#yes I will be like this every time we get a crumb of news

[ministarfruit]

DID Y’ALL SEE THE NEW APOLLO JUSTICE VISUALS BECAUSE WOOO YEAH WOWZA anyway I drew a low budget version of it which you may see here

#ace attorney #apollo justice #I'M SO HAPPY!!!! #yes I will be like this every time we get a crumb of news #trucy wright #phoenix wright #athena cykes #maya fey #how in the hell am I going to tag the rest #ummm #centre characters only! #ema skye #klavier gavin #nahyuta sahdmadhi #simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #miles edgeworth #rayfa padma khura'in

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.  

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause.  Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.   

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”   

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?” 

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.  

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”  

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning.  “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.  

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.  

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his. 

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.  

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.  

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.  

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”   

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.  

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.  

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.    

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.” 

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.  

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.  

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.   

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

[buckyalpine]

Spicy Snacks

Bucky x reader, Steve 

Warnings: 2 high super soldiers who get into your stash of spicy snacks, fluffff 

“Dear god” 

You weren’t sure what it was you were going to walk into when you heard a ruckus in the kitchen but it was everything but this. Literally anything. The last time you’d seen such a mess was when Peter thought it’d be a good idea to babysit Morgan alone. Even that was salvageable. You should’ve known how bad it would be, given the trail of crumbs you followed from your drawer to the kitchen, but still. 

This was something else...

There were snacks strewn about left, right and center. Bags of chips and candy littering every inch of the counter tops. 

But what truly topped it all were the two massive super soldiers sitting cross cross apple sauce on top of the kitchen island, giggling like school children with their hands, literally in the cookie jar. 

“Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Steve sang to himself while stuffing a chocolate chip one into his mouth, practically swallowing it whole. 

“Steve stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Bucky snickered, taking the jar for himself and scarfing them down two at a time. 

“Who me?”

“Yes you!”

“Not me!”

“Then who?” 

“What are you two idiots doing” Your voice broke them away from their nursery rhyme, staring at your boyfriend first before turning to his bestfriend, the both of them trying to hide the jar behind their backs. 

“Nothing’ y/n” Steve gave you a dopey grin, his baby blue eyes glazed like donuts, snickering at his bestfriend attempting to stab an apple juice box with the straw.

“S’too hard!!” Bucky whined, sticking his tongue out in concentration, eyes wide, trying to get his straw in to no avail, looking back up to you for help. He gave you his most innocent puppy pout hoping you’d help him, sticking his hands out for you to take his juice. 

“Bucky get down” You huffed, trying to hide your smile when he clambered down like an admonished child with his head hung. You rolled your eyes, pushing the straw and giving it back to him, shaking your head at the grin he gave you, whispering a shy thank you. 

“Ooooooo you like herrrrrr” Steve howled, now kicking his feet, letting them hang off the counter while Bucky blushed, peeking at you through his lashes. “BUCKY HAS A CRUSH” 

“Nooooo” He drawled out, taking a long sip from his juice box. 

“We’ve been dating for 2 years you dork” You watched his cheeks redden more, which only made him more adorable but you weren’t sure how much more nonsense was going to ensue when the both of them were higher than kites. 

“She’s my girlfriend” Bucky giggled at the last word, now struggling with a new box while Steve’s eyes lit up, a classic God awful captain America plan had bean to manifest itself. He slipped off the counter, the effects of the gummies and whatever else he’d swallowed had knocked his agility off its rockers; he moved with the grace of a donkey. 

“Where are you going” you stopped him before he could sneak off, your boyfriend looking equally guilty. 

“Noooowhere” Steve shrugged but you gave him a pointed look while Bucky flailed his hands, hoping to silently communicate they were not about to do something idiotic. 

“Sit down. Finish your snacks and then you both need to go take a nap” You felt like you were talking to toddlers, not bothering to add they had to clean their mess because you were sure that would only end in more chaos. 

“But we were gonna go flying with Sam’s wings!” 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this” You muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking again, “No. You can’t just go take Sam’s wings and go flying. Now finish your juice boxes and go to bed” 

“NOOOO” Steve jumped onto Bucky, wrapping his long legs around his waist, holding onto him like a massive koala, giving you his best puppy eyes, matching his equally ridiculous best friend. “WE DON’T WANNA GO TO BED” 

“Boys....”

“Please???” Bucky pouted effortlessly holding the captain up while your face scrunched up, mentally face palming yourself.

“No. No, you cannot go flying! You’ll end up hurting yourself or breaking the wings or- for fucks sake what are you doing?!” You gawked; Steve and Bucky had stopped listening many moons ago. They were back to rummaging for food, a stray sour patch kid falling to the floor. 

“5 second rule” Bucky shrugged, bending over to pick it up, not seeing the smirk that crossed his bestfriends face. 

“Chubby dumpling” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s ass a poke, making him yelp. Bucky stared at him like a deer in headlights while Steve cackled to himself, tossing back another packet of nerds into his mouth. You were to engrossed at the scene in front of you to notice Tony walk in, his face equally perplexed at yours. 

“What it God’s name” Tony stared at the chaos that was taking place with you in the middle, “Do I even want to ask?”

“They got into my stash of....snacks...” You smirked while Tony cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“Snacks, y/n? Really?”

“...Spicy snacks”

“Who would’ve thought this would be their downfall” He mused beside you “Oh-I think clothes are coming off-oh fuck” Tony ducked while Steve's shirt flew above his head, eyes growing wide when a pair of jeans followed.

“It’s so hot!!” Steve huffed, star fishing on the cool tile floor, arms and legs splayed out to the sides. “Soooo hottttt, n’I’m sleepy now” He yawned, stretching out like a cat before closing his eyes, a sugar crash sneaking up on them.  

“Okay, someone call for this ones bromantic partner to figure this out” Tony covered his eyes while calling for Sam, hoping to get Steve into some clothes before hauling him back to his room. “Y/n, I’m assuming you got terminator covered?” 

“Yeah, I- Oh no” you were met with your boyfriends Henley, followed by his joggers, landing on your head, squealing when you found yourself hanging off his shoulder seconds later. 

“Buck, where are we going?!” He mumbled something while making his way to the elevator in just his boxer briefs. 

“S’nap time” he mumbled sleepily, trudging with you to the bedroom and plopping down on top of you, using your chest as a pillow. “wan cuddles” 

“Mhm, then you get cuddles, baby boy” you giggled, carding your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling from how ridiculously adorable he was. He let out a content sigh, softly snoring moments later. You bit you lip to keep your laughs down, hearing the commotion outside your room in the hallway. 

“Steve, you need to put on pants”

“Pants are for the WEAK”

“No-Steve NO!-don’t take off your-for fucks sake” 

“THIS IS AMERICAS ASS”

“That’s America’s cock and balls” 

“Please, for the love of God, go to your room” 

“I’M GOING TO MAKE A TIKTOK” 

“Steve no”

“Steve yes”

“STEVE” 

“What’s the live feature” 

*Sounds of Steve shrieking and then a thump with continued muffled pouting*

“You’re never eating spicy anything again” 

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fluff #captain america #captain america fluff #bucky fluff #marvel fluff #bucky barnes x fluff #Bucky Barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #Bucky Barnes x F Reader #bucky barnes x freader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x fluff #bucky x f reader #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fics #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #avengers fluff #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes

[irisintheafterglow]

hello…………..kiyoomi crumbs pls

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

*patting the hood of a car* this bad boy can hold so much bf!sakusa

cw: swearing and the msby jackals being idiots

you checked your phone again and prayed you weren't keeping him waiting for a long time.

"hi, is omi still in there?"

"he should be just about finishing up, but you can go ahead. you know your way around the place by now," the security guard states warmly, giving you the go-ahead to navigate the back halls of the gym to the men's locker room. even if you did find yourself lost, it'd be easy to get to your destination by simply following the banter of your boyfriend's three very spirited teammates. their voices grow louder with every step and you have to stifle a laugh when you start to pick up the bits and pieces of their conversations.

"and then she told me i was being delusional! can you imagine? me? delusional?"

"remind us all when you met this girl, atsumu?"

"...last week."

"dare i say, she has a point," deadpans the smooth, low voice of your boyfriend. he always knew the best ways to press atsumu's buttons, making it very difficult to invite his friends over for dinner without harmless arguing occurring at the kitchen table. "it's okay; i'm sure you'll find another 'love of your life' next week."

"shoyo, the fuck are you doin' with my shirt?"

"can you all please put clothes on? if sakusa's partner walks in here and all of you are naked-"

"i'm not naked!"

"we know you're not, bokuto, but atsumu needs to put his tits away before i cut them off with scissors," kiyoomi quips and you fail to muffle your snort from around the corner. the room quiets in an instant and you hear a faint fuck before he finally comes to find you. he's still slightly sweaty from practice, all toned muscle and messy hair and bright eyes that only twinkle for you. "hi, beautiful."

"hey, handsome. you done threatening physical violence in there?" your eyebrow quirks in question and he shakes his head tiredly, tugging you into him by the belt loops of your pants. your arms rest on his shoulders, brushing stray curls from his forehead.

"not yet. i still have some unfinished business."

"mmm, with razors, i hear." you nod in solemn understanding and his mouth quirks into a half-smile, another expression of his that was reserved only for you. his lips press a kiss to your temple in a rare show of public affection, inhaling your presence with his eyes shut contentedly. "i could be wrong, but a federal offense will probably screw up your olympic prospects."

"if you tell me to do it, i'll do it," he murmurs absentmindedly and you chuckle under your breath.

"what, murder atsumu or not murder atsumu?"

"dealer's choice." he places one more kiss on your nose before resting his forehead against yours like he'd been away from you for decades. to you, it was a few hours; but, to him, it felt like a century. "i missed you a lot."

"i can tell. you're very affectionate tonight." his forehead scrunches in confusion at the implication of your statement.

"what am i, a cat?" the incredulity in his voice makes you giggle and, despite his best efforts to remain stoic, you can tell he's fighting back a smile too.

"in some ways, yes. you do tend to leave hair all over our couch, and you make a lot of noise when you're hungry." he makes a proud noise in the back of his throat and lightly pinches the flesh of your sides in defiance.

"i'll buy us a new one if you want me to," he promises. you stopped sharing product ads with omi on instagram because he tended to buy you anything that you sent him, even if it was just a funny little trinket you saw on an etsy shop. these items included but were not limited to stationary, plushies, athleticwear, and, of course, furniture.

"you don't need to do that."

"maybe i already have."

"thanks for letting me know that your newest love language is buying me a sofa."

"my love language is doing whatever you want me to do, angel." you both jump when a loud crash comes from the locker room around the corner, followed by hinata's panicked rambling and bokuto saying "that was fucking epic!" atsumu, you'd guess, is either the culprit or the object that caused the crash. you gently push omi's sturdy shoulders away and he groans in protest. "do i have to?"

"wrangle your team, put some proper clothes on, and take me to dinner, lover boy."

"as you wish."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu crack #ask iris!

[fumifooms]

Chilchuck’s wife and family - Facts, theories and headcanons

I want to keep this as a sort of masterpost on Chil’s family situation if I can, but if we get a lot of information on it (in the additional content that Kui is gonna make) that renders this more or less useless I probably won’t update this anymore. If you find other crumbs of information or I've said anything factually incorrect please do tell me! I'm planning to edit this as we go since I want to compile most if not all of the information and pages we get about this topic on here, and if I just wait to post it perfection paralysis will nip this in the bud. It focuses a lot on Chilchuck and Chilchuck's wife relationships, but the daughters and Chilchuck's own parents and siblings are talked about as well.

CW/disclaimer: This post talks about messy family dynamics and such, there’s no outright abuse I’m implying anywhere, but alcoholism and neglect are mentioned and discussed. I’m not here to demonize anyone! I love every character involved and I just want to theorize about the topic as a layered issue that involves complex characters. Also, I try to use very transparent language as to when I’m citing or analyzing canon information and when I’m giving a personal interpretation or headcanoning.

Abbreviated table of content:

Timeline and circumstances

Possible strains on the marriage

The hair question. Confirmation on what his wife looks like?

Other family dynamic & post-canon theories & headcanons

Parenting style + misc in a reblog addition (new)

Let’s start with the facts, shall we?

Timeline and circumstances

So, we see that Chilchuck and his wife are childhood friends, and they married at 13 years old and had two children in that same year. Since half-foots reach the age of maturity at 14, they seem to be what we'd call teen parents. It's a bit debatable though, since Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen (humans) is 16 instead of 18 or even 21, so what's considered to be the age of maturity is a cultural thing and isn't fully reliable when we want to compare to our irl understanding and what developmental stage it perfectly aligns with. Also, during the succubus chapter Chichuck says that his daughters were all now of age to be independent, and Chilchuck's wife leaves to live with Flertom, which would mean that Puckpatti was independent at age 10 and lived away from home as well (since she's the third/last daughter). Ah yes another interesting thing to note is that we don’t know the pregnancy periods for the races, since Meijack and Flertom were born the same year. It could be tight timing or it could be something else, but I don’t think they’re twins, they keep talking about them being the oldest and the middle child, them being twins is definitely the sort of thing that would get mentioned.

Him starting working on the island notably happens just one year before his wife leaves him. I don't remember the other instances of him mentioning it though I feel like it happened, but since he started working at the Island's dungeon, working as a dungeon diver and then forming the half-foot guild, that probably means he started being away for longer periods of time and having a less reliable schedule on when he'd be coming back home. It is said that he went back home somewhat regularly iirc, though he usually ends up sleeping at the half-foot guild quarters. I'm not sure if Kahka Brud is also where he lived with his family, or just since he rented someplace new after she left him. He and his timeline state that he was born in a small village "northeast of the island", which he left at 14 one year after being married, but it isn’t stated where they go after so it’s unsure how far his home was from the island if it wasn’t in Kahka Brud. We don’t know when his father died so if that factors in to him leaving his village we have no clue.

Chil also says that he hasn’t seen or spoken with his wife nor daughters since the incident, which would mean he's gone 4 years without contact with his family during the events of canon. I don't remember if Chilchuck is said to exchange letters with his daughters, beyond the initial one from Flertom saying her mother was with her, so I've been assuming he hasn't.

He also says "For about ten years I’ve been travelling to dungeons in various areas and doing work" which considering he’s turning 29 that year would mean he started around 19 years old? The panel also gives details what sort of work he’s been doing. Either way it’s confirmed that Chilchuck travels for his work a lot.

In addition, since Chilchuck has the seal of approval of the bicorn + says so himself, he has always stayed faithful to his wife. So that means that unless he's had previous adventures before he was 14 and got married, he's never dated anyone else in his life, nor had romantic or sexual encounters/experiences with others in his 16 years of marriage right up to canon (year 514). I feel it’s safe to say that it’s implied that during all these years starting from when they were married, Chilchuck's wife was a housewife whose main job was taking care of the kids and the house.

Marcille's take on what happened is unreliable, as Kui even takes the time to directly say so in the Adventurer's Bible, so I don't want to use it as a baseline even if it offers some insight on what could have happened (her feeling out of place, leaving to test his love, etc etc).

What Chilchuck says seems to be accurate though since it pertains to his perspective of the events! Unlike how Marcille's theory flows, Chilchuck was aware that something was off before she left since she "suddenly fell into a bad mood".

Piecing everything together, my theory: Chilchuck and his wife were childhood friends and have always always sort of danced around of each other, the classic movie love story with childhood sweethearts, until they ultimately confessed and got together. While dating, Chilchuck's wife becomes pregnant and they're both unequiped to deal with the situation but decide to marry, either a bit forced in order to cover it up or hopeful to make the best of it. They make it work as they can and Chilchuck works to provide for the family while she takes care of the home and the kids, which means that even though he's not a deadbeat father (he cares, he was at least a bit involved in their lives and raising them since for example he knows how to braid hair after all) he ends up being rather absent from home. It only gets worse over the years, especially when Chilchuck starts working further and further away from home and coming home less often, and since Puckpatti left home Chilchuck's wife is alone at home most of the time, never knowing when Chilchuck would be coming and if to prepare the table for two instead of one, or even if he'd be coming back at all since his work is dangerous. The humdrum and lifestyle would get to her, they've grown into different people in these 10 years of marriage and she doesn't feel the spark or feels valued & seen anymore, so she leaves. He feels confused and betrayed which turns into anger so he doesn’t try to reach out and mend things, and with the way he says they’re estranged and he moves away I think he’s avoiding his family somewhat.

Possible strains on the marriage

Tfw all your daughters are independent and your husband is gone to work almost all the time and he barely even tells you that he loves you, is there even a reason to stay together anymore? Every day it’s just you and an empty house and chores to do, wondering if you have to cook for one or for two today.

Alright it’s analysis and theorizing time! Although there are more facts down in this post if you care about Chilchuck's wife's appearajce, Chilchuck's parents & siblings or the kids, the essential facts so to speak were all in the first part.

We don't see Chilchuck showing any discontent with his wife through the manga so I'm assuming that he was content in his marriage, happy with his wife, and with how he stayed faithful to her even in the 4 years after she left (and never stopped calling her his wife. Which also shows a weird stubborn attitude since he wasn’t planning on reaching out to her and mend things but I’ll put aside the possible entitlement/coping mechanism for another time) I think he truly loved her and still does. Since she left him and not the reverse, I'm putting a lot of emphasis on his wife's side of things. Especially since we do see how Chilchuck is at work quite a bit but never see how he is at home. I’ll be sounding harsh towards Chil on this but he’s pretty much the only party we can criticize since we don’t know her, I still side with Chil on the leaving issue though, he’s justifiably pissed if she left without a word what the hell even.

Alcoholism and health

Chilchuck’s favorite food as listed in the Adventurer’s Bible is beer, and it’s shown that he’s prone to drinking until drunk whenever he gets the opportunity to. A cheerful drunk is still a drunk. (Extra reading: if interested here's a oneshot FMA fanfic by a friend that goes in depth about this very topic that really illustrates what sort of family dynamic that can bring about. It’s not dunmeshi but it’s a good read.) Chilchuck is also canonically underweight, starving himself for a strict weight management diet (Extra reading: you can look at a short compilation post about that here). Did you know under eating makes one irritable? And this is on top of Chilchuck sometimes/regularly coming back home with "horrible injuries", since Marcille guesses it and he acts like she’s dead right on everything that far.

It’s rough seeing someone you love mistreat themselves, not being able to shake them out of that and having to stay to see them wasting away. It’s rough seeing them put their work above their own health. Putting their work even above their family. Putting alcohol over family time. It's not that simple, but there's always that element when asking someone you love to tone it down with things like alcohol or such, that if they refuse, then it feels like they value that thing more than they value your feelings or opinions. That they love alcohol more than they love you.

You know how there’s often this thing of "Well I’m providing everything for this family, so whatever else that I do you don’t get to complain." I do think that it’s something they’d have argued over a little bit, not that he’d say it that way, but the essence of it. "Chilchuck, you’re drinking a lot of alcohol often, I’m worried maybe you should ease up on it." "This is what I want to do in my free time, give me a break.", "Dear, your mood gets worse when you’re hungry, I really think you should stop dieting-" "Would you rather I die in a trap because I was too heavy?", "Honey I don’t like when you work so far away from home for so long" "Well what else can I do, do you have any better idea?". That sort of thing. Even if not being passive agressive or snappy, or even spoken upon, these situations can cause tension, or a feeling of powerlessness or imbalance in the relationship. Although I personally feel like they were both rather passive in their relationship (thus having little arguments), which itself can be a problem since yes they let each other live but they grew more distant and less communicative as a result, more on that later. Content and tolerating, rather than happy and fulfilled.

Workaholism and long distance

Spending a lot (or even a majority?) of time away from home for years and years obviously can strain relationships in many ways. Besides becoming more distant, both with his wife and his daughters, there's just that side that maybe you grow apart or you end up not knowing them all that well. Like the fictional dialogue excerpts I wrote just above, the way Chilchuck puts work above most things can by itself be the source of a lot of unhealthy habits and strains that could not only hurt himself but his relationships too. Devoted doesn’t mean attentive, even if Chilchuck 100% devotes himself to only her romantically and works in the goal to support her that doesn’t transfer into being there for her, even when he physically is.

An absent father isn't necessarily a deadbeat father, but an absent father is absent. And alright, we don’t know what his schedule was like exactly, but he was busy and traveled around, I think it’s fair to assume that if we were to make comparisons it’d be like parents irl who are often on work trips. We don't know what Chilchuck's wife's social circle is like, but regardless of how big or small or supportive it is it would be easy to get lonely I think. Besides raising the kids undoubtedly falling more onto her shoulders as well. Managing a household can be very hard and tiring even when not alone, I can imagine she felt like she missed the support of Chilchuck either as help or comfort oftentimes. We know very little about her, but I don't get the impression that she'd build up resentment over it except maybe her ‘falling into a bad mood’, but exhaustion? Absolutely.

It’s also implied imo, even beyond Chil not often being at home, that they rarely go out together. And that could very well be part of why she was mad after the outing. In Marcille’s theory she says that her wife felt out of place amongst all the cool adventurer coworkers, and if it’s a rare time that they go out together and it was supposed to be about her meeting his coworkers… I feel like what could have happened was that she felt out of place yes, and even moreso if she ended up not participating in conversations much because of it and no one really seemed to care, and the evening was all Chilchuck and his coworkers chatting it up as always and she was an outsider, if she sort of just faded into the background, if it felt like nothing would have changed wether she was there or not... If she felt like her presence didn’t matter on this special outing that rarely happened, it could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back for her to want to leave, definitely. He finally comes back after a long work travel and they finally go out and this is what their quality time is like? The outing that was supposed to be about her & them both ended up being all about him, and once more she was supposed to just orbit around him and his life without complaint or her own selfish wants like a devoted wife. With how Chil said that she got mad "all of a sudden" on the way home and he didn’t know why, plus that he was probably drunk (which may very well have made the whole thing worse), I feel like it supports that he didn’t pay her much attention during the evening, not that I’m assigning him ill intent at all, I’m sure that for him, it was a casual and fun night out and he didn’t think it'd been unpleasant or alienating for her.

That night

And all of this speculation in order to try and figure… What happened? Why did she leave? I've already gone into it a fair bit, but this is where I discuss it fully in depth.

We can’t rely on Marcille’s theory. Neither in the why she felt so out of place enough to want to leave, nor if her intention when leaving was to "test" him. I definitely agree that the reason why she left is layered and that the night/outing was the straw that broke the camel’s back more than the cause perse, but besides that it’s hard to say how much of it was impulsive and how much was because nothing else had worked to fix their relationship, or how long she'd been thinking of maybe leaving him.

Personally my favorite interpretation isn't that she found herself to be boring surrounded with Chilchuck's adventurer coworkers, or her reason for leaving is super centered around insecurity and if Chilchuck even loves her anymore, but that she sees how rich and eventful Chilchuck's life is and at the same time realizes how stagnant her own life has been. Chilchuck has adventurers for coworkers and they go out to bars and spend evenings together chatting it up, while she always does the same house chores every day and waits, and wonders, uncertain about when her huband would come back, and waits some more. She has a sort of passive role in her own life that gets pulled in one way or another by the people around her at their whims and needs, which is also a recurring theme in the manga: having a passive role in your own life, or a role that's devoted to others. Like with Falin who's always following her parents' directives or following Laios around, being the party's healer and eventually sacrificing herself for Laios and Marcille (she also doesn't seem to think much of marriage, as seen with Shuro proposing to her and her not having answered yet, which fits with how she was supposed to have an arranged marriage in her hometown too; a loveless marriage isn't something alarming to her). Izutsumi too, whose whole arc is about her gaining freedom and figuring out how to use this empowerment for herself and what she wants.

So she'd sit there, not knowing anyone except Chilchuck and not being able to follow their conversations about dungeons, and think about how this is a world she's totally apart from. How she knows so little of the world compared to him. She'd realize that while she's always waiting for Chilchuck to come home, dedicated to him and their family, Chilchuck's world doesn't stop and end at where and when he sees her, that while she's waiting he's living and experiencing things and being self-fulfilled. She's so passive and devoted and her tasks seem almost senseless now that the house is empty except for her, and in that time he's formed half-foot unions and she understands so little of what his life has become outside of her sight. This isn't a diss on Chilchuck or his attitude, I just think that it'd make her ponder about happiness and lifestyles, what's worth it and if she's content with her life. I think she'd find that her and Chilchuck aren't on the same page anymore, and probably they don't communicate much or even that they don't know how to communicate with each other anymore.

Other factors

They really do seem to be on different pages and not know how to communicate with each other well, since for example Chilchuck thinks that on the way back home she "suddenly" fell into a bad mood and seemingly left it alone, or otherwise they didn't talk until he knew what was wrong. Or like how she left and Chilchuck never reached out to her to talk or mend things, just like she never reached out either. According to Marcille it could be that she wanted to "test his love" and see if he'd even care if she was gone, but Chilchuck just got angry that she left like that and never reached out to her, so if that's true they definitely have incompatible expectations or ways to deal with things like that. Maybe she thought of leaving as something he should react to by trying to win her back, but Chilchuck did nothing and let her do her thing, and tbh if that were me I'd also have waited on her to reach out because I figure out that if someone leaves me they want space from me idk. He seems to be rather passive when it comes to interpersonal relationships and how they can mess up, made an analysis post here that talks about it, so the way he reacted by not reacting doesn't feel surprising, maybe she didn't know/remember that part of him, or wanted to shake him out of that tendency. He has no clue why she left, and there are just so many misunderstandings here that it's impossible to know what happened and how she felt and what she wanted for the future.

Also, we’re shown that younger Chilchuck, when he started dungeon crawling, is much more "innocent" and optimistic, less closed off on himself and bitter, and maybe he hasn't even developed his famous "sarcastic retorts" and "abusive remarks" yet as is plastered on all his character introductions and stats. Chilchuck has definitely changed a lot over the years, and some would argue not for the better. Staying with someone for so long has implications that they'll change and be different of course, but signing up for marriage with someone can still leave you questioning that choice decades down the line when they're so different

We get to see his freckles fade in sync with his corruption arc /j

Tfw when you can’t recognize the man you fell in love with.

The hair question

Edit 1/13/2024 leak!!!! Things aren’t officially confirmed but this is a safe bet. You can still read this section to see my reasoning to thinking she had black hair prior to this tho haha

It's not all that important rationally, but the community's been split on the topic: is Chilchuck's wife blonde or not?

Kui highlights Chilchuck being attracted to blondes a grand total of three times, and many assume that his wife is blonde due to this. However, the only vision we see of Chilchuck's wife is Marcille imagining herself as a halfling, so it's up for debate! Flertom has black hair, and that's mostly been the key clue that has people arguing.

I'm not an expert in genetics but black hair is a dominant gene, but it also doesn't mean a black haired parent can't have a brown haired kid, or that two brown haired parents can't have a kid with black hair. As long as one of the parents have it in their genetic code from somewhere in their family tree, it's possible, if not maybe unlikely.

People have been taking Flertom having black hair as evidence that Chilchuck's wife has black hair, but it could be Chilchuck that has the gene and could pass it on. Although...

That seems unlikely. We don't know what Chilchuck's elder brother's hair color was, and his elder sister does have a darker brown hair color, but in the case their parents had black hair or the gene for it, it seems highly unlikely if not impossible for the dominant black hair gene to miss this many amount of time in the gene russian roulette game.

And so I shall now call a witness to the stand, and you reader shall be the judge… Dandan.

You know, this guy? He makes appearances throughout the whole manga, but only has one spoken line in an easy to brush over flashback iirc. He's most often seen hanging out around Chilchuck and other half-foots, but it's unsure how far back he and Chilchuck go.

Now. Remember how Chilchuck and his wife are childhood friends? What if, and hear me out, what if Dandan is related to her. A cousin, or a sibling. Or maybe he's Chilchuck's cousin, even, if we go the reverse route.

The chapter cover

Look at the chapter cover below! We see each member of the main party at a table that's meaningful to them and their history, mostly showing themes of family, community and routine. Laios and Falin sharing a meal by themselves, Marcille at a meal in the cafeteria at the magic academy, Senshi by himself cooking in the dungeon, Izutsumi with Inutade at the Nakamoto household, and... Chilchuck, surrounded by much more mysterious and unknown characters and surroundings.

The only face we see besides the infant is a young one on the left which strikes me as looking a ton like Chilchuck! I doubt it's Meijack or Puckpatti, or someone else, especially since Chilchuck left his hometown pretty early which must make family gatherings harder (and routine is implied with the others’ panels). If it were Meijack I think Kui would have drawn it to more closely match her too, and have her usual freckles. I also don't think it's just Chilchuck and his own family, since if that's Chilchuck the only sibling with black hair he could have is his elder brother and the infant in the middle is clearly, well an infant.

My thoughts are that the table is shared with family friends, or at least members of the community. The elderly person implies that either there's extended family or it’s a gathering, especially if Chilchuck's grandparents don't live with them. Community is implied to be very important with half-foots imo, and if Chilchuck is from a small hometown like he says that would surprise me even less. Childhood friends are often brought together as friends because of circumstances, such as proximity or their families being friends! Doesn't that kid almost off-panel on the right, with a Flertom-like hairstyle and black hair, look to be the same age as the Chilchuck on the left? 👀

Also… Notice the dragon plush she’s holding?

Passed down from mom to daughter? The "most likely belonged to his daughters" is interesting too

If he is related, Dandan could be the infant. I suppose he doesn't end up mattering all that much in the end if you theorize that the Flertom-like kid is his wife on its own though haha. But wether or not you think that this is convincing enough, it's all we have on the topic for now.

Ah yes! Lastly, I've seen the sentiment around that his wife should be blonde, that Chilchuck's taste for blondes, if not the thing that brought them together, should be an acquired taste from loving his wife. That if that's not the case, then Chilchuck's type being blondes is either out of place or insuting or unromantic, etc etc. I can't help but disagree! I think, especially with how Chilchuck and his wife are domestic and all about knowing each from a young age, familiarity etc etc, that it would be so sweet if she wasn't his type! Loving someone so deeply, even if they aren't an idealized type... Which is a common theme/story & character beat in Dungeon Meshi.

Family dynamic theories

Meijack is the most capable, takes after her father the most, seems to have her own business as a locksmith but has a stable steady life. Flertom is the most social, she works at a tavern which seems stable and is ambitious with marriage plans, she has a caring side to her since she sent her dad a handmade gift. Puckpatti is the most upbeat, though she has the most unstable lifestyle, seemingly doing odd jobs.

His daughters do seem well adjusted, which encourages me in that their family seems amicable on the whole and (at the very least) decently functional. We don’t hear what they think of Chilchuck but presumably none of them are on bad terms with him or each other. Flertom does say that "half-foot men are stingy" which, gee, I wonder what half-foot man would have made taught her that- though it does also seem to be a racial stereotype in general, with how for example Namari also says to "steer clear from stores with half-foot clerks".

Flertom seems to be the only one who reached out after their mother left (the only one who's mentioned to have done so at least), and it's because she was the one who took in her mother. It’s not implied that they exchange letters regularly too iirc, it possibly was the only letter they've exchanged since then. I wonder if the daughters even know the full story, if their mother told them all about it or very little. Maybe some are pretty out of the loop, or more distant.

It strikes me that they don't seem to be very close. We're not shown anything that leads us to believe they don't like their father, but I think they're so used to him being absent for work that such distance is normal for them and they don't really long for a deeper relationship or to see him often. They were already out of the house and it seems like they didn't see each other much at that time either so for them it would be just a bit less than the regular amount of Dad time. It's been 4 years Chilchuck what are you doing... But yeah! From what we see they seem mostly unaffected, almost indifferent, not that we can truly tell. I imagine Flertom is the one most attached to Chilchuck with how she sent him a handmade cowl, and I think he rubbed off the most on Meijack teachings wise (besides her attitude, she’s also the one who still wears braids, and we see that Chilchuck braids hair). It makes sense, since they're oldest, and on the contrary I think Puckpatti is the one that knows her father the least. It'd fit the timeline with him working away more while she grew up imo.

Wouldn't it be interesting then that she's the one that Chilchuck says is carefree, in the official translation "doesn't treat life real seriously"? That she's the most optimistic, the most go-with-the-flow, out of the bunch? To me that sounds like a result from her being the youngest and Chil being the most often at work, thus her getting raised by her mother without as much involvement from Chil. Far be it from me to say Chilchuck would raise his daughters to be unhappy btw, not at all, we just all know what down-to-earth values he wants others to have so he doesn't have to worry about them.

Although… Puckpatti spotted?? Seems like he wants to stop her from buying something? His heart meter for her is full <3 (Note: I’ve seen it be argued that this could be his wife. I disagree, since the "stop them" and way that the long haired one is off-center compared to everyone else gives the sense that it’s many of his daughters, and the fact that it’s styled after a dating sim doesn’t mean it’s romantic love as we see with the others. Otherwise imagine being her wife and he tells you not to buy stuff when you go shopping together rip)

Headcanons time:

When naming the daughters, together they choose a pool of names they’d like but only one has the final say, and they alternate between who that is. Chilchuck sticks around more near the end of her pregnancies, and he hasn’t missed any of their births. I don’t have any opinions on who named who right now, but there could be some interesting stuff to theorize with Puckpatti, like them taking extra care picking the name together because they settled on her being their last daughter for fluff, or it was supposed to be Chilchuck but he was so busy that he ended up not picking in time and she was the one to name her for angst.

Actually scratch that I have a new theory : What if it’s actually customary for each parent to pick one half of their half-foot kid’s name? So then each would have chosen half of each girl’s name… And this could be why Chil calls Puckpatti Patti instead of Puck which is her first name, because he’s stubborn since Patti was his pick lmaoooo. Pattipuck doesn’t have the same ring to it alas, his wife was so right

Chilchuck liked to do activities with the girls when they were young. He's not opposed to relaxing at home with them perse, but he likes to do workshops with stuff like arts & crafts to develop their agility some. I don't think they'd do much outings to places like restaurants or theatres for money reason, and I don't think Chilchuck is much of an outdoors type, but he could accompany them to nice fields to play in, or in winter places to play in snow and sled, and organize some activities at home. He's not home very often so when he is he likes to take it easy as a break from work and values the time he gets with his family.

Chilchuck would sometimes work from home as a locksmith, say, unlocking a chest for a customer. In those times, Meijack would take interest and watch him work, even handing him the tools he needs as he goes. In this way, Chilchuck taught her a lot about the work of a locksmith over time. He's also the one that would oil door hinges or do renovation around the house- when he's available.

Like the plushies under his table in his home that we see in illustrations, Chilchuck has a lot of mementos from his daughter (and his wife) he keeps around. Sometimes they take a bothersome amount of place, but throwing anything out isn't something he's seriously willing to consider. Flertom's the most artistic and she used to help with sewing clothes back together, so he has a cheap ceramic mug painted by her when she was really young and small embroideries around.

Imo Meijack would be the most distant in the present. Flertom makes efforts for her parents and is pretty involved, and Puckpatti's distance is more out of being a bit airheaded and being busy + not having a great grasp on time or what's a normal amount of family contact, but Meijack's the one who knowingly and intentionally keeps some distance. I think she’d be the least optimistic about their family situation, and although she’d be hopeful when Chilchuck reached out to them again she’d be a but hesitant. I think Meijack would hold some grudges, being the one most critical of their parenting, both grateful to her dad for working so hard for them and saddened that he wasn't in their life more. Since Flertom was born in the same year I think it’s possible that Meijack was pushed aside a bit to take care of the younger baby more, out of necessity rather than lack of love. Her mom probably needed a lot of help around the house too. Flertom wasn’t blind either, and she cared about & noticed her mom’s emotional states, but she’s on the whole more hopeful and forgiving.

This is my most far fetched one but it is a hc after all, but I think it'd be interesting if one of them had food hoarding tendencies/stress. I like to think it's Flertom, because she's the middle child and would get told that her older sister and younger sister are "growing and need the food" so she wouldn't be allowed to take as much refill or such, add that to them not having much money to frivolously spend on food and that makes a kid who's worried about not eating to her hunger and tends to be possessive over food (I'm projecting). Differential treatment is inevitable in families with many siblings, and it can manifest in small or big ways, maybe they realize it maybe they don't. Working in a tavern has helped eased that tendency of her though, and while she does diet a bit she always leaves a meal feeling satisfied.

When they were younger, Flertom was a real firecracker, loud and spirited with some troublemaking tendencies! She was the daughter that got in trouble & got scolded the most. You can still see slivers of it now that she’s an adult, but she’s much more poised and diligent. She has much more acquaintances than friends, but she has a couple of best friends and usually gets along well with most people. Puckpatti was always a bit head in the cloud, very kind if not gullible, and tended to make friends somewhat easily but didn’t keep them for long, preferring to keep meeting new people and not keeping in touch well. She isn’t super talkative but tends to ramble when she does. Meijack is very introverted, she has more trouble making friends, she has a good handful though they don’t meet up often, her friendships tend to last and she’s close to them. She’s grown more confident over the years, less repressed and more quiet. Meijack as the big sister tended to be the listener for her younger sisters who had more social mishaps. Flertom has dated once before and it only cemented to her that she was going to have very high standards from then on.

Meijack wears thigh-high boots because she hates when sand, dirt or snow gets in her shoes. She wears practical clothing but avoids anything frilly or flashy. Puckpatti also dresses practically, but she does enjoy pretty clothes, it’s more out of necessity and due to not having enough money to indulge. Flertom has a social stable job and she loves prettying herself up (especially as she’s in search of a husband) so she’s the one who gets the most and nicest fashionable clothes and accessories.

Chilchuck is hinted to have had a rather dysfunctional family himself (alcoholic father, distant siblings, etc). So he doesn’t really have the best model on how to raise someone and such. I imagine it was a sort of neglectful home situation, where the kids are encouraged to be independent. If they didn’t have to work or help around much, then free range parenting sort of thing. We do see how the family has full and warm feasts, where someone cleans his mouth with a rag, so it’s not like he didn’t have a caring circle or a tragic childhood though! I don’t remember if it’s explicitely stated, but he’s heavily implied to having grown up poor, as most half-foots, and I just think it's the hardened hardworking family type of childhood where just like he does with others they instill somewhat harsh life lessons in him, which in turn encourages him to indulge in the simple pleasures of life like alcohol and sex, or at least women’s beauty and crass jokes. We do see he seems more optimistic when he's younger in flashbacks, so a bunch of his harsh view on the world is still likely learned and earned rather than taught. I still think he inherited many flawed views from how his father acted, like his attitude about excessive drinking not being a big deal and worth it. That work hard play hard, enjoy life die young mentality he has, shown mostly in the "alcohol" section of his Adventurer's Bible profile, could very well be partly a result of the general poverty half-foot communities are that he grew in as well, like how he doesn't hope for things to be as best as they could be and contends with good enough. As far as I remember, his mother is never mentioned, but I doubt it implies she was out of the picture. She was probably a regular sort of mother that took care of the home as well and was still around when his father died. It looks like there’s a good age gap between one sibling to the next, that could be interesting to dig into too.

A part of Chilchuck’s character is that he takes responsibility for safety and actions of people around him and is very often looking out for them to not do faux-pas wether socially or literally with stepping onto traps. The way he says "I’ve got three people to think of here" makes me think that’s also how he’d think about having to provide for his family, and that could be a source of stress and insecurity for him. Caring for others is a pretty integral part of his character and we see time and time again that his family is very important to him, in any case.

Post-canon

This pic has so much to say!! It’s the ‘thank you for reading’ double page spread where they’re going to a big dining table at the castle with Laios and the main gang. First family gathering in 4 years perhaps?! I’ll say, not feeling very hopeful that his wife isn’t in this, not even implied to be just off-panel with a hand or anything… I imagine before this he still talked to them at least a bit and figured their family situation out, but I think this is still in the early stages of reconnecting. Haha imagine being one of them and receiving a letter saying "Hi it’s been a while… I want to introduce you to my ex-coworker the king and his friends, you up for that?" I don’t want to reconsider all my hcs for this yet, but this pic does seemingly show an eagerness from all the daughters to reunite and reconnect! Meijack’s could be seen as more hesitant, but I think it’s just awkwardness from meeting so many new people, of high status no less. Chilchuck does seem awkward and somewhat self-conscious though, and while that could be just from say Marcille and the others meeting his daughters and him not knowing how to act, I think that also shows that Chilchuck is unsure how to act around his daughters too. Can’t blame him, I’d be stressed too. Anyways, the daughters are all dressed up! Puckpatti even brought flowers! And I doubt it’s just for Senshi, or just to be in with the king. Oh also also, Puckpatti chides Meijack here, seemingly on manners?, so that implies new/different family dynamics there~

We know with the succubus chapter that he does plan on reaching out to his wife again and shooting his shot, and when Marcille was dungeon lord he told her she could help think of a plan to make up with her together at which point Marcille showered him in gifts and flowers intended for her and his daughters. So we do know that whatever happens and however it happens, Chilchuck definitely will at least reach out to her to win her back or worse case scenario get closure on the situation.

-

These are his plans before it’s revealed that the Island is… Well, not an island but the golden kingdom, so the news that Laios is king and that might have changed them a bit, but I think he’s still gonna stick around to help with the half-foot guild for a while.

My personal ideal post-canon Chilchuck life is that after around a year or two of helping around in the golden kingdom, especially regarding half-foot working rights, he gets his shop and finally settles down. He prioritized the whole half-foot guild because there are changes to attend to and people to help, but also used that to procrastinate a bit on getting in touch with his wife again. He does send a letter though, and when she replies they then meet face to face. They explain how it was like on their end, their grievances and their feelings, and they do reconcile. But… It’s been 4 years and his wife has frankly moved on. She’d rather they stay as friends, and Chilchuck has mixed feelings on it but is ultimately fine with it. He was halfway resigned to not reconciling with his wife in canon after all. But no longer do they have cut contact! They get together with the girls for the holidays and the ambiance is nice! He starts exchanging letters more regularly. He also gets a second family of clingy asses with Izutsumi and the main gang and so though he lives alone in his shop he’s well surrounded and well loved, and his daughters visit to check up on him every so often.

I really like the… Maturity of Chilchuck’s plotline, if that makes sense? To me the ending that fits the most is him and his wife reconciling, but not getting back together. I like that they could still be adults about it and at least amicable even after divorce, and that that wouldn’t be treated as a tragic ending. In the end, they were childhood friends and teenage parents, they rushed things a bit and I genuinely think they’re just not that compatible. If not then, at least having it be a gradual process, getting back together and making it work until they’re truly comforatble with each other. Destroy the relationship to better build it again stronger!

Although, his arc in the manga is to allow himself to form connections and be optimistic, which would fit well with him and his wife getting back together. I def think Chil would get healthier post-canon which could fix the issues they had in their relationship though. Like for one he starts eating more, which improves mood & irritability & health, and also after the whole half-foot guild he plans to settle down with a shop so it wouldn’t be long distance or unstable anymore which would definitely give his wife some peace of mind. If they still do some long distance at first while he gets the half-foot guild stable, it’d be really cute if he sent pressed flowers with his letters to her… That could make a nice fic concept, like over time all the pressed flowers and exchanged letters hehe (oh shit that’s a nice title)

My post-canon timeline is Chilchuck lives a nice life living alone in his house except his friends all visit him and care and even tho he likes living alone it’s also bittersweet and every corner of his life is haunted by mementos of the ones he loves and the moments he had with them. But then it’s also like the shared duty of everyone to pass by his shop when they can and keep the old man company and sometimes that means many people come at the same time like if both Meijack and Marcille came the same day~ Cozy life, no regrets except a lil regrets still. That’s it that’s all I want.

Misc

I didn’t know where to put this, so new category time! Family truly is a central theme of Chilchuck’s character. His reaction to learning more about how life gets made is so awed by the wonder of the world. Life indeed…

The implication of this page is that Chil didn’t know about the science side of how procreation works, though of course he did know about the practical side of it. This is speculation, and we have no clue how widespread the information of how reproduction scientifically works lol, but I think it’s fair to think that half-foots’ education especially in smaller communities is handled by the parent, school of life style, or if there are schools then the education is very general and it probably ends early. I think this is supported by how for example half-foots’ jobs we’ve seen are based on experience rather than knowledge, like being a locksmith. Of course any job has its fair share of specialized knowledge to learn, but jobs you learn on the fly pretty well. This sort of dynamic contrasts a lot against elves many tallmen communities, like with the magic academy, where education and knowledge are valued almost above experience, this is what the mandrake chapter was all about after all. Poorer communities tend to have poorer education systems as well irl, it’s a whole issue.

So I already said my piece about his wife not being blonde and it being nice and romantic because literally you don’t need someone to be a beauty ideal to love them and that’s fine and normal and even more romantic imo. But!! I do have an headcanon, now that his wife’s appearance is all but explicitly confirmed. While their hair is blonde, yes their hair is wavy and the ‘main’ one has deep-set eyes, not unlike his wife! Now this is a ‘which came first the egg or the chicken’ question, but while most people seem to be assuming that he got with his wife because she was his type, since they’re childhood friends I feel like it’s his love for his wife that shaped his preferences in that deparment. Like ok he loves golden hair and hers is black, but isn’t it so much more romantic that he has so much love and devotion for his wife and has stared lovingly at it so much over the years, that it’d become his ideal? He loves her eyes <3

Conclusion

Reminder that I’ve got more stuff in a reblog addition now. What I've got left to add at some point:

Compile more info on Chilchuck's father and his other family

Reread the manga and catch details like exchanged letters & his work schedule. Reword some things to repeat myself less maybe

A buddy is planning to make a name analysis post for everyone, and I might have more to say especially about the daughters once I know what possible meaning their names have

Other stuff I may be forgetting about

And thus I leave you with a lil web weaving I made about Chil & his wife’s relationship~ And this is where I’d put panels of Chilchuck’s wife… IF THERE WERE ANY

Should we call Chilchuck's wife Mrs. Tims... We don't know dunmeshi marrital traditions though, and half-foot already have somewhat complex naming conventions... I hate that we don't really know if the daughters' last names are Chils or Chilz. Oh yeah the last names change each generation, that’s odd right? But in english it sounds like saying Chil’s, like, [father]’s, so I think this also supports how half-foots communities tend to be tightly knit and live in the present, for them to be like "Ooh so you’re [father]’s little one eh? I know who that is and this is insightful as to who your family is to me!". Iceland’s a place where last names are like this, though I don’t know about pros and cons of it in that context

Ah and I have a bittersweet spotify playlist about her and Chil too, here if ya want. That’s it the post is over

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #spoilers #chilchuck tims #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck's wife #chilchuck’s family #Tims family #puckpatti #meijack #flertom #Analysis #Meta #Despite my best tries I am not omnipresent it's always fun when piecing together these topics is a community effort!! #please do build upon this if you have anything to add #but yeah editing is up in the air. I'll probably be adding stuff maybe even cutting stuff out #this is a giant post i am slightly overwhelmed #Kui puts so much importance in details it's incredible. It truly feels worthwhile to get into the weeds #We support chilchuck’s wife on this blog #I covered how stressful her life could have been a bit in my Grind Me Down Sweetly fic funnily enough if ya want to give it a read. It has #Daughters mentions too hehe. And my post-canon marchil take #Oh also if there’s already theory and compilation posts out there about this i’m down to link them in or smth. I haven’t seen it done but #If it’s been then i’m very interested in reading & seeing #Apparently chilchuck being an absent dad is a heated debated topic. Oops #Pls do not murder me… Peace and love in the dungeon meshi fandom? He’s my second fave have mercy on this humble stan #This is 7k words btw. Pls do pick and choose what you’re interested in or skim or take breaks or anything

[serpentarius]

been trying to wrap my head around the cancellation of "Our Flag Means Death" and why it hurts so fucking much. lots of folks who are much more eloquent than I have summed it up perfectly, but I still think it’s important I add my voice to the matter. 

It really, really sucks that the hurt is being compounded on us every time another queer/minority-led show gets prematurely cancelled. and for a long while, we also had to deal with the many shows that deliberately queerbaited us, which was a shitty and traumatic experience unto its own. And even though we’ve largely surpassed that early-‘00s-flavoured brand of queerbait now, mainstream queer media is still predominantly white-led. With the cancellation of OFMD, we've lost one of the very few intersectional queer shows in the mainstream. Shouldn’t we be beyond asking for crumbs at this point? Shouldn’t we get unabashedly intersectional shows helmed by and starring queer, BIPOC, and trans folks without them being axed for no rhyme or reason?

It’s exhausting at this point, honestly. OFMD has done so well in terms of viewership and engagement and fan response—almost entirely due to word of mouth and little thanks to the Max marketing team, mind you—and even still the show got cancelled? Can they make it make sense????

For me, the thing most akin to this OFMD situation was when Sense8 got cancelled. And yes, the fandom fought, and we eventually DID get a movie that wrapped things up years later! That gives me hope for OFMD, that maybe another network will pick it up, or maybe they’ll be able to make a movie someday. But what makes me sad about cases like Sense8 is knowing that the creators still had to force the narrative around the amount of time they were given. That the corporate overlords who only care about numbers and profit dictated how much time they had to wrap up their story.

And it fucking kills me that DJ only wanted one more season. One more season to complete the vision.

I'm just so mad that queer people are constantly being jerked around and used for profit and then left high and dry. And then we're given excuses like "oh there's no budget" or "oh there's not enough viewership, that's all it is". like, sure, maybe those are contributing factors, but then I look at all the useless garbage shows that have little viewership and high budgets that keep going forever and then I think "hmmmm, the math ain't mathing." It's fucking transparent; the corporations can spew all they want with their rainbow capitalism and talks about diversity, but the evidence is clear, and they can't convince me homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc. is not a factor in these decisions.

Anyways, back to OFMD. OFMD made me fall in love with fandom again. I drifted away from fandom for a while in my 20s, and while OFMD wasn't the first fandom that drew me back into the madness, it's certainly the largest. The sheer amount of creativity both within the show and outside of it has blown me away; I've read some of the best fics, seen some of the best art, and witnessed some of the most incredible creativity from people in this fandom.

And let's not forget the role of the show's creators and how they've interacted with us fans. They made us feel seen. And made us feel loved and valid, even when we were being weird and loud and horny. It's so fucking rare to see that. But they understood; understood that the show they made was for us, for any of us who've been marginalized or made to feel Othered or different or stuck in life or unsure of our identities. And they gave us so much love for it.

The story... man. The unique combination of quirky humour and bright visuals and dark, introspective moments, the gorgeous costumes and soft, lovely, unabashed queerness, and veteran actors and new actors all getting to shine, brilliant comedic actors getting to show off their dramatic chops and vice versa. For me, seeing Rhys Darby - an actor I've loved for a long time, but who I never thought I'd see in a leading role - getting to be the romantic lead in a queer role? And seeing acclaimed director/producer/screenwriter/actor Taika Waititi play opposite Rhys, as an indigenous Blackbeard? Fucking incredible. OFMD Edward Teach you will always be famous to me.

Anyways... despite my long ramblings here, I still don’t think I've been able to get to the root of WHY exactly this show has inched its way under my skin and stayed with me in the way it has. Maybe I'll spend years trying to understand it. But I DO know that it's in part to do with seeing both older queers AND a diverse range of queerness onscreen, in a way that I've never seen in media before. I DO know that OFMD has forced me to look inwardly, and allowed me to realize some important things about myself. About my own queerness, my own identity, things I'm still figuring out. I've cherished being able to see myself in Stede, in Ed, and each of the crew members. In Roach’s love for cooking, in Oluwande’s ability to mediate; in Jim’s quick temper, in the way Izzy builds walls to guard his heart. In Buttons’ quirkiness, in Wee John’s sass, in Frenchie’s ability to turn pain into humour; in The Swede’s silliness, in Lucius’ bluntness, in Pete’s soft heart beneath the skepticism. Lastly, OFMD has inspired me. To create, to write, to draw, to devour other peoples' works and worlds while I sit in sheer, overflowing joyousness at their talent.

so yeah. the news of this cancellation is upsetting and hurtful and disappointing. And it's making us cry, and it's making us grieve, and may make us hollow and numb at times because we've lost yet another thing we love so deeply before it was meant to go. It's so much more than "just a TV show". It means more to us than any passive mindless idiotic mind-numbing bullshit - because even though there's a time and a place and a purpose for that type of media, it's the thought-provoking work, the work that creators pour their entire hearts and souls into, that hit us deep in our own souls. The work that changes our lives. The work that has the ability to save lives, as I know OFMD has done for so many. 

please know I'm sending immense amounts of love and strength to those of you who are also hurting. we'll get through this, one way or another, and I'll keep up with the hope that we'll get more someday; but in the meantime, I'm holding you tight. ❤️️🫂

#our flag means death #ofmd #my thoughts #ofmd thoughts #sorry for the long rambles I just needed to scream into the void #I feel helpless right now but I also wanna fight #sending love ❤️

[wheatnoodle]

i love you, evangeline

og post | p1 | p2 | p3 | p4 | p5

~🌷🌻~

“so,” dustin says around a mouthful of french toast that has him spewing crumbs everywhere, “can i ask about…y’know…you becoming…you?”

“yeah, sure. ask away. we didn’t do secrets before this,” evie freezes briefly as she grabs a napkin to give him. her face cringes slightly. “sorry about that, by the way.”

dustin flaps the napkin to wave her worry off. “dude, you could literally get killed if you tell the wrong person.”

“way to remind us,” robin rolls her eyes over her coffee mug.

“anyways!” evie cuts in with a clap of her hands. “your questions?”

“oh! right. i wrote them down,” dustin says and pulls out his phone to open his notes.

“he wrote them down,” robin repeats sarcastically under her breath, earning a snort from evie and a glare from dustin that has her raising her hands in surrender.

dustin takes a sip of his orange juice and clears his throat. “okay. did you know before you left hawkins? how did you figure it out?”

“yeah, i knew before i left. i think right around when the whole…vecna thing happened was when i really understood what was up,” evie nods thoughtfully, “like, i always felt…different? or just lost, i guess. and then with starting to find words to put to my feelings, like transgender and dysphoria, it started to feel like maybe i wasn’t so weird. robin and i went shopping and tried on like skirts and stuff and that was wild. and then i started thinking about all the girls i had dated and what that meant, and honestly, i think i wanted to be them rather than be with them.”

“so if you didn’t want to be with them, are you gay? or…i guess straight? like you like dudes?” dustin asks, his brows drawn as he listens.

“y’know, i haven’t really thought too much about it but…yeah,” she shrugs. “i guess i’d say i’m straight since i like men.”

“cool,” he nods with a smile. “damn, so even as a girl, you and robin still won’t date.”

“oh dude, i was struggling helping her out with everything after her boob job. i swear, i was no better than a man,” robin says across the table.

“she wore an ace bandage as a blind fold,” evie laughs, tossing her head back. dustin giggles as he watches robin pick up the newspaper to smack evie with, her cheeks bright red.

“is it only robin and now me who knows?” he continues along with his questioning.

“you two and my dad’s secretary since he didn’t feel like answering the phone. she congratulated me, by the way,” evie smirks at the end. just picturing her dad’s face if he were to hear the news. the rage, the steam coming from his ears. screams that could be heard blocks away as he throws another lamp. and his loyal secretary of 8 years has already congratulated his daughter and told her how happy she is for her. robin high fives her every time she gets to mention it.

“damn! i cant imagine how much that took for you to cal him. nice work,” dustin smiles proudly. “would you ever want to tell more people from hawkins?”

she’s silent for a minute. it’s something she didn’t think she’d ever consider doing. and yet, she can’t outright say no.

“i think so. someday. i hope.”

“i could…ease them into the idea so it’s less of a shock? just like…gauge where everyone’s head is at in regards to transgender individuals, give you two updates, see where to go from there?” dustin suggests with a shrug. robin’s brows raise under bangs. now that’s an idea she hasn’t had yet.

“that sounds…good,” evie nods confidently after a second, a new smile blooming on her face. robin cheers from her seat and throws her arms in the air. “just be subtle! don’t walk in all ‘hey guys, how do you feel about hypermasculine jocks from small towns turning into women who wanna be barbie?’.”

“oh no, you stole my plan word for word,” dustin rolls his eyes. “no shit i’ll be subtle. it’s a shame a side effect of estrogen isn’t intelligence.”

“don’t forget i’m hosting you,” evie warns with a pointed finger.

“yes, mom,” he sighs heavily, “okay, you can stop me if this is too far. you said you got your boobs done, did you get…like…the surgery? like the surgery?”

“not too far, honestly. yeah, i got it about…a year ago, actually! ahh happy birthday to me!” evie claps excitedly.

“does it work?”

“DUSTIN!”

~

“i just don’t get why he hasn’t said anything. he said he would update us what she’s like, i mean c’mon, he’s the first one invited over! the first one allowed over! he promised to text when he got there, what if something happened? did everyone die? him and robin are silent! nobody answers their texts!”

“eddie! will you please just stop? dustin is fine and i am sure he isn’t wooing your fairy princess, love of your life, big stupid crush, ms evangeline,” gareth groans. he’s laying upside down on the couch in his and eddie’s apartment, curls dangling to the ground. it’s been forever of listening to eddie gush about robin’s roommate and now it’s just even worse with dustin staying with them. the least eddie could do is stop pacing in front of him, he’s making him motion sick watching his legs go back and forth.

finally, eddie flips down next to him with a heavy sigh. he takes a long swig of his beer, effectively draining half of it down his throat, before just staring at the ceiling.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. you’re right. everything’s fine. plus, it’d be pretty fucked of him to go flirt with her when i called dibs.”

“you can’t dibs a woman-“

“yeah, yeah, shut up.” eddie lightly kicks at gareth’s shoulder. he sighs again, his finger fiddling with the wrapper on his beer bottle. “…do you think he’s mentioned me?”

“that’s it, i need a knife.”

~🌷🌻~

taggie waggies:

@lololol-1234 @xo-r4e @paintsplatteredandimperfect @homohomohoe @charlies-candid-corner @tartarusfairy @howincrediblysapphicofyou @steddie-as-they-go @bestwifehaver @sexymothmanincarnate @zoeweee @romanticdestruction @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @breadboi66 @shadowofaliar @mollymawkwrites @lofaewrites @estrellami-1 @ronance-is-my-wife @afewproblems @heartsong18 @discount-izukumidoriya @mightbeasleep @bookbinderbitch @justforthedead89 @onehandedbitch @anxiouseds @sunfloweringstories @cyranyx @thegingerrapunzel @hequet @herebedragons404 @magpiemuseum @scheodingers-muppet @the-ghost-in-your-curtains @background-noise-headache @steddieloverrr @punctualhowell @musical-theatre-gay @its-a-me-a-morgan @chronically-stupid-human @stevesbipanic @says-swag-unironically

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #stobin #stobin fanfic #stobin fic #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #codependent stobin #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #modern steve harrington #modern stobin #modern steddie #pre steddie #steddie fic #trans steve harrington #trans!steve #trans!steve harrington #trans steve #transfem steve harrington #transfem!steve harrington #fem steve harrington #fem steve #fem!steve harrington #evie harrington #evangeline harrington

[lw6-woso]

pinkie pie from my little pony (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

the bet.

everyone knew the bet that Alexia made to the Barcelona girls, that if they won the champions league final that she was going to dye her hair. everyone believed her except you. there was no way right, I mean she had just dyed her hair partly blonde. the moment the whistle blew for full time declaring you had won the champions league finally it was only a matter of time.

Alexia had been very secretive about when she was going to dye her and what colour and you didn't back down from a fight but she didn't budge you tried everything and you would have expected your girlfriend of 3 years to give you a little hit, but that hit never came.

we were now at the national camp getting ready for the upcoming world cup and Alexia was doing her own thing, whilst I caught up on uni work since it was our free day. you didn't hear the hotel room open and closed bc you had music blaring in your ears. you saw Alexia's reflection on your computer screen and when you turned you didn't expect what you thought you were going to see.

Alexia had pink hair. PINK HAIR.

"oh my god," you said your jaw dropping to the floor.

"you like it" she said smirking at your reaction.

"oh my god," you said again truly having no words. She laughed and did what she needed to do and you continued to stare at her in disbelief.

"babe are you colour-blind by any chance," you asked.

"what do you mean no," she asked.

"you do realise that your hair is pink right like bright pink" you said.

"yes I know I chose the colour dumbass" she said.

"Why do you look so hot" you whispered so confused.

"I know I wasn't expecting it to look good," she said and you realised she heard you and your cheeks turn red.

"Now stop staring we have to have lunch" she said and you followed her out of the room like a lost puppy.

once you were in the dinner hall and had sat down, everyone was fussing over Alexia's hair and a thought came to your mind.

"hey ale" you said getting her attention.

"what," she said.

"you look like pinkie pie from my little pony," you said out of the blue. and some girls laughed that understood but some didn't and that was including Ale.

you got out your phone and showed her a picture.

"you joking," she said trying not to laugh.

"tell me I'm wrong," you said looking for a reply from the other people in the room

"shut up" she said going back to eat.

everyone was throwing around playful jokes about it but deep down everyone thought Alexia suited the new colour and wore it flawlessly, especially in your eyes you could take your eyes off her more than normal and you were already smitten with her.

it was that night and you were in your hotel room getting ready to go to bed and for tomorrow's training.

"you look so hot," you said for the second time today but louder. Alexia turned around.

"you really like it I thought I looked like a cartoon pony," she said putting her hands on her hips.

"Doesn't mean your not hot?" you said and Ale walked over and kissed you and you grabbed her towards the bed.

"I was surprised at first but no matter what colour it would have been I knew you were going to pull it off because you can pull anything off even a bin bag" you said kissing her harder.

let's just say you really liked her hair and you told her that every day throughout the world cup tournament and into the next season. and it put a smile on her face every time however you did also put a comparison of her and pinkie pie on your socials and the fans ate that up and left no crumbs making the tournament even more fun and Alexia loved it too deep down she just hid it but you can tell when she is lying you could read her like a book and everyone knew it.

#women football #woso community #woso imagine #leah williamson #barca femini #espwnt #ingrid engen #lionesses #engwnt #awfc #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas segura #alexia putellas x reader #womens world cup #woso fanfics #wosoedit #woso couples #wwc 2023 #wwc #la reina #mapi león #lucy bronze #keira walsh

[randomlifex]

Without you I feel broken

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Go Kyungjun x fem!reader

Plot:Park Junhee was supposed to be executed,but what if you end up replacing him?

Warnings:mentions of death,bad language

Please notice:flashbacks are in italics

This story is a request

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Kyungjun opened his eyes as soon as the alarm went off; then he left his hiding place.

That would’ve been one of the many other mornings spent in that awful game, which wasn’t good, but what made it worse was the idea you had been executed instead of that jerk of Park Junhee.

“Vote for me, I’m the mafia” Junhee said. His friends looked at him, then at each others, then at yn. She didn’t really know what to say:she was scared but, at the same time, Kyungjun knew she wanted to save the class president…it was no news she loved him.

“He’s not the mafia. Vote for me” yn mumbled, but Kyungjun refused to do that.

“Ko Kyungjun has voted for Park Junhee” the robotic voice said, making everyone turn around

“I said to vote for me, he’s not the mafia” the girl repeated herself

“I don’t trust him-Kyunjung shook his head-we should all vote for him”

“Lee Yoonseo voted for yn yln”

“I’m sorry” Yoonseo whispered.

Of course she would’ve never voted for Junhee, Kyungjun was sure about that, that was why he wasn’t really bothered by it; what he didn’t like was how everyone followed her, kicking you out instead of Junhee, who got only one vote:Kyungjun’s.

“Y’all are a bunch of idiots” the punk growled, ready to throw hands, but you stopped him by grabbing his arm.

He turned around, his eyes softened as soon as he met yours, and his lips curved into an upside down smile:he didn’t want you to die. He would’ve never tolerated that, otherwise he wanted to get out of there with you. You were the only persone he actually cared about; you weren’t a rebound, nor a stupid minion he used to scare his classmates and waste some free time with…you were special to him. Special like no one else.

He repressed the instinct of beating everyone up and let a crumb of vulnerability slip out, dragging you in a desperate hug, way more desperate than what it looked like to his classmates. Kyungjun buried his face in between your hair, eyes shut as he was trying to enjoy his first and last hug before saying goodbye; then, he left to hide, promising himself that he would’ve avenged you.

While looking for your body he clung to his promise, jaw clenched as anger had taken over every cell of his system:

“They will pay for it, all of them” he growled, stopping his rush as soon as he saw you lying on the ground.

He kneeled down, holding your upper body in between his arms:you were so pale it made him shiver. He wasn’t used to that scenario as you had always looked so lively and energetic.

Kyungjun’s eyes were burning and his lips were trembling:he had never cried before, nothing at all, he was the one making people cry, but somehow the cards on the table had been turned.

He looked around to check if any of those bastards had gathered to show you even a small amount of respect,however no one was there.

Kyungjun got even more angry. Yes, he for sure was the bad guy…but were his classmates better than him? No they weren’t, they were just a bunch of hypocrites.

“The doctor has saved yn yln” the robotic voice suddenly said, making Kyungjun rise his head.

The boy blinked confused as a wave of sudden relief crossed his heart

“Yn” he called you, gently shaking your body.

You slowly opened your eyes, bringing into focus the boy’s features

“W-what happened?” you whispered, trying to collect some strength to sit, but Kyungjun had to help you

“You just…came back. The doctor healed you”

“Really?-you finally sat, looking around to see if your loved one was alright- where’s Junhee?” you asked to Kyungjun once you didn’t see him around. The boy didn’t answer, he just gulped.

In that moment the realisation hit you, and sadness took over the other emotions:Junhee wasn’t there to check on you, it didn’t matter how much you tried to protect him and help him through that awful game. Nothing had ever made your heart ache like that.

You burst into a mess of sobs and tears, resting your head on Kyungjun’s chest. The boy hugged you tightly, trying his best to comfort you.

“I did that for him and he’s not even here…” you cried, holding onto Kyungjun’s shirt

“He’s not, but…-he stuttered-I am”

You looked at him, caressing his cheek with one of your hands:his skin was soft but wet

“You cried” you mumbled; but Kyunjun didn’t answer, he just looked away.

A warm smile made his way through your sobs as you left a kiss on Kyungjun’s forehead:

“I almost wasted my life on someone who didn’t deserve it, I’ll be sure to not make the same mistake again” you said, hugging the boy.

#night has come #night has come kdrama #night has come kyung jun #night has come x reader #go kyung jun #go kyungjun x reader #cha woo min #cha woomin x reader #x reader #kdrama

[airybcbyy]

Oh please, can I request the first time s/o rubs her nose against tecchou’s nose?

You don’t have an idea how I love tecchou’s fluff, like, everyone agrees he’s the most affectionate guy😭how I love my baby

AAHFSHSHSVSV I LOVE TECCHOU SM THIS IS SO CUTE. i had a pretty bad mental health week recently so i’m sorry for not finishing this earlier!!

nose to nose–

tecchou suehiro x gn! reader

a/n – this ask was too cute and i actually sobbed bc i love tecchou more than words can describe 🫶🏼

content – tecchou fluff, fem! reader, really just cute relationship type stuff, tecchou calls reader ‘sweetheart’ and ‘ my love ’ ,added backstory for absolutely no reason,i think that’s it! lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis – cute lil nose bumps with tecchou :)

when tecchou had first met you, he didn’t understand why his stomach felt so queasy. was it the soy sauce he’d put in his coffee? no. it couldn’t be that– he’d drank it many times before, so what was different about today?

you–a new addition to the hunting dogs– you were the only new thing about today. his daily rituals of working out during meetings, going on his own little adventures after getting a mission done a little too quickly; all of that would now be thrown off balance because you were here.

this feeling in his stomach would go away sooner or later

or– that’s what he’d thought.

even then; two months after you’d arrived into their little group of strangely strong super freaks, the weird queasiness never subsided within tecchous stomach.

the way you smiled at jouno made his stomach churn in a way that could only be described as anger, but why would he get upset over two of his coworkers just chatting? he wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, so he went to the one member of the hunting dogs who hadn’t been so wrapped up in their space; tachihara.

tecchou went up to the fake ginger and asked him simply about why his stomach burned every time you were around him, yet it also burned with anger when you talked to anyone that wasn’t him.

“i dunno man, sounds like you like her to me-”the other male shrugged. which led to tecchou realizing that he did, in fact, like you.

and that’s what led to now, three months after tecchou had so bravely walked up to you the same day he’d found out that he actually liked you and asked you for “the honor of being his girlfriend” and who were you to tell the (arguably) cutest hunting dog no?

the two of you were sat on your couch, watching another stupid movie that tecchou had picked out. he refused to watch any high tense hostage or action movies; insisting that he “hated people getting tortured for no reason”

you’d been staring at your boyfriend for the past two minutes, trying to telepathically tell him that you absolutely did not want to watch this movie anymore, but he obviously couldn’t get your wavelengths.

the male kept shoving his face full of his buttered popcorn mixed with mustard– something that had his breath smelling disgusting and you avoiding every kiss he’d tried giving you.

“ ‘hiroooo ” you whined out towards your boyfriend, which made him finally turn his attention towards you, popcorn crumbs and mustard stained over his mouth and somehow even on his nose. you could never understand how your boyfriend got so messy while eating; it was a true mystery.

“ yes, my love? ” he’d chirped out, titling his hair so his fluffy hair that you could play with for hours upon hours. “can we change it? this is so boring!”you sighed, leaning closer to him, trying to take the remote that was placed on his lap.

“but i like this–”the males words stopped short when you got closer to him. try as he might, tecchou suehiro was the type of man to basically malfunction whenever you got closer to him. his hands found their way to your waist, moving the remote off his lap, causing you to let out a groan. you were so close and of course your puppy of a boyfriend couldn’t realize what you were doing!

the male moved you onto his lap with a ease, looking up at you as you stared down at him,“ you’re so pretty, y/n.”he leaned up, going to kiss you. and even though you loved your boyfriend, you weren’t going to kiss his popcorn and mustard filled mouth.

you slightly turned, shaking your head before putting your forehead on his, rubbing your nose against his. and let me tell you, tecchou was gobsmacked.

he looked up at you with a small frown, still staying close to you,“my love, do you not want to kiss me?” he asked as you let out a laugh. “you’re breath stinks, ‘hiro. ”

tecchou was never the type to complain, so he’d take the smallest of nose rubs from you, even if it confused him for the first six seconds it had happened.

“ if i go brush my teeth, can i kiss you?” he asked softly

you never did end up getting that remote.

the ending kinda sucked, i’m sorry! but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated, thank you!!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #airy answers asks :) #airy writes for bungo stray dogs #airy writes for bsd #airy writes for tecchou⚔️ #tecchou x reader #bsd tecchou #tecchou suehiro #tecchou fluff #tecchou suehiro bsd #tecchou bsd #tecchou suehiro fluff #bsd tecchou suehiro #bsd x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs tecchou #bungo stray dogs #hunting dogs bsd #hunting dogs x reader #the hunting dogs #nose bumping

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Matt Smith x Singer/Actress!Reader

Told through Instagram posts

everything.y/n

Liked by y/nfan and 4,687 others

everything.y/n SCREAMINGGGGG!!!! Y/N WAS ANNOUNCED TO BE MATT SMITHS NEW COMPANION!!!! THIS SEASON IS GONNA BE AMAZINGGGGG!!!!! @yourinstagram

View all 1,487 comments

mattfan So jealous she's acting alongside Matt 😭😭😭

y/nn. More Y/n content!!!! They're gonna look so cute together 😍😍😍

drwhovian She won't be as good as past companions. She can't act 💀💀

everything.y/n Keep your wrong opinions to yourself thnx

your.album.name SHE'S ACTING AGAIN 😭❤️

y/nstan A new album and a tv show in one year. She's spoiling us

bbcdoctorwho

Liked by yourinstagram and 30,643 others

bbcdoctorwho Introducing The Doctor and Nancy 💙

We all want to give Y/n Y/L/n a huge welcome to the Doctor Who cast.

You're go-go-going to be brilliant!

View all 2,697 comments

yourinstagram

Liked by mattsmith, florencepugh and 302,584 others

yourinstagram 💙Nancy Sutton reporting for Tardis duty💙

I'm still in a dream. I used to watch Doctor Who every weekend growing up. It was a huge part of my family and my childhood and now I get to be in the show ❤️ My heart could explode right now!

Thank you to Steven for even considering me for the role!

To Matt, you are an amazing actor and Doctor. I couldn't ask for anyone better to act beside and I won't let you down.

I cannot wait to run across the universe with you.

View all 46,975 comments

florencepugh *Tardis Noise*

y/n 👽

y/nfan03 THIS IS EVAH REE THANGGGG

your.album.name She left no crumbs ☠️

mattsmith You're going to be great darling

Liked by yourinstagram

the.y/n.diaries DARLING. The dating rumours start now

y/n.is.mother He really said ✨️darling✨️

user543 He's English. They call everyone darling. YALL CHILLL

drwhofan the 60s look is SO GOOD 😍

E!news

Liked by matt.y/n.endgame and 13,843 others

E!news ‼️BREAKING‼️ Y/N AND MATT DATING RUMOURS‼️

Y/n L/n and Matt Smith have shook up the Doctor Who franchise in more ways than one. Fans have noticed their intense chemistry in front of the camera but has their chemistry made it off camera?

Earlier this week, the co-stars looked very cosy at the Brit Awards, and sources say they were seen leaving together at the end of the night.

View all 18,632 comments

everything.y/n OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING

matt.y/n.endgame STAY CALM

drwhovian she's too young for him. Gold digger 💀💀

y/n.is.life dude. Shut up. If they're happy leave them alone.

your.album.name

Liked by steph753 and 3,975 others

your.album.name NOT A DRILL‼️ Y/N WAS SPOTTED LEAVING HER RECORDING STUDIO IN LONDON TODAY!!!!!

View all 542 comments

user754 where does she find the time. MY GOD

y/n.stan86 This is her era.

celebnews

Liked by yourinstagram, bbcdoctorwho and 84,964 others

celebnews Doctor Who co-stars fuel romance rumours during their photoshoot in Venice. The two have been filming for the past year and a half and during this time the romance rumours have only grown.

During the shoot, the two were pictured in a close moment where Y/n brushed Matt's hair, and then Matt placed his arm over her.

On screen their characters have a slow burning romance story but in real life the romance seems to be blossoming fast.

View all 3,754 comments

nancy.sutton134 YES YES YES @everything.y/n

mattsimp Theyre so f*in cute!!!!

y/n4life I hope they're happy. They're such a power couple.

y/ndeservesit God. Sad, she can't be left alone.

celebtea These ppl clutching at straws. Its a PHOTOSHOOT!

yourinstagram75 LET US HAVE THIS

y/n.sutton Y/N LIKED IT!!!! THATS PROOF 4 ME

Liked by 567 others

yourinstagram

Liked by mattsmith, bbcdoctorwho and 102,754 others

yourinstagram I'll be the universe, and you'll be N.A.S.A 🌌

View all 75,413 comments

tomholland2013 Someone call a doctor

yourinstagram I'm sick 🤭

Liked by mattsmith

bbcdoctorwho 💙

sadiesink_ what a lyric 😍😍

y/n.sutton CONFIRMEDDDDDDDDD

everything.y/n WE KNEW IT

matt.y/n.endgame LOOK HOW HAPPY THEY BOTH LOOK!!!!! 😭😭😭

yourinstagram.queen A lyric from her new song and a relationship confirmation. Deceased💀

queen.y/n ARE WE NOT GONNA MENTION THAT HER SONG IS ABOUT HIM!!!! DOES THIS MEAN WE GET A MATT INTERLUDE?!?!

mattsmith

Liked by yourinstagram, karengillan and 93,864 others

mattsmith Run with me forever, Nancy

Comments have been disabled

#famous!reader #actress!reader #eleventh doctor fanfiction #eleventh doctor x fem!reader #instagram posts #matt smith #eleventhdoctor #the doctor #doctor who

[mymhameme]

OPPPPPP FIRST THING I LOVE YOUR ART WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE????? scrolls rest of the art OH WAIT ITS YOU!!! Lmao, I should be able to recognize you as a frequent artist by now but every time- SECOND OF ALL YES??? HELLO??? THE HURT EXPRESSIONS THE FLUFFINESS OF THE WINGS AND HAIR AND RUFFLED QUALITY THE DARK SHADOWY SHADING I LOVE IT ALL PERFECT SCENE OUT OF A SHIGAHAWKS ANIME WE NEVER GOT- also mood, on having too many versions of a story, I am so here with front-row VIP tickets if you plan on info-dumping your ideas or making more art for this, I am salivating at your doorstep and leaving no crumbs behind 😋🍽️💖 even tho manga's about to end with no return on the promised ShigaHawks meeting, I haven't lost my enthusiasm for their interactions and parallels, so I'm always excited to see content for them, thanks!

I'm so happy that you like it! I never know what to say to get across how everyone's kind comments mean to me but I hope you know it's very VERY sweet!

I am SO UPSET we still haven't had a conversation with these two! It's to the point that any they do have isn't going to be very fulfilling for me.

Here's some random scenes that I'm still plotting out-

Including one with Tenko teaching his new friend how to dance when they stumble across a street performer playing music.

#I'm glad so many people like this idea so far! #There will be more coming for sure #thanks for liking my art! it's been getting a lot of attention lately it's kinda weird #i've gotten so used to keeping my drawings to myself I never know what to say #my art #tenko #tenko shimura #shimura tenko #tomura #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #hawks #keigo #keigo takami #takami keigo #bnha #mha #asks #dichotomy

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 11

Pairing: hamilton!reader (she/her) x mick schumacher

Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, mention of food, not proofread etc etc. Minors DNI!

summary: Social media is going crazy over every minimum interaction between Yn and Mick, they are ready to take anything the shipper gives.

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

a/n2: I'm sorry for taking forever to update, I was a bit busy lately, and also kinda unmotivated :(

a/n3: I tried something new this time by adding three different races (Baku, Miami, and Imola), I don't know if the time lapse was easy to grasp, or if it got confused, and I think maybe Tumblr took a bit of the quality of the pictures, but nothing much (but lmk if you felt like it was much). Please, let me know your thoughts so I can post the next chapter sooner <;3

a/n4 (last one, I promise!!): My message app was not working properly and I just wanted to post this as fast as possible, so I used the Twitter dm thingy, did not really like it, but it is what it is sometimes. Sorry, y'all.

part. 10 | series masterlist | part 12 | taglist

theofficialyn added to her story

paddockgossip

liked by user55, hamilton8_, and others

paddockgossip Apparently the pilots and families are enjoying the Florida weather together. The first pic was sent by a follower, rumor has it that it’s Yn Hamilton and Mick Schumacher. The second is a screenshot of her story which confirms to us that she is indeed in Miami and at the beach or at least was. 😏

view all 398 comments

smtimesadness the second pic is Lando Norris, not Mick Schumacher 😂😂

mickynshipper I love them, but I feel better consuming the crumbs they give us them invading their private life like this.

⤷ user90 Idc, they’re both public persons

popyn1 ok but can we talk about Yn friendship with the grid?? She’s casually in a yacht with Lando, gets sugar for Charles, Pierre always comments funny stuff on her posts, and then there’s Mick too (this one Idk if it’s just another good friend and we are projecting, or they’re really dating)

theofficialyn

liked by alex_albon, susiewolff, and others

theofficialyn week’s vibe

view all 6.223 comments

mickyn MICK SHOWING UP TWO TIMES???? 😍😍😍

juridicohamiltons who gave you the flowers on the sixth slide?

⤷ theofficialyn a fan :)

⤷ pierregasly 🤣🤣🤣

⤷ girlbossgasly PIERRE SPILL THE TEA!

fan16_ I know y’all into mickyn train, but I cant stop thinking about how she always posts charles 😭😭😭😭 what if…..? 👁️👄👁️

gina_schumacher 💖💖💖💖 love youuu

⤷ lewisncharles their content is my fav, just two besties vibing

vroom_44 is that you revealing the song Lewis was listening to?

⤷ theofficialyn yes hahah 😝

charles_leclerc I am pretty sure you have better photos of me, yn…..

⤷ theofficialyn 😇💋

⤷ leclercmonza SEE??? ITS TOO SUS

(open the dms pics for better quality)

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @dalsuwaha (it says no blogger found 😭)

#mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher #social media au f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #millie writes #komh #black!reader x f1 #mick schumacher x black!reader #black!reader

[animentality]

Do you understand what people mean with the whole 'enjoying the durgetash crumbs = treating the game as a dating sim' talking point? I've seen it a couple times now. I guess enjoying a character dynamic and wanting to see more of it now means you don't care about other aspects of the game? I'm just as insane about the orin & durge dynamic as I am about durgetash, and yes I wish we had more murder siblings content, but I can still enjoy the (still more or less ambiguous) durgetash crumbs yk?

I mean Orin needs more content too.

But what's odd to me is that Astarion fans have been calling BG3 a dating sim for months, and they don't get criticism from anyone. Their man gets new shit constantly, at the expense of Wyll and every other character... yet it's 5 lines of Durgetash that pisses people off?

As if that was the main thing they added in Patch 6.

I think people just don't like Durgetash, but they're too cowardly to just say that outright.

So they tie it to some "oh you like Durgetash? Then you must hate Wyll" nonsense.

False equivalency. Rejected.

#dark urge #durgetash #enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

[renaiswriting]

Make a Wish

Pairing: Chwe Vernon/Reader

Summary:

Vernon tries to surprise you with a birthday cake for your birthday.

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Word count: +1.1k words

Author's note: It's officially my birthday (yeyy) so I wrote this for myself lol, I hope you enjoy it as well~

Masterlist.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Vernon was acting weird.

Starting two days ago, he had been going more quiet than usual.

At first, you attributed it to the tour that was just days away, with the preparations for a new comeback and the tight schedules and itineraries he had had.

But as the days went by, the tension didn't seem to want to leave his body.

It was strange; Vernon wasn't usually the type of person to get such nerves before such big events, so it was starting to worry you.

"Are you sure you're okay? You barely touched your dinner." You asked worriedly. You weren't the best cook in the world, but Vernon always ate every last crumb of any meal you prepared for him.

"Yes," he replied after a few seconds. "I think I'm about to be sick," he mumbled, bringing a hand to his stomach and patting it gently.

"Maybe we should save the movie for another night. Do you want me to call someone to come get you?" You offered. Whenever you were able to have a night to yourselves, you enjoyed watching some movies until it became physically impossible to keep your eyes open and you decided to go to sleep.

This had been the first one in a long time, and you had really been looking forward to it, but it broke your heart to see Vernon in such a state.

"No." Vernon shook his head, letting your hands massage his tired shoulders. "Tomorrow is your birthday; I want to be here when you wake up. With all the preparations and rehearsals we have today, I doubt I'll be able to see you all day."

"It doesn't matter; we can celebrate another day, really." You loved your birthdays, but as you got older and older, adult life left you little time to properly celebrate. "I have to go to work early tomorrow anyway; I doubt I'll even have time off." You joked, trying to make him feel better.

"Still." Vernon insisted, "I'm sure I just need a little rest tonight, and tomorrow I'll be fine again."

You restrained yourself from continuing with an argument; it was rare to get Vernon to change his mind once he already had something on his mind, and if he was really feeling bad, it was best to just lie down and get a good night's sleep.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his warm body.

The soft blankets covering you, his hands caressing your skin, the soft kisses he was leaving on the back of your head, and his slow breathing were all you needed to fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

Hours later (which unfortunately felt like seconds since you had closed your eyes), you woke up to your back getting cold.

You rolled over, noticing that Vernon wasn't sleeping next to you, and instantly became aware of the smell of burning coming from the kitchen.

The clock on your bedside table showed that it was almost half past six in the morning.

Dragging your favorite blanket off the bed, you hurried to investigate what was causing the smell.

Just by opening the bedroom door (which Vernon had closed to avoid waking you up), you could already make out a thin layer of smoke going from the oven to the ceiling.

The windows were closed, and that didn't help the air circulate.

Vernon was still wearing the same clothes he had gone to sleep in, and his hair was so disheveled that it was hard to tell where one strand began and another ended.

His cheeks were covered with flour, and his cheeks glistened with sweat.

He looked adorable.

The more you watched him, you began to notice more details, like the splashes on his favorite hoodie.

"Now what?" Vernon muttered, opening the oven door and pulling out a mass so dark it might as well be black.

If it weren't for the strong burnt aroma, you'd swear he'd tried to bake something chocolate.

Vernon stood motionless, staring at his creation without any kind of reaction.

Sighing, he pulled his cell phone out from under some egg cartons he had used and typed something there.

"Good morning, handsome."

Vernon raised his head so fast, you'd swear you'd heard a crack.

"Ah, no!" Vernon cried, covering what he had taken out of the oven with his arms, his cheeks turning a pale pink. "What are you doing up at this hour? You were still supposed to be sleeping."

His reaction took you by surprise, and you turned around and covered your eyes. "Sorry! I just wanted to see where you were." You explained. "I didn't see anything!"

Vernon went on moaning for a few moments, cleaning up the mess he had made and covering his creation with the first thing he could find.

"Go to sleep." He asked, but you were already wide awake, and both he and you knew that no matter how hard you tried, it would be nearly impossible for you to fall back asleep.

"Can I turn over?"

"Yeah," Vernon replied.

His face was getting redder and redder with every second your eyes were on him.

"What were you doing?" you asked him, your hand reaching for his cheek that was still covered in traces of flour.

"A cake. A birthday cake." Vernon confessed, "I followed all the instructions Mingyu sent me, but I don't know what went wrong."

"I wanted to surprise you with a birthday breakfast." He added.

You couldn't say anything.

Vernon didn't usually cook or bake anything.

It just wasn't something he was interested in, especially when he knew he could easily survive on sandwiches.

You would never have thought he would have been planning something like this.

You didn't need a mirror to know that your eyes were sparkling when you looked at him.

When Mingyu showed me how it had to be done step by step a week ago, I thought it was going to come out perfect." Vernon lamented scratching behind his neck. "I already bought a new birthday cake; it should be here soon."

You cut him off, silencing him by connecting your lips with his.

"You're perfect." You shook your head, still in disbelief. "Was this the reason for how weird you were acting these days?"

"I wanted it to come out perfect. I was really nervous of messing it up."

"Cancel the purchase. The only birthday cake I'm going to accept is the one you baked."

"It's all burned. Mingyu told me vanilla cakes were the best, so I changed the recipe he had told me to a new one, mixing up some of the preparation steps."

"Let's pretend it's chocolate." You laughed, hugging him again. "Thanks Vernon."

"Happy birthday."

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfics #seventeen fic #svt au #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #svt fanfic #svt reacts #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x oc #seventeen x reader #svt x y/n #svt x oc #svt x reader #svt x you #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon #chwe vernon x reader #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #vernon fluff #vernon fanfic #vernon seventeen #vernon scenarios #vernon svt #vernon au #svt fluff

[ganondoodle]

so its part of a way longer post i made some days ago but i want to highlight this part of it:

"i cant stop thinking about the devs saying sth like "after botw zelda wondered if the kingdom of hyrule needed to keep existing the way it had been before the calamity, but then totk happens" bc it just feels like they realized too late that botw naturally led into questioning the status quo and they scrambled to fit it back into a flat and boring road we have seen so many times before (or even worse really) with totk zeldas character naturally leads into her questioning and reexamine their history and set of rules? we gotta teach her a lesson of why she is importante god given monarchy girl that has to keep it bc what if evil brown man shows up again for no reason maybe im grasping at straws here but looking at it this way the sonau .. make more "sense"; the shiekah were a group that was under the rule of the royal family, and misstreated before (oh no look soemthing interesting) so they dont lend themselves well to be used for teaching zelda that lesson- the sonau however are tailored really to be just that; they are a supposedly godly race from the literal sky that founded this version of hyrule, that had tech even more advanced and better than the shiekah, she gets put in the past to meet the perfect god king of goodness personally, also his very fridgy wifey that zelda later replaces in a way, shes put there and treated like family and then gets to see just how evil that evil big man from the desert is, sonia is falcon-punched to death solely so zelda can feel obligated to take over her role, have her new, better 'family' hurt by gan; similarly so raurus sacrifice, look what a noble and good king he is, he payed the ultimate price to lock that evil man away, now zelda you cannot let their sacrifice go to waste, rebuild that divinely good kingdom like it was!!"

bc it feels like i finally "cracked the code" of why the sonau feel both like a reskinned version of the shikeah .. while also not at all to me, so shoved into every single corner of the game and its history (not even the forgotten temple being safe from them sure is .... also something, like them being spread all over hyrule, not just the undergound, but the surface AND sky as well isnt weird enough, the shiekah at least were integrated into the world and by far not as idolized as the sonau)

seeing the sonau like this ""better"" and more """perfect"" version of the shiekah bc they are untainted by any possible complicated relationships with especially the royal family (the sonau ARE the prefect, idyllic royal family of the past after all) makes them make so much more "sense" to me, they are a bad mix of OOTs and botws structure, sure, but the way they were done in the game i cannot for the life of me see it as that being their sole problem

(also looking at how shiekah tech was downgraded to some side gimick of purah ... idk if they ever even call it shiekah at all anymore, and if "all sheikah tech just vanished" like the devs said then ... how does any of that still exist huh? it doesnt add up at all except if you see it as the sonau being the ""better"" version of the shiekah with none of the "problematic" parts or history or conenctions (which would be .. interesting) bc they are supposed to represent that idyllic past zelda should feel obligated to recreate now, to uphold that sweet status quo ..

sidenote: someone on the post i talked about his before said its also dumbo that there is supposedly no connection at all between the shiekah and sonau, and yes! that was something i ranted about while i was still playing the game back in may even (most of my later gameplay at some point devolves into a rant about how stupid it is that there is no connection and instead its all just ... gone) bc its just ... so dumb

its also how i chose to integrate the sonau better into the world in my totk rewrite stuff, that they were once there aand had high tech but its by now only crumbs left with nothing funtcioning anymore but you discover that at the time of the ancient shiekah finding it it was still researchable and they build their tech based on the sonau ruins even if the sonau stuff is nothing but dust anymore- which i find a super ... obvious way to give the sonau a better connection to the existing world, keep the shiekah, expand upon their mystery while also still keepign them as such-

.... anyway, there beign no connection at all somehow also fits even more into my theory of the sonau, again, being there solely to represent the idyllic, perfect past zelda needs to feel obligated to rebuild while the shiekah are nothign but a funney gimick of purah now while everything else "just vanished" somehow bc we dont wanna deal with the shiekahs imperfect past so they really should be just a a helpful helper of the rocals (and the yiga a side note as a little threat to be different from the usual monsters but thats all that there is :)))) -

this is getting too long again .. feel free to add your two cents on it and if seeign the sonau like this makes them make more 'sense' to you too

#ganondoodles talks #ganondoodles rants #zelda #totk #there was a super neat thing i wanted to write out but then got distracted and forgot #aynway #maybe im overthinking it #but given how the game and its story goes #.............. doesnt feel like im reaching tbh