#it's practically the same hairdo!

[tattooedsiren]

THE HAIR!

#my dash did a thing #ted lasso #trent crimm #james lance #joe keery #random #idk i just found this funny #it's practically the same hairdo!

[curawrites]

Potter

Slytherin boys (separate) x fem! Potter!reader

Slytherin boys: Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, and Blaise Zabini.

Warnings: forbidden romance?, swearing, smoking, alcohol, partying, horny teens, probably incorrect body shots.

Note: got back into Harry Potter and fell into the Slytherin boy rabbithole hole💚

Backstory:

You used to be very close to your twin brother. But your relationship changed for the worst during your first year at Hogwarts.

While Harry had been sorted into Griffindor, you had been sorted into Slytherin.

The both of you had tried to keep your relationship intact, but the rivalry between your two houses made it practically impossible.

By fourth year, you and Harry were practically strangers, and uninvolved with each other’s lives…

Draco Malfoy

In fourth year, Draco decided to ask you out to the Yule Ball. Mainly to piss off Harry.

He swaggered up to you in the courtyard and asked you very loudly in front of a lot of people, including Harry, of course!

“Heard you didn’t have a date for the ball, Potter.” He said with a smirk, “You want to be my date?”

You eyed him suspiciously before answering, “Sure, why not Malfoy.”

Didn’t expect for you to actually accept.

Low key freaking out internally.

Thought you’d just tell him to piss off.

He’s very smug about it on the outside tho.

Especially when he sees Harry fuming on the side lines with Ron and Hermione.

He then escorts you to class like the gentleman he was taught to be.

“Don’t get an ideas Malfoy. I’m only going with you to piss off my brother.” You told him as you entered potions.

“Same here, Potter.” He rolls his eyes a bit.

Glad you have the same idea but also a bit disappointed that you’re only using him.

But he’s also using you so-

When it came time for the ball, Draco was waiting for you by the stairs. Mattheo and Blaise were waiting with him.

He couldn’t lie, he was a tad nervous. Fixing his hair every 2.5 seconds to the annoyance of his friends.

“Does my hair look good?” He asked for the billionth time.

“Your hair is fine mate! Why do you even care so much it’s just Potter.” Mattheo rolled his eyes at the blond.

“It’s not about her!” Draco hissed, “..I just want to look good!” He answered semi confidently.

A few moments later you appeared and began walking down the stairs.

Draco looked at you in awe. You looked stunning all dolled up, your hair was curled and pinned up in an intricate hairdo, and the dark green dress you were wearing fitted you perfectly.

You glanced at Draco every few steps as you descended the stairs, admiring him from afar. You couldn’t lie, he looked dashing in his suit.

Blaise and Mattheo snickered behind him, shoving him forward to make him help you down the stairs.

“You look nice.” Draco said awkwardly.

“Thank you, you don’t look half bad yourself.” You responded, taking his hand as you walked down the rest of the steps.

“You cleaned up nice, Potter.” Mattheo teased.

“Shut it, Riddle.” You rolled your eyes at him.

Draco escorted you to the punch table to have a drink before you had your first dance.

When you started dancing you were both very stiff and awkward, but as the night went on you became much more natural with each other.

You and Draco went on to have a nice evening. Making show of your “relationship” by calling each other by your first names and dancing together for the majority of the evening.

When the ball finally ended, you and Draco returned to the Slytherin common room together.

“I actually enjoyed myself tonight Draco.” You admitted with a smile.

“I did to, Y/n. We should do it more often.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “In your dreams, Draco.” You chuckled before to go to your dorm.

Leaving him standing in the common room, with his heart beating a few beats faster…

Mattheo Riddle

FORBIDDEN ROMANCE OMG

You both kept your distance from each other for a long while.

You didn’t want to associate with the son of the man who killed your parents.

And Mattheo didn’t give a crap about you.

You only began to associate with each other in fifth year when you became friends with Lorenzo.

Which lead to you being included into the Slytherin gang.

You decided to put your differences aside for the sake of your friend.

You’re not super close with many of them, Mattheo included.

But you have a sort of playful relationship.

You guys banter SO MUCH!

Whether it’s insulting each other or sometimes being flirty.

Harry is SIDE EYEING y’all from across the great hall.

You find Mattheo insufferable in a weird endearing way.

Sixth year hit and you’ve decided to start living it up by attending parties with the gang.

Ravenclaw had beat Hufflepuff in quidditch which made the perfect excuse to throw a party.

You and Pansy had spent the evening getting ready together in your dorm.

“We look hot~” you commented while admiring her and yourself in your full body mirror.

“We do~ Now let’s go-“ Pansy grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the dorm.

Once at the party, you had a drink to ease your nerves before you decided to join the growing circle of people playing spin the bottle. Many of your friends were sat, including Lorenzo, Mattheo, and Theo.

You sat yourself beside Lorenzo, “What are we spinning the bottle for?” You asked, almost yelling over the music.

“Body shots!” Lorenzo smirked at you playfully.

“Fun!” You grinned.

Eventually Mattheo’s turn came and the bottle landed on you. Gasps and ooos filled the circle, making you scoff. Mattheo only grinned as he grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey and a shot glass.

Ron and Hermione had to hold back Harry from causing a scene.

“C’mere, Y/n~” Mattheo smirked, motioning you over.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, all while he unbuttoned his shirt.

You got on your knees in front of him, squeezing your thighs together as you cunt throbbed at the sight of his bare chest.

Mattheo smirked down, “Ready?” Once you nodded he poured the alcohol down his bare torso.

You didn’t hesitate to begin licking all of the liquor off his torso, savouring the way the fire whiskey burned down your throat.

Mattheo couldn’t stop himself from getting hard at the sight of you on your knees for him staring up at him with lusty half lidded eyes. It made him feel things he knew he shouldn’t feel towards.

The crowd wooed and whistled as you finished licking his chest having made sure to not miss a drop.

“Thanks for the shot, Matty~” you purred, winking at him, your cheeks equally as red as his.

You got up from your knees and returned to your spot beside Lorenzo. Once sat, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

You hadn’t expected to have gotten so turned on. It felt so wrong to be attracted to Mattheo.. but you couldn’t help yourself when all you could think about was his dark lustful gaze…

Theodore Nott

You and Theodore became friends in first year.

Theodore was a bit of a loner, like yourself so you got along right away.

Because of this, you always paired up together in your classes.

Especially in potions which you both excel at. Unlike your brother, you inherited your mother’s potions skills.

You guys have definitely have bonded over dead moms/parents.

In fifth year you both became more acquainted with Draco and his gang.

It brought you guys out of your shells.

And further ruined your relationship with your brother but you didn’t really care.

You had Theo by your side and that’s all that mattered.

Although you’re “just friends” there’s definitely feelings at play.

Seeing everyone around you get into relationships made you yearn for one yourself.

Since you’re so close with Theo already you couldn’t help but think about being with him.

He’s such a pretty boy, with his hazel eyes, dirty blond hair and Italian accent.

Theodore had a little thing for you phase in third year.

He considers it a phase but the feelings never truly left.

The both of you are way to afraid to confess to each other in fear of ruining your friendship and of the retaliation from your families.

It was a Friday night and the gang had decided to sneak out of the castle to go swimming in the Black Lake.

Somehow the whole gang managed to bypass Filch and Mrs. Norris, even though the lot of you were giggling loudly at each other.

Once out of the main doors, you all ran to the rocky shores of the lake and spread out all of your towels.

Theo sat down and lit up a cigarette with Mattheo, while you took off your (Theo’s) shirt and your pj pants. Revealing your tiny bikini.

Mattheo wolf whistled at you, “Looking good Potter~” he teased.

“Fuck off Riddle-“ you said playfully and rolled your eyes at him.

“Shut it.” Theo muttered to Mattheo as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Mattheo looked at him, a grin spreading on his face, “What was that, Theo? You jealous or something? Don’t like me talking to your girl?”

“I’m not.” Theo denied as he watched you get into the water with Lorenzo, Pansy, and Draco.

He avoided Mattheo’s gaze to look at you and the others in the water.

Theo clenched his jaw as he observed you and Draco play in the water. Jealousy bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

“Sure you are.” Mattheo scoffed unconvinced.

“Fuck off-“ Theo shoved Mattheo lightly.

He took another deep drag of his cigarette in an attempt to ease his nerves.

“Theo!” You called from the water, “Stop smoking and get in the water!” You grinned joyfully at him.

Theo could feel his heart skip a beat at your radiant smile.

“Theo come on!” You called out again.

“Alright alright, bella-“ He chuckled before putting out his cigarette and getting up.

He took off his shirt and jogged towards the water.

You giggled and grabbed his arm to pull him the rest of the way.

There was no way he could let Draco have you…

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo has prided himself in his academics.

He has good grades in all of his classes.

Except in history of magic. He’s actually failing the class.

Look it isn’t his fault! Professor Binns is just such a bore.

Seeing as Lorenzo was failing, Professor Binns assigned you, Y/n Potter as his tutor.

Lorenzo was pretty happy about having a cute girl tutoring him.

You’ve intrigued him since first year but he’s never had the chance to talk to you.

But now he sees you twice a week for tutoring.

And honestly you don’t get much tutoring done.

Lorenzo is just so engaging and interesting that you just forget about what you’re there to do.

“Merlin, Lorenzo! We need to focus!” You giggled as you realized how much time you spent conversing.

“Oops!” He giggled.

You found yourself easily charmed by the boy. He was very refreshing to hang out with.

He wasn’t like the other Slytherins who gave you the cold shoulder and looked at you sideways.

Exams were in a week and Lorenzo desperately needed your tutoring if he wanted to pass history of magic.

You both decided to increase the amount of tutoring you’d be doing per week in preparation.

It was the day before exams started and your last day of tutoring.

You made the plan to study in his dorm instead of the library as you found the latter to busy. Lorenzo made sure to kick out his roommates and clean up his area in preparation.

You met up in his dorm after class and wasted no time in taking out all of your notes and textbooks out.

“Ok, Lorenzo.” You said sternly. “No more funny business we need to focus.” You sat on his bed.

He sat in front of you, nodding in agreement, “I really need to pass this exam or my dad will kill me.” He said and got his own notes out.

“Alright. I’m going to quiz you on some stuff. Look over your notes and tell me when you’re ready.” You instructed as you organized a few papers.

Lorenzo nodded and began looking over his notes, desperately trying to not get distracted at the thought that you, a cute girl was in his dorm and sitting on his bed.

“Okay I think I’m ready.” He announces after a few minutes and put his notes to the side.

“Okay… question one..” you began.

You quizzed Lorenzo for the next half hour. He was truly trying his best. What motivated him the most was the praise you gave him after each right answer.

“Good job!” “Atta boy!” “You’re doing great!” “That’s right!”

Every single one gave him butterflies.

Eventually he managed to get all of them right.

“You got every single question right!” You exclaimed with a big grin, “ Well done! I’m sure you’re going to pass!”

“You really think?” He smiled shyly.

“Of course!” You said reassuringly.

You checked your watch, you had finished your quizzing just on time.

You began to pack up your stuff, ready to head back to your dorm to do some studying of your own.

“Thank you, for all of the tutoring.” Lorenzo thanked as he helped you.

��It’s no problem at all, you’re fun to tutor.” You admit shyly, “Good luck on your exam.” You bided him before leaving.

Lorenzo watched you leave, making a note to himself to ask you out on a date after exams..

Blaise Zabini

You and Blaise got paired up for a project in potions once.

You both weren’t thrilled because you didn’t really get along.

At least you weren’t paired up with Seamus.

And in a way it worked out well for Blaise because he didn’t have to partner up with any of his idiot friends and have to do all of the work.

You did so well on the project together that Professor Slughorn decided to continue paring you guys up.

Hanging out with Blaise was now unavoidable.

Your interactions went from uninterested, cold and limited to being much more frequent and nicer.

Being much friendlier to each other also helped you work even better together.

“Hey, Zabini? How do you cut these roots again?” You asked quietly, glancing over at him.

“Oh you cut them in half and then..” he leaned over to help you.

You couldn’t help but be shy about the close proximity between you two.

He was close enough that you could smell his piney aftershave and his minty breath.

Not to mention his voice was so deep and smooth as he talked.

You snapped quickly out of it and focused back on what he was saying.

“Oh right. Thanks.” You thanked him and proceeded to cut the ingredient as he instructed.

“S’no prob.” He said, hesitating before leaving your side.

Since you were already doing so much work together, it was easier to just study together as well.

This resulted in you two spending more time together.

The library became you main hangout spot.

Away from his annoying friends who always burst into his dorm asking stupid questions just for the sake of bothering you two.

“Do you understand what question 8 means? I completely forgot what Professor Bins said about it.” Blaise asked, furrowing his brows with a sigh.

“Uh let me see..” you leaned over to read his parchment.

While you muttered the question to yourself, Blaise couldn’t help but stare at your focused face.

You looked cute, bitting your cheeks as you played with a strand of your curly hair. He could tell you had just washed it because you smelled strongly of lavender.

“Um I just wrote down this…” you sat up and grabbed your parchment.

You guys only considered yourselves acquaintances.

Yeah you found each other attractive.

You’re both attractive people after all and you were just acknowledging the obvious ok?

You two truly were oblivious idiots who couldn’t realize you had crushes on each other.

You were headed to what you thought would be another ordinary potions class.

You sat down beside Blaise and took out all your supplies, ready for whatever Professor Slughorn was going to make you guys brew.

After a bit of waiting, Slughorn began his lesson. “Today, we will be learning about Amortentia. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

Hermione shot up her hand eager to answer.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Slughorn picked her.

“It’s a love potion sir.” She answered

“Corrected, ten points for Griffindor!” Professor Slughorn grinned.

He went on about the lesson, talking about the potion’s history and the risk involved with brewing it and its results.

“Now that we’re done with the lesson, I invite you all to come up and smell this batch of Amortentia I brewed just for this class.” Slughorn said enthusiastically.

You watched as your classmates went up and smelled the potion.

It was amusing seeing how many answered with a stutter and returned to their seats with reddened cheeks.

Finally it was your turn and you had no idea what you would smell.

You leaned down to take a deep inhale of the potion and the overhwhelming sent of Pine and mint flooded your senses.

“And what do you smell Miss Potter?” Your Professor asked.

You hesitated before speaking, “Pine and mint sir.” You answered.

Then the realization hit you and your eyes grew wide.

You smelled Blaise.

You blushed in embarrassment and kept your head down as you walked back to your desk.

“Who did you smell?” Blaise asked you curiously.

Before you could give him a half assed answer you were interrupted.

“Mr Zabini! Your turn!” Professor Slughorn announced.

Blaise got up from his seat and approached the potion.

It took a few smells for him to realize what he was smelling wasn’t your scent lingering on him. The potion itself smelled like lavender.

The gears in his head began to turn and it all began to fit. He smelled your shampoo.

He felt his cheeks heat up a bit from embarrassment and he quickly glanced at you.

Class was going to be very interesting…

#slytherin boys x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #blaise x reader #blaise zabini x reader #slytherin boys x you #draco x you #mattheo riddle x you #theodore nott x you #lorenzo berkshire x you #blaise zabini x you #potter!reader

[aphroditelovesu]

Rhaenyra's baby is always impeccably dressed, gods. Her mother puts her the most beautiful dresses, ribbons in her hair, brooches, beautiful and delicate necklaces, etc. RHAENYRA LOVES TO SHOW OFF HER BABY, EVEN SPINNING WITH HER WHILE HOLDING HER IN HER ARMS AND THE LITTLE PRINCESS LAUGHS. (I have no doubt that the little baby inherited jewelry from her grandmother Aemma ). Just imagine yan mom Nyra in her baby's room every morning bathing and perfuming her, giving her hairstyles with braids (and Nyra explains to her baby that Targaryen princesses usually do braids ) and putting delicate jewelry, bracelets, necklaces or small tiaras (because it's still small to wear bigger ones ). The dresses she wears are made especially for her, in soft baby colors and she absolutely never repeats a single dress, mother dragon Rhaenyra takes care of that. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💗

Rhaenyra's baby is always dressed like a true princess, with expensive and flowing dresses, most of the time squandering the colors of the Targaryen house, black and red, but also using softer colors like pink and white. You'll never see the little princess without an expensive silk dress and some elaborate hairdo, usually made by her mother.

Repeat dresses? Never. When you're a princess and your mother's favorite, not only because you're her only daughter, but also basically everyone's favorite in the family, wearing repeat outfits isn't something that occurs. The baby of the family receives new clothes practically every day and in different tones. From the Targaryen colors, usually given by Daemon and Rhaenyra, to the greens, which are normally given by Alicent and Otto.

Jewels are part of the look, being a small child, the princess does not wear much jewelry, besides a necklace and some bracelets and, depending on the case, a pair of dazzling earrings. No doubt, anon, definitely baby!reader inherited her late grandmother's jewels and these jewels are her favorites, although she never got to know Aemma. She also receives jewelry from her mother and other relatives of hers.

Rhaenyra loves to show off her little princess, even more so when they are styled the same. Namely, displaying the colors of the house of the dragon. I have no doubt that, in this case, Daemon will end up getting involved in this joke and the three will "parade" with the Targaryen crest. You know, to show off the lovely princess and to leave a message for the Greens.

Imagine yan!mom and baby!reader dressed the same, based on this dress that Nyra wore, only smaller to fit the little princess... 🥺

~ Lady L

#house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #a song of ice and fire #hotd #asoiaf #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #concept #yandere concept #yan!mom rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra targaryen

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: SUNDRESS SEASON (MHA) (for Black!Fem!Readers) (18+)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after seeing so many hot girls in their sundresses this season (including me). Enjoy! -Jazz

************

PRO!KIRI - Kirishima has always been a gentleman.

He respects every woman walking the earth and always keeps in mind that they are people, unlike some other men who treat the opposite sex like walking, talking sex toys. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to look. After all, he is a man. 

And when sundress season comes, he is completely in his element. He thinks that every woman is beautiful in their own way, so to see them walking about in their cute little sundresses, enjoying the warm weather, fills him with joy just as it makes him hard. It’s hard not to pay attention to the legs, titties, and ass bouncing in those thin pieces of fabric. 

So when he first saw you in yours, you’d better believe he was dumbfounded. It was one warm night at a rooftop party his longtime mentor Fatgum was throwing for his birthday. There was good music, good company, and, of course, all kinds of good food and delectable desserts. Kiri had just gotten off the dance floor to get himself another one of those fruity, tropical cocktails that Fatgum whipped up, not realizing that your hand was reaching for the same glass. 

“O-oh, sorry!” you apologized. “I didn’t see you there.” But Kiri waved you off, laughing. “No, it’s fine! I wasn’t paying attention to…”

His words died in his throat when he finally got a good look at you. It was impossible not to eye you up and down. The bright yellow sundress you wore just hugged your body so right. The hem of it flowed elegantly down your gorgeous legs, stopping right at your knees and letting his mind run wild at the thought of your thighs underneath. 

You paired the dress so well with your matching sandals that barely made you any taller than him and your hair piled up in braids at the top of your head. Your choice of hairdo seemed to accentuate your face, increasing your beauty even more. The spaghetti straps to your dress led his eyes toward your neck and collarbone right down to the curve of your breasts. He thought about sticking his face in them pulling the straps down so he could expose your pretty, brown nipples to him and– 

“Uh…are you okay?” you asked, looking concerned. Kiri, realizing he was standing there for the past few seconds with his mouth open, quickly recovers by clearing his throat.

‘Just play it cool, Eijiro. Just play it cool.’ “Yeah!” he laughs a little too loudly. “Why do you ask?” 

“You just seemed kinda hot,” you giggled but then realized the connotation behind your reply. Your pretty, brown eyes widened, horrified. “I-I meant warm,” you quickly correct yourself. “It’s kinda warm up here and you’re wearin’ that button-down, so…” You awkwardly trailed off, realizing you were rambling, and began fidgeting with the strap of your crossbody bag. 

As if you couldn’t get any cuter to Kiri! He practically fell right there for you. He chortled at your awkwardness, unable to stop himself. He was so sure you’d be so stuck up with how fine you were. Did you know how fine you were? 

“You should take that,” you said, nodding at the cocktail. “It’s good but I’ve already had about two.” But he shook his head. “Absolutely not! I’m not takin’ a drink from a pretty lady. That’d be totally unmanly of me.” You quirked a bashful smile at his compliment, making him want to bend you over the damn snack table and lift your dress up. 

“It’s fine, really!” you laughed. “You got here first anyway.” But Kiri stood ten toes on his decision, even crossing his arms over his broad chest covered by the red fabric of his button-down. “I’m not takin’ no for an answer,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “Take it, miss.” 

“It’s Y/N,” you said with a gorgeous smile lighting up your face. “No formalities, please. You’ll make me feel weird.” Kiri felt his heart flutter at your personality. “Y/N, then. I’m Eijiro but my friends call me Kiri.” He stuck his hand out for yours and you shook on your introduction. Your hand was so soft and so much smaller than his, the hot pink nail polish adorning your nails making your skin and yellow dress pop. 

“Well, it seems we’re at a crossroads here, Kiri,” you sighed, putting your hands on your hips. “We’ll be here arguin’ over this drink all night if neither one of us decides to take it.” 

Standing with you under the tiki lights hanging above the snack table as the music shifted to a 90s jam that he adored, Kiri got the best idea he’s ever gotten in his life.

“Well, I’ve got an answer to that,” he hummed, taking the glass from the table. “We can share the drink but only if you agree to dance with me.” He was acting cool but really, the man was shitting bricks anticipating your answer. 

However, the big, bright smile that grew on your pretty face gave him all the answers he needed. “I think I can agree to that,” you giggled. You took his hand in yours, making his heart thumb, and walked him over to the dance floor with the drink in tow. 

You danced the whole night away with him, ending up pressed against him and giving him a raging hard-on, and with your number in his phone by the end of the night.

*********

PRO!BAKUGOU - Sundress season?

Da fuck was that? Katsuki had no idea and had no time to know because of his very busy schedule as a pro hero. Meetings; patrols; missions; filming photoshoots and commercials for brand deals, etc. He was a very busy man. 

This also meant he had no time for dating. He didn’t see the need for it anyway. He had enough trouble caring for himself, so now he had to care for somebody else? Plus, constantly shuttling out money for dates, birthdays, and holidays in fear of losing that someone would become too much of a hassle. That’s why he always settled on hookups. 

Bakugou loved himself a good hookup if not a one-night stand. No romance; no strings; no feelings attached. Just sex. It wasn’t hard for him to pick someone up from a bar or a club due to his status as a pro and celebrity.

Not to mention his looks. He barely had to flirt with a woman and they were ready to drop their panties for him. He’d admit, it stroked his ego heavily. And when he first laid eyes on you, he would admit that he had every intention of getting you in his bed. 

He was in the club one hot Friday night. His friends had dragged him out for a night out dancing and drinking even though he wanted to stay home. “You always stay home unless it’s for business!” Mina had complained. “C’mon, ‘Suki! Have some fun with us!” And after being coaxed by his friends’ constant pleas and endless shots on Denki’s tab, he went. 

After seeing you, he was glad he did. He sat at the bar with a whiskey smash when his eyes laid on you strutting into the place in the damnest sundress he’s ever seen. It was sleek and red, filling out your curves in the best possible way, making you look like a modern Jessica Rabbit. You were with your friends and immediately headed to the dance floor, laughing as you did. He watched as you moved to the music, his eyes drinking in the way your hips swayed and your ass bounced beneath the thin fabric of the dress. 

Instantly, he felt himself getting hard at the sight of you, picturing himself hiking up that dress, bending you over his bed, and watching that ass bounce against his cock. He turned away from you to think of a way to approach you. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt your time with your crew and cause a fight. 

But while he was thinking of a good way to catch you off guard, you had beaten him to it. You were suddenly sitting beside him and asking him, “Is this seat taken?” He nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked and saw you standing there up close, in the flesh. You looked so damn good! You smelled even better–like the sweetest candy. 

Wordlessly, he nodded, afraid of fucking this up. You gave him a thankful smile and took a seat on the stool next to him. Your knee slightly brushed against his, sending his dick into a frenzy. Not to mention his heart.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ he thought. He never had a woman make him feel this weird. He couldn’t even speak to you. “Bartender!” you shouted, waving him down. “A fuzzy navel for me, please!” 

After you ordered, there was a lull between you that was filled by the music blasting from above. Bakugou still felt nervous and didn’t know what to say to you. Your perfume and closeness were bothering him. ‘Just talk to her, idiot!’ he criticized himself. ‘You’ve spit game to plenty of girls before. What’s the difference here?’ 

He got his answer when you suddenly turned to him out of the blue and spoke. “So are you gonna say anything or just act like I’m not here?” you asked, a giggle in your voice. “I mean, you’ve been starin’ at me since I walked in.”

Confident. You were the definition of it. 

He turned to stare at you, trying to hide his shock. “What?” he dumbly asked in his raspy voice.

You barely batted an eye at him as you cocked your head to the side. “You think I didn’t see you over here starin’ me down?” you giggled. “I thought you’d come over and talk to me but you never did. What? Am I not pretty enough for Dynamight?” 

Though it was a joke, Bakugou took it very seriously and felt stupid for not approaching you sooner. Though your boldness leaves him dumbfounded, a woman as confident and sure of herself as you should never feel that you’re not the finest thing in here. But he didn’t get serious. He decided to play into your game.

“So you were watchin’ me watch you?” he asked, turning to fully face you. As he did, his thigh brushed against yours. “Why didn’t you come over first?” 

He saw your smile fade a bit at being caught. Shy looked good on you too. “Guess I didn’t want you to see me as someone tryna hit,” you sheepishly chuckled, tapping your nails against the bar. 

“So you don’t?” he asked, giving you a crooked smirk. He then saw a twinkle appear in your eye, bashful yet bold. “Maybe,” you replied with a passive shrug. “Maybe we could find out over a drink?” Your other hand glided down your lap to smoothen out your dress, brushing against Bakugou’s hand that was placed on his knee. 

As his heart lept with glee, Bakugou smirked happily and nodded at the bartender. “Put her drink on me!” he hollered before his attention was on you for the rest of the night…including in the bedroom as a nightcap when your sundress ended up on his bedroom floor. 

He’d never been so overjoyed to have a woman’s number in his phone until he got yours.

*********

PRO!KAMINARI  - Denki fucking lived for this time of year: nothing but legs and ass as far as the eye could see. Especially on his block. 

He lived in a pretty nice neighborhood. Nothing but dog walkers, joggers, ice cream trucks, and kids’ screams filling the air from the park up the street. No crime, no bullshit, and certainly no villains. It was the perfect place for the girls to walk about and not worry about shit…well, except for Denki being a perv from his balcony. 

He just couldn’t help it! These girls should’ve known better than to be so damn pretty and sexy, especially in warm weather. They were just asking for Denki to ogle at them during patrols and flirt with them on his breaks. He wouldn’t have minded having someone he could ogle and flirt with all the time in her little sundress. Not to mention hug and squeeze and grope and f– 

Ding-dong!

Denki was startled on his balcony and scowled at his door. Who the hell was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday and his day off? “Hold up!” he shouted before hurrying back into his apartment, shirtless and in his Nike shorts. He didn’t have time to put on a shirt.

“It better not be a damn solicitor,” he growled, reaching for the door. “I already told you people–” 

He opened the door, not expecting to see you in the thinnest little dress he’s ever seen on a girl. It was pink, the color of bubblegum, and brought out your glowing skin that Denki pictured himself kissing and touching for hours. It stopped right at your thighs, giving him a peek at the delectable flesh, and the spaghetti straps allowed him to drink in your collarbone and shoulder blades. Goddamn, you were fine! 

He was so enthralled by you that he barely noticed the suitcase you held. “Um…hi,” you awkwardly said. “Sorry. Is this 56J?”

Denki blinked at you, almost not hearing a word you said because he was too busy picturing himself fucking you against the wall. He shook his head, blushing wildly. “Uh, no,” he replied. “This is 56G.” 

Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “Fuck!” you hissed. “I’m so sorry. I just moved in this morning and the stupid guy at the front desk gave me the information for the wrong floor.” Your eyes flickered down to Denki’s naked torso before looking away, appearing nervous. 

Denki leaned against the wall with a smirk, fully aware that you were eyeing him down and it made him feel better about checking you out earlier.

“You just moved in?” he asked curiously. “Well, that explains why I haven’t seen you around here before.” He put his hand out for yours. “I’m Denki Kaminari.” 

“I know,” you giggled, shaking his head. “You’re pro hero Chargebolt. I’ve heard a lot about you.” When your hands left each other’s, you nervously nibbled on your bottom lip. Denki pictured himself doing that. “Well, lemme not take up more of your time. I need to hurry before the moving truck gets here.” 

You began to leave but Denki stopped you. “You need any help?” he asked. “I mean, you got any boxes you need carryin’ or furniture you need movin’? I can handle some hard labor.” He flexed one of his arms, earning a smile. 

“You sure?” you asked, sounding unsure. “I have some probably already set outside my apartment door but the Uhaul guys are bringin’ the rest later.”

Denki nodded, already settling. “It’s no problem,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you ruinin’ that pretty dress you’ve got on.” He gave you a flirty smile that earned him a shy one on your pouty, soft lips. 

“Well…if you’re sure,” you laughed. “How can I repay you, Denki?” Your name sounded like music on your lips. He tapped a finger against his chin, making a show of thinking it over. “I know a good ramen place near here. I’d be happy with you joinin’ me for dinner as payment.”

He gave you a flirtatious wink, hoping that would work. Surprisingly, it did. You gave him a smirk that had him wanting to lift up your dress and eat you out right there in the hallway. “You caught me on a good day,” you giggled. “Fine then…but for that, you’ll have to carry the boxes.” 

“You got it!” he practically cheered. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be right up.”

You nodded and strutted off while he hurried to get dressed, whistling happily to himself as he did, his mind filled with nothing but your body, face, and the way that pretty pink dress brought out your skin.

*********

PRO!HANTA - Sero loves whatever you put on but there is something about how you looked in a sundress that just makes him so fucking ready for you. 

If you happen to be wearing one of those colorful little numbers that clung to your ass and were loose at the bottom when you were together, he is touching on you. No matter where you are: the movie theatre; a public restaurant; a park; at home chilling on the couch. He doesn't care who was around and who happened to see him. His hand is either on that ass or on your thighs, squeezing the flesh to his delight. 

You can blame yourself for his behavior. You should know better than to wear that shit around him. You should’ve known damn well than to have chosen a sundress as an outfit for Deku’s birthday party. You had shown him while he was busy ironing his shirt for the occasion. “Baby!” you called from down the hall. 

“Yeah?” he hollered back, concerned with ironing out his polo. He had about an hour until the party started but you were going early to help set up decorations. “I want your opinion on my outfit,” you said, already coming down the hall. “I bought it last week but I’m not sure if I look good.” 

Sero smiled to himself, already picturing you looking like a snack. You always did to him. “I’ll be the judge of that, mama,” he chuckled, stepping away from the ironing board after putting the iron up. “So let’s see what you…” His words die in his throat when he turns towards the door and sees you standing in the doorway. 

The sundress you picked out for Deku’s party is like a wet dream to Sero. The flowing hem of the dress stops at the tops of your knees, exposing your gorgeous legs that are shiny with coconut oil that tickles Sero’s nostrils. The dress is the color of the ripest tangerine, making your skin and the brown of your eyes pop as well as the pink polish on your fingers and cute little toes in your wedges.

You paired the outfit with gold jewelry, just enough to not make you look naked, and your braids are styled down across your back. Sero’s eyes immediately fall to your chest, noticing the push-up bra you’re wearing that makes your breasts look extra plump and appetizing. He can only imagine how you look around the back. 

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, appearing nervous. “I got it from Macy’s when I was out with Mina and Uraraka,” you nervously explained. “They made me buy it thinkin’ it was my color. I think it’s too short though. It’s way shorter than my other dresses.” 

You pulled at the hem but it didn’t do much to cover the slip of thigh Sero kept catching. It wasn’t enough to be inappropriate but it was enough to make his cock stir in his dress slacks. “Does it look okay?” you timidly asked as if afraid to know the answer. 

Sero’s brain was shortcircuiting. His thought process wasn’t working properly. He was too gone in the thoughts of you on the bed, your dress hiked up and his cock plunged deep in your sobbing, wet pussy, his fingers working at your clit and telling you how pretty you are. He pictured himself whisking you away from the party, taking you somewhere private–maybe an empty bathroom or a broom closet–, fucking you silly, and cumming deep inside of you so you were forced to walk around with his nut dripping down your thighs in your little sundress. 

He must’ve been staring for too long because you pulled a face at him, alarmed and confused.  “Uh…Sero?” you questioned, confused at his silence. “Are you okay?” 

He blinked, abruptly closing his mouth and clearing his throat. “Sorry, I just pictured some naughty shit just now,” he chuckled, running a hand down his face. “The girls must really want you to get fucked tonight. By me, that is.” 

Your confused expression softened, replaced with one of joy. “So I take it you like it?” you giggled. 

Sero walked over to you, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He slid his hands down your hips, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Like it?” he scoffed. “Baby, I love it. Look at you! C’mere; over here by the mirror.” 

He practically draghed you over to the mirror in front of your walk-in closet and stood you right in front of it. He stood behind you, hands on your hips and his lips caressing the sensitive parts of your neck. 

“Look at how pretty you look,” he cooed into your neck. “I’m almost afraid to take you out of the house.” One of his hands snaked down to teasingly slide underneath your dress and caress your thigh. 

You giggled, winding an arm around his head to pull him closer. “Stop,” you laughed. “I don’t know…it still seems kinda short, don’t you think?” You still wore that uncertain expression on your face, your pouty lips pursed and your eyes nervous. 

Sero’s hand squeezed your ass, making you gasp. “It ain’t short enough,” he softly growled. He laughed when you began to smack him on his chest. “Alright, alright! Just don’t bend over too much…” He slowly moved your dress up on your thighs, revealing the cute little panties you wore underneath that made your ass look immaculate. “Or else every guy at the party will get an eyeful of what’s mine.” 

His fingers slid between your inner thighs and he groaned at how warm they felt squeezing against his hand. “And I ain’t just talkin’ ‘bout your ass, baby,” he murmured into your hair as his hand began to work against your panty-covered pussy. Your sweet moans began to fill the air, your knees buckling slightly and your hand gripping his hair. 

“But if you’re still unsure, you want me to show you how amazing you look, mama?” He turned you around and pressed a wet, passionate kiss to your lips, leading to a hot makeout session that had his cock growing in his pants. You didn’t stop him when his hands looped through the waistband of your panties ut you didn’t sound happy about it either. “Sero,” you mewled. “W-We can’t. We have to leave in an hour to help with the party.” 

Sero gave you a wolfish grin as he slid your panties down your naked thighs, leaving you underwearless in your sundress. That only made him harder. “I’ll be quick,” he chuckled, leading you over to the bed. “And even if I’m not, they can handle the decorations, can’t they?” 

You didn’t protest or respond but the spank he gave you that echoed against the bedroom walls emitted a soft, needy moan from your lips. Sero grinned, standing behind you and already thinking of a good excuse to tell Deku that didn’t involve fucking you out of your clothes.

“Now shut the fuck up and bend over,” he demanded, and like a good girl, you did. 

Y’all did leave the apartment in an hour, by the way.

#bnha drabble #my works #my fic shit #black reader #black fanfic writer #black coded reader #kirishima x black!reader #bakugou x black!reader #sero x black!reader #denki x black!reader

[shirecorn]

What’s your favourite mlp species? Have you got any thoughts on kirins/niriks?

Request ponies, species, etc I havent done here

I am both a creature and character designer, so I have a lot of thoughts about MLP world!

Paradoxically, the non-pony species interest me less than the actual ponies, because they are all really solid and well done designs. There's not a lot I would reinterpret tbh, and drawing them would just be taking what they have and making them realistic.

The non-pony creatures tend to be more detailed because they are generally cameos and don't need to be animated doing nearly as much as ponies do.

Compilations by AndoAnimalia on deviantart

The kirins are really lovely designs! I love the ankle tufts, and how the stripes on the horns glow when using magic. Really nice creature design here.

The Nirik part was a little boring, and the plot/conflict was not sophisticated enough for my tastes. But it is a show for young children, not biology majors. Lots of room for worldbuilding and headcannoning lore to flesh it out, but I prefer something I can completely rewrite. The kirin lore was fine and I'm fine leaving it as-is.

Another good one is breezies.

I love them they look so stupid. Their wings are over the top but perfectly designed to sell the "piece of lint in the wind" delicateness they have.

as for my favorite creature?

Bug momma

I really love changelings and love how edgy they are.

The reformed changelings are decent but I would have designed them differently. I may take a crack at them later on if I feel the need. I feel like they should either be pony-adjacent (with manes at the very least) or further removed from ponies. this middle ground is kind of like having a bug monster alien that just happens to be bipedal, with humanoid shoulders, arms, and hands for no evolutionary reason (the reason is practical effects and putting a dude in a costume but shhh)

all this is about creatures though, and its very important to talk about character design whenever we discuss creatures. A character's personality should be the quickest read about them, rather than their biology. If something is too complex, the personality gets lost because you have to spend your details adding ankle tufts and articulated fingers.

The mane six, and basically all other ponies, use the same base puppet, and each unique part needs its own turnaround. Every prop and hairdo and eye shape needs to be understood from every possible angle because these are main characters and they need to be be able to turn, spin, and do karate without the animators having to make up the back of applejack's hat every time she faces away from the camera.

Having the same body means animators know how to draw both rarity and rainbow dash from a back 3/4 view with one hoof raised. So from a technical standpoint, simple is best.

Even in big budget productions, where every character has a different body with different close and face shapes, main characters are simplified so that the audience can quickly read pose and expression without getting lost in complex clothing designs or face makeup. Reading poses and expressions quickly is very important to understand and empathize with the character before they've moved to the next pose. You need to understand the emotion the character is feeling and the action they are doing in a split second.

you start to get more complicated and an entity becomes less of a character and more of scenery because it has so much detail its harder to read the emotions from one frame to the next.

There's a reason he doesn't wear his funny hat for the duration of the movie! It's much easier to read his emotions without it. Adding lots of detail and weird props is something designers do a lot when introducing a character if they want to make that character feel mysterious or "other" because its harder to relate when your brain is stuck on the details. also masks just do that by nature of being masks.

where was I going with this

My little pony g4 has great creature and character design.

If it were high budget, major studio with All The Money, there might be more variety in character proportions, and more distinction between the different pony species. But its a puppet animated show that was always meant to make marketable designs to be turned into toys. We just get lucky when there's a good story to tell along the way

#ramble machine #ask #shire screams

[coulsonlives]

Mkay, time for my in-depth review of Zuko's scar in the live action ATLA, because I'm a lil salty.

This is the first shot of Zuko we see, and my first impression is: this isn't the best makeup. The first thing that stands out is the flatness of the scar. It's unrealistic, because burn scars usually heal in a lumpy way, it's called hypertrophy. See the burn scar from the Hound (Sandor Clegane) in GOT:

That lumpiness is super important for making skin appear like it had been burned by fire and healed over! But because it's not really there in Zuko's face, it just looks like he got a bad sunburn:

I understand Zuko doesn't need a super deformed face, or enormous textures in his scar, but we basically have just flat skin right now, and it doesn't sell 'bad scar' at all. The makeup should've been somewhere between those two things.

The second thing is the general inaccuracy of the scar itself. I'm not gonna nitpick how it doesn't go as far down his cheek, or how it's not affecting his left eyelid, but there are some major things I am gonna mention. In the animated show, his left eyebrow was burned away because the fire contacted the skin underneath it, and then went over that, up into his forehead:

Here's a crappy edit I made where the brow is mirrored, you can see how much the scar extends over it.

But in the makeup, it looks like the fire either stopped directly at the underside of his brow, or it did burn his skin under the brow, but the brow grew back somehow. It looks weird. Because the brow is still present, there's less contrast to draw your attention to the scar and subconsciously say 'this isn't normal'.

Here are two other edits I did:

This is what I'm talking about when I say the brow (and height of the scar) drastically changes how Zuko looks. He looks so much closer to the animated version now, but he's still free to emote because his eye isn't affected at all, and his brow could still move normally. It also helps give him that harsher appearance, which people tend to say exists with the ponytail hairdo! But it would also work great with his long hair look, which would soften everything anyways.

(For the second edit, I also tweaked the ear a lil bit.)

When it comes to the colours of the scar, I'm undecided. In the OG show, they probably had to change the colour of his scar so much to indicate there was even a scar in the first place, because it would've been annoying to add tons of line detail for the animators to deal with instead. At the same time, the live-action show could tone it down a lil bit. But it doesn't look bad, per se.

The third observation I have is Zuko's ear. If you look in the animated show picture above, his left ear (your screen right) is smaller than his right ear, because it's scarred over. I don't think it's practical to have that kind of effect in the live-action show, because it would mean even more CGI (they'd literally need to paint out the real ear, and then replace the ear with a digidouble ear). But if you look at the trailer capture, you'll see the scar colour doesn't even extend to his ear at all!

If you open the picture in photoshop, the scar around his eye and cheek has a reddish hue, but the skin on his ear is the same colour as the skin that isn't scarred. This isn't a cherry-picked sample, the hue is the same in each entire area. As soon as you stop sampling the ear and start sampling the cheek, it drops right into the reds/oranges:

I think the ear coming away unscathed might be a little unrealistic too, considering the scene where Zuko is burned by Ozai currently looks like this:

The fire is obviously going around the sides of his face, not just going directly into it and then bouncing away. It's kinda brushing around. With a scene like this I would expect the ear to have some kinda damage. Is it because they toned down the overall scar so much that any apparent damage on the ear would become nonexistent? Maybe. But right now, the scar just looks like a blob on his face, instead of a spot where fire actually flowed around.

And I just wanted to point out something else I've seen, not in the trailer, but in the fandom. Because I'm already tired of seeing it, it's dumb. Basically I was on a forum and I saw someone say 'if you want something like Two Face from Batman, this is the wrong property to ask for that'. I thought it was super unreasonable because nobody is asking for this:

And nobody is having a 'meltdown', like some other dishonest peeps are saying! People are just mildly upset that the actor's skin looks like it's been coloured in with dye, and there's almost zero hypertrophy to actually telegraph the fact that it's definitively a scar.

So those are my thoughts.. The scar is barely serviceable, they kinda dropped the ball imo.

Don't get me wrong, I totally understand the ~hollywood need~ to make things super toned down so you can see actors' glamorous faces or whatever, but some additional scar makeup wouldn't have harmed his ability to emote or anything. They didn't even need to do anything to his eye.. Just fix the overall first impression the scar gives, which would've worked with the stuff I mentioned above. So I'm not sold on 'it's to show the actor's face better' as an acceptable reason. It's an explanation sure, but it's just not good enough to justify the difference to me.

#if there's another explanation for this i'd love to hear it! i follow some of the news but i miss a lot of interviews/press junkets #atla #atla live action #zuko #atla zuko #atla netflix #dallas liu #burn cw #injury cw #body horror cw

[marleysfinest]

ENEMIES > LOVERS; JEAN X READER

modern au, fluff/no warnings, gn!reader

word count: 1.6k

thank u @robynnnhooddd for this req! 💕

obligatory @fromriches-tosin tag for ur husbando

there's nothing quite like a childhood rivalry.

run off squealing at the sight of a worm? expect to find a handful in your shoes tomorrow morning. they say that they forgot their homework? be sure to ask the teacher right away when it was due to remind them, despite knowing full well it was today, just to make an example of your rival. neither of you dared utter a whisper of distaste or resentment lest you wanted to hear about it for the next ten years in excruciating detail.

jean had always been the prickly boy next door. having grown up together with your mothers as best friends, it was a given that you'd spend many a long hour together, practically torturing one another in any way you could think of. despite the fact that your parents got on like a house on fire, jean's general demeanour had always rubbed you up the wrong way. he'd steal your crayons. he'd hide your dolls. he'd muddy your shoes on purpose. he made your life not quite a living hell, but certainly a waking pain. you gave as good as you got; making for quite the rivalry.

and it didn't stop at the school gates. being the same age meant that you and jean shared classes, and one year, one teacher had even done the unimaginable and sat you together, forced to endure silent standoffs over elbow space, chair-leg positioning, and complaints about the volume of one another's breathing. at the beginning it's torture, waking up every day knowing you're about to endure the most insufferable boy known to mankind. and the teachers adored him; his grades were exceptional, his attendance flawless, his charisma off the charts. it only grew as you flew through school together, with his ego bursting at the seams at every opportunity. he grated on you with heat and intensity; how could one person be so annoying? and what did everyone see in him? was a well-coiffed hairdo and a substantial instagram following really the key to undying love and attention?

you didn't sign one another's t-shirts when you graduated. you didn't even so much as wish one another well; he was as glad to see the back of you, as you were to see the back of him. you even heard through the grapevine of how he'd been spouting theories of what profession you'd go into; something you happily reciprocated by speculating that he'd find employment in a gentleman's club after his father.

you moved out not long after graduating and securing your first job in an office downtown; the pay not kingly, but enough to afford the rent on a small place to call your own on the city's outskirts. slowly but surely, contact between you and your classmates dwindled, and soon they were no more than familiar faces on your social media, your only reunion with them being on the morning commute as you caught up with the latest goings-on. few of them fell into professions of great note, but it was nice to know that people were getting by, living comfortable lives and expanding their families. you yourself didn't post much; maybe you'd get a shot of the sunset every so often on the way home, but you mostly were a silent observer. nevertheless, you slipped into your working life quickly, leaving many memories of the past behind.

until, that was, a chilly spring morning on the way to work. you'd ducked into your usual coffee shop, and had your head in the clouds as the cashier fumbled with the card machine that was not playing ball. you'd tried no less than three times to pay for your oat milk cappuccino, but each time you'd been met with an error. the barista asked for cash, and you felt defeated, knowing full well that you didn't have any on you, and had to accept that good coffee was not on the cards this morning. until, that is, a familiar voice rumbled from behind you.

"I've got it."

your head whipped, and your stomach dropped as you realised who was in front of you.

jean fucking kirschtein.

you felt your chest sink a little, definitely not in the mood to exchange small talk with the person who had made your school days hellishly difficult, and you surmised that he'd feel the exact same, although he had just offered to pay for your coffee.

"oh, you don't have to-"

you'd been so struck by not only the gesture but by who had made the gesture that jean had already paid for the drink and ordered his own by the time you'd replied. the barista took payment and began on your drinks.

"there's not oat milk in the fridge, I'll just need to run to the basement to grab a carton. 2 secs!"

you mustered a smile, all the while seething that you were now forced to talk to jean a little while longer, although it was perhaps the polite thing to do seeing as he'd just rescued your morning caffeine hit.

"hey," you reply as politely as you could manage, "thanks. you didn't have to do that."

he nodded gently, and something about his expression told you that he was genuinely glad to see you. why?

"hey, a damsel in distress? I had to help," he replied, "how've you been? I haven't seen you here before."

you couldn't help but furrow your brow. you came to this shop every morning, since when was he a local, too?

"oh, I practically live here," you respond, hating the fact that your voice stuttered a little, "best coffee I could find in this neighbourhood."

"that bodes well," he said, "my favourite place across the street just closed down."

it still hadn't cleared a lot up; even if he had been going across the street, you'd still have seen him, surely? although perhaps you were simply to immersed in your music to pay much attention. oh god, had he seen you here before? is that why he came over?

"that's too bad," you say, flickering your eyes away for a moment. he looked well; he'd grown a foot taller and muscled up a little, and wore a freshly pressed navy blue suit, with the jacket slung over the crook of his elbow. if you didn't know better, you might have even said he was handsome. silence fell between the two of you for a second, as you realised you didn't quite know how to carry the conversation.

"eh, I don't mind. it's been fun to run into you again."

you couldn't help the shocked look on your face.

"fun?" you ask, the disbelief coming through thick, "c'mon. I don't think that's a word that's ever been used in our case."

he huffed a laugh and grinned widely. fuck, he was handsome.

"yeah..." his voice trailed off as he undoubtedly thought about your shared past of mutual torment. "yeah, I guess we were stupid kids."

there was a sudden softness to him that you knew had to be put on. was there genuine remorse there? how could there be? you had made his life every bit as hard as he'd made yours, could he really look past that now? a part of you respected it, if he could; it showed a maturity that you weren't sure even you had.

"we were... pretty stupid," you agree. the barista had returned from the basement and had started on your drinks. you both watched him get to work, efficiently showing off his skill as he crafted the drinks the same way michelangelo may have crafted david.

"y'know, I always meant to say sorry for that," says jean suddenly, his eyes still focused on the barista's hands. "I mean, I know you gave as good as you got and, god, it was annoying, but... I don't know. I'm saying sorry, I guess."

your eyes grew wider than dinnerplates at his apology, as you found yourself living a moment you swore would never come. you half expected to be catapulted back to that morning, the sound of your alarm waking you from whatever dream this had to be. what was more confusing was there was something endearing about it; something that made you want to apologise in return.

"that why you came to my rescue?" you asked, "one coffee for eighteen years' worth of torment?"

jean turned his attention to you, looking marginally wounded, but with that signature cheek just brimming beneath the surface.

"well, yeah," he said with a gentle smile, "isn't that the price of torment these days?"

you couldn't help but smile in return. the barista planted your drinks on the counter in front of you.

"sorry guys, here you go! one oat milk cappuccino, one caramel latte."

your grin widened as you heard jean's order, surprised to learn of his sweet tooth. he looked embarrassed, but that didn't stop him puffing his chest out to put on appearances.

"what? caffeine and sugar first thing in the morning? just because you couldn't handle it."

a signature jibe, just like when you were kids. although, there was no venom this time. no thick layer of aggression that told you he meant every word with force and pain. it was a gentle jibe, almost a jibe at himself. it was definitely endearing. the two of you left the coffee shop, stepping into the blinding sunlight, hesitating for a second as you realised you didn't want to say goodbye. his lingering suggested he felt the same way.

"hey," he said, "can I walk you to work?"

#boy's got a fiendish sweet tooth I know it #jean kirschtein #jean x reader #jean x yn #jean fluff #jean kirschtein fluff #jean fic #jean hcs #requests #aot fanfic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

[audreydoeskaren]

Abridged History of Qing Dynasty Han Women’s Fashion (part 5: Late Qianlong & Jiaqing eras)

(artwork from 1782)

Previous posts:

Late Ming & Shunzhi era

Kangxi era

Late Kangxi & Yongzheng eras

Qianlong era

The last two decades of the Qianlong era, the 1780s and 90s, formed one aesthetic continuity with the reign of Qianlong’s successor Jiaqing (1796-1820). This period was characterized by a turn to extreme formal simplicity and what I believe to be a revival of the tastes of the Ming-Qing transition.

We see sleeves of women’s robes, tight fitting and short to create a practical look in the previous era, become wider and longer. The folded cuff design was retained, though now more difficult to manage as the sleeves became wider. In the last post I discussed how the construction of dajin similar to Manchu men’s fashion became en vogue among Han women and replaced the earlier center front closing robes----this remained the same. We see some of the first instances of binding strips being used around the collar and the dajin, which would become a highly popular and elaborate craft later in the 19th century. Around this time, the binding strips used were usually thin and minimal, commonly of a black color. Plain cloth or bead tip buttons were popularized earlier in the Qianlong era, and metal clasp buttons (zimukou) became increasingly rare. The shape of the standing collar remained the same as that of previous centuries, soft, unstiffened and tall.

Artwork from 1796 showing a group of courtesans. You can see the black binding on some of their robes. A note about the dating of this artwork: while it’s quite a common reference image for Jiaqing era fashion, I wasn’t able to find an exact date until I read about it in the book Pictures for Pleasure and Use by James Cahill (spectacular book discussing the importance of vernacular and commercial art, highly recommend) and he said the date of creation was signed in the cyclical calendar and corresponds to either 1736 or 1796. He was inclined to 1736 because of “similar face shapes” or something to Yongzheng era artworks, but since he wasn’t a fashion historian he probably wasn’t aware that the fashions depicted here would not have been possible before the 1780s, so I think 1796 is instead the correct date.

Late Qianlong/early Jiaqing era artwork, showing two austerely (and fashionably) dressed women.

The more radical departure from the previous era, however, was the complete eradication of ornament. Robes and skirts of this era were often entirely plain, with no brocaded patterns or embroidery of any kind. Gone were the roundel patterns, quatrefoil motifs on collar facings and decorative strips around skirts----only solid color blocks remained. Pastel colors like light pink, blue and green were among the most popular for robes besides bright blue and red, whereas skirts were white or black.

Late Qianlong/early Jiaqing era paintings of the Anglo-Chinese school showing the new style of plain garments.

Artwork from the era showing a woman in a light mustard robe with dusty pink cuffs, white skirt and red sash (sashes were still commonly worn).

The other significant changes happened in hairstyling. The 1780s did away with the iconic tall knots of the earlier Qianlong era, instead moving the mass and volume of hair toward the back. We see the re-emergence of the swallow tail. The front of the hair could be middle parted or completely pulled back. Flowers and other ornaments could be worn on the sides of the hairdo, behind the ears. The general shape of hairstyles stressed horizontality rather than verticality, as was the case before.

A 1943 copy of a turn of the 19th century original, showing the front and back of hairstyles.

Bust portrait showing the new hairstyle.

A unique hair accessory of the 1780s and 90s was a new iteration of the mo’e, which now had a sharply pointed triangular front and was worn high on the head instead of at the forehead. I think it became less common as the 19th century approached.

Export artwork showing a woman musician, likely 1770s or 80s as she is still wearing the ornamented, center front closing robes popular in previous decades.

Minimalism was not to last long, however, and soon decorative patterns began to reappear on robes, sleeve cuffs and skirts. Hairstyles began to gain volume and became more puffed, forming a sort of face framing crown. New styles of decorating skirts appeared, with binding going around the qunmen and the edge of each pleat, and embroidery on each individual pleat. The rectangular or circular patterned patch popular prior to the 1780s returned.

Early 19th century export painting at the Brighton Pavilion, maybe 1810s. We can see roundel patterns on the blue robe, embroidery on the cuffs and skirt, and the lady in red wears a pointed mo’e.

Presumably later Jiaqing era artwork, ca. 1810s, showing a group of women. Floral embroidery is present on the sleeve cuffs, the skirts are decorated.

#abridged history of qing dynasty han women's fashion #18th century #19th century #qianlong era #jiaqing era #qing dynasty #chinese fashion #fashion history #regency era

[miekasa]

nanamin as a dad 😵‍💫 *drools* the sight of nanamin carrying his newborn on his shoulder and him lightly tapping their back to sooth their crying,, i wan… him… and i just know he’s so good at multitasking so he always has a teeny baby in his arms while his other children climb him like he’s a jungle gym. or

every time one of his kids’ birthdays come around he will take his time to write a long and detailed letter to them and ends off every letter with something like “forever in your corner, your loving father”. his kids think it’s corny but as they get older they start to appreciate his affections more. his love is so precise and tailored perfectly for each kid that they never feel inferior to one another. his kids love him so much, they can’t get enough of him. always fighting over who gets to sit next to him at breakfast before he has to leave for work. ofc he has to intervene and softly remind them to “be gentle” and to “take turns”.

he’s just,, lovely biting my fist

— doc dad levi anon LOL

The birthday letters… stop… because you know he starts writing them one month in advance too, you wake up sometimes in the middle of the night just to see Kento around the dinner table with a pen in hand and a glass of water nearby, and you just know he’s working on The Letter. It makes him so emotional :(( especially when they start getting into their teen years. You know the story of the dad who peeled his daughters oranges and packed her lunch every day, and on her last day of highschool, he gave her the unpeeled orange and a note saying “it’s your turn now :(” or something like that… their 18th birthday note/the one right before they go to college is just Nanami relaying how much he loves them and telling them that he knows they can do it by themselves from here on out :(((

Anyway… anyway… back to the vision of him with the baby in his hands. He’s got one kid on his hips, the other holding his hand, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s obvious he adores his children and they hold the same fondness for their father, so he welcomes their affection all the time. Fighting about who gets to sit next to him :(( it always ends up with one cuddled at his side and the other in his lap :(( and he always makes sure to leave room for you on his other side, giving everyone a kiss on the forehead.

Pls picture him with an infant in his hand, his work phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear, while he uses his free hand to try and nurse a bottle to his baby’s mouth. Kento is (unfortunately) on a work call—one he really should have hung up on 25 minutes ago, but of course he was stuck for longer. He’s trying to feed a baby and do his best to not curse out his incompetent co-workers, but he’s getting really irritated; evidently, so is your infant, who is not content with her lunch, nor with sharing her father’s attention. When the baby haphazardly swings at his ear, he can barely move in time to avoid being hit with a ravioli-sized fist, and the consequence is that his phone falls onto the carpet, accidentally dropping the call in the process. He pauses for a second, but then can’t help but to chuckle, readjust his hold on the toddler, “You’re right, you’re far more important. I’m sorry my love, you have my attention now.”

Nanami with two very short pigtails in his hair because his little boy wanted to play salon, and practice learning how to do his baby sister’s hair :(( somehow, a hairdo turns into a sparkly Hello Kitty band-aid over his nose, and heart-shaped stickers on his cheek (“I’m learning hair and makeup, daddy!”), but Kento can’t say he minds one-bit. Not when you come home and ask the two to pose for a picture, and he looks oh so proud of his work, so excited to be able to treat his younger sister when she’s big enough, and who he is not to be thank him for her time and give her a hefty tip in the form of hugs and kisses.

#anonymous #anon you only come around to make me yearn dont you.... yearn so very intensely #my precious... my beloved.... my baby some might even say #growling.... frothing......... its not enough to write the fanfiction i need him to materialize #i need him NEOW!!!!!!!!!!! #nanami x reader #nanamin.ask

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Venus enters Virgo

Sunday, October 8 - Wednesday, November 8, 2023

Well, are we tired of Venus/Leo by now? All that drama, a long hot summer’s worth, finally comes to an end. Time for a brisk Virgo cleanse.

In traditional astrology, Venus is said to be in her fall in Virgo - opposite the sign (Pisces) of her exaltation - and the placement has a very bad reputation. Apparently the old timey astrologers didn’t think that love could be sensible?!? That may be the most useful activity we can undertake, after four months of Leo Venus - namely, making sense of everything.

Art - this is a terrific time to brush up on your technique. A musician, for example, would play scales and etudes. Upgrading tools is a good use of the energy, too. New crochet hooks? A better pencil sharpener?

Beauty - and a good time to repair your wardrobe, too. Bedraggled hems, worn-out shoes, frayed cuffs - try to mend, before you replace. As far as makeup and hairdos go, less is more. We appreciate a clean face much more than a carefully contoured one.

Love - is seeing that someone you care for, could use a favor &/or a kindness, so you just go ahead and do it for them without calling any attention to yourself. We may feel like nagging people about their health, so try to encourage them instead.

Money - we’ll balk on shelling out any of our hard-earned pay on luxuries. Vitamin supplements, however…! Not much a risk-taking time for investments, we’re very skittish about that kind of thing.

I’m only going to list aspects up to Venus’ greatest western elongation on October 23 - the vibe changes at that time, and we can more directly do Venus work. Allow for a day or two on either side of the dates:

Monday, October 9 - Venus/Virgo opposite Saturn Rx/Pisces. Ouch. Something makes us terribly disillusioned - all that effort we put into Venus/Leo, poof, gone.

Wednesday, October 11 - Venus/Virgo sesquiquad Chiron Rx/Aries. We’re trying to do something specific (to assuage the opposition?) but there are delays. Be patient. We may learn some thoughtless word/deed of ours, has come back to bite us.

Sunday, October 15 - Venus/Virgo sextile Vesta/Cancer. Really good for the arts; we can focus and get things done. Nice for doing little home improvement things, too.

Thursday, October 19:

Venus/Virgo sesquiquad Eris Rx/Aries

Venus/Virgo sesquiquad North Node/Aries, semi-square South Node/Libra

The pitfalls of being too nice? If we’re prone to swallowing our anger, it comes right back up. We may also sabotage ourselves by thinking we need everything 100% perfect before we can act. (Which is the same thing as saying “I don’t want to do it.” Be honest with yourself.)

Saturday, October 21 - Venus/Virgo trine Jupiter Rx/Taurus. Wonderful time for practical good luck. Maybe something costs much less than anticipated (something boring though, like having to take your car to a mechanic). Or maybe a piece of “backwards” good luck - we realize that in some situation, not getting our own way was a blessing.

#Astrology #Transiting Venus enters Virgo #Ms M astrologer

[blutopaz15]

weave together again

aka rayla’s new hairdo in three parts: pre-timeskip, mid-timeskip, post-timeskip

part one

It’s a hot summer day when he first puts her hair up for her.

Rayla sits up from the cool grass—the only shade available to collapse in after that last round with Soren and the other Crownguard—and finds Callum reaching for her.

“Ugh, no,” she protests at first. It’s so hot, and there’s hardly any tree cover in the courtyard here at the castle, and she’s so much sweatier than she would’ve ever been from such light training in the Silvergrove…so she waves away his hand before it could get anywhere near the layer of sweat covering her skin. “I’m gross.”

The look in his eyes is familiar: a little amused and so kind and extra sweet, as if he could compliment the truth away. “I can promise you that you’re not.”

She can’t help but be a little sorry to deny him when that’d been the exact same sweet Callum-face that’d made her kiss him in the first place…

“So hot,” she says, shaking her head, reminding herself and explaining to him.

His eyebrows lift and the soft smile on his lips tilts sideways…and she lets him at least cover her hand on the ground with his.

“That’s true,” he says, eyes catching in the dappled bits of sunlight through the leaves overhead, so clearly proud of having found something both flirty and sweet to say to her.

She scoffs—as that’d hide her breath hitching and heart fluttering—and looks away too, under the guise of an eye roll, her cheeks too pink from the sun to get any warmer. “I feel gross—sweaty and hot and so, so gross.”

Callum brightens even more and scrambles to his knees, facing her with a toothy grin, his fingertip already glowing bright with magic. “I can fix that.”

The rune’s already drawn—and he looks even prouder—before she gives a grateful go-ahead. “Go for it, mage,” she smiles, lifting her chin expectantly.

The Draconic is a whisper and the breeze is gentle too—just enough to aspiro the sweat from her skin and to blow damp strands of white away from her face. The windbreath spell doesn’t last forever, of course, but she stays still, her eyes shut, hoping he’ll go again.

Instead, though, his knees shuffle against the grass, and he’s already sitting behind her by the time she blinks her eyes open. “What are you doing?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see him settled on his knees at her back.

“Putting your hair up for you,” he shrugs, tucking a halfway-blown-back lock behind her ear in explanation, “if that’s okay.”

She faces forward and nods, trying to hide any blush that shows through the sunburn, and he does the same on the other side, his fingertips cool against the warm tip of her ear.

“You’ll be more comfortable, don’t you think?” Callum says, picking up her hair from her shoulders to hold loosely in his hand.

“I…suppose so.” She swallows thickly at the sudden swell of intimacy: Callum gathering the pieces at the back of her neck with her say-so, all that attention fixed on her comfort…

“Doesn’t all this get in the way?” he asks, and Rayla doesn’t respond, wit faltering at all the feelings.

His fingertips gently raking against her scalp, his touch firm and tender and careful all through her hair, his words so genuine and so full of affection and concern…

“Doesn’t seem very practical for back-flipping, tree-climbing, or sword-stabbing if you ask me,” he continues, chuckling to himself

“Never been a problem before,” she says—too quickly—hoping he can’t tell when she holds her breath as he smoothes the last few sections around her horns, pulling it all taut at the crown of her head.

Rayla exhales as he finishes—too quickly—wishing for an excuse for more.

“There, now I just need—”

“Actually, wait—” she stops him, reaching up to pull a small section out of the bun he’s made. “Can…can you braid this first? I can show you, if—”

“I can do that.” Callum takes the piece of hair from her, arranging it to fall below her horn before he abandons the rest of her hair and starts separating the section into pieces to weave together again, his hands steady and surprising her with their skill. 

“I love you,” she blurts out…and panics. Maybe that was a little much for something as little as this, and maybe Callum taking care of her like this didn’t call for that big a feeling but—

“I mean—”

His lips land on her temple, gentle and warm, and he whispers again.

“I love you, too, Rayla. I really do.”

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #seaon 4 #the dragon prince #pre-season 4 #tdp #rayla #callum #aka rayla's new hairdo the fic

[hostilecityshowdown]

⭐️ for any fic you’re dying to give commentary on :3

◕_◕

this was actually a hard one; i have WIPs and scraps i desperately want to talk about, such as the lowkey undertaker biopic, 'taker kidnapping goldust backfiring, an entire scrapped segment from a diesel/'taker fic, or a horror story starring hunter for mango, but. giving commentary on unpublished fics is a little difficult without publishing the fic. instead... we'll review one of my favourite character pieces: waiting for tonight every day of the week (titled "DIAMOND NIGHT" in my internal documents)

let's start with the titles.

DIAMOND NIGHT, the working title, is directly pulled from VOWWOW's song of the same name. VOWWOW/BOW WOW is diesel's second favourite band, depeche mode being the first, and i really wanted to use this title at publication. the song itself just didn't fit this portion of diesel's life, and there are lyrics from it i do want to draw inspiration from elsewhere, namely:

バックミラーに ghost of you

声すら嗄れはてて かき消される high way

(roughly translated to "ghost of you in the rearview mirror/even my voice becomes hoarse, drowned out on the high way." lyrocs source)

instead, i used lyrics from DONCHA WANNA CUM/Hangar 15, which is off their album "III" and written by the beloved genki hitomi - as evidenced by the song being entirely in english and having a more western pop rock sound than when kyoji yamamoto was the lead vocalist. (side note: rei atsumi is underrated and he's never done a single bad thing with a keyboard.)

stay close tonight (click link, go to 26:36) was also nearly chosen for title inspiration, given that i had this concert on repeat for half the writing process. i could actually write an entire post about VOWWOW and diesel's love for them but we're not here for that!!!!

while this fic is included in the Heartbreak Hotel AU universe, it is exclusively canon to my diesel muse and has no intended bearing over mango's telling of their own story, and takes place many years prior to the events of the HHAU. this made writing this piece fun; i had the opportunity to increase the depth of my muse without extensively plotting with mango.

i like the idea of going scene by scene with a few cuts. the fic opens here:

The boat rocked underfoot as Dallas throttled up to full speed the moment they cleared the marina's last NO WAKE sign. Up in the bow seating, the Diamond Dolls shouted at him for the sudden acceleration, two of them sliding right out of their plush seats and onto the pink mahogany hull. The Grand Craft had been modified heavily from its original design, practically rebuilt, and outfitted in chrome, white, and baby doll pink to match the Cadillac. It screamed Diamond Dallas Page, right down to the way the stern bench seating was upholstered with genuine leather - Something Dallas upkept meticulously.

dallas coming in hot as usual. i grew up on boats and love writing about them, the water, and everything in between, and i had a difficult time focusing on the actual story when all i wanted to do was ramble about the setting. my uncle moved down to clearwater many years ago and has traveled all over the world, and i actually did "consult" with him regarding swanky, popular boat manufacturers in the '80s-90s down in florida. "consulting" being saying "hey, chris, what were the most bougie boats you'd see down there back when you were in miami?" followed by an answer that was probably three hours long. i love my uncle and his undiagnosed ADHD very much. we meet our protagonists:

Tan body glistening in the beautiful Florida sunset, the Diamond Studd lounged against that leather, head tossed back and limbs spread wide. Across from him on the mid-deck couch, Vinnie Vegas squinted through his sunglasses and internally mourned his wind tossed hairdo. […] Vegas had only bounced for Dallas for about three months before he was brought into the Diamond Exchange's fold, and these excursions were one of the many benefits. He kept feeling self conscious about the injury scars marring his leg, hyper-aware of his body at all times, trying to mimic Dallas and Studd's body languages; he hadn't spent a hell of a lot of time on beaches in Michigan, admittedly. Too busy on the assembly line or the basketball court.

i wanted to paint a picture of the outsiders that no one is used to seeing. the diamond studd, comfortable in his own body, relaxed contrasted against vinnie vegas, tense, self conscious, frustrated with inconsequential impacts on his appearance - irritated by the lack of control, enough so that he can hardly enjoy something he loves in theory and would love in practice if he could fret less. he's trying to mimick ease instead of trying to be at ease; mine and mango's diesel muse is also autistic, and i try to be mindful when writing scenes like this. i do not think this is funny or cute, and i want to express to the reader that diesel is negatively impacted by his neurodivergencies and physical disabilities, including his leg injury. to cap out this section, vinnie invents his own excuse for rarely hitting the beach: work. he loves the water, doesn't mind the cold, and his knees greatly benefit from swimming... but, having not medically transitioned before this point and standing out for being an absurdly tall beanpole (and clocked as some flavour of Gay™ by peers), he was rarely comfortable enough to go. again: something that improves his quality of life, barred from him.

Behind Studd, the luxury vessel's wake frothed like two great, white wings folded behind him. He would've looked like he was diving down from the heavens if he wasn't so relaxed, chest bouncing each time Dallas rode someone else's wake to make the girls scream. The wind caught his laughter and threw it to Vegas as it whipped by, and he tried to prop his forearms across his thighs and sit forward comfortably while squaring his shoulders. It was hard to lean back when traveling backwards at nearly forty miles an hour.

this is so self indulgent, man. my dedushka used to throttle up to full speed whenever he could, and i always imagined the white water wake as a pack of wolves chasing the boat, trying to play with it. i'd lean over the stern, right next to the engine, and let the high-pressure water beat the shit out of my hand, imagining that i was playing with the wolves as they leapt up from the wake, trying to catch up to the rotors. i was going to write something like this into diesel's internal narration, but he's too tense in this fic to let his imagination wander.

vegas is also ogling the studd's body, especially his (perisex, cis) chest. to him, this is the pinnacle of manhood. everything he wants to be, everything he's trying to be, and it deifies studd. studd's also sitting at the stern near the transom, whereas vegas is seated across from him with his back to the cockpit. they're both going in the same direction at the same speed, but vinnie's doing it in reverse. his path forward has more unknowns and more unseen obstacles, and he feels uncertain, ill-prepared, and nervous, but he is genuinely content to allow dallas to guide him onwards. he doesn't have to look over his shoulder to know dallas is navigating them safely through open water.

Plus, soreness was starting to creep across his chest, the adhesive tacking the silicone sheeting over his scarring starting to itch from sweat. He rubbed his hands together and dug his left thumb into his right palm, smoothing in circles through his gloves. He was still getting the hang of cutting the medical grade squares into sheets and applying them with what was basically bandaid glue, but it did the job: Kept the scarring down, kept the sun off. He just hoped his chest would look like his partners' by the end of this, he was starting to get twitchy about the muscle mass he lost during the first few months of healing. Four more months, and he'd have spent a year in Florida. Four more weeks, and he'd be back under the knife. It was giving him anxiety. Panic attacks. Just thinking about it was making him sick and it definitely wasn't from Dallas's careless handling of the banjo-style wheel, and he still had to fly back home tomorrow and see his mom and-

surprise! dallas funded his top surgery recently! TRANS RIGHTS!! i think this element speaks for itself and helps contextualise his mood, here, and it's followed up by some more dysphoria, and a direct confirmation that vinnie trusts dallas. even when his thoughts are beginning to race and anxiety starts manifesting physiologically, his faith in dallas never waivers, and he affirms that to himself as a self-calming technique.

"Hey." Vegas jumped. His eyes came back into focus on Studd's package, no surprise, but when Vegas lifted his eyes to his face, the Studd wasn't looking at him. He cupped a hand around his mouth and raised his voice. "Hey! Yo! Dallas!"

Vegas turned around to look at their captain as well, slapping the utility box behind him a few times for good measure. Dallas throttled down gently, flashed the now murderous Dolls a winning smile, and turned round to drape an arm over the back of his seat. His hair had mostly escaped from its pilfered scrunchy, definitely Tori's, and started framing his face in dirty blond corkscrews. That smile was worth a million bucks. "What's up, baby? Want the radio turned up? Not likin' the view?"

"No way, man," Studd snorted, voice lowering back to its regular volume. His slow drawl was surprisingly soft spoken, and he waved a hand to shoo away Dallas's concerns. "Get your lead foot off the gas, Diamond. I wanna enjoy the salt water spray, not get power washed. And yeah, why don't you turn it up? Gimme something that bumps."

"Anything for you, guy," Dallas saluted and cranked one of many knobs on his instrument panel. At the twangy sting of Slinky's opening notes, Studd met Vinnie's gaze and rolled his eyes.

"That Dallas, right, brother? I like Link Wray too, but that ain't bumping. You mind?" His many rings glittered like the sun on the sea as he wiggled the fingers of one hand at Vegas then motioned for him to get up. Vegas raised an eyebrow but still stood, taking a moment to steady himself before rounding the mid-deck seating and marching right up to the cockpit. Dallas had already vacated after dropping anchor, sitting between Lee Ann and Kimberly and trying to placate them before they decided to throw him overboard. It didn't look like it was working. Leaving Dallas to his small army of mutineers, Vegas cranked the station dial right to WCMQ-FM and looked back towards the stern as the first chorus of Sandunguera threatened to blow out the speakers. Studd dropping his neck back onto the plush headrest was the best indication Vegas got that his job was done.

*clutching my arm rests* i fucking love studd and dallas's dynamic i'm going to gnaw on sheet metal. /j i'm not even editing this part down, mainly because i think we all deserve to watch dallas be eaten alive. back on track, we come into focus on one of the studd's many assets. some narrative foreshadowing for vinnie's upcoming surgeries, more dysphoria, and an example of the ease with which razor identifies, disrupts, and attempts to alter vinnie's disordered thinking. my uncle used to operate a bar on long island in new york and would ask me to burn CDs for specific crowds. slinky and sandunguera were both requested by him on different CDs, and sandunguera was a hit amongst cuban americans. WCMQ-FM/Z 92.3 is a fort lauderdale/miami station run by the spanish broadcasting system. this is one of the ways i express the setting without bluntly writing it down. onwards:

"Vin! Baby! The bar's right behind you." His boss waved at him nonchalantly from the den of vipers. Yeah, good luck with that, pal.

"Not enough limes in the world to save you, boss," he mimed throwing a hand of cards at Dallas. To his credit, the blond threw his head back and laughed, his wife elbowing him in the ribs. All passengers aboard knew the Studd would start bartending when the time was right. Head shaking, Vegas sauntered back to his seat and ignored the sun glinting off Studd's teeth.

i love u vinnie vegas and diamond dallas. i love u kimberly. not much to say about this beyond the way dallas has created an environment where the studd is in a position of control regarding alcohol, where he'll never be offered a drink or obligated to witness other people drinking unless he initiates it. he's the house dealer here, not dallas, not kimmy, not the dolls, not vinnie. it helps him be responsible and self-moderate, and razor responds positively to situations where he has the opportunity to look out for other people. keeping alcohol consumption reasonable is a group effort, here, not something razor has to undertake alone.

"No seats left with the Dolls, Vegas?" He teased, oozing over the bench seats more, seemingly never running out of ways to increase his size. Vegas winced, crossed his legs, crossed them the other way, tried to fix his hair, put his feet flat back on the deck. Surgery was still on his mind and he shook his head, sitting back with a deep exhale. He had to reposition his arms when he ran his hands through his hair, the pull deep in his still-numb pecs uncomfortable more than painful. At least he was starting to regain sensation here and there, but it was the scars on his pelvis that seemed to have had their nerves permanently severed. The waistband of his garish board shorts chafed them but he hardly noticed.

"Fit my fat ass up there? No way. Poke somebody's eye out with my knees. Nah." The response was deflecting and, as the jazzy sounds of Las Van Van faded into the Cubano radio host's voice, Studd lifted his head and pierced Vegas with a stern stare. He felt like one of those preserved butterflies on display - Or maybe something a little less pretty, like a beetle, or without so much armour, like-

SURPRISE AGAIN! vinnie had top surgery AND a hysterectomy (as well as vaginectomy)! TRANS RIGHTS. vinnie has more than just gender dysphoria and also struggles with body dysmorphia, something that's excessively common amongst athletes. this applies not only to his injuries, but to his own perceived size, and the studd being so much broader than him is difficult for him to deal with occasionally, despite the height difference. he's dysmorphic about the fat content on his body, especially as it begins to redistribute now that he has access to HRT intended testosterone. even thinking of himself as a bug under scrutiny falls victim to compulsive heteronormativity and dysmorphia simultaneously, where a butterfly is too effeminate for comfort, yet a beetle is much too masculine to be achievable.

"White Diamond for your thoughts, chico?" That deep, smooth voice was suddenly beside Vegas, the storage unit behind him popped open. He was so caught up in his own thoughts he only belatedly processed his stablemate stand and cross the distance between them in one massive stride. His meaty, powerful thighs were right next to the Las Vegas transplant's face, and he wanted to take a bite of that sun kissed skin. […] most other boaters passing them with a wide berth. Probably didn't want to have to offer such a big group their blow, some real Southern hospitality.

Swaying with the waves like the ocean was his second home, Studd whipped up the cocktail in under a minute, straining it into one of the crystalline glasses Dallas stocked his mini bar with. Everything was dropped back into the cooler seemingly unceremoniously, the table folded back into the box, and the lid slammed shut. He was expertly juggling two cocktails in one hand and a cigar box of honeyed cherries in the other, dropping down beside Vinnie heavily.

studd initiating the alcohol consumption on his own terms, from the timing to the drinks mixed, and he mixes them himself, decides who gets what when, and when everything gets packed back up. as mentioned in another post, i don't project scott hall's real world alcoholism onto his fictional characters, but do embrace a narrative depicting substance dependency and the struggle against becoming addicted.

vinnie's dysmorphia continues at full speed, accompanied by the "i want to be him" thoughts' best friend: "i want him." i'm cutting out most of the intimate portions because they're self explanatory and the fic can speak for itself. this entire section depicts the amount of trust vinnie has in razor as well as the power dynamic between the two of them this early in their relationship, and i recommend reading the fic if you've come this far into the director's cut but have yet to do so.

also: wealthy boaters in florida avoiding the garish, bougie boat full of gruff men and attractive women because they don't want to share That much cocaine was, allegedly, an actual phenomena. fascinating.

[…] [The Diamond Studd] tasted like salt, expensive cigars, and hot vinyl[…]

hi slater i painstakingly created this flavour profile to appeal to you, specifically. if i could send you a tea that tastes like this i would [+a little gunpowder tea in the mix. BANG!]

He wanted to shove the Studd down and ride him to death, but that was usually what people thought of him. Sunglasses starting to slide down his nose, Vegas licked his lips, barely able to meet the brunette's eyes. His brown hair looked like a dark halo, and Vegas was acutely aware of how much of a mess his own hair had to look. It'd been a long time since he let his hair grow out this much and he was having trouble taming it, but, hey, he wouldn't mind if the Studd was fucking with it, although Vegas would prefer to be twisting his hair around his fist while he screwed him into the sand-

we return to desireville for a brief moment to bring you: vinnie's thoughts course correcting from the indoctrinated, heteronormative "you are girl and PiV/submissive intercourse is what you want" to "i'm Me and i want to dominate this man within an inch of his life."

as a disclaimer: people, whether they be intersex, cis, trans, what have you, are welcome and encouraged to want and pursue whatever kind of sex they want, including not having sex at all. my narrative does not imply that trans men who bottom are inherently subverting or invalidating their gender, nor being heteronormative. for vinnie, being dominant and topping a man, explicitly, are things that have been gatekept from him due to his AGAB, genitalia, and own body image and confidence issues.

Embarrassment suddenly caught up with Vinnie. He felt like he had heat stroke. The song on the radio was loud and quiet at the same time, the surf mocking him, just like the ladies and Dallas all laughing-

"Hey," the hand left his chin and slapped his cheek gently. […]

this, and the rest of this paragraph, depict the studd identifying and disrupting vinnie's anxiety. it was really important to me to depict a young diesel struggling with his OCD and dysmorphia, and the invasive, disordered thinking, and anxiety that come with it. the next section contains a depiction of internalised transphobia, which i will be discussing, as a warning.

"Uh," he stuttered, cleared his throat, tried to get the octave of his voice back down to where it should be. "Uhuh. Yeah. Look- […] -I'm nervous, okay? Mom and I are good, but people back home are going to recognise me, and they're going to remember me as the wannabe-transsexual beanpole who used her Rez card to strong arm the school district."

He hadn't even realised the pronoun slip until it was too late and he cringed, hoping none of the girls heard. The last thing he needed right now was another one of Dallas's Queens trying to be his life coach, and any of the Dolls present were liable to snitch. […] "I just- I don't feel like I'm playing with a full deck here, you know? The odds are stacked against me. And, whatever happens, I still gotta psych myself back up for the cut again. You know how scary that is, Ramon? Five surgeries in two years, if you include rebuilding my leg, and now they're going in and fucking it up even more-"

vinnie and his mother maintain a very close, positive relationship all throughout her life, and none of his career choices, identity, or presentation ever threaten that. he always sends money home, always takes care of her, and invites her to participate in his life whenever possible. the rest of his community in michigan, though... he isn't as comfortable with. he was always awkward and disconnected from other natives having not grown up in the culture, his ojibwe father having passed away young. he went to tennessee, kentucky, and germany for basketball and college, went into long haul trucking, and always explored the leather and gay communities outside of detroit, not wanting to risk making his mother's life harder. he was still entitled to certain rights and accommodations as someone holding tribal registry, including telling white lies to play on the boys' baskbetball teams due to the lack of girls' ones.

he's more concerned with one of the dolls overhearing than he is concerned about engaging in self deprication, however; dallas employs drag queens as cosmotologists, stylists, consultants, whatever need be, and they generally treat vinnie like he's their little pup in need of some training and guidance. he also hires trans and intersex people for various positions, and i have notes for writing in his club's intersex transfem bartender in the future >;3c

on a more serious note: vinnie has a healthy degree of respect and fear for major surgery, and is already planning to undergo yet another massive procedure while still recovering from his most recent ones. he's has extensive repairs on his injured leg with mixed outcomes, in part due to the initial emergency surgery being less than ideal. i've had numerous major surgeries myself, and have more in my future. each one is harder than the last, and most of them occuring within a span of only nine years. recovery feels like you've been shoved back to square one every. single. time, and you fight and claw and work your way back to something better... knowing, as soon as you do, your surgeon's going to ask you to schedule the next surgery.

vinnie is disabled. his leg injuries disable him, insufficient medical intervention disables him, ongoing treatment disable him. both of his legs experience chronic pain, inflammation, and recurrant injuries, and he's a massive, heavy, athletic man - it takes a toll. now, he's preparing to undergo mixed method phalloplasty, which will demand that grafts be taken from his thighs and mons pubis region. he isn't eligible for full MLD but doesn't want to undergo RFF nor methods grafting from the torso due to visible scarring and potential loss of hand dexterity. as a disabled person: it is scary, putting your body through major surgery that will further complicate your quality of life, potentially forever in the rare event a severe complication arises.

"Whoa, whoa, okay," the Studd cut him off […] Hand carefully avoiding the scars, he cupped his still impressive pec and massaged it tenderly. […] "You're a powerful, sexy, perfect man, you hear me? Anybody got a problem with you, you call me, Vegas. Tch. […] I'll Diamond Drop 'em. Drop 'em like the ugly, desperate, jealous little flies they are."

Unable to fight the laugh that seized him, Vegas squeezed the Studd's thigh and shook his head. "Who booked you a flight, handsome?"

welcome to gender affirmation city, baby!! he loves vinnie. so much he's going to detroit with him whether he knows it or not. horniness incoming:

Eyebrows shooting up, Studd stole Vinnie's drink in a clatter of gold and diamonds, polishing it off and swiping an ice cube to crunch into bits. His mouth was so hot it melted almost instantly. Vegas wanted his tongue to melt in the Studd's mouth like that and, post-op, his cock-

when the . when tbe gender affirming surgery... affirm ur gender. i'm again cutting some softcore porn below because it is self explanatory, and if you want to read vinnie's bisexual thoughts and dallas being jumped by women you'll have to click the link up top

"Daddy-o, baby, who else? You think he'd risk losin' you to the 313?" This was news to Vinnie. […] Studd didn't seem as interested, both his hands falling to Vinnie's tight waist, thumbs tracing the lines of the four pack he was slowly working on. "Besides, I never gamble with sentiment. You're all mine, Vegas."

nicknames for dallas include "dally" and "daddy-o/daddio" and i love that for him. "the 313" refers to detroit's area code when dialing a detroit phone number, and this turn of phrase is commonly used to refer to specific regions. this area code is actually a sister code to NYC's 212, LA's 213, and chicago's 312. at the time, almost all phones used rotary dialing, and the easiest codes to dial were reserved for regions with the highest telephone density in the US.

and possessiveness and intimacy, because they help vinnie feel less dysphoric and dysmorphic, razor flat out thinks he's hot, and he's extremely attached to his best friend and loathes the idea of him going at something so serious and intimidating alone. after some fumbling:

[The Studd] was sliding into him, pulling him, fitting their bodies together seamlessly. If anything, they fit even better now than before, and Vegas had no where to put his hands but in Studd's hair, the stubble on his jaw, the twin earring to Dallas's dangling from his ear. […] His breath was heavy in [Vinnie's] ear, voice a deafeningly quiet earthquake. "I gotta give you a sexier name before I show you off on hometown turf, boy."

vin's finally able to enjoy his body a little bit, to like the way it feels when another person touches him. post-op, he doesn't have to feel uncomfortable about his chest touching someone else's. post-op, he doesn't have to feel as uncomfortable and scared when his groin and genitals are interacted with, even if there's more work to be done. razor's someone he's been deeply intimate with pre-op, and is the only person thus far that he can compare pre- and post-op physicality with. this is hugely affirming for vinnie.

and my favourite thing about my razor muse overall: he named him diesel, and that's the name the gambler formerly known as vinnie vegas took for the rest of his life.

IT IS DONE. thank you my beloved friend for allowing me to take you on this wild ride into the inner workings of my mind

#[ colour commentary ] #[ slater ] #FLOPS. #if you like transgenderism and bisexy men... this one's for you #space! more diesel in this one

[thejewitches]

From the Jewish Museum, originally from Vercelli (Italy), Date:1776

Berger, Maurice et al. MASTERWORKS OF THE JEWISH MUSEUM. New York: The Jewish Museum, 2004, pp. 120-121, writes, “In Italy, ketubbot were commissioned by all Jews, including Sephardi, Ashkenazi, Levantine (from the eastern Mediterranean), and Italian- descendants of the old Roman community. Written on parchment, they usually featured lavish decoration, inspired by both Jewish and Christian art. For instance, the use of an archway to frame the text, as seen in this fine example from Vercelli, can be traced to the title pages of Hebrew printed books- northern Italy was a main center of Hebrew printing-but may also be linked to local architecture or sculpture. Figurative representation was also common in Italian ketubbot, although for centuries, most Jews had shied away from it because of their stern interpretation of the biblical prohibition against graven images. The inclusion of human figures, some allegorical and others portraying biblical or genre scenes, reflects a high degree of acculturation.

Other popular motifs in decorated Italian ketubbot include the signs of the zodiac and, as seen here, the emblems of the two families. The adoption of unofficial coats of arms was widespread among wealthy Italian Jews, in imitation of the practices of the local nobility Most ketubbot include a single shield, containing the insignia for both families, or just that of the groom, whose family usually commissioned the contract because he was obligated to furnish the bride-Eleonora- with a ketubboh. This example, however, features two separate emblems, possibly because the bride belonged to a family of prominent scholars, including Benjamin Segrè of Vercelli, who might have been her father. The coat of arms for the Segre family-a rampant lion facing right with a Star of David-is featured at the center of the lower border. No less distinguished was the Treves family, to which the groom-Mordecai, son of Azriel Treves- belonged. Their emblem-a rampant lion to the right of an apple tree-appears above the text at center, a prominent location, for the groom's family likely commissioned the document. Issued in Vercelli, this ketubbah differs from other extant examples from the same Piedmontese city, characterized by an arcuated shape at bottom and a floral border. Although some Italian contracts depict the bride and groom, very few represent the wedding party-shown here in lavish costumes and hairdos-or the attendant musicians. Flirtatious interactions between various couples add a picaresque note, including a distinguished man with a cane peering through his spyglass at a lady at a window, at the upper right. A later example from Pesaro, dated 1853, at the Israel Museum ('79/339), also features a gathering of musicians and elegantly dressed couples, but the figures there were cut out from printed sources, painted, and pasted onto the parchment, instead of finely rendered, as seen here. The extravagance of examples such as this one might have prompted Italian rabbis to repeatedly enact laws limiting the amount of money that could be spent on the decoration of a marriage contract. The secular nature of this ketubboh's decorative program, with figures of a musician and a young man elegantly dressed (perhaps a rendering of the groom?) in the niches often reserved for depictions of Moses and Aaron, indicates that it might have been the work of a Christian artist. Many other Italian examples, however, display a close relationship between text and image, with depictions of biblical scenes featuring heroes whose names were borne by the groom, the bride, or their fathers, with extensive use of Hebrew texts, attesting that they were decorated either by Jewish artists or by Christian makers under the strong guidance of their Jewish patrons.”

#jewish #judaica #judaism #ketubah #ketubot #jewitches #jumblr #italian jew #jewry #jewish art #art

[littlesliceofimmortality]

hiiii!! :DD

long time no see!!

i want to come here and ask if u have any marla headcanon(s) in mind?

marla is awesome, and i would like to know how u interpret her character n’ stuff

thank u!!

have a lovely day/night

(p.s. i absolutely love ur milton headcanons!! they’re so neat!! ^ ^

and ur art is so fabulous!!)

HOWDY HEY!! big appreciation for the love :-] im always SO So delighted to serve up more headcanons & lucky for u ive been cooking marla headcanons in my notes app for a hot second

ITS ALOT SO UNDER THE CUT:

marla michelle velázquez crown

• puerto rican immigrant - didnt have a middle mame when her family moved to the states

• when she married callum & took his surname, she moved her last name to her middle mame to "americanize" herself while also respecting her culture

• was often shortened to just michelle by non-family members tho

• bilingual, grew up speaking spanish. practices with callum (multilingual) some to help him sound more like a native speaker

• military father, moved around alot before settling down in dialtown, wisconsin 

• first met callum when she interviewed him for the towns paper after he became a door to door salesman, also having viewed him as a town oddity but was allured by his freakish nature

• was a really good journalist and knew how to extract information, naturally charming, a bit flirty even

• callum was just as charismatic and returned the playful banter, only agreeing to an interview if he could ask questions in return

• got along really well and always had a bit of tension, ramping up their relationship subtly and knowing just how to make the other flustered

 • (although it was mostly callum the one being flustered by her)

• become seriously engaged when crown started running for president and he wanted her to be his first lady

• had a big, show-y wedding with tons of people ranging from marlas extended family to some of callums & milts peers

• had a more genuine and smaller wedding after with a handful of people later:-)

• pre-typewriter head she adored dolling herself up and using makeup and perfecting her hairdo

• obv cant do that now but she still keeps around an antique box full of makeup/product. maybe as a memoir to when times were simplier, to put it

• LOVED loved loved the aesthetic of the early 30s/40s and kept up the same fashion choices as the decades passed

• very iconic neck scarf..resembles mingus' alot

• not vain, but certainly concious of appearance. aware of how she has to look her best in the public eye at all times

• pampers mingus (cat) a comical amount and makes homemeals for her 

• fav office snacks are her banana chips & boiled plantains

• everyone is a big marla fan shes such a pleasant lady! however people that underwstimate her Quickly learn not to

• does alot of listening and studying...sits quietly and absorbs information like a spongue before firing back a question thatll catch the other person off guard. very intense person

• overhears alot more than youd think. if she wrote a book about political gossip itd be longer than the bible

#henrys rambles #marla crown #callum crown #dialtown #SHE MAKES ME SO SMILEY GRIN shoutout to the first lady Ever

[poisonousquinzel]

hey, hey do y'all know about this scene from the novel about Harleen's first day at Arkham? cause I'm devastated we've yet to see her in an official flashback I need more positive accurate Harleen pls pls dc I'm begging you lemmensee her

Dr. Harleen Quinzel arrived for her first day on the job in the same kind of seriously professional outfit she’d worn for her interview. The tailored navy blue suit, cream-colored silk blouse, straight skirt, and conservative black pumps made her look like she always knew exactly what to do. The no-nonsense black-framed glasses added to the effect, as did her neat French roll hairdo. Her appearance projected confident competence, but if you looked twice, you’d notice she was also gorgeous, which had been why Dr. Leland had hesitated to hire her, even with her amazing med-school transcript and the many glowing references, all of which had checked out. So here she was, about to give this young, unwary woman a tour of what Dr. Lopez had called Hell’s waiting room.

They had just come up the short flight of stairs from the mezzanine level where all the doctors’ offices were located and started down the main corridor in Long-Term Wing A when the red and yellow ceiling lights began to flash and the alarms went off. Even after fifteen years, Joan Leland always jumped when this happened, but lovely, young Dr. Quinzel didn’t even flinch—she only looked around, eyebrows raised in an expression of mild curiosity.

“Code Croc!” yelled Armand LaDue over the PA system. “I repeat, Code Croc! This is not a drill!”

Dr. Leland felt a flash of irritation. Only Armand felt compelled to say not a drill, even though everyone would know it wasn’t. Arkham didn’t have drills, only emergencies.

“All personnel clear the halls and common spaces! Security only!” Armand went on. “I repeat, security only!”

Dr. Leland turned to Dr. Quinzel and took her elbow. “We need to go back to my office—” she began. But Dr. Quinzel wasn’t listening. She was looking at the end of the hall where Killer Croc had just appeared in all his hideous, scaly glory.

The Croc was definitely one of the more eye-catching Arkham inmates, as big as their biggest orderlies, with scaly green skin, a mouth full of nasty, sharp teeth, and hungry, reptilian eyes. Dr. Leland didn’t know if normal crocodiles ever made growling noises but Killer Croc certainly did, and it was one of the most frightening things Joan Leland had ever heard, the sound of an inhuman beast that had burst out of a nightmare to attack the real world. He had been a man once and technically he still was—his DNA, though mutated, wasn’t purely reptilian and his brain waves were human. But none of that mattered when he was bounding toward you with a murderous roar.

The inmates in the rooms lining the corridor began howling and jeering. The lights were still flashing, the alarms were still whooping, and Armand LaDue was still yelling on the PA. Joan Leland’s world suddenly started tilting sideways; she ordered herself to get a grip. This was no time to feel dizzy. But the world went on tilting as Killer Croc came at them, his brutish gaze fixed on the tasty morsel that was Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

Dr. Quinzel casually reached out and took a fire extinguisher off the wall beside her. Dr. Leland had just enough time to wonder if the woman thought the place was on fire before Killer Croc leaped. With a smooth, practically casual motion, Arkham’s newest staff psychiatrist swung the extinguisher forward and up, hitting Killer Croc squarely in his most sensitive spot.

The Croc’s roar went up three octaves as he collapsed on the floor a few feet from the round toes of Dr. Quinzel’s tasteful black pumps, holding his crotch and rolling from side to side. A second later, the orderlies pounced on him with sedatives and wrapped him up in a canvas cocoon.

“You okay, Doc?” one of them asked Dr. Leland, looking as boggled as she felt.

She nodded. As they carried the still-whimpering Croc away, she turned to Dr. Quinzel, who was busily inspecting the extinguisher.

“No damage,” Dr. Quinzel said cheerfully, “but it’ll have to be recharged next month.” She put it back on the wall, then smiled brightly at Dr. Leland. “You were saying?”

“I was?” Dr. Leland said.

Dr. Quinzel’s smile became even brighter. “About the new neuroleptics?”

“Oh, yes.” Dr. Leland still felt a bit shaky but at least the world wasn’t tilting anymore. “We have new neuroleptics.”

“How new?” asked Dr. Quinzel chattily.

“Some are recent releases,” Dr. Leland said. “But a couple aren’t on the market yet.”

Dr. Quinzel’s eyes widened behind her no-nonsense glasses. “Tell me about those.”

And,,,, it's directly tied to how Joker finds out about her in the novel, in exchange for them seeing each other during her walkthrough, and I love it cause it gives more detail into his fucked up Very Clearly Manipulative And Cruel perspective. A....

Within thirty minutes, everyone on the premises had heard how the utterly unflappable new doctor had taken down the Croc in full attack mode, then stood over him chatting with Dr. Leland until the orderlies hauled him away. Oh, and she was also a knockout.

Sitting in his room at the very bottom of criminally insane hell, the Joker was fascinated. He listened to several different accounts from both staff and patients. They all told the same story—a hot young blonde clocked the Croc in the family jewels without flinching, like he wasn’t the most grotesque thing she’d ever seen. She was described variously as Helen of Troy, the goddess Athena, a Valkyrie, and the reincarnation of an actress who was actually still alive.

This was the woman he’d been waiting for, the Joker thought. Someone who wasn’t going to bore him to death. Who might actually be worth whatever time and effort it would take to destroy her.

He couldn’t wait.

ooooooh I hate him so much

Harley Quinn: Mad Love Pg. 74-77

#harleen my love i see you #<3333 and I love you <3333 #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc comics #tw clown boy #tw abuse mention

[incaensio]

setting : day thirty - three after the arena break out, afternoon, the room where they film the propos with : cressida astor @vengefvlx

the dreaded timestamp in her arm appears today. after days of zero time with the propos team — and no word if any of them have been successful; she's been all but barred from the command room for over a week now — it seems that she will need to deliver another lackluster performance for cressida again. the thought is not one bit comforting, but after days of nothingness, she thinks she may as well do it — she doesn't realize she's still nervous about this until it's been hours after her last meal and she can still feel it half-digested, and no amount of walking around seems to help her queasiness.

she knows the room where the cameramen work by now, so she goes towards it, and almost laughs at herself because how easily this could be played as eagerness to be in front of the cameras when she appears out of nowhere, several hours before the time demanded in her forearm, without an ounce of the make up and the hairdo effie still has to put on her. but it's not for the actual filming that she is looking forward to, but the anxiety that disturbs her is for what they'll ask her. if she practices her response, instead of being caught off-guard, they won't have to spend hours deleting footage of her frowning and pausing and looking lost. yes, cressida would help her with that, wouldn't she?

indeed, it is the filmmaker she finds in the room. her credentials and fingerprint allow her in the room without the need for another's — thankfully — and katniss is content that she isn't barging on anyone's filming time; the only person that she finds, instead, is cressida herself, in front of what seems to be a computer of sorts, sorting through clips of videos. she sees a few of herself, and can not help but to cringe at the much older, yet flatter, mockingjay. "so you're back," katniss speaks, breaking the real human silence, not bearing to see any more of that. "i was told you went. in the mission." she didn't have all the details, mostly because the one that truly mattered is that it was in district eight, and that the mockingjay couldn't go — they can't have her damaged because that wouldn't fare well in front of the cameras, supposedly (capitol logic, no matter how far away from there they are; it's all much of the same, katniss was right from the beginning). "but it's not over." she supposes even she would know if they brought in the soldiers with more refugees, unless they were all dead (and because gale and sterling are there, she'd rather not to think on that possibility). "is filmin' the victors that important for 'em to bring ya back and forth?" she hasn’t seen the others’ film, though she has heard from finnick — maybe everyone isn’t as bad as she is, and that warrants the trips and the constant filming.

#— 𝐾. 𝐸. : written. #eventideevent04 #eventidemd08 #anxiety tw #death tw