🐇・✧・Lotus’ Wonderland Navigation・✧・🐇
“We’re all mad here.” — but here, we’re also reading, writing, and wandering through stories 🌸
cherry valley forever

if i look back, i am lost

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

shark vs the universe
taylor price

pixel skylines

titsay

Andulka
Stranger Things
tumblr dot com
we're not kids anymore.


★
styofa doing anything

Origami Around
Sade Olutola
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Jules of Nature
noise dept.
Xuebing Du

seen from United States
seen from Honduras

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from Honduras

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
@loutusmist
🐇・✧・Lotus’ Wonderland Navigation・✧・🐇
“We’re all mad here.” — but here, we’re also reading, writing, and wandering through stories 🌸

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
In Another Life, Perhaps
In war torn Japan, a lonely teenage girl and a young American soldier form a quiet bond despite being outcasts in their own worlds. But when war tears them apart before either can confess their feelings, both are left haunted by a love that was never spoken aloud.
The first time Hana saw him, he was covered in soot.
Not blood. Not glory. Just soot.
Coal dust stained the boy’s cheeks and forehead in uneven smears, dark against deep brown skin as he crouched beside the harbor wall with his helmet tipped too far over his eyes. The thing looked too large for him, slipping low every few seconds until he pushed it back up with annoyed fingers.
The foreign soldiers had become common in Yokohama by then.
Tall men with loud boots and louder mouths. Men who smelled like gunpowder and tobacco and sea salt. Men the townspeople watched from a careful distance.
Hana watched them too.
But unlike the others, she did not stare with curiosity.
She stared because she understood loneliness when she saw it.
The boy sat apart from the other soldiers despite being only a few paces away. They laughed among themselves while he remained quiet, rubbing dirt from his palms onto his trousers with absent exhaustion.
Young, she realized.
Too young.
Perhaps seventeen.
Perhaps eighteen.
Not much older than herself.
The evening wind lifted the edges of Hana’s pale blue kimono as she lingered near the docks with her basket pressed against her hip. Her hair, cut short just below her jaw, shifted softly around her face.
The scar beneath her collarbone ached.
It always did when the weather changed.
The boy noticed her staring.
Their eyes met briefly.
Neither smiled.
Yet somehow, Hana did not look away.
After that, she began seeing him everywhere.
Near the harbor.
Along the market streets.
Sometimes sitting alone beside stacked crates while the other soldiers crowded into tea houses without him.
Always dirty.
Always tired.
Always alone.
The townspeople avoided him for obvious reasons. Foreigners already drew enough suspicion, but a Black foreign soldier drew stares even among the Americans themselves.
Hana understood those looks intimately.
Her mother had once told her:
“You stole everything good from me the moment you were born.”
As a child, Hana had not understood what that meant.
She understood after the beatings started.
After the shattered porcelain.
After being shoved against the hibachi hard enough to leave a burn carved into her chest forever.
Her father never intervened.
He simply stopped looking at her altogether.
As though acknowledging her existence exhausted him.
Eventually, Hana learned silence was safer.
Silence kept the peace.
Silence made people forget she was there.
But the foreign boy,
Isaiah, she would later learn.
never seemed disturbed by her quiet.
The first word he ever spoke to her was accidental.
She had been kneeling near the riverbank washing cloth when he approached to retrieve something drifting in the water, a little silver button from his uniform.
Their hands brushed as she picked it up first.
He startled.
Then laughed softly through his nose.
“Thank you,” he said carefully.
The Japanese sounded awkward in his mouth.
Hana blinked once before placing the button into his palm.
His fingers were warm despite the cold.
After that, he began appearing beside her without invitation.
Never demanding conversation.
Never forcing closeness.
He would simply sit nearby while she worked.
Sometimes he sketched terribly onto scraps of paper while she silently watched.
Sometimes she brought extra rice cakes and placed them between them without acknowledgment.
Once, during rain, he removed his oversized helmet and placed it over her head instead.
It slipped down to her nose.
For the first time in years, Hana laughed.
A tiny sound.
Barely audible.
But Isaiah stared at her like he had discovered sunlight.
After that, he tried constantly to hear it again.
Winter arrived quietly.
The city filled with smoke and foreign chatter and rumors of conflict spreading farther than before.
Hana found Isaiah one evening seated atop a crate near the docks, carefully stitching a tear in his sleeve beneath dim lanternlight.
Coal dust marked his jaw again.
Without thinking, Hana reached toward him.
Her thumb brushed the dark smear from his cheek.
Isaiah froze.
The harbor noises seemed to vanish around them.
Hana realized what she had done and immediately pulled back, lowering her gaze in embarrassment.
But Isaiah gently caught her wrist.
Not tightly.
Not possessively.
Just enough to stop her retreat.
His hand was rough and trembling slightly.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then his eyes flickered downward toward the scar peeking from beneath her kimono collar.
Most people stared at it.
Isaiah looked only briefly before lifting his gaze back to her face.
As though the scar meant nothing at all.
Something inside Hana cracked open then.
Small.
Painful.
Terrifying.
She did not have words for it.
So instead, she sat beside him until the lantern burned out.
The soldiers departed before dawn three weeks later.
Hana arrived at the harbor carrying wrapped rice cakes beneath her sleeve only to find empty crates and muddy tracks leading toward the road out of town.
Gone.
The harbor suddenly felt enormous.
Cold.
Wrong.
For days afterward, she waited near the docks each evening.
Then weeks.
Soldiers slowly returned in scattered groups afterward, wounded, exhausted, quieter than before.
Isaiah was not among them.
Hana began searching frantically despite herself.
She stopped passing like a ghost through the streets and instead approached officers with shaking hands, trying desperately to ask about the young American soldier with the crooked helmet and soot stained face.
Most ignored her.
Some brushed her aside.
Until one finally paused.
“The Black boy?” he asked bluntly.
Hana nodded.
The officer barely looked at her while adjusting papers beneath his arm.
“He went missing during battle.”
Silence.
Then casually,
“Presumed dead.”
The world did not shatter loudly.
No dramatic scream tore from Hana’s throat.
No collapse followed.
It was quieter than that.
Like snow settling over everything all at once.
Hana bowed automatically.
Turned.
Walked home.
And never spoke again.
People called it improvement.
Her mother called it obedience.
When marriage arrangements came months later, nobody objected on Hana’s behalf.
The man chosen for her was older by many years. A widower with tired eyes and practical manners.
He was not cruel.
That almost made it worse.
Hana wore pale cream silk during the ceremony while relatives whispered about how fortunate she was despite her scar, despite her strangeness.
She stood silently through all of it.
Like a ghost being dressed for burial.
Years seemed to pass inside her without movement.
Isaiah returned in spring.
Thinner.
Limping slightly.
Alive.
A fragment of shrapnel had torn through his shoulder during battle, leaving him stranded among the dead long enough for reports to assume otherwise.
The first thing he did upon returning to Yokohama was search for Hana.
He found her by accident.
She stood outside a quiet home arranging laundry beneath the afternoon sun, dressed in the muted clothing of a married woman.
Her hair remained short.
Her posture remained soft and withdrawn.
But there was another man beside her.
Older.
Steady.
Her husband.
Isaiah stopped walking.
For a long moment, he simply watched her.
She looked thinner than before.
Paler.
Different.
As though part of her had been left somewhere unreachable.
Hana turned slightly then.
For one impossible second, Isaiah thought she might see him standing across the street.
But her gaze passed over him entirely.
Empty.
Distant.
The realization settled heavily into his chest.
Of course.
Of course she had moved on.
Why wouldn’t she?
He had been gone too long.
He had never told her how he felt.
A girl like Hana could never have belonged to someone like him anyway.
Isaiah lowered his eyes.
Then quietly walked away before she could notice him.
Hana never learned he survived.
Isaiah never learned she had stopped speaking after his death.
And somewhere between war, silence, and timing, two people who loved each other completely became strangers again.
In another life, perhaps they would have spoken sooner.
"Character x reader." Reader has a name and it's written in third person?
you know what, fuck it be free, keep reading that bad fan fiction, keep writing that bad fanfiction, keep using y/n, keep staying up to 4 a.m reading x reader, to be cringe is too be free
(just NO a.i)
THE BLOOM THAT REMEMBERS
It’s just a little self ship thing with medicine seller of kun🥹
In the inner Ōoku, where silk rustled like whispers and lantern light never quite reached the corners, there lived a girl known only as,
the one who smelled like flowers.
You.
An apothecary assistant.
Your hands were always dusted in powdered petals, your sleeves brushed with soft pink, your presence gentle enough to be forgotten the moment you left a room.
You made remedies from blossoms, plum for sleep, camellia for fevers, chrysanthemum for the heart
And sometimes, when no one was watching,
You made sweets.
Tiny, delicate things shaped like flowers.
Sugared petals. Sweet pastes wrapped in softness.
No one ever questioned you.
No one ever looked too closely.
…which is why you noticed everything.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You felt him before you saw him.
The air shifted, subtle, but wrong.
Like a room inhaling and forgetting to breathe out.
You turned.
And there he was.
The man dressed too vividly for the muted palace. Eyes too sharp. Smile too knowing.
The Medicine Seller.
Standing where no man should stand.
Watching you.
Not with interest.
But with evaluation.
You bowed, because that is what you were supposed to do.
And then, softly,
“Are you unwell?”
Because that is what you always asked
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly.
“You handle flowers… yet you do not question why some refuse to wilt.”
Your fingers stilled.
The petals in your hands, fresh. Too fresh.
Even though you had dried them days ago.
That was the beginning.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
It started small.
Things misplaced.
Names misremembered.
A lady in waiting insisting she had always been in service,
even though you remembered someone else in her place.
A room that used to belong to someone…
…now empty.
Unclaimed.
Unacknowledged.
And the flowers,
They began to bloom out of season.
Petals falling in still air.
Buds opening in darkness.
Fragrance lingering where no flowers should be.
Especially around you.
He found you again.
Of course he did.
Always when you were alone.
Always when the palace felt thinnest.
“Tell me,” he said one night, voice low beneath the lantern glow,
“what do you see when you look at them?”
Not who.
Not what.
What you see.
You hesitated.
But only for a moment.
“…someone pretending.”
Silence.
Then,
A smile.
Not kind.
But… approving.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
He should not have been there.
You should not have spoken to him.
And yet,
You kept meeting.
In quiet corridors.
In the apothecary after dark.
In rooms where the air felt too still.
You brought him sweets once.
A small thing. Pink. Flower shaped.
He didn’t take it.
But his gaze lingered.
“You made this.”
Not a question.
“…yes.”
“You give sweetness freely.”
A pause.
“Even here.”
You didn’t understand what he meant.
But something in his voice made your chest tighten.
After that, you brought them anyway.
He never ate them.
But you noticed,
He always looked.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
The truth began to surface like something drowning.
There had been someone.
A woman in the palace.
Soft. Kind. Easily overlooked.
Forgotten.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Erased.
Her name removed from records.
Her existence replaced.
Her role given to another.
A life quietly rewritten.
And the Mononoke,
It was her grief.
Her anger.
Her refusal to disappear.
But it had no form.
Not fully.
Not yet.
Because something still tied her to the world.
Something that remembered her.
You.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You were not her.
But you had taken her place.
Not knowingly.
Not willingly.
But the palace had shifted around you.
Her absence filled by your presence.
Her story buried beneath yours.
And the flowers,
The reason they bloomed around you?
Because she had loved them too.
You stood in the apothecary, hands trembling.
“…I didn’t know.”
The Medicine Seller watched you carefully.
Always watching.
“Most do not.”
“…she was forgotten.”
“No.”
A pause.
“She was made to be forgotten.”
That was worse.
So much worse.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You found him before the final confrontation.
For once, you sought him out.
“I don’t want her to disappear.”
Your voice was soft.
But firm.
For a moment,
He said nothing.
Then,
“That is not your decision.”
“I know.”
A breath.
“…but it matters.”
Silence stretched.
Heavy.
And then,
You reached for him.
Without thinking.
Without reason.
Just instinct.
Your fingers brushed his sleeve.
He stilled.
For a single moment,
He didn’t pull away.
That was the closest thing to intimacy he had ever allowed.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Form. Truth. Reason.
All revealed.
The Mononoke screamed, not in rage, but in recognition.
She had been seen.
Remembered.
Acknowledged.
And that was enough.
The blade fell.
The illusion shattered.
The palace returned to itself.
Cold.
Perfect.
Unchanged.
Except,
You remembered.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Days passed.
Then weeks.
No one spoke of what happened.
No one remembered her.
But you did.
You continued your work.
Grinding herbs.
Arranging flowers.
Making sweets.
And sometimes,
Petals would fall where there was no wind.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You knew he would go.
He always did.
Still,
You brought sweets one last time.
He stood at the edge of the corridor.
Half shadowed.
Already gone, in a way.
You held them out.
“…for the road.”
He didn’t take them.
Of course he didn’t.
But he looked at you.
Longer than he ever had before.
“You remained… even after knowing.”
You didn’t answer.
Another pause.
Then,
“You see too much for someone who intends to stay here.”
Your chest tightened.
“…and you?”
A faint shift in his expression.
Almost something human.
Almost.
“That is why I leave.”
And then,
“Do not let them make you forget.”
He turned.
Walked away.
Gone.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
The palace continued.
As it always did.
But in the apothecary,
There is always a faint scent of flowers.
Even when none are present.
And sometimes,
You leave sweets by the window.
Just in case.
And though they are never taken,
You always feel as though…
they were seen.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Please may I have Fairy tail Platonic headcanons of being the younger brother of Gray Fullbuster and his name is Naoki Fullbuster age 12. He lost his parents when he wasn't much older than 2 years old after Deliora had destroyed their hometown and murdered their parents and their family..everyone. Naoki and his brother were taken in by Ur after being found by her student and by her..he barely remembered those days as he was too young to remember Ur to begin with..but he knew that she meant a lot to Gray and he respected that. He joined Fairy tail not long after Gray did when he turned 5..learnt ice make magic from his Onii-Chan himself, learnt ice make magic basics and gradually got better at it as the years went on and eventually became a S Class Wizard at 10 years old..which was admittedly unexpected and then joined Team Natsu. The relationship between Naoki and Wendy is Platonic and it is not Romantic as of yet..as they are children and not of age, but apparently Naoki gets extremely flustered around her and mumbled once that she was extremely pretty and Happy never let him hear the end of it. 100 Years Quest..it was proven that Edolas Wendy and Naoki had a little girl named Lily age 3 (as the Edolas counterparts were married and parents as they are adults) and eventually Earthlanders Naoki and Wendy Marvell would do the same. Yes, he does have a minor stripping habit issue and he wasn't proud of that. Learnt to be independent and did literally all of the housework like cooking and cleaning..he wasn't brilliant at it..but it was decent.
Personality:
Naoki is extremely polite and a total gentleman towards the ladies and girls..but actually he genuinely didn't want to cross certain girls when they're angry (Erza and Mirajane) and that made him nervous and suddenly extremely polite. He is proven to be extremely good with toddlers and small children and had taken up babysitting jobs sometimes and had babysat Asuka and they all looked up to him in a way. He had his flaws..he wasn't perfect but he was a good friend and teammate and he was extremely protective of his guild..as weak as he may look at first glance..he was actually stronger than he looks. He was wise enough to stay out of jobs which may seem like traps or tricks..and he rarely got angry unless..you harmed his guild mates, made his loved ones cry or hurt the master..trust me..Naoki looks extremely frightening when he was pissed and it was not something that people wanted to provoke..(Naoki severely injured Invel for hurting Wendy so much that Invel was left for dead). Had a 6th Sense when it came to sensing when something sounded off or seriously wrong..regarding missions, people or places..it had saved his teammates on multiple occasions.He is a nice kid..likes reading and preferred it to guild brawls and is literally one of the most well liked children in Fairy tail. just don't challenge him to a fight..he can hospitalise you easily. Popular because he was genuinely a nice child and a Social butterfly..overall he is a nice kid despite his flaws..
Wendy x Naoki moments: Naoki allowed himself to be vulnerable when he admitted not being strong emotionally as people assumed: https://youtu.be/X2oJTnlvcZo?si=eIcM5CXjpqNoN4HK (go to 18:24 when he opened up to Wendy about feeling useless and then go to 20:28 after the big brother in the video finished his compassionate chat..Naoki apologising to Wendy for having to help Juvia murder the guy who was controlling his Dad)..it was also around the same time that Juvia had confessed to Gray that she had murdered the guy who had been controlling their father.
Naoki was one of the other guild members who accepted Wendy into Fairy tail and was actually happy that she joined.
Naoki Fullbuster actually got angry when Wendy had gotten hurt by a dark guild and it was rare to get him angry unless you had an death wish.
many other Wendy x Naoki moments too..like Wendy protecting a unconscious and an injured Naoki.
Apparance:
This is Naoki Fullbuster aged 12 wearing glasses due to poor eyesight. His fairy tail guild mark is on his back.
*his right eye apparently looks unusual after a magic accident*
*Full body*
*Naoki genuinely thanking Juvia for being there for Gray*
Relationships:
Wendy's relationship with her future husband *it's platonic as they are kids and it's not romantic as of yet*
Team Natsu's relationship with him
Juvia's relationship with her future brother-in-law
Mirajane's relationship with him
Gajeel's relationship with him
Creators note: I am soso sorry for this taking so long I wanted it to be as detailed as possible but I lost so much motivation and got busy with school…
Naoki Fullbuster — General Headcanons
• Everyone in the guild agrees: Naoki is “the good Fullbuster.”
• Then they look at Gray Fullbuster stripping mid-conversation and go “…yeah.”
• Despite being S-Class at 10, Naoki is: humble, soft-spoken, and lowkey embarrassed by praise
• His glasses give him a “quiet scholar” vibe, so people constantly underestimate him until he casually creates an entire battlefield of Ice Make constructs
• His right eye (after the magic accident): faintly glows in certain lighting, enhances his perception → ties into his “sixth sense”, freaks out enemies more than his magic does
• He reads during guild brawls. Someone gets thrown across the room → he just lifts his book slightly to avoid getting hit.
Naoki & Gray (BROTHER DYNAMIC)
• Gray is overprotective but in denial about it “He’s strong. He can handle himself.”
• immediately freezes someone who insulted Naoki
• Naoki calls him “Onii-chan” sometimes when emotional → Gray FREEZES (emotionally, not magically)
• Gray taught him Ice-Make magic: Naoki learned faster than expected, Gray pretends not to be proud, Everyone else notices
• They don’t talk about their parents much… but when they do, it’s quiet, late at night no jokes, no teasing, just honesty
• Naoki is one of the only people who can calm Gray down instantly
Naoki & Wendy
• Naoki was one of the first to genuinely welcome her, offered to help her settle in showed her around the guild
• He gets ridiculously flustered around her: avoids eye contact, pushes up his glasses, stutters mid-sentence
• The “you’re really pretty…” moment: said quietly immediately regretted it Happy: “OOOOOHHHH NAAOOOKIIII~”
• Wendy trusts him deeply: goes to him when she’s unsure about missions, listens when he says “something feels off”
• That emotional scene you mentioned: Naoki opening up about feeling useless? HUGE moment for him Wendy doesn’t interrupt, just listens afterwards: quiet reassurance, not dramatic
• When Wendy got hurt: Naoki’s aura completely changed calm → terrifying that’s when people realized: he’s not just kind… he’s dangerous
Team Natsu & Naoki
Natsu:
• constantly tries to fight him
• Naoki avoids it like:
• “I’d rather not destroy the town today…”
• Lucy:
• thinks he’s the most well mannered kid ever
• trusts him to babysit instantly
• Happy:
• lives to embarrass him (especially about Wendy)
• calls him “Lovebird Ice Boy”
• Team dynamic:
• Naoki = the strategist / intuition anchor
• the one who says: “Wait. Something’s wrong here.” and he’s usually RIGHT
Naoki & Juvia
Juvia treats him like: a little brother and future family
• Naoki genuinely thanks her for being there for Gray: she CRIES immediately
• They bond over: protecting Gray emotional intelligence (surprisingly)
• Juvia: “Naoki is such a kind boy… unlike Gray-sama who removes clothes.”
Naoki & Mirajane
He is terrified of her when she’s angry
• instantly becomes: “Yes ma’am. No ma’am.”
• Mira LOVES him:
• feeds him
• praises him
• calls him “such a sweet child”
• She knows he’s dangerous
• but also knows he’d never misuse it
Naoki & Gajeel
Gajeel respects strength → respects Naoki
• Their bond: quiet mutual understanding lowkey protective of Levy & Wendy together
• Gajeel once saw Naoki angry and went “…yeah. Not messing with that kid.”
Naoki & Kids (Asuka + others)
• Kids LOVE him
• He’s: gentle, patient, surprisingly fun
• Asuka sees him as: a “cool big brother”
• Babysitting moments:
• builds tiny ice animals
• reads stories
• makes snacks (slightly messy, but good)
When Naoki Gets Angry…
• Rare.
• Very rare.
But when it happens:
• his voice goes quiet
• his magic becomes precise, not explosive
• the temperature around him drops sharply
In the Invel situation:
• he didn’t rage wildly
• he calculated
• and destroyed him efficiently
That’s what scared people most.
Edolas Future (Naoki & Wendy)
• Their Edolas counterparts being married??
• everyone teases them endlessly
• Their daughter Lily:
• tiny
• soft-spoken
• already showing magic signs
• Earthland Naoki:
• dies internally every time it’s brought up
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ THROUGH THE LOOKING FLAME (PT. 2) ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
IN WHICH… Johnny realizes chasing you isn’t just a game anymore, and you, a creature of riddles and vanishing acts, start lingering just a second too long to call it coincidence.
desc; johnny storm x reader, cheshire cat inspired reader, continuation, slowburn chaos, flirty tension, reality warping mischief, emotional curiosity, chaos meets something softer, teasing romance, wonderland vibes, rooftop confessions, unpredictable affection.
“You were never meant to stay, so why do you?”
word count; 791
📎 masterlist - part 1
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
For the first time since you appeared, you didn’t leave.
Not right away, at least.
Johnny noticed it before he said anything. He always did. The way your edges didn’t dissolve into smoke the second silence settled. The way your form stayed whole, perched beside him on the rooftop, legs swinging idly over the edge like you had nowhere else to be.
It was… new.
Suspiciously new.
“You’re staring,” you sang softly, not even looking at him.
Johnny leaned back on his hands, squinting at you. “You’re staying.”
A pause.
Then, slowly, your head tilted, that grin stretching just a little wider. “Am I?”
“You usually disappear by now,” he said. “Right about the part where things get… quiet.”
“Maybe I like quiet,” you hummed.
“Liar.”
That earned him a laugh, bright, sharp, curling around him like smoke. But it didn’t vanish with you this time. It lingered. You lingered.
Johnny felt something twist in his chest. He ignored it.
“You’re changing the rules,” he added.
You turned to him then, fully, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “There were never rules, Johnny Storm. That’s what makes it fun.”
“Yeah?” he said, smirking a little. “Then what’s the goal?”
Your grin softened. Not gone, never gone, but… different.
“That depends,” you said quietly. “Are you trying to win?”
Johnny opened his mouth, ready with something clever, something easy, and stopped.
Because for once, you weren’t teasing.
You were watching him. Not like a game. Not like a puzzle.
Like you were trying to understand something.
“Maybe,” he said finally, voice lower than usual, “I don’t know what I’m playing for.”
That seemed to… interest you.
You shifted closer. Not vanishing. Not appearing somewhere else. Just… moving. Like a normal person would.
That alone should’ve been impossible.
“Then you’re doing it right,” you murmured.
Johnny huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
Your shoulder brushed his. Light. Accidental.
Except… it wasn’t.
Johnny stilled.
“You usually don’t do that either,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Stay still.”
You blinked at him. Once. Slowly.
Then, in a flicker of violet, you disappeared and reappeared much closer. Close enough that your knees touched his.
“I can,” you said softly.
Johnny’s breath caught, just for a second.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m noticing.”
Silence settled again. But it didn’t feel empty this time.
It felt… full.
You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the sky. “Do you ever get tired of burning?”
The question caught him off guard. “What?”
“Always being bright,” you clarified. “Always being seen. Always being… wanted.”
Johnny scoffed lightly. “Comes with the territory.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
He glanced at you. You weren’t smiling now. Not really.
And suddenly, this didn’t feel like a game anymore.
“…Sometimes,” he admitted.
Your eyes flickered.
“Sometimes it’s loud,” he went on. “All the time. People expect things. They see the flames before they see me.”
You were very still. Listening.
“And you?” he asked, nudging the conversation back toward you. “You ever get tired of disappearing?”
Your grin returned, but slower this time. Softer.
“I don’t disappear,” you said. “I just go where I’m not expected.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It isn’t.”
A pause.
“…It doesn’t have to be,” Johnny said.
That made you look at him again. Really look.
Your form flickered faintly, like you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay solid or slip away into smoke.
“You’re strange,” you said.
Johnny laughed. “Pretty sure you lost the right to call anyone strange the second you showed up as a floating grin.”
You giggled at that, softer than before.
“Maybe,” you admitted. “But you’re strange in a different way.”
“Good strange or bad strange?”
You leaned closer. Slow. Deliberate. Your voice dropped into something quieter, almost thoughtful.
“…Dangerous strange.”
Johnny’s heart kicked.
“Dangerous?” he echoed. “That supposed to scare me?”
“It should.”
“Doesn’t.”
Your grin widened again, but there was something unsteady underneath it now. Something curious. Something… new.
“You’re not afraid of me at all, are you?”
Johnny shook his head. “Should I be?”
You didn’t answer right away.
Instead, you reached out, hesitant, for the first time since he’d met you, and brushed your fingers against his wrist.
Not a trick. Not a vanish. Not a tease.
Just a touch.
Warm. Real.
Johnny froze.
“You should be,” you whispered.
But you didn’t pull away.
And neither did he.
For once, there were no riddles. No disappearing acts. No laughter echoing into the night.
Just you.
Just him.
And the quiet realization that maybe this wasn’t a game anymore.
Or if it was…
Neither of you wanted it to end.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
Lmk if I should do a part three👀
Just want to play with someone's hair while they lay between my legs while we're both so sleepy 😔
me tweaking out trying to find that one good fanfic
IVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR THIS ONE I ACCIDENTALLY LOST AND CANT FIND IT…
⋆˚✦ 。 SHY HEARTS & HALF SMILES ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
IN WHICH… Nightwing can take down an entire room of villains without breaking a sweat, but somehow goes speechless when you look at him with those wide, bashful eyes. He teases, you blush, and somewhere between patrols and shared rooftops, he starts realizing he might just like being the reason you smile.
desc; dc x reader, nightwing x shy!reader, slowburn fluff, charm vs nerves, rooftop confessions, mutual pining, teasing + flustered energy, protective boyfriend vibes, soft romance, night patrols & secret crushes, warm banter under cold skies.
Word count: 906
📎 master list
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
The city was quieter than usual that night, rare, for Blüdhaven. The wind carried the faint hum of neon lights and distant traffic, the kind of sound that filled the silence between heartbeats.
You stood on the edge of a rooftop, the moonlight brushing against your face as you tried to focus on the street below. Tried being the key word.
Because behind you, somewhere between the sound of a grappling hook retracting and the shift of boots against concrete, you heard him.
“Miss me?”
You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. That voice, smooth with a grin tucked inside every syllable, unmistakable.
“Y-you were gone for six minutes,” you managed, keeping your gaze stubbornly on the city. “That hardly counts as—”
“Six minutes too long.”
You turned, and there he was, Nightwing, mask gleaming faintly in the low light, blue symbol glowing like some kind of neon heart across his chest. He looked relaxed, confident, the way he always did, leaning on his escrima stick like it was part of him.
He tilted his head. “You checking your watch on me now?”
You blinked, unsure if he was serious. He chuckled before you could respond, closing the space between you in two easy steps.
“I’m kidding,” he said softly, but the teasing lilt in his tone stayed. “Unless you were timing me. In which case, I’m flattered.”
Your face heated instantly. “I— I wasn’t—”
“Oh, definitely blushing,” he murmured, the smile audible in his voice. “I knew it.”
You made a small noise, part protest, part laugh, and turned away quickly, trying to hide your face behind your scarf. He found that adorable. He always did.
For someone who’d grown up surrounded by chaos and combat, Nightwing found something oddly grounding about you, the way your hands fidgeted when you talked, the way your words caught in your throat when he teased you too much. You were quiet, soft-spoken, but never fragile. Just… gentle. A rare thing in his world of constant motion.
“So,” he said after a moment, stepping beside you to look out at the view. “How’s my new partner holding up?”
You hesitated. “I… think I did okay tonight. I didn’t freeze up as much.”
“Didn’t?” he asked, mock offended. “You mean there was a chance my inspiring presence wasn’t enough to keep you totally cool under pressure?”
“Your presence,” you muttered, “is the reason I almost missed that first jump.”
That earned a genuine laugh from him, low, warm, and disarming. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t blame you. I have that effect on people.”
You looked at him then, trying to glare, but your expression softened before it could land. He looked different up close, not just the confident acrobat everyone saw, but something more tired in his eyes. Something human.
He caught your gaze and smiled again, gentler this time. “You know, you don’t have to be nervous around me.”
“I’m not nervous,” you said automatically.
“Sure,” he said, leaning closer, “then what’s with the heartbeat I can hear through your suit?”
Your breath caught. “You— can’t—”
“Oh, sweetheart, I absolutely can,” he teased. “I’ve got good ears.”
You stared at him, wide eyed, unsure if he was joking, he definitely was, but the way he said it made your pulse trip even faster. He laughed softly, taking pity on you.
“Relax,” he said. “I just like seeing you smile. You’re always so quiet, I gotta work extra hard to get one out of you.”
“I’m not that quiet.”
“Mm, you kind of are,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly with his own. “But that’s okay. I like quiet. Gives me a chance to talk enough for both of us.”
You couldn’t help it, you laughed. It came out small, hesitant, but real. His grin widened instantly like he’d just won a prize.
“There it is,” he said softly. “Best sound in the city.”
You rolled your eyes, still smiling despite yourself. “You flirt with everyone, don’t you?”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Only the ones worth falling off rooftops for.”
That made you freeze. He said it casually, easily, but his eyes lingered on you a little too long, his voice dropped a little too low.
Your heartbeat picked up again, and this time, he didn’t tease. He just looked at you, really looked. And for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence.
He reached out, gloved fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve. A simple touch, careful, patient. Like he was asking permission to stay close.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re doing great. Seriously.”
You nodded, barely trusting your voice. “Thanks… Nightwing.”
He chuckled quietly. “You can call me Dick when it’s just us.”
Your head snapped toward him, and he smirked, mission accomplished.
“See?” he said. “You get flustered so easily. It’s cute.”
“Y-you really shouldn’t say things like that while we’re on a roof.”
He grinned, stepping back, preparing his grappling line. “Then I guess I’ll have to say it again somewhere safer.”
Before you could respond, he fired the line and vaulted into the air, vanishing into the skyline. His laughter echoed faintly behind him, light, boyish, warm.
You stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, before whispering to the empty night,
“…Cute?”
And somewhere in the distance, you swore you heard him call back,
“Adorable!”
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

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In a world of AO3 warriors, I'm forever a Tumblr Trooper...
No literally tumblr is like the forgotten child 💔
Hi, I was wondering if you could do a fluffy romance-y Soul Evans from Soul Eater x fem Reader, where Soul insists on making the Reader a delicious dinner to “prove that he’s not just a piano nerd.” At first, he’s confident he can do it, but within minutes, there’s smoke, a clatter of pans, and sauce splattering everywhere. The Reader sees all this and steps in to help, but the two of them just end up laughing so hard that none of them can barely focus. The kitchen is a disaster, but Soul looks at her with the smallest, rarest grin and mutters, “I guess takeout’s more our thing, huh?” You can fill in the rest or expand on it if you want, maybe even jazz it up a little? I love Soul sooooo much!!! He's my favorite scythe boy!!!
I gyat you
WHICH… Soul Evans decides to prove he’s not just a piano nerd by cooking dinner for you, only for smoke, sauce, and chaos to take over the kitchen. What should’ve been a disaster turns into laughter, takeout on the floor, and the rarest grin from your favorite scythe boy.
desc; soul evans x fem!reader · fluffy romance · kitchen disaster · laughter + banter · takeout instead of fine dining · rare smiles · soft moments in the mess. Word count: 974
🖇️ master list
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
You had barely set your bag down when Soul popped his head out of the kitchen, his white hair sticking up at odd angles like he’d been running his hands through it one too many times.
“Don’t come in yet,” he said quickly, with a grin that was far too smug for someone who clearly had something to hide. “I’m making dinner. Gotta prove I’m not just a piano nerd, y’know?”
You raised a brow, suspicious but already amused. “Oh? Since when do you cook?”
“Since now.” He flashed a shark toothed grin. “Just… trust me.”
You tried to trust him. For about five minutes. But then came the telltale sounds of culinary warfare, the clatter of pans crashing against each other, a string of muffled curses, and finally a loud hiss as something boiled over. The smell of smoke and burnt tomato followed.
“Soul?” you called, already heading toward the kitchen.
“I said don’t come in!”
When you peeked around the doorway, the sight made you stop in your tracks, then promptly cover your mouth to hide your laugh.
The kitchen was an utter war zone. Flour dusted the counters like a thin layer of snow. Red sauce dripped down the cabinet door in uneven streaks. A pot bubbled over angrily on the stove, steam clouding the air. And in the middle of it all was Soul Evans, wielding a spatula like it had personally betrayed him, his eyes wide before he schooled them into something cooler.
“It’s under control,” he deadpanned, though his shirt was dotted with sauce splatters that screamed otherwise.
You lost it. A laugh burst from your chest before you could hold it back. “Oh yeah, looks super under control. Michelin star quality.”
He scowled playfully, trying to salvage some pride. “Hey, don’t laugh. I was actually doing fine until the… uh…” He gestured vaguely to the pot. “Until that happened.”
“Right,” you said, stepping into the chaos. “Because pasta boiling over is the universe conspiring against you, not, I dunno, you forgetting about it.”
“I didn’t forget,” he muttered, grabbing for the pot’s handle, only to yelp and jerk his hand back, nearly sending the whole thing flying.
That was it. You doubled over with laughter, tears springing to your eyes. Soul tried to keep his straight face, but within seconds he was cracking up too, loud, rough edged laughter that filled the whole apartment.
“Okay, okay,” you wheezed between giggles, grabbing a towel. “Scoot over before you burn the place down.”
You moved in to help, but it didn’t do much. Every attempt to fix the mess, stirring sauce, wiping counters, turned into another burst of laughter because one of you would slip, spill, or just make eye contact and lose it all over again. By the end, your sides hurt more than anything.
Finally, the two of you gave up. Soul leaned against the counter, hair even messier now, his cheeks pink from laughing so hard. He looked around at the disaster and then back at you, his crimson eyes softening, a rare grin tugging at his mouth.
“Guess takeout’s more our thing, huh?” he murmured.
Your heart flipped. That grin, genuine, unguarded, was one you only got to see in fleeting moments, and it never failed to make your chest ache in the best way.
“Yeah,” you said softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “But next time, you’re in charge of ordering. At least I know you can’t mess that up.”
“Not cool,” he shot back, but his grin lingered, smaller and more vulnerable now. “…Worth it, though.”
A little while later, takeout boxes littered the coffee table. But instead of eating there, you and Soul ended up sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, backs against the cabinets, surrounded by the chaos you’d made earlier. It should’ve been uncomfortable, messy, inconvenient. Instead, it felt… easy.
He was half slouched beside you, chopsticks in hand, picking through his noodles with lazy precision. At some point, he nudged the carton toward you. “Here. Yours looks lame. Mine’s better.”
You smirked, leaning in to steal a bite. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re too full.”
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. His shoulder brushed yours as he leaned back, and you felt the warmth of him linger even after.
For a few minutes, the only sound was the quiet clink of chopsticks and the faint hum of the fridge. But then Soul shifted, his voice lower, rougher.
“I… y’know,” he started, eyes fixed on the carton instead of you, “I didn’t really care if the food turned out good.”
You tilted your head. “Then why go through all that trouble?”
He scratched the back of his neck, clearly regretting saying anything, but then forced the words out anyway. “Just wanted to do something for you. Not… lame piano stuff. Something normal.”
Your chest squeezed. For someone who always pretended not to care, the honesty in that small confession was enough to make your heart ache.
You set down your chopsticks and nudged him again, softer this time. “Soul. It wasn’t lame. Honestly?” You smiled. “It was kind of perfect.”
He glanced at you, skeptical, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Perfect? With smoke alarms about to go off?”
“Yeah.” You met his eyes, unflinching. “Because it was with you.”
For a beat, he froze. Then, slowly, that rare grin crept back onto his face, smaller but brighter than before. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head, but didn’t look away this time.
“Tch. You’re such a sap,” he muttered.
But the way he leaned into you just a little, his shoulder pressing against yours like he didn’t want to move away, told you everything he didn’t say out loud.
And sitting there on the messy kitchen floor, takeout cartons scattered around, laughter still echoing faintly in the air, you realized you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
Authors note: I hope I did this justice and made it how you imagined !!
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ THROUGH THE LOOKING FLAME ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
IN WHICH… Johnny Storm meets a girl who bends reality with a grin, a mischief laced, Cheshire Cat like enigma who drifts between shadows and starlight, pulling him into her chaotic orbit until he realizes he might actually like being lost in her game.
desc; johnny storm x reader, cheshire cat inspired reader, mischievous + flirty banter, reality warping powers, chaos meets fire, marvel fanfic, playful enemies to something energy, catlike mystery, teasing romance, wonderland vibes. Word count: 850
📎 master list - pt2
"If you don't know where you are going, any road can take you there"
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
The Baxter Building was supposed to be quiet tonight. Reed was buried in his research, Sue had claimed the couch with a book, and Ben was out for his late night city stroll. Johnny Storm had been left alone, which he would never admit was boring him to death.
He twirled a lighter between his fingers, flicking the flame on and off, when he heard it, a laugh. Not just any laugh, light, sing songy, mischievous, like a melody out of place in the silence of the room.
Johnny froze.
“Reed?”
No answer.
“Sue? Ben?”
Another laugh. This time, it was right behind him.
He spun around, no one. Except… there was something. A grin, floating midair, slowly forming before his eyes. Sharp, wide, glowing faintly violet in the dim light. Then, just as quickly, a pair of eyes appeared above it, swirling with mischief.
Johnny blinked. “Okay… I definitely didn’t eat anything weird today.”
The grin widened, and a voice purred.
“Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe I’m real. Or maybe…” The rest of you appeared, slinking into existence from the shadows like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re just going mad.”
Johnny gawked openly. You, whoever you were, looked like you’d walked out of a dreamscape. Hair flowing like ink, violet streaks shifting when you moved, clothes patterned with stripes that shimmered faintly like starlight. There was something otherworldly about you, like you weren’t fully tied down to reality.
And that grin. That wicked, knowing grin.
Johnny put a hand to his forehead. “Sue’s been telling me I’m crazy for years, but this? This takes the cake.”
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in amusement. “You’re not crazy. You’re just fun.”
“Fun?” he echoed.
“Yes. Most humans bore me. But you… oh, you shine. Quite literally.”
And then, poof!, you disappeared again, dissolving into nothingness. Johnny leapt up, spinning around. “Hey, wait! Don’t do that!”
“Don’t do this?” Your voice was suddenly in his ear. He jumped, nearly flaming on instinct, but your arms draped over his shoulders before he could. You leaned down, chin brushing the top of his head. “Or maybe this?”
You vanished once more before he could grab you, reappearing sprawled across the couch Sue had just vacated.
Johnny rubbed his face. “Okay, this is officially insane.”
“Insane?” you teased, rolling onto your stomach and resting your chin in your hands. “Madness makes the world spin, Johnny Storm. Don’t you like a little chaos?”
“Normally I’m the chaos,” he muttered, then frowned. “Wait, how do you know my name?”
You only grinned. “I know lots of things.”
Over the next few nights, you made the Baxter Building your playground. One moment you’d be invisible, whispering riddles into Johnny’s ear while he tried to sleep, the next you’d be lounging upside down on the ceiling like gravity didn’t apply to you.
You never explained exactly what you were, and Johnny stopped asking after the fifth time you turned the question back on him with a sly smile.
Still, as much as he complained, “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days!” Johnny couldn’t deny the truth, you fascinated him.
There was a pull about you, something intoxicating. Your grin promised trouble, but your laugh, wild and lilting, lit something inside him.
One night, he caught you watching him from the fire escape. He opened the window. “You planning on haunting me forever, stripes?”
You tilted your head, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “Maybe. Do you mind?”
He smirked. “Not if you keep it interesting.”
You laughed, bright and sharp, curling in the air like smoke. “Oh, Johnny. I was born to keep things interesting.”
Of course, “interesting” sometimes meant borderline dangerous.
Case in point, the night you decided to test how far his flames could go. You cornered him on the rooftop, your grin wide as always.
“Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Your fire. All of it. Burn the sky for me.”
Johnny raised a brow. “That’s not really a safe party trick.”
But you only leaned closer, eyes glowing. “Neither of us are safe things, Johnny Storm.”
Something about the way you said it sent a shiver down his spine. Against his better judgment, he flared to life, body engulfed in golden fire. The rooftop blazed in his light, the night bending around him.
You clapped your hands in delight, eyes wide as your grin stretched impossibly. Then you vanished, reappearing behind him, arms slipping around his waist as you purred, “Beautiful.”
Johnny swallowed hard. Fire didn’t normally make him nervous. But you did.
Later, sprawled together on the rooftop, Johnny found himself asking a question he hadn’t meant to.
“Why me?”
You blinked lazily, still half faded into the shadows. “Because you’re fire. Because you’re loud and bright and alive. Because you’re mine to play with.”
Johnny huffed a laugh, though his cheeks heated more than his flames ever could. “Yeah? And what if I don’t feel like being a toy?”
Your grin sharpened. “Then you’ll be something else. Fire needs air. Air needs mystery. Maybe…” You leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. “Maybe you need me.”
And for once, Johnny Storm had no comeback.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
Authors note: if this does well I might make like a part two or sum…
ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ
I decided to do a reversed version where it’s a clingy reader x Johnny storm I hope you enjoy !
📎 master list
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
✧ you, who latches onto his arm in public like it’s your lifeline, and johnny who grins way too big about it, even though he teases you with a smug, “can’t get enough of me, huh?” ˚₊·
✧ you, who whines when he gets up from the couch for even two minutes, and johnny who comes back with snacks tucked under his arm like some kind of peace offering ✩
✧ you, who insists on wearing his hoodies even in summer, and johnny who melts every time you disappear into the fabric ˚₊·
✧ you, who makes grabby hands at him mid mission just to hold his hand through the flames, and johnny who pretends to roll his eyes but squeezes back tighter ✩
✧ you, who needs to fall asleep in his arms and johnny who secretly can’t sleep unless you do anyway ˚₊·
✧ you, who pouts when he talks too long with anyone else, and johnny who smirks and says “don’t worry, babe, you’re literally my whole solar system.” ✩
ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
A silly little blurb/head cannon(?) that I wanted to post of him. I’ll probably make one where the roles are reversed later(reader being clingy)
📎 master list
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
✧ Johnny, who will literally combust if you don’t text him back in under five minutes, he swears it’s “for safety reasons,” but really he just misses you ˚₊·
✧ Johnny, who drags his arm around your shoulders in public so everyone knows you’re taken, and god forbid someone looks at you too long, suddenly his flames get a little higher ✩
✧ Johnny, who insists on you sitting on his lap during movie nights, not because there aren’t other seats, but because “that’s your reserved spot” ˚₊·
✧ Johnny, who pouts whenever you leave the bed first, then clings to your waist like deadweight until you agree to five more minutes ✩
✧ Johnny, who FaceTimes you even when you’re just in the next room, and claims it’s “efficient communication” ˚₊·
✧ Johnny, who slips his hoodie on you the second you say you’re cold, and then whines about being cold himself until you share it ✩
✧ Johnny, who kisses you so much it borders on dramatic, but every kiss is punctuated with “just one more, babe” until you’ve lost count ˚₊·
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ - ꜱᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴀᴄʀɪᴍᴀ
IN WHICH… Sue sits Lacrima down for a quiet heart to heart, teaching her the meaning of a crush, and Lacrima begins to realize that what she feels for Johnny is not just warmth, but the beginnings of love.
desc; marvel oc x fantastic four, lacrima + sue moment, gentle heart-to-heart, beginnings of emotion, crush realization, slowburn romance, soft sisterly dynamic, stargirl learns love, warmth and wonder, quiet bonding scene. Worse count: 271
“When he looks at me, it feels like gravity again. But lighter.”
📎 master list
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
It was quiet in the Baxter Building lounge. The mission was over, the skies were calm, and Johnny was off tinkering with something somewhere. Lacrima sat curled on the windowsill, gazing at the city lights with an expression Sue couldn’t quite read, half thoughtful, half… perplexed?
Sue walked over with two mugs of tea. She handed one to Lacrima and settled beside her.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Sue said softly.
Lacrima looked at her, blinking slowly. “I’ve been… analyzing.”
“Analyzing?”
“Johnny,” she said simply.
Sue blinked, almost laughing. “Oh?”
“I don’t understand why his presence feels… warmer now,” Lacrima said, resting her chin on her knees. “When he looks at me, it feels like gravity again. But lighter.”
Sue smiled gently. “You might be feeling something called a crush.”
“A crush,” Lacrima repeated, as if testing the shape of the word.
Sue nodded. “It means you’re starting to really like someone. Not just platonically. It’s emotional… romantic. It’s wanting to be near them, to know them deeply, to” she hesitated, then softened her tone, “to be held by them, sometimes.”
Lacrima looked at her cup. “And if I feel that… does it mean I am changing?”
“Absolutely. But that’s not a bad thing.”
There was a beat of silence.
“I think I want to touch him more,” Lacrima admitted. “Not just physically. But… emotionally.”
Sue chuckled. “Then you’re definitely feeling something. And don’t worry, he feels it too.”
Lacrima’s star flecked eyes widened just a fraction. “You are sure?”
“Sweetheart,” Sue said, patting her shoulder, “he lights up like a Fourth of July firework every time you float into the room.”
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
ʟᴀᴄʀɪᴍᴀ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ꜰᴀʟʟ
IN WHICH… a tear of forgotten gods drifts through the cosmos, pulsing with memory, grief, and the faint heartbeat of something not yet born.
desc; marvel oc origin story, lacrima’s genesis, cosmic myth energy, lyrical prose, divine sorrow, forgotten pantheon, stars + silence, ethereal atmosphere, creation from grief, prelude to becoming. Word count: 259
“before she was Lacrima, she was a tear, and the universe almost forgot her too.”
📎 master list
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔
There was a time before stars had names.
Before the constellations were charted by mortals or studied by astronomers, there existed a pantheon not made of flesh and thunder, but of concepts. The gods of entropy. Of silence. Of potential. Of stillborn suns and newborn galaxies. They were worshipped not in temples, but in awe. Every first gasp at a shooting star was an unspoken hymn to their presence.
But even divine beings fade when belief dies.
As newer gods rose, louder, flashier, more “human” these older forces were left behind. Forgotten not out of cruelty, but because humans no longer knew how to look upward without needing a name for what they saw.
And so, in the dying light of a forgotten age, they wept.
Their grief wasn’t warm. It was cold and sharp and absolute. Their tears weren’t water, they were collapsing stars, crystallized sorrow, streaks of dying energy flung across a universe that no longer remembered them. Most of these divine remnants evaporated before reaching a single world. Others became whispers that haunted distant moons.
But one didn’t vanish.
One tear held together.
It floated slowly, as if unsure whether it wanted to be real.
It glowed faintly blue, not like fire, but like memory. Its core flickered with ancient language, still echoing the names of those who had been erased. Over time, though time itself meant nothing where it drifted, that tear began to pulse, faintly, like a heartbeat.
It did not know what it was.
It only knew it had not fallen.
Not yet.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔