#and crocheting and a little bit of beading

[roncheg]

So

as I was saying a couple of posts earlier

I've recently cleaned a long neglected storage space in the apartment and found some things.

One of them was an old tea cosy in a shape of a girl (which is a Soviet (?) or even earlier remnant tradition(?), I am a bit lazy today to look it up^^"). Said tea cosy is my aunt's, and was gifted to her probably before I was walking (??? no one in my family remembers). What is certain though is that I personally HATED this thing with vengeance as long as I remember myself)))

I was allowed to play with this doll and she was ALWAYS a villain/despicable bitch in all of my games:)

why was I so against her I don't know, but she was horribly made regardless- cheap plastic and fabrics, everything falling apart UGH

So!

Looking at her again I was plunged into this deep childhood hatred, but I couldn't just throw her away - she is not mine, and was a gift blabla

SO! I had a mission!

that what was before (she is in parts,'cause I've forgotten to take a proper before pic^^"):

a bit of a process:

..and how she looks now:

Fin.

#needless to say i like her now^^ #hair was a bit of a fluke #but it's ok as long as it's covered)))) #remake #my handicraft #my projects #sewing adventures #and crocheting and a little bit of beading #tea cosy #my art

[switchoffthestars]

2024 march/april knitting

(details & ravelry links below the cut)

Cargill sweater (aug 6 2023 - apr 24 2024; hobbii highland wool in '34 ruby port' & knitting for olive soft silk mohair in 'bordeaux')

Morning glance in lace (aug 16 2023 - mar 13 2024; midara haapsalu shawl 28/2 in '940 black')

Billa lace (mar 16 2024 - apr 20 2024; yarnitaly merino laceweight in 'avocado')

Poet socks (feb 12 2024 - mar 2 2024; hobbii happy feet in '34 turquoise')

Vanilla socks (mar 2 2024 - apr 26 2024; lana grossa meilenweit merino hand-dyed in '7001 tata')

WIPs: Clown tamer socks, vanilla socks (short) and Lindisfarne

#knitting tag #fibre arts #knitting this month and not making because i didn't do any crochet lmao #i did do (1) little embroidered flower #but that's not making it to here #it looks like so much #but two of the big ones have been on my needles for like 7-8 month #also yes i am very much in my sock knitting era #most things have more photos if you click through to the ravelry links #also yes i did do that row in the middle of the black shawl wrong hahah but we're gonna pretend it's meant to be like that #also please zoom in to the green shawl to check out the beads #also also i got into a bit of a vintage dutch stocking borders rabbit hole and knit and translated a pattern for one of them #but that was just to experiment #also also i actually frogged the summer top i mentioned in the tags last time #at some point i will use that yarn to make a summer lacy cardigan #perhaps this is the month actually

[sintiva]

just some eren!

nerd!’ren and reader took it slow when they first met. trips to the library, the icecream shop to get your favorite caramel and pralines double scoop. then his or your dorm when you two had to study some more. it was preferably done in your room, cause he just loved getting the chance to see what new things furnished your dorm. maybe another pillow? a fluffy crocheted blanket? some decor? a new candle. whatever it was it made him happy seeing you swell and overflow with joy.

you’d get all bouncy, dancing around your room on the tip of your toes. slipping off all your clothes till your in nothing but a tank top and some really short shorts with no panties. then eren proceeds with his usual. he goes to bathroom, he’s gotta piss or so he says. but really he’s just a weirdo, he stares at your hamper. eyes glazed and fixated on the black laced thong that sat at the top of the pile. he moves quickly. he plucks them from the top and balls it up in his hand. then he’s putting up to his nose, inhaling every inch of you relishing in the scent that gets him harder then ever. his back’s to the door and he’s tugging his sweats down. he’s gulping down his whimpers as his fists wraps around his cock. his thumb is shaky as he swipes it over his tip. translucent beads of precum pearl at his tip, and drip down his sides flowing down the shape of each vein as they flow to the base of his cock. for the most part, he keeps himself trimmed, but he’s been so stressed with school it’s gotten a bit messy.

from the other side of your bathroom door you can hear him groaning. there’s a lewd air that permeates through the door as the sound of his palm, wet and sticky against his cock, grows louder. your fingers don’t do enough to stimulate your clit. you feel like such a loser. why can’t you just open the door and tell him every time he comes over your pussy gets all sticky and that playing with yourself doesn’t quell the thought. why’s it so hard to tell him that you want him to take you over and over again. seeing his print through his loser sweats, the brunette strands that travel down them. he’s a curse, a big freaking loser who you need in between your legs. but it only gets worse. you hear him groan your name and your stomach does flips. it’s not only your name, it’s the things he says after. like how he wants to put a baby in you, he wants to knock up the pretty girl who only cares about herself and her grades. he’s moaning about how he’d give you the best dick of your life if you’d give him a chance. you always look like you want to give him a chance too, so is he wrong for assuming.

on the other side of the door, he’s dripping profusely. his knuckles are trembling as he milks himself, his tummy jerks with each pull. he’s thrusting his hips, fucking his hand and losing himself in the smell of you. then he gets the big idea to cum on your panties. his balls twitch from overstimulation, but his slit pulses as more cum trickles out into your panties. he pants weakly, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ spew from his mouth. he’s hot, his dick won’t go down, and he made a fucking mess of your panties. you can hear him shuffling on the other side. you hear the turmoil, the disgust with himself for being such a whimp. “um, ‘ren? you okay in there?” you slightly shout as you step away from the door.

“yeah...ha- totally! i-i just made a little bit of a mess so i just have to clean up…a-around the sink…haha.” he’s damn awkward and such a terrible liar.

#eren x black reader smut #eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader smut #eren smut #aot drabbles

[whattheheckmidoriya]

Levi taking up beading after the war. He's still getting used to the technicalities of his injuries and the new limitations they pose in his life, so he starts looking for ways to keep his hands busy.

Pottery is too messy and strains his back. Knitting and crocheting test his patience just a bit more than he'd like. Baking bores him as he spends enough time in the kitchen as it is in his tea shop.

But beading seems to have hit a sweet spot for him. It's simple enough, keeps his mind at work, and you seem to enjoy it as well. That makes it all the more enticing to him.

He's meticulous about his work. Levi doesn't have a collection of beads; he simply buys what he needs— what he thinks you'll like. He was never one for bright colors, but they look so lovely on you.

The memory of you frowning because you didn't have nice earrings to match with your new dress lingers at the back of his mind. Just a week later, he'd gifted you a new pair of earrings that perfectly complemented the outfit.

He scoffs at himself lightly. Humanity's Strongest spending his new life making silly little trinkets and accessories? It sounded almost ridiculous.

But the twinkle of joy in your eyes, your soft gasps of surprise, and squeals of excitement makes it all so, so worth it.

#just a thought 🥹 #IM GONNA CRY #IMAGINE HIM BEING ALL SHY ABOUT IT #LIKE HOW HE'D BE SO BASHFUL AFTER FINISHING HIS FIRST ATTEMPT AT A BRACELET OR SOMETHING #AND HE JUST WANTS YOU TO WEAR IT BUT IS SO??? SHY TO ASK #IM GONNA SOB OMG #pau talks #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman x you

[suenoji]

nerd!eren SUPREMACY!!! my favorite white boy! i wanna make a little series with him so bad… reblogs and feedback appreciated!

contains: just m!masturbation

nerd!’ren and reader took it slow when they first met. trips to the library, the icecream shop to get your favorite caramel and pralines double scoop. then his or your dorm when you two had to study some more. it was preferably done in your room, cause he just loved getting the chance to see what new things furnished your dorm. maybe another pillow? a fluffy crocheted blanket? some decor? a new candle. whatever it was it made him happy seeing you swell and overflow with joy.

you’d get all bouncy, dancing around your room on the tip of your toes. slipping off all your clothes till your in nothing but a tank top and some really short shorts with no panties. then eren proceeds with his usual. he goes to bathroom, he’s gotta piss or so he says. but really he’s just a weirdo, he stares at your hamper. eyes glazed and fixated on the black laced thong that sat at the top of the pile. he moves quickly. he plucks them from the top and balls it up in his hand. then he’s putting up to his nose, inhaling every inch of you relishing in the scent that gets him harder then ever. his back’s to the door and he’s tugging his sweats down. he’s gulping down his whimpers as his fists wraps around his cock. his thumb is shaky as he swipes it over his tip. translucent beads of precum pearl at his tip, and drip down his sides following the shape of each vein as they flow to the base of his cock. for the most part, he keeps himself trimmed, but he’s been so stressed with school it’s gotten a bit messy.

from the other side of your bathroom door you can hear him groaning. there’s a lewd air that permeates the door as the sound of his palm, wet and sticky against his cock, grows louder. your fingers don’t do enough to stimulate your clit. you feel like such a loser. why can’t you just open the door and tell him every time he comes over your pussy gets all sticky and that masturbation doesn’t quell the thought. seeing his print through his loser sweats, the brunette strands that travel down them. he’s a curse, a big freaking loser who you need in between your legs. but it only gets worse. you hear him groan your name and your stomach does flips. it’s not only your name, it’s the things he says after. like how he wants to put a baby in you, he wants to knock up the pretty girl who only cares about herself and her grades. he’s moaning about how he’d give you the best dick of your life if you’d give him a chance. you always look like you want to give him a chance too, so is he wrong for assuming so?

on the other side of the door, he’s dripping profusely. his knuckles are trembling as he milks himself, his tummy jerks with each pull. he’s thrusting his hips, fucking his hand and losing himself in the smell of you. then he gets the big idea to cum on your panties. his balls twitch from overstimulation, but his slit pulses as more cum trickles out into your panties. he pants weakly, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ spew from his mouth. he’s hot, his dick won’t go down, and he made a fucking mess of your panties. you can hear him shuffling on the other side. you hear the turmoil, the disgust with himself for being such a whimp. “um, ‘ren? you okay in there?” you slightly shout as you step away from the door.

“yeah...ha- totally! i-i just made a little bit of a mess so i just have to clean up…a-around the sink…haha.” he’s damn awkward and such a terrible liar.

#eren jeager smut #eren jaeger x black reader smut #eren smut #eren x black reader #eren x you #eren yeager #eren aot #eren jaeger

[mystical-one]

Oo..el bobito

progress photos + notes 👇🏻 I was going to put a read more but it just kept messing up the order of images soooo um. 👍🏻

I started out by doing tiny concept sketches of what I wanted my guy to look like, and some rough ideas of potential proportions. From these I picked one, scanned it and printed it out to-scale (23cm head to toe), and used it as a guide when making my patterns and constructing the body.

Each leg has a little pebble in it to weigh it down, as well as the torso :)

After, I made some hands out of Epoxy sculpt. I refined and sanded them twice (once when they were half-dry, and then again the morning after) before giving them a couple coats of paint and blushing them with oil pastels and a brush. I put a little hole in each of them so that I could sew them onto the arms later.

I didn't take any progress shots of the jacket, but I basically eyeballed it and drew out some patterns I thought looked right and cut them out of some scraps from an old cosplay. Since I was working on such a small scale, I chose to glue the seams together and dab a thin line of fabric glue along the raw edges to prevent fraying. The buttons are made of small beads glued to the front.

After sewing the hands on, I began work on the head.

I started by feeding a folded pipe cleaner down the spine of the torso, leaving a length poking out of the top to be stuck through the head as support. I crocheted the base and pulled the pipe cleaner through it before stuffing + closing it, and then folded the wire into the head to stop it from slipping out.

The felting took me a few tries; I couldn't find the right wool colour at first, so after a while I decided to fluff up some of the same yarn I used to crochet the head and use that instead. A few hours of felting later, a little bit of black wool for the eyes and mouth, and it was ready to be blushed with pastels like the hands ^_^

The hair I rooted strand by strand, using small pieces of brown yarn split into 3 strands each and rooted using my felting needle. I worked in an inward spiral, and then filled out any thin areas with the leftover yarn.

Thus was born el bobito <3

#😁😁 #emi's meandering jotts

[theenbyroiderer]

People seemed to appreciate the tutorial I posted so here is another one. Here is how you can stitch a 3D sea urchin (without the spines). This one is a bit more advanced and needs some descrioption to accompany the images.

Technique: The technique is called woven picot. If needed you should be able to find better stitch instructions on youtube.

Threads and yarns: I've preferred using a twisted thread for the woven picot. In the tutorial I'm using sashiko thread, and that worked ok but wasn't ideal. I would recommend cotton perle or mercerised cotton crochet yarn for this technique. The top example is mercer cotton. The tighter the thread is twisted the better I'd say. I do NOT recommend using six-stranded floss.

Variegated thread is fun for this project. If the randomeness of it bothers you then you can cut out lighter and darker sections of your variegated thread and then do every other wedge of woven picot darker and every other lighter, as I've done in the top example.

The yarn in the middle is some really chunky wool knitting yarn, which is a bit of a struggle to work with. You could also just ball some yarn up, pack in there and fasten it with some stitches with a thinner thread. It's not going to be visible anyway, so you can improvize.

Needle: A blunt needle is better for this technique too, but I only had sharp ones at the time I made this tutorial. Don't be like me.

Process: I'd say the pictures are pretty self explanatory, but here is a brief rundown. Draw a circle on the fabric, in the size you want your sea urchin to be. Split this circle in to five equal sections. A sea urchin typically has a patter that is made up of five broader wedges interspersed by five narrower wedges, so that's what we want to achieve. So when you have your five sections, try to sketch out five broad and five narroow sections using the lines you've already drawn as a guideline.

Make the wedges as pictured above. Each wedge needs to be of equal length and a bit longer than the radius of the circle.

Fill the middle with som padding, as described above. I've made five puffs of padding, one for each broader wedge. Which leaves little valleys for the narrow wedges to rest in, and creates a shape typical of some sea urchins. The woven wedges are then simply joined together as neatly as possible with a thin thread of similar color (I just split the sashiko thread down to half the thickness and used that).

Lastly I finished the edge of the hole in the middle with some button hole type stitches maybe? I'm shit at stitch names... Beading is optional, I just thought it looked neat.

#embroidery #3d embroidery #fiber art #embroidery tutorial #fiber art tutorial #3D embroidery tutorial #stumpwork #tutorial #sea urchin #sea urchin art #theenbyroiderer

[roboticchibitan]

I see a lot of memes about refusing to knit gauge swatches and they hurt my heart a little bit. Like. I get it I've been there. But you're actively working against your own interests. Please just knit a swatch.

@tattinglacework said in the tags of my post about yarn substitution that a gauge swatch is the knitting/crochet equivalent of "measure twice cut once" and I'm stealing it forever now because it's so true. I've had to frog weeks worth of work because I needed to go up two needle sizes and I didn't do a swatch. But it was better than having a finished shawl that was way too small to be useful.

And listen, eventually if you keep refusing to do swatches and being all "teehee I'm such a rebel" about it, you're going to come to a project that you're super excited about, really looking forward to, spend time planning, maybe even buy really nice yarn for it... and you hate the finished product and never use it. Which makes all that work a waste of time.

I know it seems like knitting a swatch is a waste of time but knitting for a week only to have to frog it all is more of a waste of time than the hour I would've spent knitting a swatch. Even with cobweb lace knitting where a proper gauge swatch takes several hours (I've spent 10 hours on a gauge swatch before and I am glad I did cuz it saved my ass), it's a looooot better to knit for several hours and know the next 100 hours will not have been in vain.

A swatch can also help you see whether you like how that yarn works up, and can give you an idea of how that yarn drapes and works up. This is important if you are knitting with a different fiber yarn than what the pattern calls for. Some fibers have a lot more stretch than others. Wool is nice and stretchy but silk is not. Cotton isn't very stretchy. Acrylic stretches and drapes differently than wool or cotton. A swatch will tell you if a fiber is suitable for a pattern.

Some pattern swatches are stockinette stitch and some are in pattern, and an in pattern swatch is going to tell you a LOT about how that yarn will work with that pattern. For example: I like to buy the occasional indie dyed yarn that's got pops of color and multiple colors per skein. But those yarns are hard to find patterns for because the color change/variegation is so quick that it ends up being very busy fabric. A gauge swatch in pattern will tell me if a pattern will show well or get lost in the variegation. Indie dyed yarn is expensive and I am poor so I want to make something I actually like, is the right size, and I will actually use because looking at it doesn't make me miserable.

I'm begging you, just make a swatch. At worst you've lost a little bit of time confirming your needle and yarn choices work for the pattern. At best, you're saving yourself from spending dozens of hours on something you'll never use because it didn't turn out the way you want, doesn't fit, and you hate looking at it now.

Also this is important and I've deeply regretted not doing it before: treat your finished swatch how you're going to treat the finished object. Block it if you're going to block the finished item and then unpin it and let it rest for a while (your swatch WILL lie to you if you do not) before taking any data from it. If you're not sure how a yarn is going to survive the wash, chuck your swatch in the washing machine to see! Better to felt a swatch than a pair of socks you just spent a week knitting.

I used to be very "no gauge swatch we die like men" so I Get It. I really do. But I have also been in the "didn't swatch, spent eighteen months and 3,000 beads on a project only to block it and have it be almost exactly a foot too small" boat and let me tell you that'll change you as a person. Just knit a swatch. It takes so much less time than being wrong does.

#please it's not hard #advice for new fiber artists #v's fiber arts tag #knitting #crochet

[bonny-kookoo]

Well, now I'd love to find out what happens when Yoongi receives the kitty and JK his bunny. I somehow can imagine him displaying that bunny and dropping a comment or hinting that his is much cuter than Yoongi's 😂😂😂

"Thank you." Yoongi simply nods, taking the small crochet animal from you, holding it in his hands to inspect.

And while typically, Jungkook would be grumpy and annoyed with this whole scenery, he's occupied playing around with his very own, a little bigger bunny you made, complete with round black bead eyes and long ears he's currently running his fingers over. It's made from a very soft yarn you bought to technically make a new blanket- but it's clear that this gift is cherished just as much.

"Did you know that earth cats are predators, and bunnies are prey?" Yoongi can't help but poke at the alien next to you, who glares at him.

"Well mine is still.. cuter." He argues. "And softer. And the ears are longer." He huffs, holding his own gift almost protectively, while you can't help but laugh.

The goodbye is easy, because you'll see each other again for sure- and Jungkooks mood is now lifted quite a bit, as he starts the engines and leaves the outpost finally.

"You know-" he starts as he lets the ship cruise on its course to the next bigger planet. "-mating season is long over." He informs you, and you look at him with a mix of surprise and confusion.

He slowly walks closer to you, before he joins you in the nest. "Means we can clean up around here now." He explains, and you nod.

"Can you help me bring my stuff back to my room then?" You wonder, as you collect your things, already tending to the task as you put your things back into your box, folding a blanket right after.

"No." He denies, and at first you think it's a joke, as you watch him fold some clothes as well. "You won't be needing that room anymore." He simply explains, and it takes a moment for you to connect the dots.

He wants you to still stay with him- at his side, even when you rest. All the time. Nothing changed.

Or maybe everything changed while you weren't aware of it-

And you're only realizing it now.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - First Meeting 1/4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 and end

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Hero stopped on the threshold of the old warehouse. They examined their surroundings, as if to check what was hiding beyond them. Of course they could see nothing. There wasn’t any light. The voice itself seemed slightly deformed with some kind of white noise – it had to be a transmission.

“Why ?” they asked politely.

“Because you won’t see another day again if you step in.”

Hero tilted their head. They grabbed their flashlight, and – what ? They squinted their eyes, but the ray of light bounced on the darkness and went back to them.

Now, that didn’t seem very normal.

“I see what you mean,” they said.

Then they shrugged and entered. A booming laugh resonated as the doors locked themselves brutally behind Hero:

“You’re mine now ! Miiiine ! You belong to the eternal night of everlasting darkness !”

“Uh. Um, okay.”

The laugh stopped and the voice sounded suddenly a bit sulking:

“That’s all ? No witty remark ? No cutting repartee ? I thought you were a Hero. I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry. I’m just trying to do my job. But I have things to say.”

“Let’s hear it, my little prey.”

“Well, there were a bunch of burglaries in this part of the town, and the managers of the stores always complained about the lights that went out no matter what they did before the act. So I’ve investigated a little and I’ve pinpointed this location.”

“How very smart of you, prisoner. You’re the only one who could find the truth and stay alive this long. No doubt you must be special.”

Embarrassed, Hero rubbed the back of their neck.

“Nah, I’m not very high-ranked, actually.”

“I’ve seen you before, though. I remember.”

Hero stroked one of their crochet twists and absentmindedly smiled:

“Yeah, the rainbow beads help, usually. It’s not because I work as hard as I can that I’m very important.”

“Why are you on my trail all by yourself, then ?”

“ As far as I know, you haven’t killed anyone. You just stole the supplies you need, I have the list... so forgive me if I’m not very much intimidated. I mean, you took a lot of Twinkies ?”

“Food’s survivor.”

“It doesn’t even last very long, actually.”

“...You must be the life of the party. Well, it doesn’t matter. I salute you for your efforts, but your time has come to an end.”

“Is that so ?”

“I control shadows, little Hero. My powers are beyond your reach.”

“Yeah, but you use them to steal Twinkies.”

“Would you stop with that ? Very well, I shall make you forget all about them. Behold my lair and despair !”

Pale blue dots weakly illuminated the huge warehouse. A large screen appeared by the ceiling, revealing a hooded figure, but Hero’s attention was somewhere else. There were forms around them that at first they took for furniture – and in a certain sense they were. One of them could certainly be viewed as a chair, if you forgot the huge spikes on the seat, just as the wooden frame in front of it had been made for people to lay down, if the manacles could be taken into account. Hero stared at all this, at the cages on the ground, at the chains on the walls, and stopped walking, their heart suddenly beating way faster. There were traces of red here and there. All of this was separated from them thanks to a glass wall.

“Have I just seen you shudder, Hero ?” simpered the voice. “Or are you still convinced that I’m not so dangerous ?”

Hero did wince. They also took a step back and a deep breath before seeking for an opening.

“I can assure you there’s no way out”, said Villain. “Unless you are strong enough to smash the doors you came from, but then you’d have already broken out by now. Or do you think I’m foolish enough to be around ? Are you so mad for revenge that you have to seek me out?”

“I’m not mad yet. I just want to check something.”

“You should be. I count my victims by the dozens and no one realized that because you heroes are that disastrous. Many disappeared, but no one cared about them. You want to make me think you do? ”

“Yes.”

Hero finally found what looked like a door. After fumbling for a moment, their hand closed on a handle and they could get to the other side. Surrounded by darkness, the torture instruments looked as sinister and impressive as their function implied. Right until the moment when Hero’s fingers brushed against a huge spike and pushed.

Their thumb went into the metal with no problem and left a mark. This time, it was Hero’s laugh that boomed in the room.

“It’s tin, isn’t it ?” they asked to the hooded figure. “Man, it’s impressive. You made me believe it for a minute. The blood is painting, right ?”

“...Maybe.”

“It’s like you’ve made a ghost train ride all by yourself. You’re an artist. I mean it.”

They rubbed their hands together to get rid of the red painting:

“But I have to catch you now.”

The voice growled in answer:

“Then come to find me, nemesis. That’s what you’ve just become.”

“Thank you. I will bring you Twinkies in prison.”

“Oh, I will end you.”

*

(Yes, it's the first time these two dorks have met. Sequel here)

Back to the These Two Dorks masterlist.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #these two dorks #hero and villain #heroes and villains #hero x villain

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Heyyy can you please write something for Nico x male reader where Nico has seen reader around camp and reader is friendly and always laughing and talking with everyone. And Nico develops a crush on reader and eventually he decides to confess to reader when he sees them in the woods. Fluffy mainly but like a little spicey at the end if u do that stuff? :)

hey there bestie, let's pretend it hasn't been two months. this fic is also for @golden-boy-muda 's request for nico x transmasc reader <3

I couldn't find an idea in my empty ol head for this request but then I was looking for old oil painting wallpapers for my phone and now you have this incredibly sappy 3.2k of art references [I advise you keep another tab open for cross-referencing if you want the fUlL eXpErIeNcE]

Oil on Canvas--- Nico di Angelo x transmasc reader [3.2k] »»————-　★　————-««

Nico definitely isn’t a stalker, he understands boundaries [once Jason explains them to him, of course], but he might have a bit of a staring problem. 

Sometimes he’s just eating gluten free waffles with Hazel in the dining pavilion and ends up watching you shove your siblings around and plait your little sister's hair so it doesn’t get in her face when she goes Pegasus riding.

He spooned some blueberries onto his plate. 

It’s not his fault.

It’s yours, if anything. What is he supposed to do apart from feel like there’s moths beneath his ribcage when you pose, your nose scrunched, up for photos with Drew’s polaroid camera that’s covered with inappropriate stickers? 

Hazel elbowed him meaningfully in the side when he couldn’t help but grin because Holy Hades, a single person shouldn’t be able to look that much like the painting Ophelia [by friedrich heyser, to be specific], just because they wore a green camp shirt and a pearl necklace. 

Maybe it was his fault that he was comparing you to beautiful paintings. 

He scooped the blueberries onto his half eaten waffle and reached for the maple syrup Hazel had finished drowning her breakfast in. 

The Stoll brother’s mortal mum had sent a stack of paintings from art galleries all over the world last Christmas, and they’d let him pick out a few of the older more poetic ones that didn’t have enough blood and guts for their taste. 

Now the oil paintings of lakes and birds and crying angels and… mainly cats, actually, hung around the dark walled Cabin he slept in. 

Your laugh when you threw strawberries at Kayla and Austin while they worked in the infirmary reminded him of Angel [carl von marr, of course] and he felt like Chat a difficult catch [charles van den eycken] when you walked right past him without even glancing back.

So he’d made peace with watching from afar how you would forget daily to put sunscreen on but somehow always remembered to wear this pair of white crocheted gloves that looked like cat paws. 

On a completely irrelevant note, Nico was learning to crochet. 

Hazel made eye contact with him again when he looked from you to her, and he plugged his ears and glared before she started kicking him in the shins and begging him to pluck up the courage to walk over and even just make eye contact. 

Not that he didn’t want to. 

He may have lined up in his catalog of daydreams, this scenario where you both went down to the beach. Any beach, really. You’d collect shells and eat popcorn and grapes and lemonade and squish sand between your toes and pick up crabs with him. 

PROMENADE ON THE BEACH [Charles Atamian, obviously].

There was another scenario where he’d take you to the farmers market. It had the biggest bouquets of flowers, and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables and incense and beaded jewelry. 

When he was laying in bed underneath the fluffy zebra patterned duvets that Piper forced him to use, mainly because they matched the dark reds of the cushions and browns of the bookshelves and antique lamps in the cabin so well, you were walking down the rows of little stores with him.

You were holding his hand with those soft cat paw gloves and you liked the feel of his rings [he’d read that people liked rings in a book, somewhere] and you’d filled the Studio Ghibli tote bag you had with berries. 

He’d watched most of the movies after he saw your bag. He liked Arriety the best. 

Clarisse stomped past the Hades table, leaving bloody footprints no one asked about, and smacked him in the back of his head. Nico went back to eating his waffles and daydreaming about your smile. 

In the farmers market you would sniff candles and never buy them because Hazel had far too many for all of her spells and the such that he would never run out. And what was Hazel’s was his and what was his was hers, meaning that what was Hazel’s was yours. 

Because Nico would give everything he owned, even his favorite jacket, for you to look his way. 

And he would buy you flowers, whichever were your favorite. 

Maybe the ones from the painting Hazel forced him to take because ‘you can’t just not hang a painting that literally is you, Neeks’. 

Italian Girl with Flowers. Joaquin Sorolla. 1886. 

He didn’t see the resemblance.

But it didn’t really matter, because he’d get to watch you looking at all the cool things for sale and then he’d take you to the best gelato he’d found so far [he was making a list] or just use the shadows, and take you to a proper gelato shop. Whatever you wanted to do, really.

Nico blinked. He huffed, mainly at himself, and stabbed his waffle. It fell apart on the fork.

“Why’re you angry?”

He looked up from his plate, to Hazel. She was sitting opposite him with a mustache made of orange juice. “...I’m not.”

“You’re not supposed to be pushing down your emotions, remember?” she said sternly, and started picking the green bits off a strawberry. She was eating as many berries as she could, since she wasn’t allowed lollies anymore. The perks of braces. 

Nico looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about the cat glove girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk.

“Cat glove boy, remember?” he muttered, and took a bite of his waffle, wiping squished blueberries off his chin.

Hazel’s golden eyes widened, “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, and was grateful for the excuse to peek your way. You were eating toast. Very pretty-ily. He felt his face heat up.

Hazel perked up, a mischievous grin he didn’t appreciate on her face. “Okay! I’ll go apologize to your boyfriend then-”

Nico stared at her. Why was she like this? She actually went to stand up, and then he yanked her sleeve, pulling her back down to the table. “No! Don’t just… you can’t… stop!”

“You didn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend,” Jason chuckled, sitting down next to Hazel. 

“I hate you all,” Nico said. 

It was torture. 

He felt like Sleepy time potion [Vanessa Stockhard], stuck in the middle of your loveliness, unable to do anything except stare and hope that his face wasn’t too as red as the mushroom he was sitting on. 

In the painting. 

Not in real life. 

Obviously. 

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico stared down at the hat in his lap.

He’d done it. He’d actually finished one of the hundreds of projects he’d started in Piper’s efforts to find him a hobby that wasn’t sitting on the fences of cemeteries or standing in line at Mcdonalds. 

He had lots of other hobbies, he just… couldn’t come up with them when she was arguing with him. 

So they’d gone through writing, painting, records, sleeping, which he excelled in, and then crocheting. None had lasted very long, but he may have had an idea half way through trying to stab Piper with the crocheting stick.

And now he had a white bucket hat with cat ears.

He threw it to the end of his bed, and hid underneath his duvet. Fuck. 

Repose. Malcolm Liepke. 1953. 

What on Olympus was he supposed to do about the way he wanted to hold you so badly he felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out?

He lay underneath in the pocket of stuffy darkness for a moment, before sitting up, untangling his blankets and teddies from him, and then standing. He may have just had the greatest idea anyone had ever thought of before.

Hazel was still in the shower, singing, most likely, so he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack that was actually just a skeleton, and then stomped out of his cabin, the stupid hat in his fist.

His heart was beating wildly. Stupid heart. 

The Wedding Dress. Fred Ellwell. 1911.

He rubbed his face and groaned at the sky. The stars were just peeking out, but it was still pink and yellow, and the sun hadn’t dipped yet. It was hidden by the trees he was trudging through, though. 

Fuck.

His chest was hurting. 

Nico scrunched up the stupid perfect crocheted hat that just had to stupidly perfectly match your stupid perfect cat gloves because Nico was stupidly perfectly obsessed with you. 

You, who was stupidly perfect.

Fuck. 

Psyche Weeping. Kinuko Y Craft. 1995.

He trod on twigs that broke underneath his boots and weaved through the tree’s that slowly became more and more laden with hanging pendants and wind chimes and ruins carved into the bark.

He stepped over a thin stream. A frog croaked at him like it was dying. As if it could ever feel like it was dying. As if it could ever fall in love.

Nico groaned at the sky again. 

“Just let it all out.”

He turned, and glared. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, actually,” Lou Ellen said, raising a purple eyebrow. It matched the undersides of her curly hair. She pointed to the cabin concealed in shadows and moss and stones behind her. “This is my house. And you are yelling very loudly.”

“I’m not yelling,” Nico argued. “I’m groaning.”

She stared at him for a second. She rolled her eyes. “Just come in, what do you need?”

“I need a spell. Or a charm. Or hex,” Nico said, following her through the wooden double doors. A wind chime tinkled even though the air was still. There were a few bunks lined up against the wall to one side. “Or a magic thing. I don’t care which one.” 

The rest of the cabin was filled with small coffin shaped pet beds and empty pink soda cans and voodoo dolls hanging from the roof and rugs with cats wearing strawberry hats on the fluffy material and misty crystal balls. 

Lou Ellen lent back on a desk stacked high with papers and paperweights that were actually jars filled with things. “Okay. I have three rules. I don’t kill people, and I don’t make people fall in love.”

“...And?”

“I’ll break both if it’ll be fun?”

Nico frowned. “No. Aren’t you supposed to say you won’t bring people back from the dead? That’s always the third rule.”

She squinted at him. “Uh…no. I send those people to you.” 

Nico squinted back at her, sticking his tongue out. He fiddled with the stupid perfect hat and looked around. There was just more creepy things and stuffed animals. “Whatever. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to… like,” Nico started. He sighed. He looked away. 

This was awful. 

He was not about to admit that he might be in love, even if it was to reverse the feelings in the first place with whatever heart ripping out brain altering magic was necessary. 

The Apollo cabin would find out through the witch in less than thirty seconds. He would never live it down. 

Nico groaned again. “Oh for fucks sake, do you need me to fic your voicebox or something?” Lou Ellen hissed. 

Nico glared at her. He groaned again, and then whirled around and stomped out of the weird mossy mushroom cabin. “Nevermind!”

“Fine! Have it your way!...weird little emo.”

Nico glared at the frog croaking at him, and kept walking through the forest. 

He followed the little stream through the woods until he could hear wind chimes or Taylor Swift’s latest album anymore. 

The little stream widened into a proper stream, filled with a lot more frogs. Why were there so many frogs? He nearly stood on a green one leaping across the path. Stupid frog.

Nico stuffed his hands into his pockets, along with the hat. He was tempted to just toss it into the river. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the silly feelings that felt like the biggest things in the world to him and his silly head full of thoughts about your lips.

Maybe the frogs could use the hat as a home.

“Here froggie… Come here… I said, come here... No I am not taking a tone with you!” 

Nico froze. 

Fuck. He took a deep breath, probably too loudly. He glanced to the side. 

Of course you were catching frogs, knee deep in a river.

You looked over, making eye contact, and Nico realized the moths underneath his ribcage were turning into bats. You squinted at him, hands on your hips, while water swirled around and leaves drifted from the trees above. A bucket was wedged between two rocks next to you.

A frog jumped out of it and landed near your leg, on a lillypad. 

“Look Albert,” you said, turning to the frog. “It’s a little Victorian ghost.”

“...I’m Italian,” Nico said quietly. He stared at you. He couldn’t help it. Wow. Fuck. Leo was right. He really was pathetic. “And I’m not a ghost.”

“Okay, Victorian ghost.” 

Nico stared at you. Fuck.

After that exchange, he should be able to hate you. Right? Right. He now resented you, and the moths turned bats would stop clawing at his chest and he would go back to having a normal life. 

Right?

Wrong.

You squinted at Nico, and then slowly turned to Albert. “I think the cute Victorian ghost is having a stroke.”

Nico blinked once, gulped, and then marched forward through the cold water and frogs, his shoes squelching loudly. Gods. This was so embarrassing. But you thought he was cute, even if you also thought he was a dead english boy, so he would be content with dying from embarrassment. 

He shoved the stupid perfect hat into your stupid perfect hands.

And then left in about 0.3 seconds. 

»»————-　★　————-««

You stared down at your pancakes. Why were they so gray looking? Had someone poisoned them? You figured that it would be a pretty good way to die, and tipped extra maple syrup onto them before you dug in. 

To counterbalance the poison, of course.

You scratched at the mosquito bite underneath the strap of your binder. It had flowers embroidered into it. Your binder. Not the mosquito bite.

One of your siblings across from you kicked at your shin, probably on purpose, but you continued to eat your odd tasting pancakes and picked blueberry grit off your white cat paw gloves. They were your favorite gloves. 

They also matched your new hat. The new hat that the cute Victorian but actually Italian ghost boy had given you before he teleported away with whatever dark magic he had stored in all that goth-ness.

You tossed a blueberry at Clarisse when she walked past and tried to bash you over the head. 

She wasn’t allowed to ruin your new hat.

You turned to see her flicking the blueberry over at someone else, and your eyes flicked past that too. Now way. You stood up, but you’d lost sight of the mess of dark hair when the Hermes cabin barrelled past.

You clambered onto your seat and stood up there. “Oi! Victorian ghost hat boy!”

The dining pavilion went quiet pretty quickly, and everyone turned to the cute guy with a skeleton hoodie and wide eyes. He pointed at himself when you pointed at him, and then went pink. 

Clarisse stuck her arm out so you didn’t faceplant when you jumped down from your seat, and you held onto your new hat as you traipsed across the cracked floor. 

You’d never figured out how that crack had got there. But there were bigger mysteries. 

Like this cute goth. 

His face just pinker when you grabbed his sleeve and tried to tug him out of the entire camp’s curious eyes. A dark skinned girl with a lot of butterfly clips and a Steven Universe t-shirt sent a thumbs up in your direction. 

It was only when you were standing by the low burning fire pit in a patch of daisies did you realize you hadn’t really planned far enough ahead. 

You took off the cat-ear hat and looked down at it. “...Uhm…”

“Sorry,” the goth said quickly, and when you made eye contact he looked away even quicker. “It’s creepy. Boundaries and stuff, I just… saw your gloves.” 

“It’s not creepy,” you argued, putting the hat back on with a grin. He was really cute when he blushed. “I mean, I don’t even know your name, and I have no idea who you are but your eyeliner is really really great and… Holy Hades if you smile like that again can I… please kiss you?”

The goth with no name stared at you, and then nodded about ten times too many. “Yes please. But, uh.. If you’re gonna kiss me, please, maybe don’t get my dad involved.”

“...Wut?”

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico could feel his cheeks growing hotter.

Not because of the sun, specifically, but it was hot and bright in the woods. He’d worn sunscreen though. And forced you to put it on too, once he’d found watermelon scented sunscreen, because you refused to smell gross no matter how sunburnt you would get anyways. 

His face was hot and red because of you. 

You, who was stupidly perfect and also possibly kind of Nico’s stupidly perfect boyfriend. 

“Psst, Victorian ghost boy,” you said with a sing-song voice, quietly, and waved your hand in front of his eyes with your pink, blue, and white painted nails. He blinked. You smiled. “You zoned out again.”

“Sorry,” Nico said, and pulled a daisy out of the ground. He handed it over. “I was thinking about you.”

He hadn’t realized the effect that saying that would have on you, but it was worth it when you opened and closed your mouth like one of the frogs you kept as pets. 

“I.. well, what were you thinking about?”

Nico had played his cards right. He smirked, and you shuffled forwards on the checked picnic blanket Piper had stolen from Drew, who’d probably nicked it from poor unsuspecting Demeter or Iris kid. You knocked over the basket of strawberries too, and then took your bucket hat off and stuffed it in your lap with a grin.

He tilted his head down. You were both following a very well rehearsed script. “...Kissing you?”

You launched yourself forwards then with a laugh, your cat-paw gloved hands landing on either side of his waist and probably squishing some of those strawberries at the same time. 

The sun reflected in your eyes and Nico held the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. 

You kissed back, and once you both stopped smiling widely, you could kiss back. 

Properly. 

He scratched his fingernails, the ones you’d painted rainbow that afternoon after catching more frogs and complaining about sunscreen, along your jaw when you bit down on his bottom lip.

Not as a complaint, certainly not, and you knew that too because you just sat back on your knees between Nico’s lap and tilted your head to fit deeper against Nico’s bruised lips. 

The ones that hadn’t had a single day off since you jumped up in the middle of breakfast with your gluten free waffles you hadn’t realized were gluten free until he had explained it to you later. 

It was intensely crazily unbearably romantic but it also meant whatever cold one of you managed to catch, the other would come down with only minutes later. 

And Nico felt like that smug little cat from Julie Manet’s Auguste Renoir.  

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #nico #nico pjo #nico di angelo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #nico di angelo x reader #nico x reader #nico di angelo pjo #pjo hoo toa #hoo #nico di angelo x you #nico di angelo reader #nico di angelo x transmasc reader #lou ellen #lou ellen pjo

[eezeybreezy]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀᴛ ➜ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I have fallen to the Hobie brain rot and this is the result. This was a lot longer than intended so now it's broken into multiple chapters! Lmk if I should post those too or if this is too cringe.  Part 2, Part 3, Part 4🔞

warnings: suggestive, not-so-accurate accent, recreational drug/alcohol use, partying, punk shit, eventual smut? 

As they entered the headquarters, the pair were met with a cacophony of sound and movement. People in spider suits and uniforms hurried to and fro, carrying files, and talking urgently on their phones or to each other. Clearly, this was a place of importance, filled with sensitive work and decisions.

The first was a young woman, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail and dressed in a long, flowing maxi skirt in earthy tones, paired with a crochet top. Adorned with beads or other natural details, she walked confidently, looking around with a sharp eye and taking in every detail. The second was a young man, his steps a little slower and his gaze mellow. He was dressed in a concoction of ripped fabrics, belts, and buttons, his studded vest and chunky boots a signature in the halls they walked.

"Wow," breathed the woman, taking in the bustling scene. "I knew this was a big deal, but I had no idea.."

The man chuckled. "Told you it was the real deal."

The Spider you’d come to know was none other than Hobie Brown, a stand-out among his peers and variants alike. You’d only met after being rounded up as an anomaly, though you’d come to the HQ willingly, as any means to getting home was better than being stranded in some uppity renaissance dimension. After learning of your role as the Black Cat in your world, the punk had found a new friend in an unexpected place.

“Hm…” Hobie peered at you absentmindedly, seemingly turning something over in his head.

You didn’t like that look, and knowing the kinds of ideas an anarchist could come up with, you decide to pry, “What’s up?”

Hobie finally looked at you and not through you, “How did you get those abilities bruv like, I was bit by a radioactive spider so I have spider DNA in me, but how’d you get ‘em?”

“Hear me out, a cat bit me. But she wasn’t radioactive or anything, actually quite sweet.”

“Wait wait wait, you ‘ere bitten… by a cat? And you now have abilities like me??”

You giggled at this, he’s dumbfounded over a cat but a radioactive spider giving powers is the norm around here. “I don’t know about ‘like you’ per say.’

“Aight, maybe not exactly like me, but it’s similar yeah? You have wall-crawling abilities I presume or am I wrong? And probably enhanced strength?”

Why the sudden interest in my abilities, you thought. “I mean I do have enhanced strength and speed, but I can only climb up walls with my claws, I don’t stick like you all do,” referring to the bustling crowd of Spider-people you found yourself in the presence of.

“I see, then I have one last question… What does your suit look like? I’m proper curious ‘bout that.”

Now this was unexpected, not only was he interested in your powers, but your alter ego altogether. In the few months, you’ve been friends, little was spoken about your homeworld, let alone the role you play in that dimension. You wonder what’s gotten him so interested, and so you decide to tease a little, getting Hobie Brown flustered was something very few could boast.

“You ever been to a BDSM club? It’s like a leather dominatrix suit

“…” “That’s… huh.”

“Problem ‘Obie?” You poke at him playfully, gliding to stand closer to the slender man.

“Not at all… can’t say I’m not confused though…” he trailed off. “But hey, as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man it’s not my problem that you have an… um… interesting taste in fashion.”

That got a snort out of you, “You’re one to talk about ‘interesting taste in fashion’, Mr. Spider Punk.”

A sigh comes from the taller man. “Fine. You win.”

Deciding to toy with him further, you play nonchalant and petty, “If I’m so annoying I’ll just leave then. I enjoyed meeting you Punk.”

“Oi oi, I didn’t mean to insult you, I swear… I'll be 'onest wiv ya, mate. I don't really know what I'm doin' 'ere. I'm just takin' it one day at a time and seein' where it takes me.” He looked up from the ground to look at you again, something sad in his eyes. “Life's a funny old game, ain't it?"

“The rockstar runway model is bad with people? Color me shocked”

Hobie let out a huff of air, which you could only assume mimicked a laugh, “Is that meant to be an insult or genuine criticism?”

“I was being serious Hobie, you seem to have a good handle on people. You’re just so cool I thought maybe you’d have it down by now” Despite wanting to crawl into a hole at your admission, you said it with your chest, and you’re not about to back out now.

He’s quite surprised by this, not anticipating such a blatant compliment from you. “Huh… you’re actually pretty rad yourself. Most people don’t think that and just call me a freak.”

“I mean I’d say I’ma freak too but that hasn’t gotten me any complaints if you know what I mean.” You say with a wink, deciding to lay it on thick.

He smirks at you, catching the vibes you're putting down quickly. “Oh, I understand what you mean. I just didn’t expect you to be this forward luv.”

“What’s the phrase? ‘You miss 100% something something-”

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take?”

“Yeah yeah somethin like that”, you past your giggles. “You tryna get out of here?”

Hobie looks at you almost sideways, and if you didn’t know him better, you’d be put off by the glare. “Get out of here and do what exactly? What’re you planning?” He takes a step towards you, covering more ground than you’d anticipated due to his long strides. He was so close.

“I’m not dumb, I can tell you’re trying to trick me into something, but I’m not quite sure what…”

You smile at that, despite telling the truth, he’d managed to tease you in the process. We’re in the clear. “No trick here, not today at least.”

You look at him through thick lashes, “Did you have any ideas Spidey?” you ask coyly.

The punk chuckles,

“Ah, the ol’ playing coy shtick ‘uh? Not that I have anything against it, honest with you I kinda like it.”

Your tone is drenched in sarcasm, “Me? Coy? What kind of women do you take me for?” You’re feigning being offended, and he continues your banter. He laughs in a friendly way, deeply and honestly, a sound you wish was heard more often by the masses.

“Oh trust me you’re not like the other girls. You’re cool.”

“I’m not like other girls,” you say mockingly, trying to keep him amused. “So, what’s the punk down to do?”

Hobie’s face lights up with excitement, “I know just the place. Ever been to a punk rock show? There’s always tons of wankers to hang out with and it’s basically a Beano with loud ass music.”

You’d know about Spider-Man in front of you’s reputation, his subtle flex of eclectic success was something you’d come to admire about him. “I’ve had my fair share of underground events, though I’d call myself more goth than punk, you ever been to a goth club? I’m down to go to one of your shows if the anarchist is down to do some substances with me.”

He perked up at this. “Hell yeah, I’d be down, I love partying. Although, can I ask what kind of… substances you’re planning on using? I wanna make sure I bring the right shit.”

“Fuck no nothing hard, just weed and drinks will do it for me. That’s pretty stereotypical punk shit tho huh?”

“Yeah, well stereotypes exist for a reason. Though the whole ‘punks are stoners’ stereotype always bothers me, I never got why people think punk = drug abuse…” He shrugs.

The hair feels heavier, don’t kill the mood now! “ Well I do love me some weed, and hell yeah it’d be great to drink with you and have fun.” You keep going, hoping to bring that light back to the spider that was there but a moment ago. “I think the whole stereotype thing is stupid, but I totally understand why it doesn’t make sense to you, hating labels and all that.” You punctuate the end of your sentence with a punch to his shoulder.

“Alright, lead the way ‘Obie!”

He chuckles a bit at that, and playfully shoves you back into the portal he’s opened. You always land on your feet as you enter his dimension with a thud. He’s crouched next to you, standing to take off his mask and tuck his suit away.  

“What was that for huh? I know you can punch ‘arder than that.”

He closes the portal and starts walking towards the club, throwing you a glance over his shoulder. He beckons you to follow. “It’s just up this way, hopefully, there won’t be too big of a crowd.” His guard is down now, it’s just you and Hobie Brown, not Spider-Punk and Black Cat, just two “civs” kickin it.

“If you’re down to spar I can show you more than a little punch Bee.” You send a wink at Hobie, hoping the new nickname didn’t make him uncomfortable. “And hey! I thought you were a celebrity, don’t get special treatment even in the underground huh?”

Hobie smirks at that, “Hah. You’re funny.” He peers down at you, despite your above-average stature. “So you wanna spar then? Because now I’m very tempted to see what you can do.” He’s being cheeky, you can hear it in his tone.

Oh, this man was dangerous, and you can’t help the sly smile that makes its way to your face. “Oh, I’d love to show you everything I can do.” You’re sultry now, biting your lip as you gaze up at him.

“Damn, you’re a cocky little cat huh?” He shakes his head laughing, but can’t hide the big smirk forming on his face.

“Don’t think I won’t accept your challenge, because I will…”

“Oh? Is that so? What’s the punk challenging me to do exactly?” You step closer, still looking up at the man, with a smug grin on your face.

“Oh, I think you know…” He smirks at you and steps closer. “Or should I remind you?”

You grab him by his guitar strap, pulling him down until your lips almost touch. “It must’ve slipped my mind, Bert.” You emphasize his name teasingly.

Despite the way your eyelids flutter shut, and how your lips seem to draw each other in, he chuckles and gives you a quick kiss on the lips, still very clearly smug.

“I’m glad I could remind you.”

#hobie brown #hobie x reader #atsv hobie #hobie x you #spider punk #across the spiderverse #atsp spoilers

[overly-dramatic-artist]

Week One: Introduction!

@encanto-extended-edition

OMG how have I never done a proper introduction of my girl??? Anyways…

Full name: Angela Leilani Yaamil Morales Estrada

Age at the time of the movie: 48 years old (December 8th, 1901)

Angel was initially a name holder for the reader insert in my fic, “Why did it have to be me?” She was never intended to become a full fledged OC, but thanks to several supportive friends, Angela evolved into what she is now.

Angela is born to parents Guillermo and Anamaria in 1901, and shortly after childbirth, Anamaria sadly passes away, leaving Angela to be raised primarily by Anamaria’s parents, Quinuama and Raymundo. She is the youngest of six cousins on her maternal side, and she knows very little about her father’s extended family. The passing of Anamaria puts Guillermo in an inconsolable depression, leaving his daughter to be brought up by her grandparents due to his emotional absence. Her family owns and runs a tailoring shop in the Encanto, renowned for their fine fiber arts and beautifully crafted clothes. Angela is best known for her impressive bead work and crocheting, as she enjoys fixating on tiny details.

At age five, she befriends the Madrigal triplets, the four of them becoming close companions, but especially between Angela and Bruno. The two of them grow close over the years, considering the other to be their best friend. I’ll save the juicy details of their companionship for Week two, but to summarize, their friendship takes a dramatic twist following the breakup of Angela and her fiancé when she is 19.

Following in her mother’s footsteps, she joins the church choir at a young age, and quickly blossoms into a vocal star, devoting her time to organizing musical events and writing songs. Later in life, she takes to traveling outside of the Encanto, something inside her yearning to know more about the world and escape the limitations she feels trapped in. She gains herself a notable reputation as a performer in multiple social clubs and lounges, her name taking her across South America, and eventually across the sea.

Angela’s personality and mannerisms are based a lot on my own. She is extremely caring and compassionate for others, but often has a hard time deciphering her own emotions, and will usually bottle up her complicated feelings to save herself from causing trouble. She is often lovingly criticized as being overly dramatic by her family and friends, causing her to become extremely cautious and anxious about how she presents herself to others. Sometimes, something small will set off her temper, and she gets very cold and unresponsive as a defense mechanism, or if something makes her deeply upset after a buildup of repressed feelings and stress, she will fall apart into tears. Often times, her stimming gets interpreted as flirtatious behavior, and her attempts at masking usually have the same effect (hair twirling, too much eye contact, smiling and nodding).

A few little bits of information and trivia:

The bracelet she is almost always seen wearing was gifted to her on her fifth birthday. It had originally belonged to her mother. It is made up of pearls, jade, and a thin gold chain. Her rosary is constructed of similar materials.

Leilani was her intended name in canon, as Guillermo wanted to name her after his mother, but Anamaria immediately called her baby ‘her angel’ when she was born, so the name Angela was chosen instead and Leilani was bestowed as her second name.

I imagine her voice sounding like that of Angela Aguilar when she’s younger, and evolving into a vocal powerhouse like Beyoncé or Selena.

She is terrible at cooking. Her grandmother and aunts had tried to ingrain the kitchen skills into her at a young age, but it stressed her out because she wasn’t naturally gifted in it. She can make a good cup of coffee, but it’s best to leave to crafting of fine foods in the hands of someone more capable and confident.

💖Some amazing art from some amazing people💖

@prophetic-hijinks @egofan4evr @lvnamuraart @dororoxpenana 💖

#encanto #encanto oc event #encanto oc appreciation #encanto extended edition #wdihtbm #encanto oc #Angela morales Estrada #angel morales estrada #bruno madrigal x oc #mandys drawings

[kingofthe-egirls]

BEACH HOUSE INVITE: LUFFY x Y/N

Requested by anon

(cw: kissing, fluffy fluffy fluff)

Ok so i based the reader/luffy dynamic off of the relationship bt him and Shirahoshi bc i'm in love with them. ugh.

Songs: "Superfruit" by Maude Latour (Luffy's pov)

uk the voice luffy uses to say goodbye to shirahoshi? the really sweet and kind one? yeah that's the voice he uses around you all the time

the crew notices and makes fun of him at first but eventually stop

bc he just keeps using it

so sweet and quiet and gentle, asking if you’re okay, if you want a snack (only after he's eaten tho lol)

Shirahoshi inspo/proof they're in love: The way he lets her hold him in her hands, the way he found her the first time by jumping on her boobs in the dark lmao

It’s like that with you, since the first time he saw you, with pink hair tumbling down your shoulders, cute bows at two pixie buns at either side of your head. the way you smell like the freshest sea breeze, he loves just standing next to you on the deck and breathing you in. you're literally a breath of fresh air

Also he knew immediately that he wanted to touch you. like, all the time. sweet and soft and gentle, he's in love with your curves, your supple skin, your flowy clothes and pastel eyeshadows. he's in love with your softness: your quiet, gentle bird's voice, the way that you smile and blush whenever he meets your sparkly eyes

You're also curvier than Nami and Robin (or most of the girls in one piece cmon oda) and he loves your squishy parts like your upper arms or lower hips (your ass, your tits), and he can't help from squeezing them, always passing his hands over you as he slides past you in the hallway, or playing tag with you on the deck (you love playing games with your captain; it's like you're little kids! you want to build sandcastles at the beach with him--which is why you invite him to the beach, originally)

***

"You need a break, Captain," you smile sweetly at him, holding the paper invitation in your hands. It's cream, with tinted pink designs of seashells on the edges. It has gold writing on it, giving him the address of your beach house and the dates you want him to visit. You hand it to him, sheepishly. He takes it, stars in his eyes as seagulls call over head. You hold your hands behind your back.

"Whooooaa, seashells!" He turns the paper over in his hands. "Is this for me?"

You nod, shifting on your feet. Your turquoise skirt floats around your legs. Your thigh pokes out from the deep slit on the side. Your golden sandals are laced halfway up your calf, with beads dangling from the side.

“I want you to come to my beach house!” You explain, “While the rest of the crew is on leave.” You bounce up onto your toes, your white crochet halter scratching against your underarms. Luffy bounces, too.

Except he bounces three feet into the air, rocketing around the ship like an elastic firework.

“OF COURSE I’LL COME!!!” He shouts from his perch on the mast, before slingshotting back down to land at your feet. He’s grinning six inches from you, hands around your waist. “Can we go now?”

***

You tie your silky, pink hair up in two ribbons, having french braided the top half into two pixie buns, letting the rest fall down your back in loose waves. The sea salt is already frizzing up your hair slightly, but you shrug. Luffy doesn’t usually care about stuff like that, anyway.

Besides, you like a little wildness.

You trot down the beach, following a singing Luffy who skips a few feet in front of you. You’re wearing a a silver bikini, with a lavender cover-up tied around your waist. Seashell bracelets decorate your wrists.

“Let’s build a sand castle!” You call, dipping your toes into wet sand. Sea stars and broken bits of shell litter the beach. Tide pools gather with snipping crabs and soft sands. You pick your way around any potential snippers, as you catch up to where Luffy’s kneeling in the sand.

He’s further away from the water, where the sand is dry and hot from the midsummer sun. The waves crash gently at the beach.

The house itself is up on the hill, grassy tufts of greenery lining the rocky incline. It’s white and blue and shuttered, with lacy trimming and a rickety screen door. It’s old, and small, and so, so cute. You’ve spent most of your childhood summers, here. You count yourself lucky.

Luffy is already scooping piles of sand into one big mound.

“Hey, that’s not how you do that,” you say, trudging up farther to the base of the wooden stairs that lead up the hill. You grab a shiny red bucket and a blue plastic shovel. You giggle, tipping any debris out of the old pail set you’ve used since you were a kid. A couple sand flies spurt out, but you shoo them away. Luffy calls your name.

“Y/N! I wanna be king! You can be the princess,” he grins as you come back. He’s squatting in his red swim trunks, chest left bare for the sun. His skin is almond honey, and his arms flex as he works. “Gimme the bucket,” he holds out a hand without looking. A comma of intense concentration forms between his eyebrows; he sticks his tongue out to the side.

“We should put a star on the castle, so everyone knows it’s ours.”

He snickers, scooping sand into the bucket. He pats it down with the shovel. “I like that, Y/N! Let’s go get one.” He searches around the shore for something worthwhile. You take the bucket from him, kneeling in the sand. Black and tan flecks stick to your upper thighs.

You busy yourself with tipping out sand pillars, forming the square ring for the castle. You’ll put a big mound in the middle, you think, and add turrets on either side. You’re lost in thought, scooping piles together, when Luffy comes back.

He lets out a low whistle, “Whew, that looks cool!” He sits down with a thump, toned legs crisscrossed like a little kid’s. He dumps out a bunch of sea shells, sand dollars, crab shells, and bits of broken rock and glass onto the sand. He giggles at his treasure.

“Look at this one, Y/N! It’s shaped like Chopper!” He holds up a brown bottle glass piece, with two sharp juts sticking out like antlers. You grin.

“That’s so cool!!!” You geek out with him, poring over the little beach gifts.

“I like this one,” you point out a silver seashell, glittering with opalescence on one side. The other is dark brown and ridged. “Abalone,” you explain, holding up the palm-sized piece. You trace your fingers over the iridescent shimmers, all turquoise and violet in the sunlight. It’s getting close to evening, soon.

“Mother of pearl,” Luffy says, tracing the outside ridge of the sea shell. “Nami likes that, too.”

You smile, softly. His fingertips move closer to yours, both of you holding the shell between you. His hand ghosts over yours, touching the back of your wrist. “I like you,” he says, voice cracking. “Do ya like me, too?”

A coral blush is formed on his cheeks, his dark eyes cast away from you for now. You duck your head to meet him. “Yeah,” you whisper, leaning forward so your lips almost touch. He doesn’t pull away from you; instead, his breath quickens. Your own heart is drumming away in your chest.

You press a kiss into his soft lips.

“Mm,” he moans, almost immediately, dropping the shell to cradle the back of your head. You both shift, so you’re sitting closer with his legs around your waist. You’re kneeling in the sand.

Luffy’s lips are soft as sugar, sweet and chapped and practiced. You didn’t know he liked girls, your crush always thrumming in your breastbone whenever he’s around. But he’s good enough at kissing to have done it plenty of times before. You wonder who he’s been kissing, but heat flares in your gut and you push that away for later.

Now, he’s running his strong hand up your ribcage, to softly palm at your breast. He moans, the sound pouring sweet into your mouth. His thumb strokes over your nipple, over the fabric of your swimsuit. He repeats the movement, twice.

“Luuuuffy—,” you whimper, hands scrabbling at his chest. You don’t know where to touch: his tanned shoulders, his muscular biceps, his strong forearms. You reach down for his hands, pressing them both against your cheeks. “I love you,” you whisper, eyes watering as you meet his.

Luffy’s boyish face breaks into a grin. He beams, pecking a kiss onto your cheeks. He peppers your whole face with kisses, nuzzling into your scent. “I love ya too,” he rasps, voice at your ear. He takes the shell of it between his teeth. Then kisses below your jawline. “Always have.”

“I know,” you whisper, eyes fluttered shut. His ministrations are heaven against your skin. You wrap your own arms around his waist, bringing him in closer. He giggles, kissing down your neck as he indulges you. “Me too.”

“Ahh, good,” he strokes your collarbone, thumbing over it gently. He leans the side of his head against your shoulder. His lips move softly against your neck as he speaks. “I thought so, but I didn’t wanna say anything. You’re so shy,” he snickers, “I didn’t wanna scare ya away.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrinking away. Your blush has grown hot on your cheeks.

“Don’t be,” he pulls back to peck at your face again. His eyes crinkle at the edges. He’s so handsome, oh my gosh. You kiss him, again.

And again, and again, and again.

***

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy fluff #request

[littleesister]

the amazing digital circus - age regression headcanons

so I got this request from the amazing and fellow age regressor @alechans-cutetickles

I’m not super deep into the tadc franchise but I’ve got a few headcanons here. I’ll also use myself as an example since I only know how I act when regressed to aovid dumb stereotypes. This is just my opinion and I only watched the tadc when it came out so let’s see if I can make a few good ones.

Pomni

would probably be the biggest brat and curse a lot. Like when age regressed, at least for me, I don’t really regulate my words as much. So I’ll tell all my options in big words that aren’t always so nice. So yeah a cursing little kiddo that will see what she can get away with.

Age 5-6

Kinger

would totally dress up and play princess and king. A mini or just big makeover. Full out makeup, nails, dress, hair. I do that do and it’s so fun during play dates. Just a full out slaying king even more then usual since the age regression brings out the extra drama queen.

Age 9-10

Zooble

I think would either go nonverbal or have a hard time talking. Many slured words and baby language. And get irritated and frustrated when she can’t explain her feelings. I do this a lot too and it’s very annoying and I get mini tantrums like she totally would. Age 2-3

Gangle

Since emotions are more extreme in little space she would totally be very crafty to express her emotions. Kandi jewelry, Hama beads, crochet and knitting. Making little gifts for herself and others. I do this a lot as well since my older age regression gives me lots of motivation and inspiration. Age 7-8

Jax

The king of pranks and bad jokes. Just running around and causing trouble behind the caregivers backs. Pretending to be a good leader and then just letting loose. I do this too when I’m with a trusted care giver and when caught give the most biggest puppy dog eyes.

Age 10-11

Ragatha

Just cry and cuddle. Very much overwhelmed the first hour or the whole time of age regression. So cuddles, gentle tickles and lots of stuffed animals and toys to comfort and clam down. Emotions become very big for me and just crying and being a bit sad is a good way to calm down after a long day.

Age 1-2

Caine

Lots of games and jokes. He loves a good competition so anything competitive and he’s on. Playing pretend, spots, video games. Anything and all. But be carful he kidna tends to put things in his mouth if he losses or get frustrated. Like me hahaha

Age 4-5

Yup so there you have it and sorry I’ve kinda been in and out of little space all day today and yesterday so a few things might be a bit messy. But oh well. This was really fun so just send in more ideas to me. ❤️🤲

Next post will be the lucid dreams I promise🥹

#tickle thoughts #answered #ask answered #sfw tickling community #tword community #asks #heds #lee #tword content #ler #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital carnival #tadc pomni #tadc fanart #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #tadc #tadc caine #tadc gangle #tadc au #tadc kinger #mommy for little ones #little space community #little space #agere little #sfw little blog #little headcanon #age regression caregiver #agere caregiver #safe agere

[somnambulant-seraphim]

Some little fish I made out of scrap pieces of fabric. I also decorated some of them with some wood chip beads, stitching, buttons and a bit of crochet. I like to think of them as little luck charms! <|:3 

:･くコ:彡 :･くコ:彡 :･くコ:彡:･くコ:彡:･

#sewing #hand sewing #handsewn #fish #my crafts #my post #my photos #sea aesthetic #sea witch #sea witchcraft #mermaidcore #mermaid aesthetic #ocean witchcraft #piratecore #oceancore #ocean witch #mermaid #gremlincore #crowcore #corvidcore #fairycore #faecore #lucky charms #luck charm #trinkets #crochet #crocheting #grandmacore #cottagecore #goblincore