” “I made you come four times last night, (y/n). Do not call me bestie.”

detective eren! finally found someone to be his partner in crime and in life.

#aot x black reader #black fem reader #eren x black fem!reader #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren x black yn #black fanfiction #black reader smut #eren headcanons #eren hcs #eren au #eren aot #eren jaeger headcanons #eren jaeger #black reader #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #attack on titan eren #detective au #true crime au #aot au #detective eren #eren x black reader #eren imagines #eren x black y/n #might do a part 2 #idk #cherry chats 🍒 #black fanfic writer

[xxkitty13]

Circus Freaks

LA Buggy x Fem Reader

Storyline will contain: young reader (20’s), nsfw, violence, dark themes

One Piece characters belong to Oda and the One Piece franchise, do not sell.

Next chapter- Part 2

Part 1: The Carnival

The East Blue is a calm ocean. Some consider it boring, but it's a safe haven for most. Unlike the other three Blues, it is not known for its notorious pirates—despite one. Many settle here hoping for a life of tranquility; however, life is always full of surprises.

It was to everyone's surprise when the small island of Febe was visited by pirates. No pirate has set coarse here. Why would they? There is nothing valuable for them unless they intend to take the farmland.

The small coastal town became clueless on the matter. Should they fight or flee? Neither of those things do any good. The mayor decided to stand watch, as many did the same. Who knows . . . maybe they're not hostile?

The ship pulled up to the dock— fairly large and full of colors. The Jolly Roger was unusual, it had a big red nose on the skull. Not what they had a mind when they approached the ship. The people became curious to whom these pirates might be. The crowd became larger, awaiting to see the people on board.

A large plank fell on the the side of ship, allowing the crew off. Strange they all looked. They did not appear to dress pirate like, instead they dressed in circus outfits.

The crew stood menacingly, observing the townspeople who dare make a move. It was then a loud laugh boomed from the ship; the pirates made way for laughing man.

Like royalty, the crew lined up to make way, it was the captain of the ship. A large orange hat, with dangling blue hair caught the eyes of the people. He had crossbones taking up the space of his forehead with blue stripes on each eye. He gave a flashy smile, showing off his exaggerated red paint that covered his mouth. Tying it all together was a large circular red nose that could be seen from a mile away, grasping their attention. Could this be the captain of the ship?

"Ladies and gentlemen, yours truly has arrived." He boasted. The red nose man looked at the crowd awaiting for their reaction.

No one said a word, but the look in their eyes gave plenty to say. Buggy grinned.

"Captain . . ." a man whispered.

"Shh Cabaji, there's no need for that."

Cabaji, the pirate with the side part with three yellow stripes, rolled his eyes stepping away from his captain. He has no clue to what he's up to. The captain is always full of surprises.

"There's no need to fear. We are not the pirates you think of," he said as he approached the crowd.

He raised his arms in the air. "I'm Buggy. Buggy the clown and I'm here to give you a show you've never seen before."

The surrounding people whispered to themselves. Not sure if they should believe this pirate clown; after all, pirates should not be trusted.

The mayor took the courage to take a step forward. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"I'd say you're the leader of this town, am I right?"

"Yes, I'm the mayor."

Buggy walked up to the man. The mayor was a bit larger than him. Rugged actually. He wore cowboy boots and a hat, covering his bald head. His puffy orange beard swayed against his grey suit. Buggy was not intimated to say the least.

"I go island to island to bring the circus to the people. I'd say this little town is in the need of some entertainment . Don't you think?"

The mayor looked at him puzzled, but it got him thinking. This island was well known for its ranching and agriculture. All the townspeople do is work. This proposal was intriguing of course.

"Mr. Dun, don't you think it'll be exciting?" Someone spoke.

"I've never been to a circus," another voice announced.

The people gleamed in excitement. Harvesting season was almost to an end. Many are burnout; the town was in much need of a break.

"Well I speak for the people that some livery is much needed. Better yet! I'd say we should host carnival! What do ya think, Mr. Dun?" Buggy roared.

The crowd went wild with the thought of a carnival.

"What?! A carnival? That would be so cool!" Someone blurted.

"Mr.Dun you must give them permission to set up in our town."

"Oh yes! Please Mr. Dun, nothing ever takes place here. So what if they're pirates? I don't think it will do any harm."

Mr. Dun became overwhelmed with the people shouting at him. He sighed as he stroked his orange beard. "Well . . . I can't go against so many."

His eyes met Buggy's as he took one last sigh. "Let me know what you need for your little carnival."

The clown gave toothy grin, chuckling to himself.

"Thank you mayor. I promise you won't regret it," he said shaking his hand. "Just let my crew know where to set up and they'll take it from there."

With a nod, the mayor stepped away and went to speak with one of Buggy's crewmates. The townspeople gathered amongst themselves laughing in joy.

"Captain Buggy what are you up to?" Cabaji said, eyeing the clown. Who walked away, heading back up the ship.

"I thought we were supposed to capture the townspeople. This was not apart of the plan."

Glaring at him, Buggy muttered, "Watch it. I changed my mind."

"But why captain? I find that odd of you."

"Don't know. I'm feeling a bit merciful today," he chuckled to himself. "Aw don't give me that look Cabaji. You'll have your fun when the time comes. We're taking a different approach this time. Besides the people seem to like us compared to the other towns."

"Now, go help set up"—threatening with a dark glare— "my carnival needs to be ready by morning or else . . ."

Before Cabaji could leave, Buggy grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. "Oh, I almost forgot. If you see any bounty posters, destroy them. These people are unaware about us and I prefer for it to stay that way. Got it?"

"U-um y-yes captain!" With a sweat he scampered away.

He cackled watching his subordinate run off. Taking one last look at the people below he made way to his quarters. Opening the door to his room, he yawned. He sat at his desk and opened the cabinet to his right. Reaching in, he took out a map.

Buggy opened it. "If everything goes according to plan, getting this treasure will be easy. All I have to do now is wait." He smirked to himself.

"Maybe . . . just maybe . . . I'll spare the blood for once." With his maniacal laughter he took one last look at the map and placed it back.

#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x fem reader #buggy x female reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #opla buggy #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy smut #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy smut

[mosquito-queen]

“what’s your favorite season?”

“i thought you knew everything about me.”

yelena does know most of everything: kate hates the smell of mint, she broke her wrist and collarbone from horseback riding, the sun always shines brighter when she is around. yelena also knows that she will always be hungry to learn more.

it stings when kate snarks at her. because yelena is attempting to dismantle a fortress she has painstakingly built from her own bones, cemented with her blood. each question claws at the walls, unbinds memories she so carefully imprisoned. each question is a decision to bring the possibility of loss back into her life. so it stings when kate teases, even though yelena does the same.

yelena rolls her eyes. she’s shutting down quicker than kate anticipated. kate blurts: “it’s spring, when everything turns green again. what about you?”

she doesn’t expect a response. everything kate knows about yelena she has carefully observed and deduced. she knows: yelena is afraid of halloween even though she won’t admit it, that she’s probably allergic to peanut butter (not proven, but yelena avoids it like the plague), and that the scrunch of yelena’s nose will be kate’s ultimate downfall. she especially knows that yelena does not like to answer personal questions.

except, a fond, nostalgic smile smoothes yelena’s usual frown lines. her favorite season is ohio in winter. she can hear it now: natasha’s rumbling laughter as she drags yelena towards the ice.

“slow down! my shoes aren’t tied!”

“the sun will set before we even get there!”

the backside of natasha’s head is a blue beacon bobbing against the late afternoon’s pillowed sky. two pairs of bright white skates are slung over her shoulder, bouncing with each stride, sunlight glinting on the blades. the sisters race through the shin-high snow towards a small pond nestled just behind their neighborhood. the ice gleams, beckons them closer.

natasha missed yelena’s recital from the previous evening. so had mama. but papa was there, a bear stuffed between smiling grandmas. he had smelled like their perfume afterwards. he had thrown the biggest bouquet of roses on the rink when she was finished, a toothy smile and two thumbs up gleaming in the crowd. yelena could find her papa anywhere. he was always there for her skating. right next to her sister and mother. but they had missed it.

natasha settles on a stone bench near the pond bank. she turns her head to check on her younger sister (she’s still trudging through the last bit of snow) before chucking off her shoes and stuffing on the larger pair of skates. after a few moments, yelena drops onto the bench. she is much more tame in changing her shoes and making sure the ice skates are laced properly. she pauses, steals a glance at natasha.

the older girl is sporting a new welt just below her eye. it is the color of a summer thunderhead, a sinister purple blotting the sky. yelena knows her sister only flares like lightning, never bears rain. yelena is the crier. she could make a new ocean with the crocodile tears that so easily spring to her eyes. she wants to be like her sister. natasha is always so poised and decisive. a calculated perfection. yelena is her shadow, an understudy. except on the ice. on the ice, she is her own spotlight. she is always costumed in cobalt blue during competition and recitals, tiny sparkling beads sewn meticulously into snowflakes. her mother has spent so much time on this outfit. pricking her fingers raw.

yelena wins every competition in this dress made with love and hurt. she practices until she’s perfect, lands every trick, wins every competition. she says thank you to her mother with each carefully executed leap, and spin, and flourish. her mother says i love you by webbing back together the wear and tear, by gently hand washing the costume and keeping it hung on the outside of yelena’s closet door. she sews a new snowflake for each medal her daughter brings home.

natasha is growing impatient, gives yelena an encouraging smile, “ok snegurochka, show me what i missed.”

and yelena does. she wobbles towards the ice, and at first contact slips into her stage persona. on the ice, she closes her eyes, imagines the music reaching across time and space to curl around her, turning her clothes into her usual costume. she imagines the frosted face paint edging the corners of her face, the deep purple eye shadow and white lashes, she imagines herself as the snow maiden. it is her favorite routine. it is her best routine. it is about a girl made of snow and ice, who longs to be amongst the humans. she is lonely, but with a frozen heart she is unable to know love, until her mother takes pity. she grants her this ability, but as soon as she falls in love, she melts from the warmth of her newfound heart.

the routine ends with yelena curled on the ice, natasha clapping and cheering with the ferocity of their father. yelena lays on the ice for a moment longer, lets the cold seep into her bones. she thinks if she really was the snow maiden, she would only want to know what it felt like to love skating. she wouldn’t melt for a dumb boy.

natasha skates out to her, reaches out a hand and brings her back up. they spin and race until the sun dips down towards the rooftops. it’s a perfect day during an ohio winter.

the memory is a blanket that settles around yelena’s shoulders, makes her sleepy and vulnerable. she answers truthfully: “winter.”

a surprised smile crosses kate’s face, quirks the corner of her mouth. it’s yelena’s favorite smile. and it isn’t lost on her that she met kate during the same season. yelena’s gaze is caught too long on kate’s, her pulse thudding in the hallow of her throat. truthfully, her heart had been thawing since the first time they met. she was melting for a dumb girl.

it’s the snow mush in her brain that makes yelena ask, “do you want to go ice skate, kate bishop?”

#bishova #kate x yelena #kate bishop #yelena belova

[chezzabellesworld]

Modelling industry and astrology

So with astrology, we have the 12 houses which represent every area of our life now with modelling, there’s going to be a lot around the first house because the first house is our physical body and how we get through the world how we look how we all look different how some people are to how some people are short, how some people have significant features how others don’tI just think it’s a weird industry to get into start and I feel sorry for the women who are in it, many have met over the years that is designed for it, looking like a more child like body. That is why I added The last couple of slides with like the child like toy and the outfit.

See also the media want to the attention of men, and capture them are feeling the glaze of them of a woman, a woman who is irresistible, a woman who is unattainable a woman who other women feel they could never look like so he can be a very scary situation for young girls. You really really want to be in this position.

So if you have Neptune or Venus in your first house in a Pisces house, it’s going to be delicate features, beautiful delicate features that are very slight and great for the modelling industry as they capture pictures as well with their delicate features rather than other people who have more defined features different kind of modelling, different kind of industry, different kind of brand With Versace. Maybe they want to stand out more with Jah Vinci maybe it’s a bit different, and then you get someone who has Venus in their first house, you’re gonna have someone who’s got a classic kind of beauty if it is in libra or Taurus is in its home sign, but let’s do something different here let’s say you have your first house in Leo and you’re Leo rising but your Venus is in Leo too. Then you might have really beautiful hair and they might really wanna show off your hair as your classic modelling feature and your best feature in the industry. Let’s say you have Neptune in the first house but it’s in Aries you might have a really beautiful unusual shaped head, but it gives off really gorgeous. Looks all the school might be larger.

save it to one feature if I’m very attractive if it is Neptune in your first house whatever hours have been these people have really beautiful spiritual look to them and they are classically beautiful but also unusually beautiful all at the same time. Marilyn mum I had this placement, and she had this dreamy Neptune and look in her eye. Courtney Love had it and she had a very raspy voice and a very girly way of dressing that was almost coquette, some degree you could say, Gwen Stefani has it has this placement, and she has her own brand as well, and she’s very good at rebranding herself and do different things and different errors and she’s able to do that really well river Phoenix also had this placement and he gave off a really good dreamy appearance. He looked like Kurt Cobain they look like each other and they sadly died around the sort of same eras, now let’s say you have somebody who has Uranus in the first house you’re gonna have someone who has an unusual feature that may be attracted to some people but not others so they may have a slightly larger nose. They might have a rather tall frame, it’s gonna be something a bit awkward about it maybe depending what sign it’s in also so let’s say that’s in Taurus they could have a really large thick neck or they could have a really long elegant neck astrology of like it’s how you see it, it’s how you put it together it’s like a puzzle and it doesn’t have to be how it looks at a first glance.

We have our 90s supermodels

Naomi Campbell Gemini, son, Gemini Capricorn, rising

Kate Moss, Capricorn, Sun Scorpio, moon, and Leo rising

Linda Evangelista Virgo son with a Taurus moon, and she had problems with her neck Taurus Wenk, with the cool shaping

Cindy Crawford, Pisces,sun pisces, moon, cancer, rising

Claudia Sheffer, Virgo,sun 🌞 Gemini, moon, Scorpio, rising

Christie Turlington  Capricorn, sun Gemini, moon, Sagittarius, rising

#astro observations #astro community #90s supermodels #beautiful model #90s #astrology #astrology observations #pisces #aquarius #fypage

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 6

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: “You’re probably thinking, this is crazy. Being whisked away through a portal for a clandestine meeting with my match’s brother–what the hell is going on? Am I right?”

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, sort-of threat of murder, Reader has a made-up place of birth, stress, anxiety, named Thief character

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Brother

It takes a moment for you to shake off your shock, mutely staring at the man–Rockford’s brother, his flesh and blood relative–before stooping to reclaim Banjo's leash, giving it a firm tug. Your dog obediently, albeit begrudgingly, returns back to your side where he sits with a paw on your shoe. A hugely possessive action for such a small creature. 

The man in the floral robe (and what’s up with that? His entire outfit looks perfectly tailored, every last crisp detail painstakingly crafted to suit his broad frame) inclines his head, looking cordial if not for the slight calculating sharpness in his gaze. “You’re probably thinking, this is crazy. Being whisked away through a portal for a clandestine meeting with my match’s brother–what the hell is going on? Am I right?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you say flatly, and he actually chuckles at that.

“When one is avoiding the attention of Timotheus Rockford, discreetness is the name of the game. Hence the one place he refuses to set foot in again.”

Well, that certainly doesn’t sound ominous at all. A memory flickers in the back of your mind of a knife stabbed into the apartment’s wall. Rockford’s first and to date only mention of his brother.

“Which is a shame,” the man continues with a put upon sigh, “because all his things are exactly where he left them in his room.”

“What?”

“Mamá insisted,” he says plainly, as if those two words are enough to erase your confusion. He scoffs then, nose scrunching. “No matter what I say, the old bat thinks her darling boy will find his way back home one of these days.”

Home? Rockford’s never struck you as the filthy rich type before—the man owns exactly one (1) ratty brown trench coat that he’ll probably take with him to his grave, for crying out loud. You’d assumed he’d had a modest upbringing similar to yours, but standing here in a lavishly decorated room larger than half of your childhood home…well. It’s crystal clear you were wrong about him.

Brown eyes narrow in consideration. “You seem upset.”

Your spine tenses up, not liking the shift in subject of the conversation. “Yeah well, you seem–”

Your empathy spasms painfully when you reach for it. A pins and needles sensation that has your fingers flexing instinctively. You can barely sense the faintest of glimmers from the woman’s mind behind you, empathy feeling strained as if she’s hundreds of miles away. Horror begins creeping into your bones as you turn your attention to the man who’s begun to smirk at you. 

“I was wondering when your soldier instincts would realize something was amiss,” he says, looking at you the same way you imagine a scientist looks at a microscope slide, putting you on edge.

Gritting your teeth, you sharpen what little of your mind-gift you can concentrate on into a blade. Even if you can’t pierce through all his defenses, at the very least he’ll have a migraine from hell.

But lashing out reveals no target. Just a blank, gaping void where his aura should be.

Your lips part in a silent gasp, all coherent thoughts fleeing your head. If you weren’t looking directly at him, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was here at all. How…how is that possible? 

Every living being has emotions, even those with the coldest of hearts can’t evade your mind-gift’s detection. And this man—this man wearing your match’s face—he’s obviously experiencing feelings. One look at the crinkled lines along the corners of his eyes, the flash of his white teeth in a smug grin, is proof enough. So why the fuck is he invisible to you?

“Who are you?” you ask, raking your gaze over him. 

“I answer to many names.”

“He’s a dramatic bitch,” the nameless woman chimes in with a voice like smoke and chocolate. Banjo growls a low, grumpy note, still distrustful of her. 

“Your commentary, as always, is much appreciated, Saturn, thank you.” The man’s tone is sharp, and his glare sharper. If looks could kill, Saturn would be a bloody stain on the floor right now. 

Instead, she shrugs off the retort like a duck flicking water off its feathers. “No problem, boss.” 

Your lips curl into an unimpressed scowl. “Who are you?” Then, more insistently, “What are you?”

“I’ll let you call me Cassius, Miss Roan. We are practically family, after all,” he says with a wryness that has your temper flaring hotly. “As for what I am, well. I like to think of myself as something of a master thief. It’s got a nice ring to it. Much better than a suppressor, in my opinion.”

A ripple of shock spasms across your face, heart lurching heavily in your chest.

Suppression is widely considered one of the rarest of gifts. Rare like one born every ten years kind of rare. You’ve only heard news stories about suppressors, how they can steal the abilities of others with just one look or touch. Sometimes for mere minutes. Sometimes for several years. They’re reported as heroes saving the day as often as they are criminals who need to be isolated from the rest of society.

Regardless of his relationship to Rockford, Cassius’ status as your ally or enemy remains to be determined. His personality leaves much to be desired, but really it all boils down to how long he intends to lock away your mind-gift.

Your empathy has always been a vital part of you. The way you can feel it fading away, a dying candle flame devoid of oxygen, makes your skin crawl. Reminds you of childhood summers at the beach, futilely grasping at sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. You didn’t realize the full extent of how much you rely on your mind-gift until right this moment, forced to guess what Cassius’ is feeling just from his body language alone. Is this really how the rest of the population lives? You shudder at the thought. 

“Relax,” Cassius tells you, though it doesn’t have much of an effect. Not until he adds, “I won’t keep your mind-gift long. And if I really meant you harm I would’ve had Saturn portal you off a building.”

“Messy, but effective,” Saturn agrees.

Your eyes grow impossibly wider. (Did she just confess to murdering people? Surely she’s joking. Yeah. You’re gonna tell yourself she’s joking.)

“I really did just bring you here for a chat,” the thief says, ignoring his…assistant? Business partner? You haven’t quite pinned down what they are to each other, relying only on Saturn referring to him as ‘boss’ as a clue.

“Why?” you ask, voice still a little shaky before you make yourself take a deep, steadying breath. “Clearly you and your brother aren’t on the best of terms with each other. I matched with him, yes, but other than that I’m a nobody. Why waste time talking to me?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sergeant Roan. You’re far more interesting than any old nobody.” Cassius sticks his hands into the deep pockets of his robe, expression annoyingly inscrutable. “Born in Rabicano. Enlisted at eighteen. Discharged earlier this year following a lapse of control. Though you did manage to save your camp and fellow soldiers from falling into enemy hands during a midnight raid. You deserve kudos for that.”

Your lips purse, fighting to remain calm. Those details are supposed to be confidential, known only to you, the military, and Dr. Odair. 

“You’ve done your research. Good job.” You flash a sardonic smile. “Are you trying to scare me off? Is that what this is?”

“Not at all. On the contrary, I quite like you staying at 445D Albatross Lane. Gives you close eyes on Timotheus—his comings and goings, his health, his cases.” He pauses, wetting his bottom lip. “My sources tell me you’ve been searching for a new source of employment. I’d be happy to pay you a large sum of money.”

“In exchange for what?” you ask cautiously.

“Information,” Cassius answers, eyes gleaming. “Just…tell me what my brother’s up to. Despite our differences, I do care about him. Somewhat.”

“No. I’ll never be a spy.” You shake your head. Things may be strained between you and Rockford at the moment, but you’d never betray his trust. Not for all the money in the world. 

The thief blinks, something that looks an awful lot like surprise there and gone in the span of a heartbeat. You bite back a smug grin. It’s pretty nice being the one catching him off guard for a change.

“I haven’t mentioned a figure.”

“Don’t care.”

“You…don’t care?” Cassius echoes faintly, and it genuinely appears as if you’ve short-circuited his mind. He recovers quickly, squinting with a knowing air. “You’re protective of him.”

“He’s my match,” you say firmly. “And he’s my friend.”

There’s an awkward stretch of silence, nobody saying anything. Even Saturn doesn’t have a quip prepared. You find yourself wondering about Rockford, if he’s noticed you’re missing. You hope so. You hope even more to mend what’s been fractured. A long talk is in order once things wrap up here.

And then Cassius sighs—a single puff of air, yet it has the impact of a bullet hitting your gut.

For the first time since meeting him, his expression isn’t one of blankness or arrogance or humor at your own expense. No, it’s something else aging him several years, deepening the wrinkles of his brow, shoulders sagging from their perfect posture.

You’re scared to realize it might be disappointment.

“His friend? Nonsense. That tells me you don’t really know who he is.”

The moment Cassius says them, you want to take those words and stuff them down his throat until he chokes. Because that’s your biggest fear– plucked from the darkest corners of your being and exposed like an open wound to be mocked and prodded–that everything you’ve been learning about Rockford is wrong. No, maybe not everything, but the intimate details. All the itty bitty pieces gathered and studied and fitted together in hopes of understanding what makes Rockford Rockford. 

“It’s a work in progress,” you admit. “We’ve both got trust issues and baggage we don’t talk about. And maybe he’s got a bit of a head start with his gift when it comes to knowing me, but I can be patient. Good things come to those who wait, so they say. And he’s worth waiting for.”

Cassius hums, thoughtful, then asks you, “And if it’s not a good thing in the end. What then?”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“I think there’s another popular phrase you’d do well to remember.” He steps closer, indifferent to Banjo scampering onto four legs with a disgruntled woof and the way you bristle when he clasps your shoulder in a firm hold, thumb pressing down ever so slightly. An unspoken warning to shut up and listen. Leaning in even nearer, his mouth drifts mere inches above your cheek, breath warm, and then he’s whispering in your ear, “Ignorance is bliss. Be very careful, Miss Roan, which truths you seek to learn about my brother.”

You say nothing, staring at the wall over his shoulder, heart pounding in your throat.

When he steps back, hand dropping to his side once more, the thief is smiling again, dimpled and cheery, expression cleared of stoicism. “I’m glad to have finally met you. It was an enlightening experience. No need to worry about finding a cab at this hour, Saturn will drop you back safely at your apartment doorstep.”

The Card

Your second trip through one of Saturn’s portals is as chaotic and disorienting as the first time, but you land on your feet at least instead of rolling across the sidewalk. Even better, your arrival back home comes with the return of your mind-gift, rising like the first sunrise after months of pitch blackness, burning away the numbness plaguing your brain.  

The portal closes up behind you with a quiet whooshing sound, leaving you and Banjo alone on Albatross Lane, not another soul in sight. Banjo gives himself a full-bodied shake from nose to tail tip, yawning once he’s finished. Seems like you’re not the only one exhausted by the last few hours.

This night feels like one of the longest ones of your life, full of unexpected twists and traumatic trips down memory lane, culminating with perhaps the strangest encounter you’ve ever had with another human being. You’re still not sure what to make of Cassius. What kind of man offers to pay someone to provide information on his own brother? Is their relationship seriously so hopelessly broken that they can’t even fake a civil conversation on the phone like many siblings do? 

Only two people can answer those questions. And one of them’s a short elevator ride away. You can sense Rockford’s emotions from down here, almost like a distant thunderstorm on the horizon, rumbling with irritation.

You stick your hands into your jacket pockets, mentally bracing yourself for what’s next to come, but the discovery of something brushing against your fingertips makes you pause. Eyebrows scrunching, you pull out a green patterned playing card and flip it over to reveal the three of hearts. You’re baffled by its existence for all of five seconds before remembering Cassius’ abrupt closeness at the end of your conversation. A cover to hide his parting gift unnoticed. 

That settles it then. Mysteriousness must run in the Rockford family genes.

“C’mon boy,” you say to Banjo, stuffing the card away. The yellow door beckons you closer, friendly amongst the nightly shades of grays and blacks. It’s a shame what awaits you inside isn’t nearly as soothing. “One more conversation to go before we sleep.”

#tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #the thief #pedrostories #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x ofc #my fic

[peterparkersnose]

Domestically

word count: 1k

warnings: mentions of weapons, body insecurity, fluff

a/n javier pena pls. enjoy my first javi fic, i like keeping them short for the short attention span girlies 

summary Javi get’s locked out of his apartment and disrupts Y/N’s night off

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 2 mins 46 seconds

It was the quietist night you have encountered in a while. An occasional dog bark, a possible distant gunshot (or car backfire). The Colombian air was cool and had a smell of winter in it. October was coming to a close. And the best thing about tonight is that it was your night off.

You had finished drying your hair from your shower. Happily, you decided to go for your favorite at-home outfit: black biker shorts and an old oversized baseball tee shirt you stole from your dad in the states. The perfect at home combo for the bipolar weather and nights like this.

Your hair had already started to frizz, you could never escape the frizz. Besides for copious amounts of hair products that you loaded onto your head every morning, this was your natural state. You placed your contacts in their case and made sure your glasses were in range. You dreaded the things, but you didn’t feel like tripping on anything on the way to your bathroom at four am.

Alarm was set, work outfit for tomorrow was set, meds were taken and door was locked. Lights out at 9pm. Your idea of a perfect night.

You felt your dream coming to a close as a loud banging noise got louder and louder. Finally, it was enough to register that it wasn’t coming from the dream. Grabbing your gun from under the bed, you checked to make sure there were bullets in it. You crammed your glasses on your face and tip toed your way through your dimly lit apartment.

The sound was coming from outside.

Your door handle was shaking. As you got closer, you heard the familiar “Goddamnit Y/N,” grunting from outside the door.

Peña.

A sigh released from your mouth as you opened the door. You placed the gun on your table next to the door.

“Can you let me-” he began to say, meeting your eyes.

He took in every inch of you like he had never seen you before. Your beautiful hair in disarray. The thick black frames resting on your perfect nose. The such casual attire took him aback.

His stomach churned, he got nauseous and anxious and excited and turned on all at the same time. It was something he had always felt inklings of around you, but now they proved themselves to be more than inklings. The feeling he had only felt for you. No other girl he had ever been with compares to what this feels like. Not even close.

Javier Peña realized he was in love.

In love with his co-worker.

Y/N felt the pit in her stomach grow larger by the second. “Please stop staring,” you muttered out almost as a whisper, crossing your hands awkwardly across your torso.

He seemed to snap back into reality. “Oh, I-I’m here because I left my key at the office and I know your just a floor away and…”

Javier couldn’t get past the fact that he was seeing you in your infamous glasses that you swore up and down nobody would ever see you in.

You noticed the blush rising off of his cheeks. He wasn’t judging- was he checking you out?

“Yeah, one sec.” you sighed, motioning for him to come in. You two had exchanged apartment keys when you first moved in for emergencies. He lived a floor below you in your complex.

“I’m sorry for before,” he apologized. “Before?” you asked, your mind scanning the events of today. You rummaged through your junk drawer as he stood awkwardly in your kitchen. Straightening your back, you turned to meet his gaze.

“Like thirty seconds ago,” he spit out, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve just never seen you like this. Like-” he hesitated, searching for the right word to say. It was rare when Javier Peña was speechless.

“Domestically?” you asked him, smirking at your witty response. You tilted your hips slightly against your kitchen table.

His eyes widened in response, agreeing with you.

“Here,” you smiled, dropping the key in his hand.

His eyes met yours and he had trapped you in his gaze. Your breathe shuttered as he looked you up and down once again.

“Domestically, yeah.” he whispered slowly.

The magical force pulled the two of you together. “Why did you stare,” you finally asked, breaking the longing silence. “When you first came to my door?”

“You want an honest answer?” he asked you, you could feel his breathe on you now that he was so close. You shook your head slowly and swallowed.

“Because I could get used to seeing that every day,”

A chill went down your spine.

“Thanks for the key.” he said, taking his hand off your waist. You didn’t even notice that his arm wrapped around your hips until the cold absence of it made itself known.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, cariño.”

He closed your door softly as you stood stunned in the kitchen.

Y/N L/N realized she was in love.

In love with her co worker.

-

tag list: list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry

#peterparkersnose #javier pena #javier peña #javi pena #javi peña #pedro pascal #javier pena imagine #javier peña masterlist #javi peña imagine #javier peña angst #javier peña blurb #javier pena masterlist #javier pena blurb #javi pena fanfiction #narcos #javi pena imagine #javi pena blurb #javi pena fluff #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal javier peña #javier peña narcos #javier peña narcos imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #peterparkersnosework

[dreamlessimp]

— same color

summary: you bring nagi out of your home to wander around the streets, and into a flower shop.

warnings: established nagi seishiro x gn reader, fluff, 0.5 wc, not proofread

a/n: icymi, this is based on something that happened to me irl (though in different context). also, this took me like 20 minutes.

you hit the button on the side of the post, and wait for the cars to stop. once all came to a halt, you and nagi walk across the street with your sides brushing. 

nagi wore a dark hat pulled down nearly down past his eyes, telling you it was to avoid getting recognized. it was unfortunately for a good reason, considering that your last date has been put on hold due to his being surrounded by seemingly-rabid teenage soccer fans asking for an autograph and picture.

neither of you had any plan where you were going, but after spending all week at home with the only exception being going to practices, you decided your boyfriend deserved vitamin d.

the two of you walk hand in hand down the busy sidewalks, stopping on occasion to look inside a store or pause for a display.

as you walk, your hand suddenly tightens on his. he turns to you. 

“can we cross here?” you ask, already leading him towards the opposite side of the street. 

“yeah.” nagi replies, looking across the street for a place to rest.

you continued to lead him across the street, until you settled on a small store uncomfortably crammed between two other, larger establishments. still, the flower shop of your choice was obviously well maintained and seemed to brighten the area.

“here?” you say with a flourish.

“why here? flowers aren’t a surprise if you show me.”

you shake your head. “wrong, sei.” the two of you push past the doors and walk in, taking a second to breath in the smell and look around at the vibrant colors.

“this one!” you announce, pointing at a flower from a cross the room.

nagi tilts his head in confusion, not knowing which one you were pointing to. you could be showing him any one of the many reds, pinks, yellows, purples, and whites. 

he walks over to the general area, waiting for one to catch his eye. he knows all are pretty, but is curious about the unknown one in particular.

nagi watches as you carefully pick up a flower, smiling prettily at the almost as pretty rose.

“what about it?” he asks, admiring your face much more then the rose you held up to your nose.

“it’s the same color as your hoodie. the one you’re wearing!” you say happily.

he raises an eyebrow. “really?” you extend your arm out to him. he accepts the flower and picks up the bottom of his hoodie.

his eyes widen as he realizes that they really are the same shade of lavender.

eyes filling with a new sense of determination, he carefully hands you back the flower and observes your jacket. it’s the one that you’ve labeled as your favorite. 

he walks to the other side of the shop, eyes searching for the same color of rose as your outfit.

once he finally pays for it and holds it out to you, you silently revel in the fact that the rose nagi extends out to you is the same color as his face.

#nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock nagi #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk nagi #ssimpfics

[princessprettyprivilege]

How can I be pretty and get pretty privilege if I am ugly? Legit question

Being Pretty Privileged If You’re Ugly

Legitimately, you could go about it this way.

1. Compare yourself to universal beauty halos and primitive beauty and see how you align.

Big breasts, small waist, okay face (butterface)

Small breasts, avg waist, nice face?

Completely flat, little waist and beautiful face?

Thin? Cute face? Ugly face?

Shapely butt, long hair?

Small nose?

Big knockers, shapely butt and/or a tiny waist can get you places if you’re ugly 🤷🏾‍♀️ I’ve seen it.

Long hair that fits your face & height, hair color that enhances your face

Bright smile, lips that fit your face

Healthy complexion. Our primitive cues alerts us in under a second if someone is sickly, at their healthiest, average or below average. Skin free of scars, pimples, acne or dullness.

How close can you get yourself to femininity? Oval face through contour, long & voluminous hair, straight eyebrows or professionally done eyebrows, big lips, rosy cheeks, big eyes.

2. Your facial harmony. Is it symmetrical, little to no asymmetry, asymmetrical? Does your hairline, nose, jaws, teeth, X body part throw off the harmony of your face? What could an esthetician or makeup solve before plastic surgery? Can contour solve a nose that detracts from your appearance.

I suggest you strongly to download Xiahongshu for your ugliness, no one’s ugly on there, just inexperienced with makeup. Be aware of photoshops, heavy filters, and skin whitening being pushed at you.

3. Diet, weight, exercise. Weight disguises your true features and body shape. Don’t know anyone whose big boned. Being waif isn’t an excuse either, you need muscle definition. Everyone can use exercise.

After listening to Ginie Sayle’s podcast How The Rich Stay Thin, I changed my food habits by not viewing food as having to eat it now or someone else will/I’ll never have it again.

I’m training myself out of indulging to not be skinny-fat by sticking to portion sizes and small-medium drinks, even if the larger sizes cost the same as the smaller.

4. Like Cleopatra. Through the olfactory senses, cosmetics, confidence, personality, intelligence and accessories. An ugly person, as long as they aren’t too far from looking average, can blow a avg-hot person out of the water with personality and outfits.

That’s the furthest I can go about being ungodly ugly getting pretty privilege, because I don’t know how you really look. You could be seriously unconfident yet gorgeous or like a troll, I really don’t know. You didn’t give me any info to go on.

Maximize the pretty!! 💖

#princesskhalyiah #princess khalyiah asks #my asks 🌹 #pretty privilege tips #pretty privilege notes personal #pretty privilege

[pure-oddity]

Hey! It's murder time :3

(Also not proofread, if i stare at something too long I'll just never do anything with it.)

Pt.1 Part.2

Butcher/slasher ghost au: Part 3

He's known as the reaper - he thinks it's a bit on the nose but who's he gonna complain to??

Outfit is simple, a lot of it comes from his time in the SAS - skull mask included.

His goal is to clean, plain and simple. He doesn't want to walk side by side with some bottom feeding murders, doesn't want to risk serving perfectly good meat to abusers. The idea makes his skin crawl.

Considers his work just, has little faith in the justice system - the cops here have been...less than efficient in his eyes. Unwilling to go as far as needed, constrained by the law (or worse, they show sympathy to the pathetic things and let them off easy). So Simon takes things into his own hands.

The only part of the whole experience that he MIGHT feel some guilt for enjoying. Is the fear of those he hunts. Because isn't it so ironic, to spend your life terrorizing others only to die scared, confused, alone and in agony at the hands of someone larger and stronger than you? The irony certainly isn't lost on simon, and he gets a little thrill out of it.

Considers the whole thing his ghost time, because it's not all that dissimilar to what he was doing in the military right? Taking out the bad to protect the good, getting dirty so the world stays clean. He's got a few less resources sure, less hands - but he makes due. He dons his old husk, and cleans up his little corner of the world.

It starts with a jerk at a pub. He's people watching again, nursing a glass of bourbon in a shadowy corner - trying to observe and adapt behaviors he think will help him settle in better. A man walks in, simon notes he looks agitated but also - excited? Watches him walk to a group of girls, previously abuzz with excitement chatting away. He watches the life be sucked from the whole table as the man approaches, watches as he leans towards one of them hand on her arm in a grip that he knows is meant to hurt. Watches as her demeanor changes to something more reserved and afraid and Simon can't take it - seen all he's needed to. Walks over silently, every bit the predator he knows to be.

was just gonna intimidate the guy a bit, send him running off tail tucked between his legs - see if maybe he could charm the poor girls into settling down and enjoying themselves again (maybe even on the sly recommend a womans domestic abuse shelter for the poor victim).

But then he sees how much the fucker is enjoying this. Enjoying the poor girls fear, enjoying ruining their night and ending their harmless fun. Enjoys hurting the poor woman and, well.

Simon only stops when the man passes out from pain. Face a bruised and swollen lump, nose shattered and blood dripping everywhere - maybe missing a few teeth. Simon grabs the guys shirt and uses it like a cloth, cleaning the reminents off his hands. Spares a glance at the girls, is unsupervised to see them afraid - but still saddened by it. He tips his head at the main victim, then makes his way outside to wait for the police. He lights a cigarette, leant against the wall of the building and glances to the side as he puffs a cloud of smoke when he hears the door chime again. It's the main woman and he nearly chokes. She's trembling and her eyes well with tears, and she places a tiny palm on his bicep.

If she feels his body jolt she doesn't say anything and her hand remains there - a burning itching feeling barely blocked out by his hoodies sleeve. How he loves and loathes it at the same time.

She thanks him for what he did, and while he doesn't ask questions, she offers answers anyway. Said that she'd left him ages ago - went to a lot of trouble running from him, uprooted her whole life and moved cities over when she realized the police wouldn't do anything. Only for the bastard to find her again. Says that while what Simon did was terrifying, she's grateful that he stepped in. Scared to imagine what the fucker would have done had he managed to get her out of the building.

It makes Simon want to hit him again, but he refrains. Instead he pulls as much softness and care from his soul that he can - tells her that it's okay and he'd do it again. That no one should be treated like that, that she didn't deserve to have her life messed with like that. And that with how thorough he was with that man's face, there's a good chance he won't so much as look at another woman again.

She smiles at him. His heart near bursts. Tells him that's what she's hoping for - but is ready to run if things go belly up anyway. Pats his arm and makes her way inside, content to wait in the warmth as the police finally arrive on the scene.

Everyone is questioned, the man is brought to a hospital and Simon is free to go after some questioning. The girls from the table all having jumped to his defense, and apparently the bottom feeder threw the first punch? Simon doesn't remember the hit really, but sure.

The idea that the scumbag could come out of the hospital with a vengeance worries simon, because it makes sense. Embarrassed and in pain, all those feelings likely to be taken out on the poor girl.

Pulls some connections. The fucker gets sent to prison - drug charges or something, not really concerned with the why - and it's still not enough for Simon.

Watches for news of his release obsessively, makes it so he'll be one of the first to know of the fucker is so much as considered for early release.

And a month later (what a fucking joke) when the day comes and Simon catches wind that he's going after the poor girl again? Simon takes care of it.

And it just continues on from there.

Watches someone beat on a defenseless animal? Body found 3 days later. Animal is given to a loving home

Catches an attacker stabbing some random victim? The body is found within hours - victim wakes in the hospital and has no recollection of how they got there or who saved them.

Sees a guy spike a drink? The guys found dead a day later (and the bodies of the ones who were making and selling the drugs haven't yet been found)

But the world isn't so black and white. There's a lot of grey.

The animal abuser had previous animal abuse charges attached to his name, yet he still got ahold of an animal. The shelter or breeder who did this is just as responsible for not double checking who they were giving pets to.

Considers those bystanders just as bad and deserving of punishment. Thinks of all the harm that could have been avoided had people just done the bare minimum.

The mugger had been arrested and released more than once, making the police responsible for not doing something to prevent this.

And the drugger, did this at the bar - multiple people sitting on either side of him, every chair full, and no one saw anything? The bartender, a few feet away didn't think to stop it? It makes simon just so fuckin mad.

And thus the reaper is born.

#simon riley au #simon ghost riley #butcher simon #slasher simon #or serial killer?? #i def need to do research into the terms #like is there a difference? #regardless the man is murdering #odd blurbs

[taybatwo2]

My local Walmart didn’t have any more Pixlings from the first wave of the Magic Mixies Pixlings, but they did have the Walmart Exclusive Flitta. I did not take a photo, but her potion bottle looks the same as Unia’s except it has imbedded glitter in both the gem and the handle (and has a completely different butterfly design on the thin plastic covering the potion bottle). Both have removable shoes and skirts (which are nicely detailed -better quality IMO than what Chelsea and the Enchantimals are wearing) but a bit hard to take off due to how tight the elastic is.

Their faces look very similar. Unia’s might be lightly wider than Flitta’s, and Unia has sculpted eyebrows, while Flitta does not. Their ears look to share the same base, with Flitta’s being added to at the base (and I love all the little butterfly wing details they gave her ears). Flitta has a little bit of product in her hair, but washed out easy enough and left her hair as soft as Unia’s. Both Unia and Flitta look like fae background characters to one of the animated Barbie movies. :)

Aaaaand their profiles. They might have different noses?

And a close up of Flitta’s make-up. She still has lightly pixelated screening (except for her lips). With her cute butterfly make-up reminding me of RH Poppy’s. She also has a very cute and unique hair style.

You can see how clear her butterfly screening is in comparison.

Now for her wings:

They’re a softer/rubbery like plastic with imbedded sparkles. They might look nice with some painted detail, but otherwise, it’s not too bad as a solid colored piece compared to her multi-colored outfit.

A close up of her shoes. They have a cute ombré painted pattern, with lot of little sculpted butterfly and “beaded” detail.

Even a little butterfly sculpted on the bottom of one of her shoes (the other one has a hole in it for her stand) along with the Magic Mixies Pixling logo.

She has a sculpted on outfit (which I’m still not over the moon about - but I appreciate how detailed it is and how they painted it). I also like that her arms are not covered in “long sleeves,” unlike Unia, and thus her little hands’ paint will not peel off like some of the finger tips of my Unia are already starting to do.

Now for comparisons to other (mostly) butterfly/moth dolls.

More under the cut…

Both Luna and Bonita are much larger than Flitta and have the typical G1 Monster High articulation, removable clothes, and VERY detailed bodies. Luna is one of my favorite Monster High dolls, so I kinda prefer her over Flitta, but Flitta tries her best to stand out with these ghouls.

She’s so tiny! It’s fun to see how these different doll companies took the moth/butterfly concept. They all have different antenna and way different wing structures. Luna and Flitta both have pointed ears, while Bonita has no ears. Flitta thinks I need to compare her to some one more her size.

“Well, that’s a little better… ….what and who are these long lost cousins?” G2 Monster High’s Garden Ghouls: Beetrice, Wingrid, and Lumina. They are the teensie and shorter than Flitta and unfortunately have rubber and plastic (removable) clothing and I believe poly hair. They are much more difficult to pose compared to Flitta, due to their rubbery clothing and limited movement. They can only rotate their arms around (like an old school Barbie), and they can not lift their head up and down. They do have detailed bodies though.

They look like they might have had some cute potential, but we’re nerfed last minute towards the end of G2’s run (I had to order Beetrice online and, besides Treesa, never saw any of the other Garden Ghouls in store).

Sigh….what could have been….(photo credit to @m0nsterintheattic on Instagram).

Anyways, the last Mattel doll I wanted to compare her to is Belisse Butterfly:

…which I don’t have… Enchantimals and Pixlings are very similar in size, both have removable skirts and shoes and limited articulation. Flitta has a bit more articulation than Belisse, and a much more detailed outfit/shoes and molded on clothing, ears and make-up.

I find it funny they have similar shaped antenna. …I still think I prefer Flitta’s concept and execution compared to Belisse….and her chubby butterfly Dart.

Here is a fun comparison, another Moose Toys product: Buddykins the Zelf:

“I love your hair!”

“I love your sparkly outfit! Do you want to fly around the house knocking down all the dust bunnies off the shelves???”

“Do I ever!” Flitta really seems to take to Buddykins. Like I said in my Unia review, the Zelfs and Pixlings look very compatible with each other; like they are two different species of fae in the same world….or long lost cousins on the family tree.

These two butterflies have very similar shaped antenna (they might be a reused model….?) and their wings feel like they are made from the same material (which also has glitter inside of too).

Before I could get more photos of the two, they both flew off to chase some dust bunnies.

……………………………………………………………….. All in all, I really like Flitta (she gives me mischievous fairy vibes and I love it) and I still really love the Pixling line so far….despite the molded on clothes, lack of knee joint and their large potion bottles that a younger me would have loved but older me could do with out.

…..

……..

……….

oh crap! She reminds me of Dandelion from Barbie Fairytopia!

(Photo not mine).

#magic mixies #magic mixies pixlings #pixlings #dolls #Flitta Pixling #Flitta pixlings #doll review #toy review #aleta’s toys #moose toys #monster high #doll collector #doll collecting

[tired-biscuit]

Twenty-three Minutes

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: hinata hyūga/kiba inuzuka

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: slightly suggestive content, but nothing too explicit. mutual pining, friends to lovers.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6.8k+

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: During a prolonged game of seven minutes in heaven, previously sheltered feelings come to light between two friends.

FOR a woman so passionate about clothes and all things fashionable, it comes to no surprise that Ino Yamanaka’s closet ends up being pretty cramped.

Filled with towers upon towers of shoeboxes and a seemingly never-ending row of hangers that all contain pricey jackets, thick sweaters and colourful skirts most of Konoha has yet to see her wear, the already tight space feels even more excruciatingly small when accommodated by a single person, much less two. 

Especially if one of those people is a rather tall and burly man, who cannot for the life of him keep still, and the other one is a woman whose anxiety – invoked by that very same man, albeit unintentionally – makes her fidget all over the place, no matter that she so desperately attempts to make herself seem smaller than she actually is.

To be fair, Hinata has good reason to be nervous. During a round of seven minutes of heaven she had never actually agreed to playing with her very, very intoxicated group of friends, the poor – and completely sober – Hyūga had somehow ended up shoved inside a closet with no one other than Kiba; her former teammate and friend. 

And much to her astonished surprise, he’s felt more than just that as of late. 

Hence the anxiety. And speaking of the dreadful thing, Hinata’s breathing is ragged now as she assesses the current situation she’s wound up in. 

Let’s see. She’s all alone in the dark with him – the man she has a mellow, albeit steadily growing crush on. His arm is touching her own with the close proximity. He’s been giving her fleeting glances the entire night. Smiling even more sweetly at her than usual, too; the signature feral grin growing larger and larger with every downed drink.

I mean, who wouldn’t be nervous?

Staring at the sheer, sparkly fabric, which she assumes belongs to a dress of some wicked style she’d never dare wear herself, Hinata attempts to calm down her wild heartbeat by channeling her focus on wondering how such an outrageous number of outfits can possibly belong to one single person.

All right, the person in question is Ino Yamanaka… but still. Surely even a woman like her would have some sort of limit? Right?

Judging by the slight crinkle of his nose when she reaches out to touch the shimmering dress as a failed attempt to seem busy, Kiba seems to be thinking the exact same thing.

“Damn, this place is fuckin’ drenched in perfume, huh,” his gruff voice reaches her ears all of a sudden, the familiar drawl to lace it even more prominent because of the fact that he’s ever so slightly tipsy. 

Hinata merely blinks at the curse, seemingly unfazed by it. Over time, she’s learned that all Inuzuka talk in the same crude way; sharp and straight to the point, despite the tendency of swallowing down most of the words as if they can’t be bothered to say them in their entirety. 

And yet, they still put in the extra effort to keep them as blunt as possible every chance they get. 

Back in the day when they had been mere Genin, Hinata had been shocked to hear what filthy vocabulary Kiba opted to use on the norm right there – amongst elders and other children alike. 

She remembers it quite clearly, actually. Being so, so worried about what his mother might think of it if she were to catch him using that kind of coarse language. However after meeting Tsume and spending a single afternoon inside her home with Shino, her worries proved to be entirely unnecessary. After all, the moment the clan leader had opened her mouth, it made sense where Kiba had picked up the habit from.

But now, after spending so many years in his company and going on missions, running errands with him and reporting to the Hokage, she’s grown used to it – somewhat. 

If she looks past the rudeness, the way he speaks is almost one of his more likeable features. Right next to his messy brown hair, of course. And his wide smile that he only brings forth whenever he feels like it, as well as the dimples in his cheeks, and the red fang markings that accompany the grin.

Looking at it now, his grin still remains boyish even if he’s no longer the ditzy boy she’s always known him as. After all, standing in that boy’s place is a grown man, now. A fully capable man; a Jōnin with experience underneath his belt – no, not in that way!

Christ. Where had all the years gone? Hadn’t she been participating in low-ranked missions with him and Shino just yesterday?

Speaking of years, it had taken Hinata plenty to acknowledge the change, to force herself to admit that he’s grown into a person she could admire in more ways than one. Especially now, as she turns to look at her former teammate from underneath her lashes, and realizes that the childish roundness of his face and the insolent upturn of his nose have long since disappeared. 

Because as far as appearance goes: Kiba has become all sharp and precise lines; all high cheekbones and an equally defined jaw. He’s got these piercing eyes that have the power to pin her down with just one look alone, and full lips that hide a rather dangerous set of teeth she’s never been afraid of – never. 

Where her body gently curves, his own cuts. His skin is also darker than hers; tan and sun-kissed, like the sun itself appreciates the fact that he’s willing to walk under it, while it turns her red in return, mocking her by making her look like a damned sea crab. 

But it’s not just his looks that have changed. He’s also become more attentive towards others, more easy-going with the passing years, too. The war had changed him, had turned him calmer and gotten rid of most of his immature foolishness, whilst it stirred and riled her up in return. 

It’s nothing to fret about, though – his sudden calmness. He’s still got that snarky attitude that always made the hair on the nape of her neck stand to attention, sometimes in a bad way, other times not as much – he’s got plenty of it, actually. However, the only difference is that he’s also got the whip to tame it into submission whenever the need calls for it, now.

Submission. 

The word lingers in her head for a tiny bit. Unlike her, Kiba had always been the exact opposite of it. More of the domineering sort. But now, standing in this tight space with him; sharing every single one of her breaths with him and feeling the warmth that just won’t stop radiating from his body, she can’t help but wonder if he’s also like that during… during…

Hinata’s pulse turns erratic once more as treacherous heat creeps up her pale neck and stains her equally as white cheeks with the sudden rush of blood to pool everywhere inside her body. Her thoughts run haywire for a second, and as if on cue, she feels Kiba move again. 

The sleeve of his forest green sweater brushes against her cream-coloured one with the movement. She swears that she can feel that wretched heat of him right through the thick layers of cotton they’ve both donned on to fight the unsuspecting cold autumn had brought upon the village. Swears that she can feel it scorch her skin.

“Hina?” As if he can sense the change within her, Kiba also turns to look at her, now. Unlike her, he moves with his entire body; all until the middle of his chest – his heart – is pointing right towards her. As if the call for help she’s silently emitting is too strong for him to ignore, he unknowingly offers her his undivided attention just from the way he stands now.

He has always been like that, ever since they were kids. Always so open and transparent with his thoughts and emotions, he had always been there – right by her side. Soap-sliver thin, translucent. Relentlessly urging her to grow stronger and strive for something big, something special; not once had Kiba turned his back on her, whilst so many others did. 

Like her father, for example. And Neji, back when the anger he’d felt for their entire clan had been unfortunately misplaced and aimed towards her instead. 

Neji. The bridge between her and her cousin had been repaired at some point, a kernel of hope starting to take root somewhere deep within her as they at long last met at the middle of it. She grew; prospered. But then the war had happened, and its cruel wrath had taken Neji from her for a second time – this time with no chances of ever binding back the ropes that held that bridge together. 

She’d cried a fucking river because of the loss; that already delicate bud of nearly blossoming hope withering right back to dust as if it had never even existed before. It had taken both Kiba and Shino literal years to piece her back together. To mend her back into what she once had been, what she has now become again – but this time stronger, and at long last willing to pick up the reins that held the power to control her life.

Hinata still remembers them both sleeping on the floor of her apartment that she’d moved into after the war as a means to isolate herself from her clan. Every single night they were there: Shino asleep on his back, those quirky sunglasses still sitting atop the bridge of his nose, while Kiba and Akamaru lay curled together into a mess of thrashing limbs, blankets and hefty paws.

She had never told Kiba that she heard him mumbling her name in his sleep on some nights, the furrow of his brow tight and his fingers twitching as if he was trying to reach out for the phantom version of her he’d conjured up in his dreams. Had never mentioned the look she’d exchanged with Shino when he caught her reaching over to run her hand through the Inuzuka’s hair in an attempt to calm him down on night number six.

It was easier to pretend, to feign blissful ignorance. After all, Kiba did just the same as he rose with the sun each morning and whisked those pesky late-night thoughts away for the day ahead. Shino did, too.

“Hina? Hey.” Kiba repeats the silly nickname the elders of her clan would never allow him to use, yanking her back from her thoughts with a snap of his fingers in front of her nose; pushing her back to this moment, to him. 

The inside of the closet is dark, but she knows that his peculiar eyes allow him to see just fine in it – much like she’s able to use her own to discern any movement hiding in the shadows. And because of them, she now sees him as clear and bright as day as he tilts his head, studying her intently before he asks, “You all right?”

“Yes,” Hinata croaks in answer almost immediately. Her rosy lips form a thin line as she presses them together before she swallows the saliva that’s gathered inside her mouth. The sound is loud in the small space, too loud. So she clears her throat, her tone slightly more even as she says, “I’m fine.”

“Mm. You don’t seem fine to me,” he retaliates immediately, tapping his nose with the tip of his index finger with a small, albeit signaturely arrogant grin. Hinata tries not to look at the glint of his fangs too much when he drawls, “I can smell how nervous you are, you know.”

Unbeknownst to her, Kiba doesn’t mention the fleeting whiff of sweetness he’s caught emitting from her amongst the bitter tang of nervosity. Doesn’t allow himself to get his hopes up, even if he’ll trust his keen sense of smell right to the day he dies and gets lowered into his grave.

So instead, he watches as her pretty eyes dart onto his hand that he still keeps lifted to his face. Her gaze slides across the scars that litter almost every one of his knuckles; rises upwards to acknowledge how blunt and short he prefers to keep his nails, even if he possesses the ability to form claws. 

Speaking of them, they’re all fully healed – the scars. Some are fading, others are thinning out, but Hinata still doubts they’ll ever completely go away. After all, the one that runs along the edge of his thumb in one clean, straight line, reaching down right to the upper side of his wrist, is still there even if it’s ages old. 

It had been a not-so-kind courtesy from her kunai during one especially intense sparring session when she’d still fought like a goddamn lioness to try and impress her father – her clan. Back when she thought that she actually stood a chance.

Even to this day, Hinata still thinks of Kiba as an idiot for never getting back at her for it. She had been seething with blind rage, not caring if she actually caused him any sort of hurt or injury whilst chasing her father’s approval during what was supposed to be just a simple day of training. 

The action had been so unlike her, had been a nearly polar opposite of her normally demure nature, and he had just… endured it. Had encouraged it even, and smiled that wide grin as she stepped back and dropped the kunai at the first sight of a droplet of blood dripping down her teammate’s hand.

He had never once winced as she cleaned up the rather deep gash only minutes later, her emergency medkit splayed wide open in the grass next to her. Had never once complained about it. Just told her that he was proud of her for sticking up for herself. That if she kept it up, she would be able to kick just about anybody’s ass real soon.

Hinata blinks. This closet – this closeness – is going to give her fucking whiplash. She doesn’t sound fully like herself as she says, “I-I’m not nervous.” Yeah, that oughta convince him.

“Aha, sure ya ain’t,” Kiba says, all sarcasm and blatant disbelief as if he can read her thoughts.

He ignores her characteristic stutter that she’s only now slowly ridding herself off - at the ripe age of twenty-five. Pauses to look at the faint tinge of pink on her round cheeks; at the thinnest layer of sweat that gathers on the column of her neck. Christ, she smells so sweet, so sugary. All he wants to do is bury his nose into the crook of her neck; inhale her fucking essence until–

“What?” she asks now, catching the way his pupils expand when he flicks his gaze up to look her in the eyes again. Her voice sounds so small, she hates it. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. Especially when she tries to give him a defiant glare.

Long seconds pass. Her heart is pounding like crazy inside her chest. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

“Nothin’,” Kiba finally mumbles, still staring at her. But instead of adding anything more to his answer, he rather sucks in a deep breath through his nose. As if trying to read her more thoroughly. Trying to pinpoint the exact emotions, the exact hormones that are altering her scent.

As if coming up with a plan.

Hinata swears that her nerves twitch with anticipation at how he quietly grunts after the inhale – twitch with whatever the hell it is that makes her feel like her pulse is thundering inside her ears. It just makes her sweat all the more. Makes her scent turn all the more prominent.

The tension in the small closet rises with inhumane speed when he tilts his head to the side and looks at her with a glint inside his eyes that she could only describe as purely predatory. He’s different now; his jaw clenched tight and his gaze so intense that it pins her down to the spot, making her breathing hitch in the back of her throat. 

Flames are beginning to lick up her legs at the heat of his stare that burns like a forge, now. She can feel its warmth nipping at the tips of her toes, her calves, her thighs as they continue to run their ember tongues along her now-flushed skin.

“I’m not nervous,” she repeats meekly, as if the denial can serve as a shield of some sort. Her upper lip quivers in the same way her whisper does. She says the words but doesn’t even believe them herself, how silly.

Kiba seems to notice it, too, because a dumb smirk is plastering itself onto his even dumber face as he takes a step towards her and taunts, “Not nervous ‘bout what? Being stuck in here with me? All alone, jus’ you and me?”

And despite her instincts telling her not to, Hinata pushes back when he leans in, towards one wall of Ino’s stupidly cramped closet. She guesses that he’s just toying with her like he always does; but fuck, he’s so close to her now that she can smell the cool scent of his nettle shampoo and the spearmint chewing gum that sits on top of his tongue.

For how long have they been stuck inside this closet? Surely longer than seven minutes? He wouldn’t just pounce at her this fast. This quickly. 

Right?

“C’mon, Hina,” he mutters, his voice deeper than usual; so raspy and warm that it reminds her of crackling wood in a fireplace she never got the chance to lounge in front of. “Just admit it. I can smell how you feel, you know damn well that you can’t hide that kind of stuff from me.”

“I-I–” she starts, heart suddenly hammering; jumping inside her ribcage from the surge of adrenaline to shoot throughout her. “I’m not... not–”

“Not nervous?” Kiba finishes for her, still advancing closer. “Yeah, you’ve already told me that. Now do me a favour and tell me what I wanna hear instead.” Dear god, has he always been this big? This demanding?

His intimidating presence fills the small space so rapidly that she feels like fainting. Even the previously pink blush that had lingered on her cheeks deepens into a furious shade of scarlet. It tingles across her entire face, the blush. Makes it prickle with heat.

Hinata blinks, her long eyelashes rapidly fluttering. It’s a struggle to form sentences from how fast her brain deteriorates to pathetic mush from being this flustered. “N-No, I–”

“You what, mm? Know that scent doesn’t lie?” He’s so close to her now that he’s towering over her in the dark, cornering her and caging her right between himself and the wall. 

His scent envelops her, overrides Ino’s perfume that surrounds them and makes her toes curl in her knee-high socks. He smells heavy; like the rain and the rich soil it hits, nothing like her dainty notes of lavender and vanilla. A forest, something ancient and powerful. It’s enough to turn her slightly dazed, if the nearly non-existent proximity hadn’t done that to her already.

She’s frozen to the spot as he twirls a strand of her silky midnight hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. And whilst doing so, he accidentally – or not – brushes the sensitive spot right where her jaw meets her neck. 

The immediate zing of electricity to surge through her makes Hinata’s knees wobble. Makes her thighs clench together and her vision spin. She sags against the wall, nearly going limp from how soft her legs turn.

But when he reaches out to catch her, her hand shakes as she suddenly slams it flat against his chest. Right where his heart is. Her fingers clutch his forest green sweater, pretty nails, clear of any sort of polish, digging into the cotton; desperately clawing.

“Stop it,” she blabbers, evident panic clear in her voice. “You can’t– No, no, n-no... Enough!”

Kiba stops at the jumble of words she throws at him. Looks at her. Really looks at her. At her wide eyes, at the blush that still sears her entire face, making her look like a ripe tomato. At the quick rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes, and breathes, and breathes, as well as at the sweat that gleams on not just her neck now, but also her brow.

And then, he chuckles. This deep sort of rumble that’s pleasant to echo within his chest. That outright confuses her. Especially when that same chuckle turns into a snicker, that finally turns into full-blown laughter.

“Wh–...” Hinata starts, heart still thumping, thrill still coursing her veins. She still feels light-headed. “What’s so funny?”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Hina,” Kiba manages to let out between boyish snickers, his eyes crinkling with guilty delight. He wipes at the corners of them, now, upper lip quivering, showing off one pointy fang. “I couldn’t resist, hah…! You should have seen the look on your face, ahah!”

The raven-haired Hyūga blinks, feeling the colour draw away from her face, tinting her cheeks back into a faint rosy shade of blush instead of the previously intense red. “What are you going on about?”

“I was just messing with ya,” he explains through a wheeze, nose scrunching when he grins again – all broad and wild. He takes a shuddering breath, tries to quiet down the little giggles that just won’t stop erupting from him before he scratches the back of his neck and looks at her again.

Her brows lift, hiding beneath her bangs as she waits for further explanation.

One corner of Kiba’s mouth kicks upward at how sternly she looks up at him this time. “Did you really think I’d believe you’d be nervous ‘cause of me? C’mon.” He pauses, and looks her directly in the eye as if to challenge her before flicking his wrist, dismissing her. “I know I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. Have some faith in me, please.”

Hinata’s stare continues to remain unmoving, even if her legs still feel like jelly. Christ, who knew he had such an impact on her? The entire thing lasted what, a mere minute? And here she is – mere putty in his hands already. 

She doesn’t comment on his level of intelligence, just asks, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile falters slightly at the question, at the tone. Even his eyes seem to lose just a smidge of that mischievous glint as he simply shrugs and says, “Well, you’re still pining after Naruto, are you not?”

Silence stretches between the two friends despite the small space. The heavy, slightly uncomfortable kind.

“Everyone makes me nervous,” Hinata says finally. “Not just Naruto.”

Saying his name doesn’t bring the thrill it used to. Doesn’t make her heart clench, nor her tongue taste any sweeter. She cares about the future Hokage, of course she does, but not in that kind of way anymore. Not in that desperately, hopelessly infatuated kind of way that he never seemed to return.

He didn’t even see her, after all. At least not in any way Kiba did. Like he still does, actually, even to this day.

“Yeah, but he’s the only one that could… ya know,” Kiba finds himself running his mouth when she turns quiet again, attempting to fill the silence with words, words, words, “provoke you in that kind of way. ‘Cause of how madly in love with him you are, and all that lovey-dovey crap, hah.”

“Being in love is not ‘crap’,” she mumbles at his fake laugh, the curse tasting foreign on her modest tongue. Even he blinks in surprise at the fact that she used it.

But then he shakes his head. Loses the smile. 

“Yeah, it is,” he says.

“No, it isn’t,” she counters right back. “Why would it be?”

“‘Cause all it does is bring you pain,” he retaliates finally. He pauses, that short beat of silence skipping as his eyes suddenly start to avoid her. “I mean, I don’t know ‘bout you, but that seems like a pretty crappy thing to me.”

Hinata gets the feeling that he isn’t talking about her struggles concerning love when he says the words.

But instead of saying anything, she just watches as he pulls back from her then, giving her space to breathe; to calm down. His touch to her neck had left the skin there burning in its wake, but that’s not why she frowns now. No, the reason as to why she pouts, bottom lip just barely jutting out, is rather because of the lack of that exact physical connection.

Kiba looses a sigh at the sight of that freaking pout. Runs a frustrated hand through his chestnut hair. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“C’mon… Don’t be upset with me, it was just a joke.”

“Well, I am.”

“Ugh.”

She sits down next to him, still wearing that adorable pout on her face, when he motions her to join him by patting the warm floorboards right after he slides down the wall and plops down onto them himself. The closet is so small that their thighs are touching. His joggers rub against her bare skin, making her pleated skirt rustle.

Neither of them moves their leg away.

They stare at the dark for a moment, not focusing on anything in particular. The slits that are his pupils grow wider when she sighs herself and rests her head on his shoulder, they eat up the white space where his irises should have been. Meanwhile, Hinata’s own eyes serve as polar opposites to his own; the milky circles dilating with no visible pupils in sight.

Briefly, she wonders what the eyes of their children would look like. What abilities they’d possess. What kind of life that would be for her. If he’d be as much of a good husband to her as he is a friend.

“Hina?” His tone is careful when it reaches her again.

“Mm?” she mumbles, her soft cheek nudging his shoulder as she readjusts herself. She brings her knees closer to her chest, but makes sure her skirt stays in place.

“I’m sorry.” Genuine this time. Torn.

“Did you really mean what you said,” she utters after a brief pause of thought. “About love?”

He’s silent for a moment, too. As if contemplating. She’s just about to switch the subject to something a bit more ordinary, something a bit more safe, when he finally says, “No.”

Silence lingers once more. And then she says, “I’m not in love with Naruto anymore.”

She can feel him stiffen beside her. Can hear his breath ever so slightly shudder as he whispers, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I’ve found someone new.”

“Oh.”

He rests his head atop her own. Inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo and cherishes the sugar in it whilst he still can. “Not to overstep, but… You don’t need to love someone just to feel fulfilled, ya know.”

“I know,” she replies, his words making a rather delicate part of her heart glow, glow, glow. “But trust me when I say that even I was surprised by it… It happened so unexpectedly, even though it had kind of… Always been there. In a way.”

“Mm,” Kiba hums, deep in thought. “So, wanna tell me what the lucky bastard is like?”

Hinata chuckles at the question. At the fact he’s unknowingly called himself a bastard just now. She rests her hands atop her lap, fingers intertwining together. 

“Well… He’s rather annoying and stubborn. Loud… Like, so, so loud; you wouldn’t believe how loud he is.” Her insides warm up when he snickers at the attention she gives to the word. “But… He’s also genuine. Incredibly passionate and determined. Open, and supportive, and loving... Gosh, he’s so loving.”

“Okay, damn, don’t start drooling all over my shoulder ‘cause of this dude, now.” Kiba chuckles again as he mulls her descriptions over. Looks up at the ceiling. His toes wiggle as he thinks. “He sounds a lot like Naruto.”

“No, he’s different.” Firm, her answer. He’s his own person. Special in his own peculiar way.

“Is he nicer or somethin’?”

“Well…” The corners of her lips twitch. “Only when he wants to be, I suppose.”

“Towards you, I mean. Does he, like,” he mumbles, trying to find the right words, “see you? Treat you well?”

He’s the one. He really is. Maybe it’s time to admit it not just to herself, but to him as well.

Maybe.

Hinata stills at that; heart beginning to thunder again. Her fingers fidget, palms starting to feel clammy as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I don’t know, Kiba,” she says, her voice so, so quiet that he can barely hear her despite the closeness and his sharp hearing. “You tell me?”

Kiba goes silent for a long moment, as if he’s attempting to paint the bigger picture inside his head. And then, at long fucking last, his breath hitches. His heart begins to race. Realization begins to dawn upon him and settles in, in, in.

“What?” He turns completely rigid, spine straightening, causing Hinata to lift her head from his shoulder. His face goes blank, eyes widening in the dark again. He swallows, not caring how stupid he may look as he repeats a meek, “What?”

“What?” she echoes innocently, the expression that lingers on her face completely coy. “What is it?”

“Are you saying– No,” he starts, cutting himself off with a wild shake of his head. As if he doesn’t dare believe the mere thought of her returning his feelings. As if he doesn’t dare say it. “You better not be fuckin’ with me right now as some sort of sick revenge… ‘Cause if you are, I swear to god I’ll–”

“I’m not messing with you, Kiba.”

His face flushes red now. This deep, crimson shade that almost matches the colour of the fang markings on his cheeks that tell everyone what clan he belongs to. “Stop messing with me. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not messing with you,” Hinata repeats sadly. She frowns at how lowly he actually thinks of himself. At how stubbornly he’s beaten it into his head that he doesn’t deserve to be admired by her, much less loved. For so long that he’s actually started to believe the denial.

He sucks in a deep breath. Through his mouth this time, to fill his lungs quicker with air because his chest feels way too tight all of a sudden. “But I’m not–” 

I’m not Naruto.

“I know that you aren’t,” she interrupts him gently, taking his bigger hand and clasping it with both of her smaller ones. His callouses scrape against her own, thick fingers curling around her daintier ones by pure instinct. She can’t help but smile at the affectionate touch he seems to execute without even thinking about it. He’s always known how to make her feel seen. “I never asked of you to be him.”

“But I’m not… special, like he is,” Kiba continues, his voice so low as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “I didn’t– I can’t do the stuff he does. I’ve tried, but I just… can’t.”

“So? You’re special to me,” she says and it’s true. She blinks. Runs her tongue along her front teeth. “Do you really think I’m that shallow to only fall in love with a man because he’s the strongest of them all?”

“No, but I do think that you need somebody like him,” he retaliates stubbornly. “You’re, like… royalty, or whatever. And he’s a war hero, a-a…”

“I don’t need anyone,” she cuts in again, looking up at him underneath her lashes with fire burning behind her pale eyes. “You’ve said it yourself; that I don’t need anyone to feel fulfilled… And yet, I want you.”

“Why?” He can’t understand it. How? Why? Why him?

“Because I see you,” she answers, frowning at the evident doubt that’s still present in his own eyes. “It took me a while, and I am sorry for that, but it’s true when I say that I finally see you; see the things you did and continue to do for me.”

Kiba’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. The prickle of one fang that the action invokes helps when it comes to grounding him, because if it didn’t, he’s sure as hell that he’d be floating up towards the clouds right now. Like a balloon – right through the ceiling of Ino Yamanaka’s closet. 

She wants him. Sees him. Him, him, him; nobody else. At long last, he can stop pretending. Can slowly rid himself of all the doubts and the insecurity he’s managed to hide deep underneath his thick skin. Can stop wondering if he’ll ever be good enough; ever be enough.

“Kiba?” Hinata whispers, and goddamn had his name always sounded so good, coming from her mouth like that? Always so pleasant?

“Yeah?” he whispers back. Her face is so close to his own now that he can smell her strawberry chapstick and see the subtle dip of her Cupid's bow. At how faintly it trembles as she reaches out to run her hand through his unruly hair before resting it atop his heaving chest.

She’s the one to take a deep breath this time around as she tries to calm down; to mentally prepare herself before she asks, “Do you want me, too?”

Does he want her? Does he fucking want her? What a stupid question. What a silly, foolish question.

“Yeah,” Kiba croaks out, heart pounding – hurting in the best way possible. His voice cracks; he hates it. “‘Course I want you, Hina. I-I’ve always wanted you. Ever since we were kids.” She’s so close. Goddammit, she’s so, so close. If he pushed forward by a mere inch, he could probably kiss her, oh, Christ.

Just the mere thought of her soft lips touching his own makes him feel dizzy. Makes his head spin; brain doing the same cartwheels his own heart executes in his ribcage. Thump, thump, fucking thump.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. He can’t fathom the fact that she’s actually bolder than him for once.

“Yeah,” he repeats like a parrot, like a lovesick moron because he is one. “Mhm, yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Honestly, he’ll consider himself the luckiest man alive if he actually  manages to live for long enough to experience a kiss from her. This beautiful, kind-hearted, nurturing deity of a woman. Because judging by all the thrill that’s pumping through him right now, he doubts that he will.

And yet, he’s still around as Hinata leans in; cautiously, warily. Not because she’s scared of him and his brash nature, more so because she’s enticed by it – enticed by him. Her cheeks are so rosy, he wants to kiss them and touch them to feel their warmth. To squeeze them until her lips purse, and–

His jumbled train of thoughts diminishes and turns into pure silence when her mouth presses against his own gently and she at long last, after so many years of confusion, and lingering glances, and yearning touches and sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in separate beds, kisses him.

And fuck, the kiss is so soft. So sweet. His hand lifts to touch her cheek, feeling its warmth, her own two back to holding onto his other one that had never left her lap. Stroking his knuckles in a way that she can feel the scar she’d given him all those years ago and that he, unbeknownst to her, wears proudly today.

He melts completely into her. Melds himself with her very soul through every panting brush of lip. He calls himself an arrogant bastard, but he’s become as soft as a teddy bear that she gets to squeeze and play with to her heart's content. 

Every kiss they exchange continues to grow in intensity. Turns to subtle click of teeth and swipe of tongue. Their lips don’t touch in the usual needy, feral tempo he opts for, but it’s still one that he can appreciate just as deeply – even more so, now that he thinks about it. Like he’s wound up in an alley he’s not at all familiar with, but surprisingly enjoys the stay in nonetheless.

Kiba pushes into her more deeply, makes her release this shuddering gasp that lights his body on fire as he takes over. He wants to pull her into his lap – to ravage her, taste her all over because he’s been waiting for this day, for this moment, for so long. To cherish her, adore her in more sinful ways. Make her feel special with his hands, mouth, tongue.

And how couldn’t he wish for that? After all, Hinata, his Hinata, tastes like sugar and everything nice, countering the bitter taste of beer he possesses on his own tongue because of the little party they’ve still got going on.

Shit, the party–

The closet door slides open a mere moment after Hinata senses movement and Kiba catches another scent. They part swiftly; with a quiet, albeit slightly lewd pop! Thank god for being ninjas.

The two rapidly blink at the sliver of light to seep into the closet as the third member of the former Team 8, Shino Aburame, gives both Kiba and Hinata a pointed look through his tinted spectacles, now. Their respective heartbeats are still all over the place by the time he peers inside the darkness himself. 

They watch as he looks down, looks at their entwined fingers; at Kiba’s hand that still rests on Hinata’s cheek. At their panting chests. At how closely they sit together, how fucking red they’ve become.

“Hmm,” is everything Shino contributes to the conversation that’s yet to begin. Their friend merely quirks a dark brow as if he knows exactly what they’ve been up to. 

And perhaps he does, Kiba thinks. Hiding a tiny bug amongst so many clothes the wretched Yamanaka owns, would be a piece of cake for the nosy insect user. But alas, who on earth would believe him if he exposed Shino as the true gossiper he actually was?

Luckily for him, however, Hinata is the first one to stumble into movement out of the trio. Her eyelashes can’t stop fluttering as she stutters a tiny, “H-Hi, Shino.” 

Goodness, she’s so pink in the face; the blush blooming as furiously as ever now that they’ve been caught. So cute. Especially as she releases Kiba’s hand to run her fingers through her hair frantically, trying to smooth down the strands he’d managed to ruffle whilst kissing her like a madman.

“Hey, man,” Kiba plays along, seemingly unable to wipe off the dopey grin that remains plastered on his face, now. Still wearing the wild grin, he pushes from the floor and offers Hinata his hand to help her back up to her feet as soon as he stands up to his full height. 

Swiftly standing right next to him a moment later, Hinata never lets go of Kiba’s hand. Neither does he let go of hers. Of course he’ll hold her hand if she wishes for him to hold it. At this point, he’ll do just about anything for her.

His eyes are on Shino as he clears his throat, trying so hard to be casual when he says, “What’s up?”

Shino’s gaze dips to their entwined fingers once more. He stares at how Kiba strokes Hinata’s knuckles so tenderly that the action almost seems alien for a brute like him, and how she shyly lowers her head until that curtain of midnight hair almost entirely obscures her from the view of the two men. 

It doesn’t last long, however. After all, Kiba feels the need to tuck it behind her ear rather quickly. Feels the need to make her feel seen even quicker.

So after a silent couple of seconds, the poor Aburame finally looses an exasperated sigh at the new item to stand before him; at how their entire dynamic is surely bound to change, now. Gesturing them to follow, he merely utters, “Time’s up.”

“Is it, now?” Kiba drawls in answer. The Inuzuka swears that he can still feel the tingle of Hinata’s lips on his own. When he pokes the tip of his tongue out, he tastes strawberries – sweet!

“Yes,” Shino replies, stepping out of the closet so the pair can do the same. With his back turned towards them, he adds somehow amusedly, “It’s been up sixteen minutes ago, actually.”

Hinata and Kiba exchange a look as they head back for the living room where loud chatter suddenly erupts; all of their friends most surely anticipating their return and the juicy story to follow. 

His grin grows, stretching even wider than usual when she gives him a single nod of her head. A silent approval.

Who knew that all it took was a cramped closet and twenty-three minutes to spare in the dark?

#this is my first character x character fic and i'm lowkey nervous lol #pls be kind #kiba x hinata #kibahina #naruto fanfiction #hinata x kiba #kiba inuzuka #hinata hyuuga

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

I never liked Leon's face model in ID and DI, I wish they would use his face from Damnation. I don't understand why they changed

capcom has never been consistent when it comes to their character designs. that's also why they don't stray too much from outfit choices/colours and hairstyles. otherwise a character can easily be misinterpreted as another imo. example, red is always ada or claire. blue is leon or jill. rebecca is green etc. orange is ashley.

leon has had red, blond, brown and black hair. blue eyes and i think brown??? green? eyes. ada has had brown, green, grey eyes? even now ashley had her iconic amber eyes be switched to a green :| (im not happy about it, i liked her og eye colour better as it was rarer and more unique looking. now ashley looks like any other blonde girl)

leon has kept his hair style and general colour palettes. the only one significantly different was re6 outfit with the red undershirt, as red is not a colour commonly associated with leon. (i like to this it's connected to ada heehee)

to be fair, i think the changes might actually be a good idea in terms of garnering a larger audience. hear me out here.

we have a general idea of what leon looks like. but let's switch the hair colours, okay. now some people love blond leon. and some love dark haired leon. okay now let's tweak some variations of his face. okay some LOVE infinite darkness leon (daddy) and some LOVE babyface re2r leon. and some LOVE damnation leon (daddy) and some LOVE vendetta leon (emo daddy) BUT i have also seen people disliking ALL of these variants of leon.

now the consistent things i've noticed about his face is that he always is depicted with the sharp brow, and he has a very pronounced nose bridge, and the butt chin has been on every modern interpretation of leon since after 2004 (re4) infinite darkness Leon is actually a decent interpretation of re6 leon and damnation leon

in the og timeline, with re4, leon's cheek is cut and has a scar even in re6. because of re4r no longer recreating this cut, we can assume that he will not have a scar in a potential re6r. the scar is also not in any cgi film.

he and ada both share gsw scars in the opposite shoulders, but it's unlikely we will see these. (please let me see them in a movie or game, i am begging you. i want them to kiss each other scars)

i think with so many variations of leon in different companies mind you, since the cgi films are a different production team than the games. it makes sense on why they might have their own versions of leon. at least with the game remakes, we have a more consistent face model for leon. i'll be honest, i am not a fan of re4r leon's face. i like it, it's not my favourite. and that's okay! but here we go now, we've created fun discourse over it lol

my favourite has always been re6 leon. something about his voice (matt mercer) and his design just won me over so much.

also that being said with your original ask, damnation leon is actually one of the more different ones as well. he has a completely different eye colour, same with ada. and the darker hair colour.

and also (allegedly ada was modelled after their voice actors/mocap actors. (for re6) so i want to assume that they did the same for leon/matt mercer/his mocap actor), and i do wonder if they did this for damnation as well.

at least with the remakes it seems they want to be more consistent, which is good. but with capcom's track record, i wouldn't be too sure that they would continue with this route. we might even get a more infinite darkness style face in re6r. who knows. only time will tell lol

#ask heart #heart answers #anon #leon #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #ada wong #aeon #resident evil damnation #resident evil 4 #re4r #re4make #re2r #resident evil death island #resident evil infinite darkness