Watching How To Train Your Dragon Really Made Me Wish That Fantasy Movies Were Real 😔

sukunas fav concubine being bullied by the other concubines?? maybe they push her into the fountain 👀👀👀

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. being bullied because you’re sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. when sukuna finally notices the harassment you’re going through, he doesn’t hold back.

wc. 2.2k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort). heian era. bullying. one mention of d.ecapitation. vile language. reader gets called ‘brat’. beta reading? what’s that

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they couldn’t care less if you hear what they say.

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the ruthless sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you. you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you. it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you cannot blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine. in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him. you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces. the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurt a little. he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder. you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“what a brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure. he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into something else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“you’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

Post-ww2 Yakuza!chuuya x Fem!reader

✮ Contents: ACT ONE, ~2k words, yakuza, mentions of ww2, mentions of double suicide

✮ A/N: omg i LOVED WRITING THIS FIC !! SO GLAD TO BE APART OF @kentopedia 's event!! a lot of this chapter is going to be set up, but it's important for the rest of the series !! next chapter~ masterlist~

Note: this is a work of fiction. I have taken some creative liberties in this fic, and i do not claim to know everything about japanese history but i have tried my best to be as historically accurate as possible

The train screeched, dragging along the rusty tracks to a stop. The doors slid open and people clambered out of the hot, stuffed train cars with large suitcases full of luggage in hand. You stepped outside into the mid-afternoon sun, surveying the noising chatter of people and the whistles blown by conductors while smoke billowed out the top of the train and dissolved in the air. Kyouka was right behind you- a young girl of around fourteen that had lost her parents in the war and, your personal maid. She carried your luggage with relative ease, it always stunned you how this young girl could manage carrying things most have trouble with.

“Come on, we have to reach the house soon…” You gestured for her to come closer to you. once she complied the two of you weaved your way through the sea of souls, chatter of things from the increase in the cost of rice to the presence of American troops flitted about.

Both because of the war.

You bumped into a man and quickly apologised, smoothing down the yukata that you wore as you glanced around the station in search for one of the servants that would bring you to the estate you were being sent to live in-for how long you didn’t know.

You saw some men crowded around a poster taped against the wall. Probably a poster from Communist supporters or just a call to resist the rule of gaijin. It’d probably will be torn down soon, and from the presence of American troops in this station alone made you wonder why it hadn’t been ripped off.

“Miss!!” You turned around to the source of the voice to see a young boy hurrying up to you, hair white and donning a sickly-pale complexion.

“You must be…” you racked through your brain for the boy’s name as he panted for air, hands on his knees. You were told his name before you left Tokyo, it was…

“…Atsushi. Nakajima Atsushi miss.” He panted, pushing his crooked bangs out of his sweat-beaded face. “Nice to meet you.” Atsushi smiled, straightening his posture and turning to Kyouka. You watched as he tried to take your luggage out of kyouka's small hands, to which she promptly refused and instead toddled off in search of the car. You smiled at her antics and followed along.

the car shifted against the gravelly unpaved roads leading to the estate. It was a family estate, built near the edges of Yokohama and one of few buildings that were lucky enough to be saved from the bombing of the Tokyo area a few years back. You rocked in the seat, hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window at the vibrant shades of green that adorned old, twisting tree trunks that curved along the sides of the road. “Have you been back recently miss?” Atsushi inquired from his spot in the front, steering wheel in his hands.

“No, it’s been a while. I can’t really remember the last time I was here very well, I was very young after all.” You braced against the side and let out a sudden yelp as the car hit a particularly bumpy spot. You looked at Kyouka quickly, confirming she was okay as you saw the girl looking quite unbothered as she stared blankly ahead with a small luggage bag in her lap.

Atsushi nodded, slowing the car down as the winding path opened to the estate grounds. Parking the car in a slope by the road, the three of you clambered out, exposing your skin to the sweltering heat of the burning sun.

“You can go inside miss. there’s not many helpers anymore but it’s not that much of a trouble.” Atsushi grunted as he helped kyouka lug the luggage out of the trunk, quickly explaining the directions to the room you were staying in. You nodded and went inside.

The estate was different; maybe it was because the light damage that was restored over the years, but there was something else to it. Maybe it was the way light shone in and hit the tatami floors, dust dancing in the rays coating the room in a warm hue. The floors creaked under the most gentle of steps as you walked through the halls following atsushi's hurried directions to your room. Pushing the sliding shoji door aside you entered the room carefully, as if there was an undisturbed creature slumbering away, forgotten amidst the chaos of the years long world war. There was a few things in the room, a western style desk and closet and a futon along with a few books lining a bookshelf. You aimlessly grabbed a book off the shelf, flipping through the text in boredom with your chin propped in hand. The entire estate was quiet, a far cry from the memories of the maid’s chatter and gossip echoing against the walls as a child. It was to be expected; no one in Japan was doing too favorably nowadays.

You sighed and dogeared the page you were on, laying down on the futon and staring blankly at the ceiling

Kyouka brought up the market as you ate breakfast the following morning.

“mh? do I want to go?” You took a sip of miso soup, head tilted in thought.

Kyouka nodded “I thought you might like to go out.” You nodded and swallowed.

“You’re right about that.” You spared one last bite of rice-it felt wrong to waste any when it was so expensive- and stood up.

The car sputtered and groaned as it came to a stop in a random alley near the Yamiichi. You and kyouka filed out, atsushi having some work to attend to so the two of you were left on your own. It was a bit stressing; after all it was your second day in Yokohama. Loose rock and dirt shifted under your heels as you slowly figured out the proper directions to the market from the vague directions given by a passerby.

Yamiichi were technically illegal, but sometimes they were the only places that most people could afford to buy from. Of course they had risks. Yakuza gangs often fought for control of the most lucrative markets in the city, and American troops often intermingled alongside the Japanese in the markets. However, keeping your head low and avoiding standing out worked well to repel possible troubles.

You were just there with your maid to get some food and leave. As the sight of poorly constructed roofs of market stalls grew closer you couldn’t help the dip of anxiety in your stomach, spreading and curling around in your limbs like a plague.

The market was packed at this time of day, and you made a mental note to come later or earlier-though the former seemed better to you. Weaving through hungry and desperate people was a difficult task, being pushed around and hitting the sharp, protruding bones of hips and shoulders would definitely cause some bruises if this kept up.

Pausing to read the stalls signs to figure out who was selling what, you made your way to a stall selling sweet potatoes among other vegetables, sending kyouka to another stall as you rather not stay longer than needed. The seller, a middle aged man with silver streaks in his dark hair, placed produce in a worn sack as you named out what you needed, and when he named the price it was more exorbitant than expected.

“Are you sure? For all that?” You dug your teeth into the soft flesh of the inside of your cheek, glancing at the half-filled sack. It seemed too much, but bartering didn’t seem attractive enough for you to argue with this man. You doled out some yen and placed them on the table, grabbing the sack of produce and hurrying off with it clutched to your chest.

Glancing around for kyouka, you didn’t see the man barreling towards you, looking around with hands shoved in pockets.

You didn’t notice him until he crashed into you, knocking the two of you to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Ah shit, my bad- are you okay miss?” You grunted and nodded, blinking dust out of your eyes as the ginger stood up and hurried to your side.

“I’m okay.” You sighed, looking to the side to find the threadbare sack ripped open and the produce spilled all over the dusty ground. You sighed and looked up at the man, gray eyes casting an apologetic glance at you while holding his gloved hand out. You nodded and took it, about to thank him when you heard an over-dramatic gasp and the crunch of gravel under hurried steps.

“Chuuya! How ungentlemanly of you to knock over such a pretty lady!” You saw a twitch in the man's-chuuya's- eye and he let out a silent hiss, glaring at the brown-haired man that strolled over.

“Shut it, mackerel. I didn’t mean to.” He snapped back, squeezing your hand a bit before dropping it. The brunette glanced at you before he grinned and dropped onto his knees, clutching your hand in his. You gaped a bit, a starry look in the mans eyes as he spoke quickly.

“My darling, would you like to reenact ending of the play Shinjuu ten no Amijima with me in a double suici-?” chuuya grabbed him by the collar, shoving him away from you and gritting his teeth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. For this mess-” He gestured to the wasted produce, “-and for dazai.” He shook dazai a bit and he whined about double suicides and how mean chuuya was for not letting him achieve one with you. You smiled a bit and giggled softly at the sight in front of you and if you were staring a little more carefully you would’ve seen the colour that flushed chuuya's cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll come back later I guess…” You sighed, shoulders slumping. chuuya's mouth opened before he shut it, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck.

“okay, guess I’ll go do…stuff…” He said it so quietly you had to strain your ears over the clammer of the market to hear. Before you could respond he lugged dazai up and dragged him away from you, not before you could register a snippet of their argument.

“c'monnnn, Chuuya! You hafta admit she’s reaaaally pretty-” a yelp followed.

“S-shut it!”

It took you a moment to realize they were talking about you.

You looked down and gathered some of the salvageable produce in your arms, and as you did so you realized your heart.

Why was it beating faster than normal?

Shinjuu ten no Amijima: "the love suicides at Amijima"; a kabuki play in which the two lovers commit double suicide at the end.

gaijin: foreigners; used by the Japanese to describe occupying American troops

Yamiichi: illegal black markets in post-wwii japan

©Cheriiyaya 2024

tagging: @rusmii @atsquie @minteraysolo @atzuhi @lovesick-fairy @adoredazai @pinky-99 @tabathastan @ravencincaide @dazaikinniess @nyx-prodigy @himikoslove @teddirika @hyacinth-venom @kaitoluver @dydrem @starracoonagain @scryarchives

synopsis: gojo is so unfairly pretty contents: tooth rotting fluff.

Satoru Gojo was a beautiful man.

With his snow-white hair, all messed up and dripping wet from the shower, a towel resting on his broad shoulders and abs galore, glistening blue eyes that spoke of sins and triumphs-

And he knew of his beauty, of how he could make men and woman fall to their knees with one little pout, and he knew that you knew.

"You're staring baby."

"I am."

Gojo turned to you with a cocky smirk, lazily running his hand through his hair as he pulled on a baggy black shirt that still made him look like a Greek deity.

He could be, with his power, with his strength, and those heavenly blue eyes.

"you're so pretty 'toru."

seconds pass and with a small smile, gojo reaches down to where you were lying on the couch and picks you up as if you were nothing but air.

You were now in his arms, almost like how a koala hugs a tree, and Gojo's arms wrap around you, supporting you and at the same time, wrapping you up in a close, comfy, cuddle.

"i think you're prettier."

"stop lying to me, 'toru. you will always be the prettiest."

gojo smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the smile widening with the sweet giggle that escaped your lips, the happiness expanding in his chest, something even his infinity can't hold back.

It was such a foreign feeling to him.

happiness.

because he only felt it around you, and the growing children he thought of as his kids.

he loved you, he loved them.

and he would do anything to make sure nothing will try to hurt you, hurt them, and he would protect them with all of his power.

as long as you were safe, he would sacrifice everything that meant something for him.

Even himself.

because you would be safe, you would be happy, and you would still be smiling and laughing.

"Hmm, i don't know, i think you're prettier."

he grinned down at your adorable face, relishing the pout that radiated false anger and he hummed as he felt your head rest at the crook of his shoulder.

"i love you, you big baby."

"of course you do- OW OW OW OWWW-"

"say it back!!!"

"fine but oW! OKAY OKAY OKAY-"

"i love you y/n."

taglist: @no-b10g-here @anxious-chick @aleluvsuu @funky-writes @oneofthesevensins @ladywinterfell13 @kazhyloveslaw @dazaisms @cyb3r-c44t @princessluvz @notherenortherejustaway @okaydokeyyo @iheartamora @haloswrld @churipu @lysaray @olivianyx @desihopelessromantic @kiri1330 @scryarchives

networks: @archive-network

so embarrassing when i forget im checking someone's blog and i start scrolling through and liking and reblogging shit as if it's just my dash. it feels like wandering into someone else's apartment and not noticing and making myself lunch

Do you have any thoughts on "American Born Chinese"

Okay so I haven't seen the recent film but I have read the comic by Gene Luen Yang and quite enjoyed it! While I know AAPI kids are the main target and focus of this work, I think it did a good job of both delving into childhood/young adult triumphs and insecurities from the Asian American perspective, as well as in forcing everyone to confront the really ugly stereotypes that have long influenced how "real" (i.e. white) Americans think about and act towards AAPI communities & what affects these stereotypes have had on how members of said communities think about themselves. I thought it presented a pretty interesting take on the Monkey King as well: here Sun Wukong's journey isn't about transforming himself into a god, but about accepting what he is (a monkey) and finding strength and even enlightenment in that. In this way the Monkey King becomes a figure for the protagonist Jin Wang--who goes to some pretty extreme lengths to try and "fit in" with his white peers--to also understand that he's hurting himself and his friends by trying to "ascend" into something he's not, and that he can find true happiness by being authentically himself, no matter how much others may look down on him. It's also kind of funny in a deliberately uncomfortable way too because the way Sun Wukong gets Jin Wang to do this is by attacking him in the form of "Chin-Kee"--basically a walking racist stereotype--until Jin Wang fights back and punches his head off. It's only then that the Monkey King reveals his true form which had been hiding behind the stereotype.

Also you have to love the page of Sun Wukong's parting words to Jin Wang:

I had the great pleasure of designing/animating a bunch of 3D stuff for the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake! It was a joy to work with this low-poly adventure game style. Hope you all enjoyed this great show!!

Jealousy, Jealousy.

Note: I tried Smth new w howl, pls pls lmk if u like it cuz I was half asleep as I typed this out (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

He's jealous.

It was only a quick pitt stop at the Wizard Pendragon's shop (one of Howl's many aliases) that set it all off.

A calm morning for the Pendragon's moving household was set to start and the shop needed a bit of upkeep as customers were running dry. So with the creaky floorboards all swept up and Calcifer warned to not misbehave, the clock-like magical device that hung next to the door signalled with a resounding ding and a switch in colour indicating where the castle had teleported to.

There was a long day ahead but you couldn't be more pleased.

As the hours went on Howl worked in rhythm with you as tinkering laughter was heard throughout the shop and bubbling mixtures were stirred harmoniously in cauldrons. There was a calm air to your love as he flitted around you with hands briefly coming to couch and maybe even teasingly squeeze at your hips as he passed.

"Pass me the dandelion leaves ?", He asked while focusing on the lilac fluid seeping from the side of the potion bottle he was pouring into.

You nodded with a kiss atop his freshly midnight-dyed hair - courtesy of sweet Sophie, you know she didn't mean it but you couldn't thank her more for the darkened charcoal colour that had seeped into his golden locks- and off to the ingredients section you went muttering past bottles of all sorts.

Coming back empty handed with no dandelion leaves in sight you let your eyes wander to his sprawled out form in the chair by the fire, Howl only looked up and smiled a bit disappointedly before getting to his feet and tugging on his boots.

You could already see long black feathers creeping out his cloak, predicting his speedy mode of transport for the errand.

"I'll be back in a moment sweetheart, not to worry. Markle will take care of everything."

Knowing full well the small child would've dosed off by now as he'd left to play in the fields while you both worked, you were left to manage the quaint store while Howl flew out for after a dizzying kiss goodbye and mumbles of bringing you wildflowers to carefully twist into your hair.

Then and only then did a customer decide to come in.

He was a polite young man, easily flustered and a soldier of the royal palace you noted due to the bluish uniform donning his slightly hunched physique.

He was nervous.

You grinned trying to ignore his demeanour so that maybe the pink in his cheeks would lessen.

"Ma'am, the queen has requested for a simple sleep draught from the makings of your shop.", He coughed, "please." came soon quickly after he'd recollected himself and pulling at the yellowed buttons holding his vest together.

You hid your smile behind the worn glove that your sweet partner had embroidered a pathetic attempt of a small daisy onto which you very much cherished, it felt like you were talking to a mouse rather than a fully grown man.

"Why of course."

The man...boy even, settled into a lone seat to watch you set up, eventually gaining courage to invite you into bubbly conversation that you found very boring very fast hence weren't all too interested in so short sugared-up answers were all he received.

The 'banter' he thought he was receiving on your end was honestly faked curiousity.

It seemed he was quite dim. Too dim for your liking.

His puny attempts to indirectly flirt were unoriginal and simply unwelcome.

Just as you were starting up your potion with another lame probe on the topic of the weather about to leave the man's mouth, your beloved hurriedly came in. Cheerily he was chattering on about a bird he'd been able to fly up close to in in his bird-like form.

"Oh, you should have seen it's-", Howl interrupted himself to stare at the man sat atop the brass stool across your apothecary tabletop, "feathers?"

His demeanor immediately switched.

Gone was the gentle, patient magician you were so accustomed to. There stood an intimidating wizard and he oddly felt much taller, much more powerful than a split second ago.

This was the Howl Pendragon you'd only ever heard about through word of mouth, not the one that childishly insisted to cuddle up on your ill-fitted couch or cast silly spells to jokingly make your hair stick up in different directions.

No. This was a whole different feel of a person and it seemed like the magic was almost spilling out of him in waves, you could almost taste it's electric crackling force in the air.

He felt more confident, cocky, ready to rip into this poor man down to his basic self-worth.

You liked it.

His lips twitched.

"Darling, who is this?"

Howl's voice was always deep and smooth as silk, just as it was right now, yet you were no fool and could pick up on the the roughened edges of his tone.

But it seemed like the young soldier took no notice of the emotional state of the suddenly very upset wizard in his presence. He only turning around to bow deeply in respect while stuttering out a greeting and an explanation of his presence.

Howl only had a curt nod to give as a reply and you could tell he wasn't very ecstatic have a new face in here.

If he could roll his eyes at the 'competition', they'd roll all the way to the back of his head to see his brain.

The next few minutes were tense as he only grinned tightly and came to your side to place a very domineering palm on your corseted waist pulling you in closer to his warm body, sending a clear message.

"I'm sure you've got this one little potion down love?", He said with his eyes sharply glancing to the young man that had very clearly receded back into his shell at this point.

Howl didn't even need to say a word, didn't even need to properly look at the guard for him to metaphorically back away. But of course he had to ensure he got his point across, so what else could he do but dip down to deeply kiss your lips, he was only seconds away from basically pushing his tounge into your mouth if you didn't stop his dramatic live-performance.

Nodding satisfied with himself, you huffed whispering 'show off' while he stepped back to tend to his dandelion-leaf-less potion.

You couldn't even look up at the barstool your customer sat on anymore with the intense blush covering your face and you could only imagine the agony of embarrassment he was going through.

With the potion sealed up and a-way-over-the-actual-price bag of coins thrown at the counter, he promptly escaped out the door not even bothering to check for any change.

Shrugging you turned back to glare at Howl who was innocently blinking into space.

"Was the last part really necessary."

He slowly smirked, tendrils of his magic swirling past your shoulders.

"Whatever do you mean?"

You quickly found yourself within his grasp, pressing kisses to your knuckles as an apology.

You knew he wasn't sorry at all.

Loud laughter could be heard from a distance as Calcifer moved the castle along to wherever your hearts desired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

welp, i have successfully etched off 4 hours of my life just doing these canon and oc doodles. hope you guys like this :)

(i dont specifically have a taglist for my art yet, but yall lmk if i should have one)

dear non-spanish speakers writing spiderverse fanfiction (or anything with spanglish),

in spanglish you don’t switch by word, you switch by phrase.

it’s not:

“[first part of the sentence in english], [second part of the sentence in english], mi amor.”

“[full english sentence], querida.”

it’s:

“[first part of the sentence in english], [segunda parte de la frase en español], mi amor.”

-

also miles is boricua, miguel is mexican. they have two different accents and use different vocabulary for certain words.

also miles is “nyourican” - a puerto rican native to new york - while his mom is directly from the island, so there are differences there, too, because his spanish is more influence by new york english. 

here’s some good references that aren’t google translate (which usually pulls from spain, a country that speaks vastly differently from latin america)

SpanishDict

WordReference

here have some random videos on different slang/spanish accents:

Puerto Rico

Mexico (1) (2)

-

in spanish most words are gendered, so most feminine words end in a and masculine/gender neutral words end in o. adding ito/ita makes something cuter, smaller and more affectionate.

spanish nicknames that aren’t “mi amor”

“querido/a” - darling

“cariño” - dear (always masculine regardless, of who its being said to)

“mi princesa/príncipe” - my prince/princess

“mi rey/reina” - my king/queen

“papí/mamí” - can be used in any way; romantic, sexual, familial for one’s parent or child, or just platonically

“tesoro” - treasure

also spanish is a language that uses adjectives as terms of affection both cute ones and ones that might sound insensitive in english

gordo (fat), flaco (skinny), negro (black), blanco (white), linda (pretty), bella (beautiful), morena (brown skin), etc.

and like most languages that are not english, spanish has multiple ways of saying i love you.

“te amo” - romantic

“te quiero” - familial, platonic (although there’s nothing wrong with using it romantically)

see also:

te adoro - i adore you

te deseo - i want you

te necesito - i need you

 and, of course, they can vary regionally too.

please use this because i have read a lot of really well written things that take me out of it because the use of spanglish is terrible. don’t just go on your presumptions that spanish/spanglish works in the same way that english does.

buena suerte, gringos.

- signed your friendly neighborhood afro-latina

Brilliant Girl

A/N: I just remembered how much I love BBC’s Sherlock so have him bonding with a tiny genius who is also brushed off and misunderstood. Also the reader is like ten, so she sounds/is a bit mature but is still not taken seriously bc of her age (based on how my ten year old brother acts, so it’s realistic lol)

Warnings: just fluff

Word count: almost 1k

~~~~

“But why doesn’t dad just look at his shoes?”

Sherlocks head snapped up from the paper he was reading, gaze landing on the ten year old sitting on the couch in the break room.

“Your dad is very busy, Y/n,” Donovan said, annoyance slipping into her voice as she handed the girl a coloring book and some crayons. Y/n took them with a sigh and Donovan left the small room. Sherlock covered his surprise when she actually stopped to talk to him. She tilted her head toward the girl.

“Lestrades daughter, Y/n. She’s not right in the head, that one. Lestrade had to bring her with today. She laid down next to the body we had just found. What reason could anyone have for doing that?” She seemed to remember she was talking to Sherlock and her nose turned up. “Although I suppose you’d do the same.”

Without another mean word, she turned on her heel and left.

Sherlock hadn’t visited this particular crime scene Donovan had mentioned; he’d been at the grocery buying tea for John after burning it for an experiment. (Conclusion to the experiment; John got very angry when he didn’t have his specific kind of tea. Never burn it again.) So, naturally, he was curious about what had happened. And why a little girl would lay down next to a dead body.

Glancing around, Sherlock quickly stood and made his way into the break room, stopping in front of the little girl. She looked up from her coloring, regarding him with interest.

“I know who you are.” She said simply. “You’re very smart.” With that she resumed her coloring.

Sherlock let the surprise linger on his face for a moment longer than he normally would before squatting down in front of her.

“What were you saying about that man’s shoes?”

She sighed and looked up again. “You’re not gonna listen to me either. None of the adults do. They’re too busy.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

She gave him a long look, setting her coloring aside before speaking. “His shoes were wrong.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, they were wrong. They were too big, and they were green. He was wearing a purple suit; he wouldn’t have worn green shoes.” She stated obviously.

“How did you know they were too big?” He asked as he shifted to sit on the floor. The girl peered out the door into the hallway, sitting back with a disappointed look on her face.

“He’s not here. You know the army doctor you’re always with?”

Sherlock’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “John Watson?”

“Yes him. The man was shorter than he was.”

“Is that why you were laying on the floor? You were measuring?” He interrupted. She nodded, eyes lighting up.

“Yes! And the shoes were almost as big as yours,” she reached down and touched a spot a few centimeters from the end of the detectives shoes. “Right there. They looked like clown shoes, but nobody would take me seriously.” She huffed. “‘They’re not that big, Y/n.’ ‘People have big feet sometimes.’”

“Someone said that to you?” He asked, face pinching in what could be considered sympathy. She nodded.

“My dad and Miss Donovan.”

Sherlock tisked, unfortunately, able to relate to the young girl. “They’re all very small minded. Just ignore them. What else did you see?”

“Well, the shoes had mud on them.”

“Really?” A lock of dark hair fell across his face as Sherlock tilted his head. “What did it look like?”

“Like splatters. But he didn’t have mud on his trousers, which was odd.”

“Are you sure of that?” She nodded.

“It was like somebody else gave him their shoes.” She said thoughtfully. “Except it was probably the bad guy.”

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“There was a name on the bottom of the shoes.” She said. “Written in the mud. Mr Anderson made it come off when he moved the dead man.”

“Of course he did. The idiot.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Do you remember the name?”

“Yeah. Dads been talking about him for a while. It said Jim. Jim Moriarty.”

Sherlock nearly jolted with excitement. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. But you’re probably gonna say what Miss Donovan did. I imagined it, cause it wasn’t there when they looked again.”

“You didn’t imagine it.” Sherlock said with surprising gentleness as he stood. “You’re very bright, Y/n. Now, if you’d like to come with me, we’re telling your father about this.”

“We are?” She asked excitedly, jumping off the couch to join him.

“Of course.” He said, taking her hand. “The game is afoot, little Lestrade.”

~~~

_______

(Bonus Scene)

~ ~ ~

Lestrade sighed, dragging a hand over his face before glancing up at the duo standing in his office.

“So, taken to my daughter, have you Sherlock?” He asked tiredly.

“Well, if you can’t nurture her mind she’ll turn into a female M-o-r-i-a-r-t-y,” he spelt quickly. “So if you won’t, then I will.”

Lestrade sighed in frustration. “You don’t even like children!”

“Well yours happens to be exceptionally bright, and holds a better conversation than most adults. So, Graham, are you going to listen to her now?”

“It’s Greg,” he muttered, sighing again before looking at his daughter. “Alright then, love. What have you got?”

Te little girl grinned excitedly, looking to Sherlock. He gave her an encouraging wink and she looked back to her father.

“The man had a name on his shoes, dad...”

~~~

_______

(End)