#I don’t know how to draw fancy clothes so just ignore the other threes outfits please

[ghostingink]

Phil Lesters awful fashion sense for Dan inspired this piece

Anyways it’s still prom season right?

[blushnote]

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ dom!wonwoo smut

a/n: HELLO. i’m sure everyone is wondering what’s going on and WHY i’ve been absent for a few months. put simply: things got hectic and i needed a break! i’m not saying i’ll jump back into being completely active again, but that i’m going to come on as often as i can! (which might be every few days or so! i apologize!!)

as a treat for everyone - this features rich girl wonwoo! <3 

wonwoo stands at the street pole, conversing with his friends. the bar is unusually crowded. mostly likely because it’s a friday and there isn’t much else the townspeople would rather do than get plastered, forgetting the atrocities of work. his friend extends a box of cigarettes to wonwoo, offers him one, but he shakes his head.

since getting involved with you, wonwoo has attempted to forfeit smoking. it has always been something he’s done to pass the time at the street corner. plus, he likes the idea of blowing a big, stinging cloud right into someone’s face when they give him attitude. 

instead wonwoo suckles on a lollipop that tastes like an artificially sweet strawberry, pushes up the bridge of his glasses, and folds some silvery hair under his beanie. he knows it’s about the right time for you to be returning from that dinner party your parents forced you into attending.

as wonwoo’s friend exaggerates a tale about getting into a fist-driven confrontation at a bus stop last week, someone strutting by on the packed street bumps wonwoo’s shoulder.

“choose a better place to stand.” the stranger rumbles, agitated.

wonwoo flicks up his middle finger indifferently. “fuck off.” he grunts, the fog of his breath appearing in the night air.

he’s feeling sort of agitated himself. your parents have tethered you to a leash lately, forcing you to all these fancy gatherings and opening ceremonies and dinners. to put it frankly – wonwoo misses you. your laugh, your eyes, the texture of your skin, your voice in his ear. he’s been wanting an excuse to get his hands all over you. every single inch.

that’s when he hears the ding in his jacket pocket. looking away from the dramatic enactment involving his friend driving a fist into his palm, wonwoo checks his phone to see a text from you. a series of images.

23:28 // JPEG.1034

23:28 // JPEG.1035

23:28 // JPEG. 1036

the three pictures load. he chokes on his breath.

23:28 // i know u don’t like when i spoil my lingerie but.

23:28 // don’t i look so cute :( so fuckable?? im srry but I had to :(

his teeth crack the strawberry lollipop into sugary shards in his mouth. that lace is squeezing your flesh in all the right places. the picture with your fingers splayed teasingly over your underwear, hiding your core, it’s enough to make him shudder, salivate even. he’s officially ignoring his friend’s story by tapping a reply, fiddling with the thin stick in his mouth.

(ww) 23:30 // u free now? head to my place.

he receives an answer immediately.

23:30 // hmmm why?

(ww) 23:30 // u know why. don’t act like such a brat.

already, wonwoo can sense the desire form inside him. pounding almost. like a second heartbeat. you’re usually compliant and bending to his carnal whims. maybe all this time away from each other has you forgetting just how well wonwoo can fuck that stubbornness out.

23:30 // it’s new. i don’t want u ripping anything!!

(ww) 23:30 // idc.

23:30 // so mean!! not even gonna let u touch me now :-)

(ww) 23:30 // yeah. ok. we’ll see about it then.

after sliding his phone back in his pocket, wonwoo glances briefly in through the bar window. he sees a bartender pour a glass full of ice cubes before sloshing in a surge of alcohol. at that, wonwoo gets an idea. when his friends question about why he’s leaving so suddenly, he smirks.

“need to teach someone how to behave.” wonwoo shrugs before jogging quickly across the street.

“i’m not gonna tell you again. keep your fuckin’ thighs spread nice and wide for me or else i won’t let you cum – not even once. you understand?”

a harsh dip in your stomach suggests the breath you just inhaled. after a moment of silence, he hears you comply, and watches with his hungry, intent gaze as your legs part open for him. wonwoo has been teasing you with a bowl of ice cubes. at first, he held them to your nipples, had you whimpering into his mouth while he simultaneously rubbed his tongue against yours. but the real fun began when he introduced the ice cubes to your lower region. it was a very different punishment compared to his past endeavours, a tantalizing one.

wonwoo returns the cube to the nook of your inner thigh, then creeps it slowly toward your core. you’re beginning to tremble with the restraint required to not snap your legs shut. the ice cube ghosts transiently up your slit, a contact you had yet to experience, and a beautiful gasp tears from your lungs. he swears that you leak even more onto the sheets.

he takes the cube away, then drags his warm tongue from the bottom of your pussy right to the top, delivering a slow, flat lick which tastes sweet and cold and makes him so unbelievably dizzy with how much he loves it.

“w-wonwoo, please, pl-please keep going.” you stutter, opening your thighs even wider to invite his tongue.

he shakes his head. “what else did i tell you? don’t ask me to do anything. you’ll lie there and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” smiling, wonwoo issues a tight grip on the ice cube and presses it right into your clit. you whine sharp and loud, your hands traveling all over your body in confusion, not sure if it’s more pleasure than pain, or a hot mix of both.

“or are you still interested in acting like such a brat, hm?” wonwoo utters in his deep voice. “ like a smug little princess who thinks she can tease me whenever she wants and she’ll still get my cock all the way inside her? nice and full, just how she likes it. is that it, babygirl?”

he feels the ice melt under his fingers. you can hardly piece together a response, just a very incoherent, “no wonwoo” as tears start slipping down your cheeks. wonwoo takes the cube away, then massages your clit with his thumb, warming you up slowly. a few jolts pass through your body. he can tell you’re falling apart inside with how badly you want to cum, though wonwoo had strictly told you to hold it. he rubs and rubs and rubs, barking at you to control yourself, your pussy so slippery with arousal that it’s running all down your skin and wetting the bed.

right when he feels you’re about to snap, wonwoo completely removes his touch. you wail at that, suckle in a shaky breath and cry his name.

“please, wonwoo! i-i’m sorry, m’soso sorry! i’m sorry for acting so bratty and sending those pictures, t-teasing you like that! but i just c-ccan’t take this anymore. treat me however you want, but please let me cum!”

he’s truly missed the sound of you begging for him. his cock twitches in his pants, reminding him of how hard he currently is. each time you cry the boy’s name in such a lewd manner, there’s another surge of pleasure and he aches even more, to the point where he could cum just from touching himself over his clothes. still, wonwoo must ensure you’ve really learned your lesson. so, he offers you a deal. he’ll get to watch you pleasure yourself with the ice cube until he cums.

and so wonwoo sits in a chair based at the end of the bed, a hand stuffed down his pants, watching you swirl an ice cube at your sensitive core. he guides you every now and then: “hold it right there, pretty baby. let it melt all the way down. that’s it, sweetheart. n-now rub it, okay? f-finger yourself too. nnrgh, f-fuck. fuck you sound so wet. m’gonna c-cum—”

his strokes lash faster until wonwoo’s head rolls back against the chair, his eyes blinking shut while he chases his high. he hears you continue to whine as he cums, his cock throbbing in his hand, still so hard and heavy. in fact, wonwoo requires a moment just to breathe and let the heat circulate properly through his body.

with his fingers covered in the sticky mess of his cum, wonwoo approaches the bed again, fingering it as deep as he can inside you. he’s unable to remove his gaze from the filthy sight. there’s something so raw and intimate about watching his own seed getting pumped into you that sets his whole body aflame. he decides to let you orgasm as well, stimulating your g-spot consistently, letting you clamp down tight and ride his hand until you’ve got a full fix.

wonwoo supposes he’s done his job.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” you laugh, sitting back against the headboard, tucked into his t-shirt.

drawing a warm washcloth between your thighs, wonwoo blinks at you, a very sly grin forming on his mouth. he plants a kiss on your nose.

“good. means it worked.” the boy says.

he folds the cloth over and finishes the last of his cleaning, ensuring there’s nothing more of his fluids that are still leaking out or anything sticking from your orgasm. grabbing your overnight bag off the floor, wonwoo pulls out a fresh pair of underwear and helps you slide into them. your lingerie sits in a pile off to the side, a few lace straps ripped.

“sorry about your little outfit.” wonwoo apologizes, staring at you earnestly. “it was pretty. you look good in everything.” he squeezes your hip and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay.” you murmur. “i’ll order something even better. and i’ll surprise you with it. maybe for your birthday. sound good?”

“mmhm.” wonwoo purrs, pulling you down with him to cuddle up close for the night.

“as long as i can take it off you, sweetheart, i’m fine with that.”

[mandoalorian]

Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed. 

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that  much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem. 

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you. 

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work. 

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes. 

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point. 

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug. 

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s. 

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled. 

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt  a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.” 

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental. 

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best. 

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home. 

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly. 

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…” 

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile. 

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both. 

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders. 

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.  

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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[dreabbles]

twinkletoes

giyushino modern au where giyuu is a ballerino, and shinobu finds him interesting

shinobu is very much attracted to this ballerino named tomioka giyuu—she just doesn’t know to what extent

shinobu thinks her attraction is entirely science and anatomy-based: she likes the way giyuu’s muscles are shaped, she likes how they flow so smoothly with the music (”like the peaceful flow of water!” mitsuri once compared), she likes the way his veins protrude from his arm—and list goes on.

she does admit, however, that she finds his face aesthetically pleasing as well. she claims that it’s hard to ignore, really. not everyone has such deep blue eyes that draw her in.

because she’s friends with mitsuri, a costume designer for the ballet company giyuu is in, shinobu gets mitsuri’s extra free tickets to every show. of course, out of gratitude for her friend, shinobu attends each one.

being the best friend that she is, mitsuri tries to indulge shinobu with more than just the front-seat of the auditorium and attempts to give shinobu backstage access to meet the ballerino, but shinobu often declines, lest she come off as creepy and stalker-ish. shinobu claims she’s fine with watching from the audience.

shinobu does, however, sometimes linger a bit longer after the curtain call when the actors are out to meet some audience members, but stays away and decides against introducing herself (she’s seen him decline all conversations, save from the woman who looks to be a family member, and this orange-haired friend with a scar on his face).

mitsuri does her best (she also can’t believe her friend is that dense)

aside from tickets, and the possibility of a backstage visit, mitsuri deliberately dresses shinobu in eye-catching outfits during each show shinobu attends. it serves its purpose for the most part, just not for the person it’s intended for.

mitsuri has offered to directly introduce the two. the conversation happened like this:

“hang out at the lobby for a few minutes after the show. i’m sure i can find time to introduce you.”

“don’t bother; i’m not that desperate. i’m fine with admiring his muscles from afar. though it would be nice to have a closer examination. do you think he’d let me examine him?”

“maybe? you’ll only know if you ask.”

“do you think he’d be willing to donate some blood at our clinic? i want to see how easy those veins are to poke.”

“...you’re absolutely sure you don’t want me to introduce you?”

“yes. i’ve watched him a few times after his shows. he gets flocked by so many women and absolutely hates it. his expression is a lot harder and less happy compared to when he’s mingling with his friends.”

“you’re honestly already at the point where you notice the changes in his expression. are you sure you aren’t crushing on him?

“of course i’m sure.”

“okay then.”

but, of course, mitsuri has other ways of getting them to meet—if not at his workplace, then maybe at hers.

mitsuri takes a leap and invites the company to a blood donation drive, all of whom agree. (the invitation is mostly for giyuu, but he doesn’t have to know that...not that she expects him to turn up. he never shows up for what the young ones call “company bonding affairs”.)

surprisingly, giyuu shows up. he brings along his relative (mitsuri confirms her to be the sister) and his orange-haired friend.

of course, it has to be shinobu to draw his blood (this, mitsuri claims, is completely coincidental)

shinobu actually expected for giyuu to be quiet, but not this quiet. he responds only when he’s spoken to and speak just enough words—not too little, and never too much. it irks her slightly that he’s so disinterested in the whole donation process, but she decides to keep talking to him regardless.

just as she also expected, the needle enters his veins easily and the blood flows as smooth as his dancing. she tells him she’d be back when the bag is full and leaves to attend to other patients.

she doesn’t realize that his eyes have locked onto her, following her but never letting his gaze stray lower than her hips (he already did once earlier during the brief orientation and is very aware of how those jeans fit her legs and her bottom).

giyuu is slightly upset that it isn’t her who attends to him when the bag is full. only slightly. 

so he chooses to linger. no, he didn’t choose to do so. he just so happened to linger, even telling his sister and friend to go on home without him. (they give him a secret smile each, as though they’d expected him to do something like this.)

mitsuri notices all of this happening, of course

by the end of the shift, shinobu is quite sweaty from walking around to attend to patients and from bringing supplies to and from the cargo vehicles. luckily, mitsuri always has an extra change of clothes in her car for emergencies like this.

the dress misturi lends is slightly too short and slightly too low for shinobu’s liking that shinobu is torn between either pulling the hem down or pulling the neckline up. either action help in nothing to help hide the skin she isn’t used to showing.

just when shinobu decides she’d rather just wear her sweat-soaked polo shirt and jeans, someone extends a jacket towards her. “wrap this around your waist,” says the low voice. shinobu blinks. 

apparently giyuu can speak more than just three words at a time. she’s pleasantly surprised.

then he speaks again, “do you want to get something to eat with me?”

everyone else would later tell them that this was their first date, though they both claim it isn’t

they end up eating dinner somewhere somewhat fancy because it’s the closest to where they’re standing, and shinobu has no more energy to walk too far. (giyuu did offer to carry her, though she declined his invitation.)

though it’s mostly shinobu who does the talking, giyuu does give more reactions to her than she’s ever seen in the whole year she’s watched him.

she catches him off-guard when she compliments his dimples. “they’re really cute,” she says, poking into one of them, and he blushes at her actions.

he catches her off-guard, too, when he tells her, “thank you for always coming to my shows.” that he knew she was in the audience is the last thing she expects.

shinobu nearly drops her utensils when he starts leading the conversation.

everybody say, “thank you, mitsuri”

“you’ve seen me?” shinobu asks, to which giyuu nonchalantly replies, “you’re hard to miss. not everyone’s as pretty as you.”

her heart flutters ever so slightly and shinobu admits that she might have actually developed a tiny, tiny crush on this man. 

shinobu learns that his orange-haired friend’s name is sabito, when giyuu tells her that, “sabito mentioned i should talk to you but i never got the chance. you were always gone when everyone else cleared away. i wasn’t sure where else to look.”

to add to that: “if i knew you and kanroji were good friends, i’d probably have accepted more of her invitations earlier. the other dancers said you’d often be invited, too. i could’ve gotten to know you earlier.”

and to top it all off, he fixes her sleeve that has started to fall off her shoulder. shinobu feels her skin burn under his touch.

when shinobu goes to sleep that evening, it is no longer just giyuu’s muscles on her mind, but also the smile he sent her when they parted

the “date” goes on with casual flirting from both his side and hers. he brushes the bangs from her eyes as she eats, while she wipes the corner of his mouth when he does.

it’s too early for the night to end, so they opt for ice cream. they share a waffle cup with a single spoon.

shinobu has heard enough good stuff about giyuu. topped with her own observations, she concludes that he’s a trustworthy person, so she allows him to drive her home. (mitsuri stowed away much earlier and left shinobu with a midnight commute as the only other option to get home.)

before she alights from the car, giyuu clears his throat and, like a gentleman, asks something shinobu would normally not agree with upon her first meeting with a stranger: “can i kiss you goodnight?”

giyuu meant for it to be a peck on the cheek, but when she leans in with her lips presented for him, he has no other choice but to take them.

they start dating, of course, to fill in the blanks. after all, with how long they’ve been admiring each other from afar, they feel like they’ve already know each other for a while.

three months later, they become official, and shinobu is given explicit permission to examine the muscles she once admired only from the stage.

[heartfragment]

Heart Fragment Walkthrough: Kay

When you discover the secrets of your family's past, Kay is the first ally to appear. Kay does not define himself by the fact that he is blind; rather, he is dependable, energetic, and cheerful - like sunshine. But sometimes his happiness somehow feels like a mask that he puts on...

Note: Most endings have multiple ways of getting to them. This is a guide to guarantee you get them all, but feel free to mix and match or experiment with your own ideas!

Endings Overview

(for those who don't want a full guide, just the general idea of how to get the endings; if you want a step-by-step guide instead, keep reading!)

Kay branch 1 criteria: Certain traits will add points towards this branch. Branch 1 can be unlocked by focusing on the following traits: cautious, paranoid, nosey OR by having a heart that is orange or lower.

Kay branch 1, good end, romantic: end the route with a pink heart or higher

Kay branch 1, good end, platonic: end the route with an orange heart or lower

Kay branch 2 criteria: Branch 2 can be unlocked by focusing on the following traits: extremely high trust (bar to full is dark colored or almost fully dark colored), extremely low ego/selflessness (bar is pastel colored or almost fully pastel colored) OR by avoiding the traits paranoid, cautious, and nosey OR by heart that is pink or higher OR by selecting dialogue options that reinforce Kay's dependence on you.

Kay branch 2, good, romantic: end the route without any bad endings and you are guaranteed this, as there is no platonic end in branch 2

Kay bad ending 1: two potential moments can bring on this ending. 1st option is to keep your points with Kay low (a green heart or less is recommended) OR have the paranoid trait unlocked during Friday of Act 2. 2nd option is to have the paranoid trait unlocked during Sunday of Act 3

Kay bad ending 2: on branch 2 of Kay's route, have the nosey trait OR select to "search a bit more" when prompted

Kay bad ending 3: on branch 2 of Kay's route, have a dagger heart next to Kay's name

Kay bad ending 4: on branch 2 of Kay's route, choose "leave now" when prompted

Full Walkthrough - Common Route

Speak your mind

Steam achievement granted when meeting Shannon: "Best Friends Forever"

Talk to her anyway

Ignore him and say nothing

Sit across the room

Search your father's name

Read the obituary as well

Steam achievement granted when finishing on your laptop: "Finding Answers"

I guess that wouldn't be so bad

Don't ask her

Nice to meet you

Steam achievement granted when meeting Kay: "Mr. Sunshine Smile"

This is a bit too much to take in

No

3 updates will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check all of them

Knock first

Say you don't care

ask all the questions available

Pull away

Have a quick nap first

Steam achievement granted shortly after choice: "Nightmare or Daymare"

Tell Kay about it

You can

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check it

Wait for him to speak

Admit that's the reason

Sure

CREATE SAVE POINT 1

Go back home

Steam achievement granted shortly after choice: "Can you hear me!?"

RELOAD SAVE POINT 1 after getting the achievement

Go look at clothes

I'll try some things on too

CREATE SAVE POINT 2

The black and white one

You look great

RELOAD SAVE POINT 2

The pink and blue star print one

You look great

RELOAD SAVE POINT 2

The aqua blue one

You look great

No

Ask if you can draw Kay

Talk about something else

It would have been bad either way

Don't disturb them

1 new update will appear in the bottom right corner phone at night time after a scene transition, click it for a bonus CG

Search anyway

Try turning it back on

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check it

Steam achievement granted shortly after viewing phone update: "Project NMCI"

Yes

Yes

Kay

The panacea

No

Superpowers

...a good power to have

I won't do it again

I hope you open up to me more

Your father

Where have you been?

Your father

Not really

Jasper

Sure, let's go

Sit down beside him

Nice outfit

Steam achievement granted when meeting Natalia: "Fancy Outfit, Odd Demeanor"

The smoothie bar is nearby

Something simple/classic

You can come tonight if you want

Suggest joining StarxSocial

Yes

Kay

Scream

Who are you chatting with?

Talk about Kay

Yes

What was that post all about?

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check it

Tell me more about his powers

Am I going to survive this...?

Shannon will worry if I'm late...

Tell Shannon about Kay going missing

Why would I tell you that?

Steam achievement granted when meeting Clive: "Suspicious Werirdo"

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner at night in your bedroom, check it

Steam achievement granted when meeting Jasper: "Knife-Wielding Antagonist"

type in the name "Ceaton"

Steam achievement granted when you type in the name Ceaton: "That's Your Name, Right?"

Reach out to the hand

Steam achievement granted when you grab the hand on the first choice: "Trust in the Hand"

I don't trust him enough to tell him

You can come again

Select the orange/red fragments

Steam achievement granted when you select the fragments: "Fantasy Select"

Fantasy Intro / Act Zero

CREATE SAVE POINT 3

I don't think so

Tell him about the dream with Kay

Don't text her

I'm going to stay inside

I am scared, to be honest

Ask her about it some more

an eye symbol will appear at the bottom right of your screen, click it to read Lana's heart

I'm sorry for my outburst last time...

Touch his arm

I promise

Well...

Mention Kay going missing

Refuse to be friends with him

I don't trust him

Pancakes are great!

I don't want to talk about it

Walk in silence with him

an eye symbol will appear at the bottom right of your screen, click it to read Clive's heart

I need to keep an eye on him

when the beach search screen appears, find the orange feather in the water towards the center left of the screen

I'm happy

Kay Act One

So... what shells did you find?

Fine, I admit defeat

I should plan my next move

I need to look eventually!

Don't set it up for him

Cream and sugar

I'm not sure

I really miss him

Make something up

I prefer you don't pry anymore

I need to save Kay!

an eye symbol will appear at the bottom right of your screen, click it to read Jasper's heart

Investigate

Find the letter on top of the cliffs, close to the center of the screen

Climb anyway

I dunno...

Don't give up

I still want him back!

Kay Act Two

We are friends

Maybe a little... (for romantic ending) OR Quit teasing me (for platonic)

We'll just say we're friends

I'll get a sleeping bag for you

Whisper that he'll be okay

Ask Kay if it's okay

I'll help him interact with others

Go somewhere with Kay

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner in the kitchen during breakfast, check it

CREATE SAVE POINT 4

Jam

RELOAD SAVE POINT 4 AFTER GETTING THE BONUS CG WITH JAM IN IT

Syrup

Don't offer

I liked your smile

Yours makes me feel different

Tuck him into bed

Wake him

I promise

I do

Hold onto his hands (boosts romance) OR emphasize that he's safe (for platonic ending)

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner while in the living room prior to texting Shannon and/or calling your father, check it

Don't text her

...

It's rough

No

CREATE SAVE POINT 5

The Pirathon nature trail

I'm trying my best

Romance (boosts romance) OR happiness (for platonic ending)

Their music helped me through a lot

I wish I could show it to Kay

Cheer

That is a reason

I don't think of it that way

Grab his hand (romantic) OR reassure him (platonic)

They're not you

Run away

Steam achievement granted when you choose 'go back to him' or if you have high enough romantic points: "I Believe In Him"

Leave

Kay Act Three

Jasper is your past

...raised to hate me

No

...he's kind of cute (romantic) OR he's a good person (platonic)

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner when you get the Kay chibi CG, check it

You were pretty close

Say you aren't sure

I like short people (note: option boosts romance. If you want the achievement but want to ensure you get a platonic ending, create a save point here and then reload to choose the other option)

Steam achievement granted when you choose 'I like short people': "Short = Cute"

Go check on him

Stay back

Don't beat yourself up about it

I am afraid

Hand them to Kay

Ask Kay if he wants to tell her

You ARE Kay

Steam achievement granted if you selected all the choices above so far: "Come To Terms With It"

Why would you want me to do that?

I don't mind

Tell him what he wants to know

Kay End Branch 1

Hold him close (romantic) OR continue holding his hand (platonic)

I don't mind (romantic) OR either other option (platonic) (note: choice only occurs if you have at least a yellow heart with Kay at this point)

Ask him again if he has a preference

I want to see you (romantic) OR Yes, definitely (platonic)

I feel that way too (romantic) OR I care about you, as a friend (platonic)

Steam achievement granted for reaching Branch 1 ending: "The Sun Will Rise"

RELOAD SAVE POINT 3

Fantasy Intro - Guide to Branch 2

Maybe we can hang out

Tell him about the dream with Kay

Text her

let's meet up soon

I guess I'll go sit outside for a bit

I am scared, to be honest

Leave the subject alone

I'm sorry for my outburst last time...

Touch his arm

I promise

I definitely don't regret it!

Mention Kay going missing

Give him the benefit of the doubt

I do prefer waffles, actually

Yes... I want to talk about it

Ask about his interests

Maybe I should give it a try someday

find the feather in the water near the center left of the screen

I'm happy

Kay Act One

So... what shells did you find?

Fine, I admit defeat

I should get some rest

I need to look eventually

Don't set it up

Tea

I'm not sure

I really miss him

Make something up

It's alright

I need to save Kay!

Rest for a while

Sure

I still want him back!

Kay Act Two

We are friends

Maybe a little...

We'll pretend to be dating

Steam achievement granted when you choose 'pretend to be dating': "Fake Date"

You can sleep in the bed

CREATE SAVE POINT 6

Whisper that he'll be okay

Ask Kay if it's okay

I'll help him interact with others

Spend the day together at home

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner in the kitchen during breakfast, check it

CREATE SAVE POINT 7

Jam

RELOAD SAVE POINT 7 AFTER GETTING THE BONUS CG WITH JAM IN IT

Syrup

Of course you can

I liked your goofiness

You will

Because I trust in you

I like having you around

Let him sleep on your shoulder

Wake him

I do

Hold onto his hands

Send a message to Shannon

I'm safe

It's rough

Yes

The Pirathon nature trail

I'm trying my best

Romance

Their music helped me through a lot

Maybe I'll redraw it someday

Cheer

You're right, it is

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner soon after the concert, check it

I don't think of it that way

Grab his hand

They're not you

You don't mean that

Tell the truth

Stay

Lay beside him

Kay Act Three

Jasper is your past

...raised to hate me

Yes

...he's kind of cute

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner while you speak with Gray in the kitchen, check it

It's okay

Agree with Lana

Approach him

Hold onto his arm

I felt afraid

Hand them to Kay

Ask Kay if he wants to tell her

That's for you to decide

You'd be happy I'm having nightmares?

Kay End Branch 2

You don't need to prove it

I don't see it that way

CREATE SAVE POINT 8

Go back upstairs

CREATE SAVE POINT 9

Search for Kay

I will be

Hand him the phone

Steam achievement granted if you have been consistently checking the phone for updates: "Kay Fan"

I'll go with you

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner while at Shannon's party, check it

Steam achievement granted for reaching Branch 2 ending: "Brighter Days"

Bad Ending #1

RELOAD SAVE POINT 5

The Pirathon Beach

Steam achievement granted for reaching bad ending: "Goodbye, my friend"

Bad Ending #2

RELOAD SAVE POINT 8

Search a bit more

Steam achievement granted for reaching bad ending: "The demon's lover"

Bad Ending #3

RELOAD SAVE POINT 9

Leave now

Steam achievement granted for reaching bad ending: "Death By Blonde"

Bad Ending #4

Note: There is an achievement in this ending that can only be achieved by having a low relationship with your father. If you've followed this guide so far, you should have the right stats to get this achievement.

RELOAD SAVE POINT 6

Let him sleep

Tell Lana

I want to keep him close

Spend the day at home together

Syrup

Of course you can

I liked your smile

You two aren't anything alike

I want to look out for you

Let him sleep on your shoulder

Let him rest a bit more

I do

Hold onto his hands

Send a message to Shannon

I'm safe

It's not that I need a break

Yes

The Pirathon nature trail

You're right

Romance

I had a crush on the lead singer

Maybe I'll redraw it someday

Stay quiet

It's not because of him

You aren't difficult

Say nothing

They are you

Run away

Lie to him

Stay

Lay beside him

Jasper doesn't exist anymore

... a hateful person

Steam achievement granted for having a low bond with your father: "He's Not Important :)"

Yes

... he's kind of cute

It's okay

Say you aren't sure

I have a preference for tall people

Approach him

Stop in front of him

I'll stay

Don't

You're not Kay

You'd be happy I'm having nightmares?

Just stay by my side

Any reason to get better counts

Go back upstairs

[actress4him]

Overexposure - New Ideas

(Prompt #17 for Summer of Whump)

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Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, captivity, referenced beating, noncon touching (non-sexual), forced stripping (non-sexual), restraints, stress position

.

.

It’s only a few days after the exhibit, a few days after the brutal beating Ellery received for trying to ask for help, when the door to her room flies open and he’s standing there with that smile on his face. The smile she hates more than anything. The smile that says she’s about to suffer even more.

“Good morning, Princess.” Lucas strolls into the room - the cell, really, just a tiny corner of the basement built expressly for the purpose of keeping her inside. “In the midst of the fallout from your misguided attempt the other night, I failed to mention how much of a success the exhibit was. Everyone adored you.”

Her skin crawls at the thought, but she knows better than to respond by now. Instead she pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to herself as if she can keep him away.

“I’m getting plenty of sales, too. So many people who want to have our beautiful artwork all for themselves.”

She knows better than to respond, but she can’t help it. The image of those photos hanging on someone’s walls, or being hidden away to look at secretly… “Guess they’re just as sick as you are.”

All of her muscles tense up as soon as she says it, expecting him to lash out. But he must be in an awfully good mood, because he simply ignores the outburst, pacing toward the tiny table with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’ve been getting requests, too. Some from patrons at the last exhibit, others from people who have seen my previous work.” He turns, leaning up against the table, eyes roving over her body in the way he does when she knows he’s imagining ways to torture it. “Seems like there’s a whole collection of people out there who love...well, I keep hearing the word ‘whump’, but...basically, they draw all kinds of inspiration from what we’re doing. And now they’d like to see something...a little less refined, a little more...hm, how do I say it? A little more...raw. Primitive.”

The smile creeps back onto his face. “It’s something I’ve never done before, but I’m certainly up to the challenge. I’ve got ideas already. And I have a feeling once I get started I’ll be quite inspired to keep going.”

No wonder he’s in a good mood. He’s in his creative zone, which means a nightmare of a day for her. And it’s so soon, she’s still healing, her body isn’t ready.

He won’t care about any of that, though.

“Alright, come on, chop chop! Up to makeup we go.”

It’s one of the few instances when she’s allowed out of the basement, so she tries to enjoy it. If she cranes her neck as they come to the top of the stairs, she can catch a glimpse of green and sunlight through a sliver of window, and overall the rooms upstairs are much brighter. It’s a refreshing change.

Lucas’ assistant, whose name she’s never bothered to learn, is ready and waiting in the usual spot with her makeup and hair tools. It’s the one thing that he doesn’t do himself. Ellery expects the same treatment for the bruise around her eye - now turned a sickly yellow - as it got for the exhibit, but it’s ignored. Instead the assistant focuses on eyeliner, mascara, and a little bit of lip color. The basics, meant to make her features pop in the photos, nothing fancy. Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘raw and primitive’. She can certainly hope that it’s nothing worse, though hope has done her a fat lot of good so far.

“You want her hair pulled back at all?” the assistant asks.

Lucas, who has been lurking the whole time, watching the process, steps forward and runs thick fingers through her long black hair. She doesn’t bother to suppress a shudder and a look of disgust, but doesn’t try to pull away, either.

“Yeah. Go ahead and put it up, something simple, though. Simple and messy. I might take it down partway through, we’ll see.”

It’s brushed back into a ponytail with lots of strands hanging down around her face, and the top is fussed over until it’s perfectly, believably messy. The assistant looks up to Lucas for approval.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. I like it. Okay, moving on.”

This is the point where her starting wardrobe is usually chosen. She stands, waiting while he scrutinizes her current outfit of a baggy white t-shirt and black cotton shorts.

“Take that off, remind me what you have on under it.”

Ellery’s face flushes scarlet. She hates this, hates obeying and hates demeaning herself for him, but last time she refused to take off the clothes herself he just did it for her, and that was so much worse. And it’s not like he’s actually interested in her, not in that way. She was so incredibly afraid of that for a long time. But no, to him she’s not a person for him to want. She’s a piece of art, a canvas, a sculpture. A thing. All he’s thinking of is how he can best use her to create the ‘masterpiece’ he has in mind.

So she slips the t-shirt off over her head. Stands in just her sports bra and shorts with her cheeks burning and wishes that she could melt into the floor and cease to exist.

The expression that comes over his face is nothing short of delight. “Ooh, this is so much better than I was expecting.” He practically trots over to her, eyes on her bare stomach, and reaches out to brush his fingers along the tender, aching skin. She flinches, instinctively pulls back, but he only latches onto her waist, digging his fingers into a myriad of bruises. “This is fantastic. Just what we need for today. So glad I gave you these already.”

Gave her. Like the beating was a gift. She doesn’t need to look down to know that her torso is pretty much one giant bruise, she can feel it just fine.

“Yep. That’ll be perfect. Leave it just like that. No sense in covering up any of this beauty.” He strokes his fingers across her stomach one more time before stepping back to admire the whole thing. “Alright, thank you, Jordan. Let’s get back to the studio.”

The studio - aka the basement. Back down to the cold concrete walls and the artificial lights. She can’t help but slow, just a little, as they pass the room with the window, trying to get one more little peek of the outdoors. She pays for it with his hand coming to land on the back of her neck, squeezing tightly, promising much more pain if she doesn’t keep walking.

The area of the basement that Lucas uses to take her photos isn’t much to speak of, especially today when the white backdrop is rolled up at the ceiling. It’s just an expanse of grey, but it haunts her nightmares.

“Alright.” Lucas is practically giddy with excitement. “I’ve got so many ideas I don’t know where to start. No, scratch that. I do know where I want to start.” He turns to his shelf of props and rummages through a box, pulling out several pieces of metal with chains draping in between.

The dread that had been swirling in Ellery’s stomach all morning suddenly solidifies into something heavy, a stone that simultaneously pulls her down into the floor and threatens to make her sick. She can’t do this again. She can’t. The pain of being stretched into positions her body was never meant to be in, the humiliation of being photographed in the most vulnerable state possible...and now it’s even worse, because she’s already in pain from being beaten.

Lucas is at the far wall, tinkering with his contraption, using existing bolts and screws from previous sessions to attach things to both the wall and floor. “Come here,” he says after a few minutes, and it’s the last straw.

Something inside of her crumples.

“Please…” It comes out as no more than a trembling whisper, but it catches his attention anyway. “Please don’t, I can’t, I can’t, please…”

Sighing heavily, he walks toward her, boots clomping out her doom on the concrete floor. “I thought we were past this, Princess. You’d been doing so well.”

She opens her mouth, to say what, she doesn’t know, it’s all pointless anyway, but before a sound makes it past her lips his fist is connecting with her temple. Her world is reduced to black and pain and falling. When her vision returns, the room whirls around her, Lucas’ face up above hers dipping and bobbing in a way that makes her stomach churn, and her head throbs. She can tell she’s being dragged, though, by the ankle over to where he wanted her.

Rough hands grab her by the arms and heft her to her feet, and the room goes spinning again. Her back is pressed up against the wall, concrete blocks cold on her bare skin, and Lucas wraps an arm around her waist to lift her slightly. She gasps as he puts pressure on the ribs she’s pretty sure are broken.

A second later, something thin and cool falls across her throat, and after he fiddles with something just under her ear for a moment, Lucas steps back and leaves her to settle down onto her bare toes. They just barely touch the floor enough for her to rest her weight on, the metal across her neck digging slightly into her skin and threatening to cut off her air. She tries not to notice him watching her as she struggles to adjust her feet to push herself a little higher.

“Nice. I love it already. Actually, hang on, I’m also loving the disoriented look you’ve got going on right now. I need a shot of that.”

He grabs his camera and gets right up in her face. Ellery automatically squeezes her eyes shut, hating that lens, hating the thought of anyone else seeing her like this, but all she gets for it is his finger poking her in the ribs. Her eyes fly open as she cries out, and the camera clicks. Once, twice, three times.

“Ooh, I don’t know which one of these I like best.” He studies the screen with a grin, flipping back and forth through the shots. “The hazy, disoriented look I was going for, or the gasping in pain. And the restraint around the neck really sets it off. Fantastic. Okay, moving on.”

Bending down, he picks up the rest of the metal pieces, the ones with the chains attached. While she wasn’t paying attention it seems he had hooked one end of the chains to the floor, several feet out in front of her, and now he brings the other end to her. She only finds out what it is for sure when he yanks her hands away from the wall where she had been attempting to help support herself and clamps it around her wrists. The shackles pull her arms out in front of her, naturally making her body want to lean forward, too. But if she gives into the pull, or if her feet get tired and try to lower, she’ll choke.

Lucas stands back to admire his work. “Yes. Just as good as I had hoped. And you’re already starting to get that wild look in your eyes, too. I think if I leave you here for, oh -” he checks his phone -“around thirty or forty-five minutes, I’ll really get the desperation I’m looking for. Maybe an hour. We’ll see.”

With that, he turns and heads for the stairs. As the echo of his footsteps dies out, Ellery finally lets the tears start to pour down her cheeks. She can’t spare the focus to stop them anymore, anyway. All of her concentration until he decides she’s done is going to have to be on staying balanced so she doesn’t die.

.

.

Disclaimer: I don’t think people who like whump are “sick”. Obviously, I am one of them. Now, if there were actually people like Lucas out there who hurt real people for whump’s sake, then yeah. They would be considered “sick”. But of course, Lucas’ patrons don’t know what he’s really doing...or do they...?

[notnctu]

CONGRATS ON UR MILESTONE BBY!!! SO PROUD 😭😭 (also hehe can i request quote #4 with Jaehyun? with angst, fluff, and suggestive/smut- lol gimme all of them flavorssss) (also no pressure if it’s not all three haha ik it’ll be great anyways)

THANK YOU BB <3 we’re so happy to have ppl who actually... care and read our shit ? LOL i hope you enjoy reading your request! i tried my best to season it with all the yummy flavors hehe you can read it under the cut

-author doie ❀

jaehyun x reader prompt #4 - “You can do this but you can’t return my calls?” genre - angst, fluff, slightly suggestive (wow flavor packed)

dating jaehyun isn’t the easiest love you’ve ever experienced. the valentine boy enjoys to test your patience, but always knows how to mend his mistakes. in this relationship, it’s about compromise. however, you aren’t entirely sure how he is going to be able to make this one up.

you’ve been ringing his number for the past hour and to no avail. it’s your second year anniversary and you’ve overly expressed how important this one is to you. it’s a toast to another year together, when every living person has been fighting you for your favorite boy.

“jung jaehyun, where the hell are you?” you sigh and toss your phone. the restaurants are practically closing by now and your extravagant outfit has been sitting uncomfortably on your body.

not that you two had planned anything grand, just a simple dinner at your favorite restaurant and possibly indulge in a bottle of champagne. did he forget? he has been ignoring you the past days, and you’re not one to jump to conclusions, but he has been distant.

and nothing in your brain brings up any bad memories that you two didn’t amend. so why is he giving you the cold shoulder, especially on your anniversary night? it’s slightly hard to blink back tears when you stare at yourself in your bathroom mirror.

jaehyun loves you, right? you two trust each other. perhaps, he’s been having a hard week and needed space. one single droplet falls abruptly and hits your sink. but you wipe it away, remembering the foundation of your relationship is compromise. you had to meet him halfway.

so you sniff away any malice thoughts that threaten to break your relationship, and as you rush to grab your car keys. your phone rings and your heart falls into the pit of your stomach when you see the caller id.

“hey---”

“how was your anniversary date?! you gotta tell me all about it! did jaehyun get you flowers, he seems like the big bouquet type---”

“he never showed up.” you cut off your best friend, and the line goes silent on the other side of the receiver. it hurt more speaking it into existence, finally admitting it to yourself that your boyfriend never came for you.

“oh.. i’m sorry..” your best friend pauses, “do you want to come over here instead? fuck men.” she sounds persistent and a small vigor in her voice.

you take another deep breath, unsure now where to head to. you were so ready to barge into his apartment and check if he was even alive. “hold on.” you say as you check his location to make sure he’s home, but when you’re searching for his goofy contact picture, it doesn’t show up on the map. jaehyun turned off his location.

“he turned off his location.” you begin to tear up, but the gasp of your best friend catches you off guard.

“no fucking way. that piece of shit!” she yells and you cover your mouth to suffice the cries.

“i’ll come over.” you barely let out and your best friend wishes you a safe drive, telling you how she is ready to bust out all forms of social media to track if anyone was messing with your man.

but you feel a bit numb, more confused. he’s never turned off his location, is he hiding from you? but there are no secrets between you two. you hurry to your friend’s shared house, with unbelievable and unwanted tears running down your face.

there is no way. you reminded yourself of jaehyun’s loyalty and the trust you had in this man. he could never.

and when you pull up to the drive way, your affirmations are right. he could never.

jaehyun stands with the largest rose bouquet you’ve ever laid eyes on. his hair nicely slick back, in a suit to match your equally dressed up attire. he looks up from your head lights announcing your arrival and he can see the sadness that lingers on your cheeks.

he hurries to open your car door, and you shut the car off. “what the hell, jung jaehyun!” you lightly push at his shoulder when he reaches down for your hand.

he smiles sweetly, dimples deeply in his cheeks. “happy anniversary, y/n. you’re still absolutely breathtaking.”

you take his hand as he guides you to the entrance walkway, the bouquet of roses now in your other. rose petals are scattered on the pavement that lead to the front door and your best friend stands with the biggest grin on her face.

“you traitor!” you jokingly yell at her, but she cheekily hugs you.

“surprise! happy anniversary, y/n!” she guides you into her dining room and the table is full of your favorite dishes, prepped and cooked by two important people in your life.

you marvel at the fancy table cloth and pink balloons that roll around on the floor. it’s over the top cheesy, and definitely something you see in classic romance movies. and you laugh. you smile. you kiss jaehyun with gratitude.

“you can do this, but you can’t return my calls?” you raise an eyebrow at the handsome man, who blinks back at you with a gaze that makes your knees weak.

he chuckles, the baritone sounding lovely, “it’s because i was doing this, that i couldn’t return your calls. i wanted to surprise you with something special on this very important day.”

“you let me wait an hour!” you pout, of course you are more than grateful for your boyfriend setting up everything perfectly. you just wanted to express a few grumbles for more explanation.

“aw i’m sorry, baby. your best friend forgot to set an alarm to wake up from her nap... and i lost track of time when i was blowing the balloons. i swear she was suppose to call you earlier.” his thumb rubs circles on your jawline, as he gently caresses your face.

“i know, i’m the worst. but hey! you’re using my house, so i say we’re a little even.” your best friend laughs, grabbing her keys from the table. “have fun, lovebirds. you know which one the guestroom is.” she smiles before shutting the front door and leaving you two for privacy.

“why are you using her house?” jaehyun’s hand snakes around your waist, drawing you close to his toned torso. he plants a sneaky kiss against your neck, mumbling into your skin the answer to your question.

“jungwoo’s friend is staying over for the weekend. i can’t fuck you properly if we don’t have a bed, right?”

“don’t act like we haven’t done it without one before though.” your laugh is cut short as jaehyun gives your ass a small squeeze, groaning in your ear as filthy memories on his bedroom floor, bathroom, kitchen flood his thoughts.

“i’m a little hungry.. ready to eat?” when you meet his dark eyes, his devilish smirk and the suggestive tone imply something else. he is definitely going to make the lost hour up to you.

[blueeyedrichie]

I'm warning you now that this ask is a personal attack. Ally u awakened something in me that I didn't realize was dormant and now I need more trashy early-mid 2000s aus. I need a Myspace au where Eddie is a Paris Hilton wannabe with a velour tracksuit and a Motorola razor with a phone charm and all of his pics are mirror selfies. And Richie is a rawr xd emo with snakebites and the song on his Myspace page is like nobody puts baby in the corner or something Ally please I need it

I am fucking SCREAMING OVER THIS like this is my entire life now. Literally no cap I’m hhhhhhh so obsessed with this.

Not only am I absolutely sobbing over the image of Eddie in a fucking velour tracksuit (juicy couture brand, and best believe that thing says JUICY on the ass, also it’s baby blue uwu) but it just makes me so happy that he has it and likes to wear it???? Because you know he’d be hiding that from Sonia in the depths of his closet but the moment she leaves the house or maybe late at night he’s putting it on to snap a new photo, definitely just to show off to his internet friends and not at all to catch the attention of a certain someone from his class.

He has a pink razr, with a purple poof ball and a little green turtle as the charms; also there’s a little rainbow sticker on the battery cover :’) and he takes those absolutely horrible selfies in the bathroom from way up above his head and in the mirror that’s covered in fingerprints and toothpaste splashes and half the time you can definitely see the toilet in the background, but it’s easy to ignore because he looks so cute in his lil tracksuit (and when he’s feeling extra fancy he puts some glittery hard candy brand eyeshadow on) and spends literal hours deciding which one to upload as his new default picture, and probably another hour deciding what lyrics to use as his caption. He ends up going with now tell me, who have you been dreaming of? Since it’s from his current profile song “Stars Are Blind” by the one and only Paris Hilton.

Then we have Richie, with thick, black framed glasses, an absolute disaster of curls on his head that falls into his eyes; which are lined darkly to match the chipped polish on his nails. He wears black jeans and hoodies and band shirts exclusively, ranging from Fall Out Boy to My Chemical Romance to Mindless Self Indulgence. His MySpace song is “Shut Me Up”.

Richie has an orange EnV with a cracked screen and an “it’s not a phase” sticker on the back (the words are like an ombré of the bisexual flag colors bc I say so). His top 8 is literally just Tom and then a bunch of bands because he doesn’t fuck around with that shit.

He ABSOLUTELY has snake bites, and he wears bracelets and shit all the time (he has one of those lil handcuff bracelets from hot topic pls I hope someone knows what I’m talking abt) and definitely has a chain on his wallet that jingles every time he walks. He smokes under the bleachers at school and hangs out with like three people that like the same music as him.

It’s not that Richie and Eddie don’t want to hang out, it’s just that they don’t really run in the same circles. They only have art together, and Richie is always listening to his headphones while he draws, and Eddie stares at him from his spot beside him, always amazed at how well Richie can draw. Sometimes Richie looks up and catches his gaze and gives him a crooked little smile, his silver piercings glinting in the fluorescent light from above them. What Eddie doesn’t notice is how Richie watches him too, and thinks it’s cute the way Eddie daydreams and fiddles with his little phone charms during class.

Richie does a lot of really shitty photo edits in photofiltre bc he doesn’t wanna pay for photoshop. When the day comes that Eddie comments on his profile to ask if Richie can make him one, Richie agrees. And if they start messaging back and forth and Eddie takes longer to decide what he wants just so he can talk to Richie more, then that’s just fine.

And then they start commenting on each other’s photos and messaging everyday and talking more at school and neither of them will admit it, but it’s so much fucking fun. They’re so different but complement each other so well, and next thing he knows, Eddie is hanging out in Richies bedroom sharing earbuds with him and listening to “Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner” and maybe he doesn’t totally hate it. Richie begs him to change his profile song because “the whole Paris aesthetic is actually hot,” he winks, knowing about her ridiculous catch phrase, “but you gotta admit that song sucks shit.”

Eddie scoffs at him, but doesn’t remove the earbud and just keeps listening, stealthily scooting closer to Richie as he flips through a sketchbook and shows Eddie his favorite drawings. He points one out, asking who it is and why his face is like that.

“That’s Pete Wentz, and that’s his grr face,” Richie then makes the same face, sending Eddie into a fit of giggles.

And normally, Eddie wouldnt post a photo of himself without his outfit and makeup and hair done just right, bc his regular jeans and shorts and sweaters aren’t the look he’s going for on his online persona, but he has to get a photo with his crush, because suddenly having people know that he’s hanging with Richie is far more important than a lil break away from his aesthetic. Richie rolls his eyes, but smiles and agrees on one condition, “you have to do the grr face.” Eddie pouts but ultimately says yes. They stand in front of the mirror on the back of Richies door that’s covered in sloppily written lyrics in what Eddie assumes is sharpie. Eddie stares at himself and tries to get it just right, snapping a couple photos, all of which have Richie either laughing or throwing his hands up next to him.

“I can’t do it right.”

“Just do it like this,” Richie makes the face to Eddie in the mirror, who mimics him. “Just like that!” Richie takes the phone from him so Eddie can focus, and then when Eddie gets the face just right, Richie throws his free arm around Eddie’s waist and leans in to kiss his cheek, snapping a photo to capture Eddie with the little sneer, and then another of his cherry red cheeks and dropped jaw when he realizes Richie is kissing him.

They end up going on a date after that, and they both surprise each other with gifts. Eddie makes Richie a little beaded bracelet, R+E are in between the pink, blue, and purple beads. Richie gives him a drawing he did of the photo they took together, except he drew Eddie wearing his tracksuit instead of his other clothes.

They both change their default photos to match (Richie uses the one of Eddie looking shocked; Eddie uses the one with the grr face) and they split the lyrics from another one of Richies fav Fall Out Boy songs for their captions: I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive on Richies and now I only waste it dreaming of you on Eddie’s.

[begrudginglytumbling]

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,  Part Five, Part Six

Part Three!

...or I suppose technically it’s part two of Part Two since this one will finish up what the other one started.

Shall we return to Grow Up?

(This’ll be long even though I managed to be a little ruthless and cut some of the images.)

We’ll start with the staffroom and finish with the dorm rooms.

I am only assuming it’s a staffroom. For all I know it could be some kind of common room. But they spend a damned lot of time there. They eat. They hangout. They study. And it’s not just the students, so I’m calling it a staffroom.

Anyway! This breakfast bar thing props up a fair amount of leaning, from general side leans.

To the favoured elbow hook lean.

What I find funny about this particular surface is that Bai Yu’s legs are so long that he actually can’t sit ‘properly’ at it. If he sits straight, then he has to lean forward, since his knees are knocking into it. And when he does sit close (his feet aren’t on the floor, since he’s on a stool, so he can sit properly), he has to spread his legs in some form of obscene manspreading fashion that made me cackle and that I apparently managed to not get a screenshot of (and annoyingly I can’t remember which episode it was in).

Right then, on to the table.

Literally.

On to the table.

Because, clearly, Bai Yu can’t resist sitting on a tabletop.

I made a post about it a while ago, but I’m still not over it so, just as a quick break from the sitting - that outfit is certainly a choice of the wardrobe department.

I mean just look at it, with it’s mustard trousers paired with that top, and a lime green tie. It’s like someone threw the 70s at him or something and went with whatever stuck. I feel like it shouldn’t work. But why does it? Is it a Bai Yu thing?

I mean I know he can pull off some slightly questionable fashion choices - that denim on denim look he has as Zhao Yunlan is something I’d normally say isn’t a good idea, but he looks damn good in it. There is also the jacket with the buttons on the back that I’m still questioning to this day. And the time they apparently rolled him in glitter. And, ok, I happily admit that I don’t tend to understand fashion, and I understand even less of Chinese fashion, but, just, how did this choice come about? Pretty much everyone else in this show seems to wear ‘normal’ sedate clothes. Then there’s this guy. With his bright colours, his polka dots on polka dots, and his cravats. Honestly, mixing his outfit choices with his sitting preferences and relationships, I’m becoming convinced that this is just another example of Bai Yu giving his character Disaster Bi energy. The dude ain’t straight, and the dude ain’t gay. I’d say this dude is a Certified Disaster Bi.

Ok, back to the table and Bai Yu’s leaning back in an almost draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls manner.

And, like, there is a chair right there.

But nope.

The unpadded table is apparently more appealing for this man’s relatively flat arse than the padded chair that is right there.

I mean, yeah, he makes an appealing picture that’s visually different from everything else going on, but that does not negate the fact he ignored the empty chair that’s right next to him in favour of draping himself over the table.

And look, he can sit at the table as opposed to on it. There’s quite a few instances where he’s sitting at the table in a chair like a proper person. Granted, in pretty much every instance he’s sitting with his legs crossed, because god forbid he have both feet touching the floor.

But of course this table also sees moments where he’s doing something different to the others. Like here. Everyone is standing, he’s sitting.

I think he’s sulking a bit in this one, but still. Different position, different aura, still not supporting his own meagre weight.

And here with his gay little scout-esque neckerchief/scarf thing, leaning back, not sitting properly.

He does this lean back on the sofa too.

The shot is only a couple of seconds long, then he’s standing up, just like in Part Two, where he’s the only one sitting when the Teacher Doctor guy opens the door, and I touched on this a little in the previous part. But I’m really starting to think it might be a deliberate thing that’s quite clever in drawing the eye.

I should probably preface this with saying I know basically nothing about the processes that go into acting and film making. I am however technically a historian by degree and, therefore, fully capable of pulling theories out of my arse which I will then scrabble around to find sources to back them up.

So! The theory is that movement naturally draws the human eye, and if everyone is the same then a scene can fall flat. Sameness is boring, your eyes can flit over it and not take in any details.

Bai Yu?

Bai Yu is a fidget (seriously go watch his livestream videos, he fidgets, fiddles, and wriggles), this movement can be used to his advantage in drawing the eye. That scene up there? He’s not just leaning back, he’s also shifting about. He’s not in focus, but you can be damned sure that movement made my eyes focus on him before I even knew it was him.

And for combating the sameness? Look at the examples above - he’s lounging on the table, different posture to everyone else - he’s sitting while everyone else is standing -  in the previous part he’s standing while everyone else is sitting. I thought at first my eyes were drawn because it’s Bai Yu and, well, he’s a favourite of mine so why wouldn’t my eyes be drawn. But then I realised they would’ve been, regardless, because he’s different. He breaks up the sameness, he stops it being flat. It reminded me of a scene in Pride and Prejudice, where the Bennett girls turn one way, but Mrs. Bennett turns the other. I remember watching or reading a commentary about it, the move being praised. I don’t remember exactly what was said, just that it was praised for being different and adding something to the scene, and it made me wonder if Bai Yu makes similar decisions?

Ok, onto the seating area proper.

He was actually sitting on an armchair properly before this, with both feet on the floor and everything...he looked so uncomfortable. Then he moved to sit on the arm of the sofa, because of course he did.

Y’know, pillows get hugged a lot in this programme, mainly by Bai Yu, but by others too sometimes.

And why sit normally when there’s a perfectly good coffee table in front of you to rest your foot on and make some viewers wince because why is your ankle bending that way? How is that even comfortable?

Just look at it. Barely resting on the table with his other foot adding weight to it.

You make my joints ache, sir.

Ok so technically I probably could’ve cut this one, since he’s just sitting on the sofa, nothing fancy, legs crossed, arm slung over the back as he pulls faces while she’s playing a game - she’s training to be a doctor but has a fear of blood so to get her use to it his character gets her to play fighting games(?) and someone else puts red dye on her hands - but this ends up leading to...

...this.

And just...what? How...?

That can’t be comfortable, surely.

I don’t even...are your joints even real, sir?

If your own joints are twinging in sympathy pain, this is your chance to go give your arms a shake and your body a wiggle before we head to the last section of the dorm rooms. Make sure everything is where it should be to remind yourself that you’re not the broken marionette doll Bai Yu can apparently become.

Right. All shook out? Good.

First stop the girls’ dorms, last stop the boys’.

There’s not much in the main girls’ room, really, just his usual sitting with his legs crossed because obviously the floor is lava and can’t be trusted with both feet.

I’m not sure how much he can be blamed for this one, as he’s technically been thrown into the chair by the little doctor trainee whose character reminds me a bit of Wen Qing.

As a side note, when you’re watching something that you don’t understand the language of, scenes like this can really throw you, because you’re just sitting there minding your own business, when suddenly they’re alone in the room together and Bai Yu’s character is taking off his tie, before striping off his shirt and tossing it on the sofa, and then you’re sitting there like wait, what? When did...? I thought...? What? But then he just gets tossed into the chair and some kind of conversation happens that makes you relax because, yeah, from your vague understanding of the characters, that makes more sense.

Even though he was tossed down, he didn’t actually need to keep his feet on the chair, but of course that didn’t stop him.

He is actually capable of looking comfortable sitting in this particular chair, he even gets to hug a pillow while doing it.

Now then, the boys’ dorm.

He came in, he saw them, he plopped down on the coffee table.

He could’ve sat on the sofa, he could’ve pulled up a chair, but nope. Coffee table.

Obviously, as previously mentioned, the floor is lava, so at the first opportunity he lifted both feet on the table and happily sat on it like an indulgent cat or something.

The sofa.

This sofa is not big enough for a full Bai Yu stretch out, but he can happily curl up on either end.

You could turn him into Bai Yu themed bookends.

Now, from watching Guardian we are all aware that this man is fully capable of embodying the spirit of a cat.

I, however, raise you the spirit of a Great Dane.

I see no difference between these two images.

Also not even this character’s mother can get him to sit properly. She prods him up and shuffles him over, and the first thing he does is pull up a knee.

Y’know how people starfish in bed? Well Bai Yu can apparently starfish in an armchair. He just plops down and flings his limbs out.

I almost didn’t catch this one, it’s part of some studying montage thing, and I thought he was sitting properly since he’s leaning forward, and I can clearly see his slippers.

Then I had a ‘wait, hold up’ moment, went back, and looked properly.

There are no feet in those slippers.

There are no legs attached to them.

So even when you think he’s sitting properly. He isn’t because he is kneeling. And I almost missed this ridiculousness!

Yes, Bai Yu, sit on a bed post that is clearly not meant to be sat on.

This is a moment where he could’ve leant against the wall, but evidently saw even the smallest flat surface as an invitation to sit.

Is that post migrating to places a bed post shouldn’t be migrating to?

Should’ve thought of that before you went and sat on it.

Not only does illness and subsequent surgery give him an excuse to lay on a gurney, it also gives him an excuse to lay in bed!

Apparently being tucked in by other men is also something not entirely unique to Bai Yu’s Zhao Yunlan. That bloke, the roommate that he went on a not-date-but-looked-like-a-date-with-wine-and-everything, seems like an absolute sweetheart and I’m still pissed at what they did in the last episode. It was uncalled for, script writers, uncalled for!

Although, I suppose, in regards to this project, it is kinda ironic that by the end, of the three men in their 'friendship group' of seven, Bai Yu’s character is the last one standing.

If I was a ‘they were roommates. Oh god they were roommates’ kinda writer these beds would be a bloody godsend. Just look at the watching and pining potential if top bunk guy was mooning over bottom bunk guy, while top bunk was doing work at his desk, and bottom bunk was sleeping.

The potential, people, the potential.

So that’s it. Grow Up is all done, and I can confidently put this in the column of Bai Yu quirks that become character quirks.

If you want to watch it, it’s available on Youtube, but there aren’t any subtitles. It’s on Dramacool too, but, again, no subtitles and the quality is horrid compared to Youtube.

Considering I couldn’t care less about the main storyline, it’s not actually a bad little drama.

Part One, Part Two , Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

[pinkplantmakesstuff]

Characters creation questions: GW2 edition

Heck yeah! @krystha made another super fun question list thingie! You can find the original one HERE!  Again I’ll pop it under a cut because I think it’s going to get a bit long oops!

1. Do you have an idea before or after creating a character?

Before! Like sometimes I’ll just play around to try out different combinations, but that’s just because I like mixing and matching! If I’m going to be making a character I always have an idea of someone in my head already. (Literally I am full of random character ideas there are too many ;0; )

2. Which race is your favorite to imagine a story about? Human! I love the opening options a lot! (Especially the Street Rat start)

3. Which race is your favorite to customize? Human and sylvari - Human because I can make more of my characters, and sylvari because I often end up using them to make other sorts of characters rather then sylvari! Technically in game I have four vari (Only one of which is actually a sylvari, the other three are other things XD)

4.  Does the profession play a role in the visual? Yes and no? Like sure Pépin is a mesmer and is very pink, but he’s also very pink in all my other versions of him too XD And my thief wears super fancy expensive looking clothing because she’s rich and likes nice things rather then dressing for stealthyness! Alec I think was originally dressed to sort of fit a necromancer vibe, but that was 5 years ago when I made him so now it’s just sort of, what he looks like 😅

5.  Do you often use the same faces? For humans, not at all! There are lots of different ones to pick from and considering I’ve only got 3 humans at the moment I’ve still got plenty I love before I repeat. Sylvari-wise is a bit different because some of them I love and some I’m kinda eh about, BUT I haven’t repeated faces yet!

6. Do you often use the same skin colors? For my first two humans I did, because I’m preeeeetty sure when I first made them Alec and Axelia were supposed to be twins or something, but I can’t remember and that was long ago. The rest are all varied, and my sylvari depends on whatever I think works for the character!

7. Do you often use the same tattoos? Whenever I make a norn (Well, preview norns, I don’t have any) I always like that neck band tattoo one!

8. Do you use the sliders for the face or not? Yup! Always! I normally have a very specific vibe/emotion/expression I want to go for (Rather then look because I know that they won’t look how I want which is also why I draw the character first so I just see them as that when I play!) I really REALLY want a mouth corner slider so we can make them have smiley or sad mouths ;0;

9. Do you bother to pick colors for the starter armor or not? Sort of, I make them all a dark greyish colour and then as soon as I’m on the actual game I slap on some of my fancier dyes!

10. Do you pick carefully the choices for your character base story? Again sort of, I kind of just pick the ones that are closest to what is already in my head!

12. Do you not bother at all and only use a makeover kit once in game? Again it depends! Normally I’ve already planned the character on the aesthetician preview person and print screened the sliders I want, then when starting the game I sort out the sliders and depending or not if the face is exclusive, just pick the closest one til I get a makeover kit!

13. Do you like/use exclusive faces/hairstyles more? On humans I like a lot of the non-exclusives too, but on sylvari I definitely prefer the exclusive hairs, and most of the faces too. Though I do prefer the greater variety of colours that come with the kits.

14. Outfit or armor? If it’s a light class then armour because I’ve got a bunch of skins unlocked, but on medium or heavy classes I have hardly any so out comes the outfits. I do use outfits a lot depending on location too though, like I always love popping them in the clothes that match the temperature of the zone like the Arctic Explorer outfit for cold places! (And that way it doesn’t cost transmutaion charges)

15.  Do you stick with one armor for each character or do you change a lot? I have one main “permanent” outfit that I think normally fits the character well, and then the second equipment slot is dedicated to changing clothes and stuff for events etc. Alec is still being designed outfit wise though so he’s changing quite a bit at the moment!

16.  If yes, why? Is it for “RP” reasons or just aesthetic ones? I don’t think it counts for rp if it’s just me telling the story in my own head ;0; Pép’s spare outfits WERE because he was a rp character ages ago before we stopped. So they kinda are for rp I guess because I’m like, role-playing the story as I go! That’s why Alec’s DOES keep changing because initially he was jsut aesthetic (I.E whatever I thought looked cool and goth) but didn’t suit his character which is what I’m trying to do now!

17. Do you have a timeline for your characters (ie. date of birth, armors throughout the story)? For my main boy Alec yes! But I haven’t written it down yet, and it’s very condensed for the poor bastard, literally like, a month after Mordremoth he’s gotta get going again (And that’s with him having only just lost his arm a month prior. No wonder he’s so stressed out. So I don’t really stick to like, the official “years”,  but there is (And will be XD) a timeline when I get around to it!

18/19.  Is there a title you use more than another? It used to be Dark Traveller because it was cool sounding and I only had like, two titles, now each character has a different one that suits them! I really LOVE “Sweet Tooth” though. I forced poor Alec to eat 2,500 Candy Canes just so I could give Pépin the title 😅 I also want to unlock Romantic for Pépin too and alternate between the two!

20.  What is a big difference from when you started the game to now in regard of characters creation (ie. going faster, going slower, making bold choices, settling on a particular style, etc)? Considering I started and designed my first characters like, five years ago and then stopped playing for a while I don’t remember. I think I just went “Ohhh I can be cool and gothic I’mma do that,” and now I’m like “ Here are ALL MY IDEAS, time to JAM THEM INTO THIS CHARACTER” and then force the game to be what I want it to be XD

Ah sorry this is so long XD And also I use a lot of !!! oops! Anyway, if people wanna answer these they can anyway but I’ll also tag some people BUT you can also just totally ignore this lmao. I just love questions a lot! @commandertollwife @ashals-dream @commander-wame @captainfinebuns @little-leaf-man @leftincommand

[mrsbhandari]

Shutter - pt 4

a/n: bonjour!! im here officially with pt 4 to this fic so i hope you like it!! <3

warnings: some language and its kinda suggestive in parts but nothing explicit teehee

words: 3.8k (damn)

tags: @lxdy-starfury, @huntress1024, @anotherbeingsworld, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @chaotic-ramsay-queen, @brycemaloliver

#

Tyril stood alone in his large apartment, eyeing each piece of clothing in his perfectly organized closet with varying levels of hatred. He didn’t want to go too formal and wear a suit, because this was most likely not a fancy date at a fancy restaurant. 

Wait.

Is this really a date?

She hadn’t responded to his final text, making him sweat more than he ever had in his life. He stepped over to the other side of his closet and landed a slender finger on a gray turtleneck sweater. 

“...Acceptable,” he murmured, breaking the silence of the air in his apartment. Quietly opening a drawer, he picked a pair of simple black slacks, crisp and pristine. 

In her own apartment, Naexi called the local pizza joint and placed her order before grabbing a baggy college sweatshirt that slipped off her shoulder and some jeans, keeping her shoes off but her cozy socks on. She definitely considered this a date, but she didn’t want him to know that. After putting on music, she danced a little in her kitchen while checking her phone, eager for any updates from Tyril.

Radio silence. 

A knock sounded, barely audible over the music, so she turned it down and walked to open the door. 

Tyril could barely handle it. She was standing there, collarbone slightly exposed under her sweatshirt, dark hair in a messy braid that draped over her shoulder, and slivers of her thighs were revealed from the rips in her skinny jeans. She was as alluring as she was in the first moment he saw her. 

“C’mon in. I have a coat rack on your left.” There was something interesting about the information, but he couldn’t place his finger on it until he securely hooked his jacket and scarf on the small hooks protruding from the wooden structure. For years, he had been waited on hand and foot in other people’s homes because of his wealth and status, but the simple act of being allowed to take his own shoes off and hang his own coat up was...refreshing. “Do you...like my rack?” 

“I beg your pardon?” He whirled on her with wide eyes, well aware of the double entendre.

“You’re like...smiling at it. It was my brother’s, but he broke it and gave it to me.” 

“Why would he not throw it out?” Tyril’s elegant features twisted into confusion, and he frowned when she seemed to laugh at the memory, believing the sound to be directed at him. 

“He’s awful at fixing things, so he knew that if he gave it to me, I would find a way to fix it.” Still smiling, she ran her eyes down his outfit before stopping on his feet. “Of course you have those fancy socks.” 

His eyes found her mismatched socks, her left foot covered with stripes and the right with polka dots. Face returning to its neutral, he raised a single eyebrow and allowed the left corner of his mouth to turn up into a half smile. “I think yours are much better than mine.” 

She stuck her tongue out and waved her hand, beckoning him to fully enter her cozy apartment. It was vibrant, with dozens of pictures hung on the wall with no real pattern. The walls were an odd crimson, but a combination of the decor and the numerous candles spread throughout the living room and kitchen made the space feel like home. Small piles of books and knick knacks were scattered on every surface he could find, a distinct contrast to his own museum-like home where everything had a place and stayed in it. Smiling to himself, he noticed the three vases of flowers he sent to her positioned on varying tables and bookshelves spread throughout her home. Upon closer inspection of the pictures, he spotted a few of her and Nia; during a party, in front of a castle in what looked like Germany, in graduation caps and gowns as they held up their degrees for the camera. 

She silently watched him from her spot on one of the barstools around the kitchen island, slightly amused at how out of place he looked in the light of her apartment. Everything around her was warm and inviting, but he stood tall and aloof, clothes dreary against the bright backdrop of her prized possessions. He was poised like a man who had never been denied a thing in his life; for some reason, she found herself both wanting to give in to that and to challenge him as much as possible. 

“Are all these pictures ones you’ve taken?” 

“Yup! There’s a few that aren’t mine, but most I’ve chosen from my own portfolio.” 

“They’re beautiful.” Once she didn’t respond for a few moments, he looked up to find her gazing at him, a slight blush on her cheeks and her head cocked. She wore a look similar to the one she had on when they first met, studying and searching for something he had yet to offer. Or maybe he had been offering it the entire time he was here without knowing she had found it. It was both unsettling and pleasant, to be the main focus of her intense and calculating stare. She finally seemed to realize that she hadn’t answered, so she broke her eyes from him and nodded. 

“Thanks.” 

“I like your apartment, as well.”

“I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

There. Something flashed in her eyes as they met his, ten feet away with something connecting them. He had given her a challenge, but unlike in the bookshop, this wasn’t one born from anger; it was something entirely new. Time seemed to slow around them, making the candles flicker almost supernaturally and their heartbeats decelerate. His mouth was dry and although he held her eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice the rest of her body in front of him, enticingly revealed with taunting slits and stretches of the fabric. 

He didn’t know it, but her observant photographer’s eye was watching him as well, taking in the impossibly long stretch of his neck under his turtleneck and how, even in socks, he still carried with him an aura of being the most important person in the room. Here, standing in her apartment, admiring her photos, and staring at her like he wanted to pin her against a wall, Naexi finally realized just how pretty he was. The more she took in the dark hair framing a pale unblemished complexion, complemented by the high arch of his eyebrows and his perfectly positioned nose, the more it hit her that from the moment they met, she had been suppressing the urge to kiss him until she forgot her own name.  Full lips parted as if to speak, but he was cut off by a swift knocking on the door. As if broken from a trance, they both seemed to tense and look towards the sound at the same time, but Tyril beat her to answering. 

“Wait--!” she called, but the door was already open and Tyril was once again proving just how much space he took up as he bent to avoid hitting his head on the frame. 

“Who are you?!” The delivery guy, a short and stout man with a tendency to eat everything in sight as well as be painfully loud about any and everything having to do with everybody else’s business but his own, was staring up at the billionaire with a mix of curiosity and hostility. Tyril seemed taken aback by the shouted question and took a step back, allowing Naexi to push his large form out of the way and offer the man the cash as well as an explanation.

“He’s my date, Threep.” Tyril looked down at her with a smug smile. So this is a date. “Meet Tyril.”

Threep offered the pizza to her before giving him a small wave and a tip of his hat. “Sorry about that. She rarely has dates over, so I wanted to make--”

“Keep the change, bye!” She slammed the door and deadbolted it. “That’s enough of that.” 

“So this is a date, then?” An already high eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms, tight sweater showing off the sculpt of his arms as they flexed. If Naexi tried hard enough, she could pretend that she was only drooling over the pizza that was beginning to burn the skin of her palms. She also pretended that the reason she was gripping the pizza box hard enough to whiten her knuckles and bend the cardboard was because she didn’t want to drop it. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had accidentally shoved him to the area next to the door closest to the wall with very little space in an effort to pay, which was the reason she was standing with her shoulder pressed to his chest as his back rested against the wall, slightly jostling one of her pictures. She also had to pretend that the smell of his cologne wasn't so overpowering in the best way that she felt like passing out was the best way to succumb to it. 

She was doing a whole lot of pretending, but one glance towards the icy blue eyes boring into her soul told her that she wasn’t very convincing. Straightening up and ignoring the wave of heat that washed over her, she scoffed.

“Don’t give me that look, pretty boy. You knew.” It was his turn to blush as he took in the nickname, but his recovery was much quicker. 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“Do you prefer Boy Billionaire?”

“That wasn’t my question.” He offered an infuriating smile, showing perfectly white teeth. His left incisor was sharper than his right, giving him the boyish look of a mischievous fairy tale creature, ready to swindle a boy with some fake beans for a cow. Judging by the sliver of vulnerability seeping through the flecks of dark blue in his eyes, he rarely showed this side of himself in public. She coughed, breaking the spell he had over her and finally noticing the rapidly cooling pizza box in her hands. 

“I hope you don’t mind pizza. I considered cooking but my landlord likes his buildings not burned to the ground.” She gave a small self-conscious laugh.

“I don’t mind.” His voice was soft and he seemed to be leaning down, face getting closer and closer to hers, lips barely parted and fresh breath brushing against her cheek. His eyes stayed on hers, drawing her in like a shimmering pool with secrets beneath the surface. A million thoughts ran through her head at once, fighting to be heard.

Oh my god, are we gonna kiss right now? Is that what I’m feeling? He’s leaning down, should I try and meet him in the middle? Which way should my head turn? What if it’s not good?! He’s probably kissed hundreds of girls, why the fuck should I be special? He’s so warm. Or is that me? Am I warm? He’s so close, and he’s so beautiful, I can just--

He stopped, his eyes half-lidded and meandering lazily between her lips and her own gaze, wide and worried. The thought of the famous Tyril Starfury doing anything lazily was foreign and suspicious, but she could smell the strawberry of his chapstick on his lips mixing with the smell of his cologne mixing with the smell of his deodorant and it was so mesmerizing that all she could think was kiss me. Then, she realized that he was straightening back up, stealing his head away from her personal space and taking the pizza box in his hands. It was a ruse. A taunt. A tease. 

“Excuse me!” Naexi said, hand on her hip as she followed him into the kitchen, fuming at the innocent look he sent over his shoulder before he opened the pizza box. 

“Yes?” Grabbing a plate from the counter, he paid her no attention while he helped himself to the drawers and cabinets. Despite his faux obliviousness, it was clear that there was a heavy, palpable tension in the air that could be cut with the knife Tyril seemed to be looking for. 

“What are you--” 

“Hm, found it.” He held up a blade and pulled out a fork, marveling at her mismatched cutlery. 

“Have you never had pizza before?” She grabbed her own two slices with her hands before placing two more on another plate for him. He scoffed, a haughty sound that surprisingly sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Of course I have. I just prefer not to make a mess.” He punctuated his statement by tapping the utensils together once before setting to work, cutting up his pizza and placing the cheesy pieces in his mouth. She watched him while she ate her own pizza, grease dripping onto her hands and onto the plate. After finishing her first piece, she looked down at his plate to see that he was only half done with his own. 

“I figured that you would have two people on either side of you while you ate, each with napkins to wipe your face if you ever got dirty.” She assumed a butler’s stance and held up her own napkin, delightfully out of season with “Fun in the Sun!” printed on it. She dropped her voice an octave and swiped her napkin over the empty space next to her as she spoke. “Yes, sir, Mr. Starfury. We can’t have you getting applesauce on your Versace!” Despite himself, Tyril let out a loud laugh, one that was nothing like how he sounded in the interview. This one felt whole and full of genuine emotion. It was an infectious sound, and Naexi found herself smiling like a buffoon at drawing it out of him with her stupid joke. 

“Why applesauce?” he asked, hand covering his mouth as he continued to chuckle. She reached across the island and pulled his wrist down, laying his hand palm up on the cold granite. Her nails slightly bit into his skin, making him flush.

“It's the first baby food I thought of.”

“Well that’s just rude,” he jabbed, a small smile still dancing on his lips to show no real malice toward her. They continued eating, Naexi replaying his laugh in her head as many times as she could. They polished off most of the pizza, leaving just a few slices that she began to wrap in aluminum foil. He rolled up his sleeves and started the water in the sink. A small black hair tie was pulled off his wrist as he positioned his hair into a messy bun with a few pieces falling out to frame his sharp bone structure. Naexi’s brain nearly short-circuited.

“You don’t--”

“I want to.” He nudged her with his elbow, now revealed along with a long forearm. She nearly had to wipe her mouth at the sight. “Contrary to your obvious belief, I do know how to do work.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” With a firm nod, he focused on the steaming water flowing and scrubbed the plates with a strength showcased in the flexing of his arms. He moved with a natural grace that seemed to seep into every move he made, whether he was simply walking down the street or working hard to clean her plates. She went back to her seat at the island and watched his back while he cleaned. The sound of the music was barely audible over the roar of the water, and the combination of sounds lulled her as her eyes roved from the top of his shoulders down to the perfect curve of his ass, delectably sculpted in his slacks. The gravity of just who he was seemed to finally be hitting her. 

She had one of the richest men in America in her kitchen cleaning her dishes. And damn, if he didn’t look good doing it. 

Tyril was acutely aware of her eyes on him, and he was extremely happy that the water was hiding the shaking of his hands from his nerves. He tensed up when he felt her walk behind him, her arm brushing over her backside in a barely innocent gesture as she walked to the fridge, grabbing a soda from the door. 

“You want anything?” Not trusting his voice, he shut the water off and shook his head, giving her a small smile. She took out a bottle of water for him anyway. Eager to continue any sort of conversation with her and extend the date, Tyril racked his brain for something to say. 

“Your brother,” he began, freezing up when her eyes fell on him. “What does he do?” 

“He’s a musician. Last I heard...I think he was on tour in France.” 

“Wow.” She smiled and grabbed a frame off a nearby table, the picture inside featuring a man with brown hair that fell over his forehead as his fingers strummed a black guitar on a stage backed with green lights. 

“His name’s Kade.” Their fingers brushed as she passed him the frame. 

“Is your entire family full of artists? Photographer, musician…”

“Oh, I was adopted.” Looking closer at the picture, Tyril admitted to himself that there were no similarities in how the siblings appeared. “Kade’s always been the wilder one, though.” His eyebrows raised.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’d be surprised at some of the antics Kade has gotten up to throughout the years. You got any siblings?” She took a sip of her soda and Tyril was briefly distracted by the way her lips wrapped around the lip of the can. 

“Yes, just one. Adrina.”

“Fancy name.”

“Speak for yourself, Naexi.”

“Touche.” She took another sip and Tyril decided to look away lest the night end far differently than he originally thought it would. Her own heart fluttered at the way his tongue molded her name. “You can sit, if you’d like. Or do you feel the need to tower over everyone else in the room?” Gesturing to the open stool next to her, she laughed at his frown. 

“I don’t tower,” he said, but he sat next to her anyway. His long legs bumped against hers, sending shocks to his spine at every contact. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? He studied the way her eyelashes fluttered, the way her lips naturally curved into a smirk, the way her eyes easily communicated an entire array of emotions that she seemed to pick and choose to display from like a catalogue. A strand of black hair fell against her cheekbone and he moved it behind her ear without thinking. They were close, getting closer, both gazes dropping to the lips nearly physically connected, already linked by the soft breaths shared. Time was moving slow, too slow, and Tyril ached for the clock to keep ticking, to keep bringing him closer and closer to feeling Naexi’s lips on his, to feeling the perpetual heat surrounding her to engulf him with it. After what seemed like an eternity, their lips were just a centimeter away from each other. His breath tickled her cheek as he whispered.

“May I kiss you?”

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (13/?)

AO3 link: here (Fun fact: This was actually one of the earliest scenes written and is one of the reasons why I decided to turn this story into a full fic.)

“Kyou-chan, is that you?!”

A stack of papers fell to the ground. Kirako stared at me from the reception area, her mouth dropping open in shock as I stepped through the doors into the Armed Detective Agency’s main office.

“You look amazing! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Don’t just stand there!” Yosano insisted, planting two black-gloved hands on my back and shoving me forward when she noticed I’d actually stopped moving. “Go inside! We need to show you off!”

Ignoring the uncomfortable whining noises coming out of my throat, Yosano kept pushing me deeper and deeper into the room until I was standing in the middle of the office, stiff as a statue as the other receptionists and detectives shuffled forward to see what the commotion was about.

“Gather round, everyone!” Yosano called, as if I were a show pony being brought in for a performance, “I give you... the new and improved Kyou-chan! Doesn’t she look like a proper detective now?”

I didn’t just look more like a proper detective now, I looked like an entirely different person—one who didn’t spend the last six months holed up in an apartment watching anime and forgetting to shower. My new “uniform,” as Yosano called it, consisted of several basic pieces. I was wearing a crisp, white short-sleeve blouse with slightly puffy sleeves, tucked into a high-waisted burgundy A-line skirt (same color as my eyes) that ended just around my knees. I wore a pair of coffee-brown Oxfords on my feet with low, white socks and to complete the look, Yosano had tied a bright red ribbon around my neck, to draw attention to my face. She’d also insisted I purchase a tan, blazer-like jacket (it was almost as long as my skirt) for the colder days and a portfolio-style messenger bag for my notebooks and sketching supplies. Overall, the final result was pretty staggering and I noticed we’d definitely gotten a few stares as we walked back to the Agency together.

“Yosano-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed, raising her hand high in the air. “Do me next! I want a makeover too!”

As Yosano beamed beside me like a proud mother, chatting with the girls about all the shops she’d taken me to—dragged me to, more like—I found myself fiddling with my new clothes again.

“Prepare yourself,” she’d said the other day. I had taken that to mean shaving my legs and showering before we’d gone out. I didn’t realize that I should’ve prepared for a full day’s outing crammed into the span of a few hours. And after the night I’d had too...

Something had happened to my brain the day I’d finished the serial killing/kidnapping case—something strange that I really didn’t want to think too hard about... I couldn’t look Kunikida in the face the entire way back to the Agency and when the tall, blonde detective had insisted on sitting right there next to me for the rest of the evening, I was barely able to concentrate on writing my reports. If I hadn’t offered to finish doing the filing for him, I might’ve never gotten him to leave, and then I really wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And to think, Kunikida had actually been planning to stay a little later and even walk me home...!

I had to turn him down. My heart would not have been able to handle it.

I ended up staying way later than I initially expected and I was so drained by the time I made it back to my apartment, that it was all I could do to remember to brush and floss before I completely passed out on my futon.

Then, at seven in the morning, just before my alarm was supposed to go off, I woke to the racket of someone ringing my doorbell nonstop and my cell phone buzzing like crazy. If it wasn’t for caller ID, I would’ve assumed it was another prank by Dazai or that the Port Mafia had come to get me but it was only Yosano, coming to take me shopping like she’d promised. I’d wrongfully assumed she’d meant Friday afternoon, after work (it was a rare half-day after all) but no, she wanted to make a day of it.

“You deserve a break after finishing your first major case!” she’d exclaimed, dragging me out the door as soon as I’d finished putting on a pair of shoes. “Now that you’re on your way to becoming a real detective, we need to dress you like one.”

Everything had happened so fast—taking the train to the fashion district—being marched into shops I would never set foot in on my own—getting shoved into dressing rooms with my arms piled high with all sorts of clothes—on and on until hours had passed and I was walking down the street with several bags in my hands and a brand new outfit on my body (I suspected Yosano had quietly disposed of the raggedy hoodie and jeans I’d been wearing when I’d come out this morning). When I asked Yosano about going to work this morning, she just shushed me and shoved another pair of pants at me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t keep up any more, Yosano hooked her arm around mine and redirected me from the train station, where I’d been trying to sneak off, to the front of a fancy-looking hair salon “for the appointment.”

As I stood in the entryway, listing a little from exhaustion, she breezed on through to the back and returned with a young man with bright pink hair at her side. The young man, a friend of “Akiko-san’s,” as he called her, was a stylist at the salon—one of the best in the city, Yosano had proclaimed. He took one look at my choppy ponytail, made the exact face shown in the Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” and whisked me off towards the back to “fix it.” I wasn’t actually sure I had enough to “fix” but Yosano was right, the man was a genius. I ended up with something similar to a very feminine (and very cute!) boy-cut that blended perfectly with my ruined bangs and ended halfway down my neck.

They even did some light makeup for me as a thank you to Yosano for helping them solve a case a while back. As I reached up and ran my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, I saw the stylist and Yosano exchange an actual high-five from behind me. I had to admit, it felt incredible to see myself looking like this—I had no idea I could be made to look this cute—but now that we were back in the office and people were poking their heads up to look at me, it felt kind of embarrassing.

“Yosano-sensei, you don’t have to shout,” I pleaded, my face growing warm as the clerk girls chattered around me, oohing and ahhing over my new clothes and hair. “Everyone’s still working...!”

“Ugh, talking about work again? You sound like Kunikida-kun,” Yosano said, grimacing. “We gotta make sure you start partnering with some of the other detectives or you’ll turn into a four-eyed workhorse too.”

“H-he’s not that bad...”

“Ohh...?”

Yosano raised an eyebrow, looking a little more closely at my face. She rubbed her chin and I instantly felt my stomach tie itself into a knot. I’d seen that face before, but not on Yosano—this was the same face Dazai liked to make just before he caused trouble. Without warning, Dr. Yosano turned to Kunikida and called out.

“Oi, Kunikida-kun! What do you think? Kyou-chan looks pretty cute like this, right?”

Kunikida looked up. I froze as his gray-green eyes swept over me. It was nothing more than a quick glance up and a single curt nod, but it was still more than enough to make my pulse race. Thankfully, before Yosano could say anything else, Kirako suddenly rushed in.

“Kyou-chan!” she gasped, looking slightly out of breath in her sudden rush forward, “You like bubble tea cafes right?”

Thankful for the distraction, I turned my full attention away from Yosano to her. I hoped Yosano couldn’t see how red my face was getting as she kept trying to direct Kunikida’s attention back to me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, deliberately trying to ignore Yosano and Kunikida chatting behind me (“You’re sure that’s all?” she teased, poking him upside the head).

“I love cafes! Why do you ask?”

“Perfect! Because if you’re free tomorrow evening, I have a small favor I need to ask of you.”

At once, Kirako’s hands slammed onto my shoulders, with enough force to actually make my knees buckle. Stunned, I stared into her bright green eyes, which suddenly glowed with an intensity strong enough to rival the mid-day sun.

“You see,” she continued casually, her tone contrasting wildly with the manic glint in her eyes, “my old friends from high school invited me to go on a group date. Naomi here is obviously too young—”

“--And not interested!” Naomi called from across the room as Kirako rolled her eyes.

“—And not interested in going. There’s four guys who said they’d come get dinner with us tomorrow but currently only three girls.”

Her grip tightened meaningfully on my shoulders and I had the horrible feeling that perhaps I had been lied to and Kirako was actually a combat member of the Agency. Kirako smiled.

“What do you think? Come with us, Kyou-chan?”

“Uh...” I stammered, my eyes darting about the room as I tried to think of a convincing enough reason to refuse.

“I don’t know...”

Without meaning to, I glanced over at Kunikida’s desk, where the tall, bespectacled detective sat staring thoughtfully at his computer screen, lightly tapping his fingers against his green notebook. He shifted slightly in his chair and for a single, terrifying second, I thought he was going to look up. Heat suddenly flooded into my cheeks and I quickly tore my eyes away before Kunikida could look up—only to look straight into the bright brown eyes of the bandaged detective sitting across from him.

Dazai’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise, then flashed in knowing amusement and I felt every last hair on the back of my neck rise as Dazai slowly grinned at me. When he reached over and poked Kunikida on the forehead, one horrifying thought solidified in my head:

He knows.

“Kyou-chan?”

The sound of Kirako’s voice brought me back and I forced myself to look at her face and not at the detectives behind her, who were now arguing loudly about something I really didn’t want to hear.

“Right. Well, you see—”

“Dazai!! What the hell do you think you’re doing—?!”

“Just trying to cheer you up in the middle of your shift—”

There was a crashing noise and I grimaced, trying and failing to block out the sounds of their fighting as I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn’t make the group date. I could feel myself getting more and more agitated as the noise level suddenly increased and I stopped trying to talk entirely when Kirako suddenly whirled around and yelled at Dazai and Kunikida in a voice loud enough to make the walls rattle.

“Would you two just SHUT UP!”

Turning her attention back to me, Kirako sighed, rubbing her temple with well-manicured fingers as Dazai and Kunikida abruptly stopped fighting and the room grew quiet at last.

“Now then, where were we? Huh? Kyou-chan, are you okay? Your face is kind of red.”

“YES! I’m totally fine!” I exclaimed.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and groaned as I turned even redder. My voice came out way louder than I’d meant it to and I closed my eyes to block out the stares of everyone within earshot. When I opened my eyes again, I tried as hard as I could to focus on Kirako and only Kirako. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my own desk—if I looked at either Dazai or Kunikida right now, I was finished.

“I mean,” I coughed, my voice sounding strained, even to my own ears, “It’s not a big deal, just... a slight cough. That’s all.”

I hacked out another, more believable cough (I hoped) and averted my eyes when Yosano turned to look at me suspiciously.

“I probably stayed out a little too late yesterday, didn’t drink enough water. You know how it is. I’m not feeling up to an outing right now but maybe next time...?”

I wanted to kick myself. “Next time” meant I’d have to go through this again in the future. Hopefully by then, I would no longer be available to join Kirako on a group date... My eyes once again slid towards Dazai and Kunikida but I was able to force myself to look away before anyone noticed.

“Oh, really?” Kirako sounded disappointed.

She took her hands off my shoulders, leaving the fabric of my jacket slightly wrinkled and sweaty from her grip.

“That’s okay, I understand,” she said, deflating noticeably. “You helped close a pretty tough case just yesterday, of course you’re tired...”

“I-I’m really sorry,” I mumbled and I meant it.

I could feel alternating waves of guilt and relief washing over me as she left for her station and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that I took the report she’d finished for me and left for the Military Police outpost to drop it off. She was gone by the time I returned to the clerk room and as I trudged back into the main office, I made a mental note to find a way to make it up to her somehow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Dazai at his desk, waving his bandaged arms and silently mouthing my name.

“I want to talk to you!” he seemed to be saying and at once, I turned around and ignored him.

I didn’t know what Dazai wanted with me, waving like that, but I did know that I wanted no part of it. Nothing good ever came from indulging that man.

I glanced up at the clock, saw that there was still one hour left in the work day, and promptly busied myself by playing runner and taking care of small, minor errands all around the office. I was determined to spend this last hour avoiding Dazai and the desk area he shared with the others and whenever it seemed I was running out of things to do, I fell back on asking Yosano if she needed help with anything, anything at all. Luckily, the good doctor took my behavior as gratitude for taking me out this morning (it honestly was) and I succeeded in staying away from my old desk area for the rest of the day.

And good thing too. The moment I’d come back from the shopping trip, Dazai had appeared to lose all interest in work, choosing to spend the rest of his time at the Agency either outright staring at me or doing his best to try to get my attention. I could feel his eyes on me wherever I went and if I so much as turned my head in his general direction, he would start waving again or smile as brightly (and flirtatiously) as possible from across the room. He only stopped when Kunikida threatened to drag him into the server room to give him another beating if he didn’t get back to work.

That final hour seemed to stretch for the duration of an entire day but when it finally ended, I found myself breathing an enormous sigh of relief. I had been assigned a desk at last and, unfortunately, it was right where Dazai’s and Kunikida’s desks were. I wanted to wait until everyone had left before I started moving my stuff in so I bid goodbye to the staff one by one as they slowly filed out.

I tried to keep my smile as normal as possible when I saw Kunikida out the door but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood from rushing to my face when he said goodbye back. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

Breathing yet another sigh of relief, I stood in the middle of the empty office and went to the locker room to retrieve the things I’d stored. But just when I thought I was safe, I stepped back into the main room with my one large paper bag in hand to see Dazai, standing in the doorway to the other hall, with his arms crossed and a playful grin playing about his lips.

I realized I had not said goodbye to him earlier and now we were the only two people left in the building. Inwardly, I swore.

“So,” he said, his grin widening. “Kunikida-kun, huh?”

I ignored him and went to my desk, opening drawers and putting my things away as originally planned.

“What about him?”

I heard footsteps approaching as Dazai left the doorway and walked towards me.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said, plopping down backwards in Kunikida’s chair. Scooting forward until he was right next to me, he propped his bandaged arm up on his partner’s desk and rested his chin in his hand.

“Could it be? You don’t want to go on that group date with Haruno-san because of what Kunikiiiida-kun might think?”

“It’s getting late, Dazai-san,” I said politely, slamming my bag on my desk as I drew myself up to my full height and glared down at him. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?”

“C’mon, Kyou-chan. We’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me the truth. If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun, I could help you get his attention.”

I scowled.

“No thanks. And why are you calling me by my first name again? I thought we agreed to avoid giving people the wrong idea?”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“But there’s no one around to get the wrong idea.”

And to demonstrate, he waved one bandaged arm around the empty room.

“See?” he asked, kicking off on one foot and spinning around in Kunikida’s black pleather chair like a top, one end of the many bandages wrapped around his forearm coming loose and flying beside him like a dingy party streamer made of linen.

“It’s just you and me. So there’s nothing we need to avoid. No reason to be keeping secrets from anyone. Right?”

He stopped swiveling and the linen bandage floated to a stop with him. Leaning forward, Dazai placed his hands on the back of the chair and tucked his chin on top of his long fingers, so that he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling merrily.

“Kyou-chan?”

I bit my lip.

God damn Dazai. He actually looks pretty cute when he does that...

He scooted closer and internally, I shook myself.

No. He’s doing this on purpose. The last time he looked at me like that, he asked me to die with him and I...

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

No. Don’t think about that.

Yosano had cut my hair and changed my clothes. The old Kyou—the ghoul in the window that was my old reflection was gone and she would stay gone so long as I never thought about her again. If I could just become strong and become a full member of the Agency, I could bury her and leave her and all my old problems behind with her.

“Well? What do you say?” Dazai asked.

He slowly reached for my hand.

“You can call me ‘Osamu...’”

“No!!”

I pushed him back and my bag fell off the table with a loud crash. All my sketchbooks and art supplies scattered across the floor and I cursed as I dropped down to my knees to pick them back up.

“I’m not calling you that,” I gasped as I struggled to chase after a rolling piece of charcoal that was rolling under a desk several paces away. I threw myself on the floor and shoved my hand under the desk, dust and candy wrappers scattering around me as I reached for the short, blackened cylinder.

“We’re coworkers, Dazai-san and I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be...”

Grasping the piece of charcoal in my hand at last, I glanced back to see Dazai looking at me with a very cheerful look on his face. It took me a second too long to realize my butt was in the air and he was definitely staring at it.

I flushed.

“You creep!!”

I clambered to my feet and stormed over.

“If you think I’m ever letting you call me ‘Kyou’ after that,” I snapped, shoving my belongings back into my bag as fast as I was able. “You’ve got another thing coming!”

Dazai shrugged, his coat making an oddly heavy rustling sound as he moved his shoulders.

“Alright, Kusunoki-kun. Alright. But before you go, could you answer one question for me...?”

Mirroring me, Dazai got to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that I was forced to look up at him, he grinned. There was a dark look in his eye and a week ago, I might’ve backed down, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the white-hot burn of humiliation and rage. I stood my ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, as Dazai’s half-bandaged hand slid towards me on my own desk, that Cheshire grin stretched across his lips coming closer with every passing second.

“Tell me,” he whispered, stopping only when his nose was a couple centimeters from mine, “How much would you hate being called ‘Kyou-chan’... if your name was coming out of Kunikiiiida-kun’s mouth?”

At the thought of the tall, blonde detective calling me in the same low, sultry voice that Dazai had just used, heat exploded in my face. The bandaged brunette saw the blood rushing to my cheeks; his teasing grin widened and I turned away.

“Quit making this about Kunikida-san!” I snapped, pushing him away. “The reason I said no to Kirako-san has nothing to do with him.”

“Really?” Dazai mused, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched me stomp towards the door.

“So, does that mean I still have a chance?”

I stopped.

I turned and gave him an exasperated look.

“Depends.”

I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.

“You still dead set on that double-suicide?”

“Well yes,” he answered, blinking innocently at me when I rolled my eyes and continued heading for the door. “but I already said I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”

I scoffed.

“I thought I told you I have no interest in dying, Dazai-san.”

I could actually hear my own frustration in the depths of my sigh.

“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow...”

“Oh, wait. Kyou—I mean, Kusunoki-kun. I have something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Even if it’s something that tells you everything you’d like to know about Kunikida-kun’s ideal woman?”

I froze.

There was an odd flapping sound, like pages being turned and I spun around to see Dazai pulling Kunikida’s lightly-bound olive-green notebook out of his trench coat. He held it up before me so that I could see the cover, the word “Ideal” unmistakably printed on its slightly weathered surface.

“It starts on page fifty-three.”

My bag slipped off my shoulder.

“Where did you get that?”

Dazai shrugged.

“I may have pick-pocketed him when he was trying to strangle me earlier.”

I took a step forward.

“Give that back.”

“Back?”

He raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into a smirk.

“But it’s not yours to take back either, Kusunoki-kun.”

“Hand it over, Dazai-san.”

I lunged for it but he was too fast for me. Dazai whipped the notebook high into the air and I immediately collided with his chest, knocking us both onto Kunikida’s desk. When I tried jumping for it again, my face met with Dazai’s hand.

“Seriously?” I gasped, trying to get around his defenses. “Are you five?”

“Sticks and stones, Kusunoki-kun,” Dazai sang, clearly enjoying his little game of keep-away.

“Give—it—to—me—!” I panted, trying to push myself forward, past a tangle of bandaged limbs and torso and reaching out for that little green notebook.

But just as I got within reach, Dazai’s half-bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist and, using that as leverage, he yanked me down on top of him.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Dazai whispered, his dark eyes glittering mischievously.

I felt my blood boil.

“Can you actually stop,” I snapped, pushing myself back up, “being a pervert for just one—”

I was too focused on getting the notebook back. I hadn’t even heard the sound of feet running down the hallway until the door to the office flew open and hit the wall with a dry-wall cracking BANG.

“DAZAI!!” a familiar male voice screamed.

I let out a surprised yelp and turned towards the door. There, standing in the doorway and looking angrier than ever, was Kunikida. His sharp green-gray eyes swept over the scene and when his gaze fell upon me and Dazai, his eyes narrowed. I looked back at the absolutely delighted expression on Dazai’s face and my soul almost left my body.

In my futile attempts to reach Kunikida’s notebook, I had literally climbed on top of Dazai and we were now both on top of Kunikida’s desk. One of my hands was still outstretched and reaching for the little green notebook while Dazai’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the notebook, was still clamped firmly around my wrist. Worst of all, my knee-length skirt had been hiked all the way up to my thigh in the struggle and my chest was firmly pushed up against Dazai’s. As Kunikida’s eyebrows slowly lifted up, the ribbon around my neck came untied.

I pushed Dazai away and hastily climbed off the desk, making the bandaged detective smack his head against a thick binder and drop the notebook. Spotting my chance, I snatched the fallen notebook off the ground and ran towards Kunikida.

“K-Kunikida-san...!” I stammered, pushing the notebook into his waiting hands. “It’s not what you think...! Dazai—”

“Oh! Kunikida-kun!” Dazai exclaimed, waving a little. “Good timing. You dropped your notebook—”

“Dazai,” Kunikida growled, his shoulders tensing visibly.

I thought I saw a vein pulsing in his temple.

“Not only did you steal my notebook, you also thought you’d drag Kusunoki into this? This is too much, even for you.”

Bloodlust radiated off his entire frame. Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, I dropped into a quick bow, blurted out a hasty goodbye to the two of them and ran for the door with my bag in my arms. I reached the hallway just in time as a cacophony of crashing noises and Dazai yelling in pain echoed down the corridor. Re-tying the ribbon around my neck, I set off for the elevator without so much as a backwards glance.

He got me. He got me good.

Not only did Dazai figure out that I was starting to develop a crush on Kunikida from just one glance, he’d also managed to make it look like we were doing something inappropriate after hours—and on top of Kunikida’s desk, no less! Was he actively trying to ruin the little good standing I had with Kunikida for fun? Did he want me to join him in that double suicide so bad? Or was he really just hoping that either Kunikida or I would get fed up enough to grant his death wish by beating him to a pulp?

I sighed and pushed the button for the elevator door, putting my earbuds in so I could drown out the sound of Kunikida’s and Dazai’s shouts with something a little more cheerful...

A woman’s voice came on over the earbuds and as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music, I began to make out the lyrics.

Huh. What a coincidence. She was singing about what she wanted in a lover...

“Page fifty-three, huh?” I mumbled, my thoughts drifting back to the notebook.

I hated to admit it but I was curious. What was Kunikida’s ideal woman? And... how far off the mark was I? If Kunikida had arrived just a little later, I might’ve been able to take that notebook from Dazai. Then I could’ve snapped a picture of page fifty-three to study later...

I shook my head to clear the thought away.

No. Bad idea.

That was just Dazai getting to me again. I was not like him and I would not sink to his level. I reached for my cell phone to turn up the music but as soon as I had it in my hands, it vibrated suddenly to indicate I’d gotten a text message.

I squinted at it.

“Who...? Oh.”

It had to be from Dazai—he was the one coworker whose number I refused to add to my address book. I was about to delete it when I realized it came with an image attachment. Wondering if it was something important, I opened it.

“You’re welcome?” I read aloud, scrolling down.

My eyes widened.

Below the message was a very clear set of photos, each showing a different page from a small notebook. If the neat penmanship wasn’t already a dead giveaway, the list of fifty-eight “ideal” traits and detailed plans for dating and marriage requirements definitely was (Kunikida was planning to get married within five to six years??). It was all the information a girl could want and more.

My mind raced.

When had Dazai taken these pictures? How?! Wasn’t Kunikida destroying him right now?

Peering down the darkened hallway, which had suddenly gone quiet, I shot back a quick text, just as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and I walked through the doors.

“How did you get this?” I wrote back feverishly, “And why are you sending it to me?”

Was that maniac going to use this to frame me or blackmail me? Or worse...? Wait. What even was worse?

The reply was prompt.

“Don’t worry about the details. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can go from being coworkers to friends very soon. ;)”

Something fell over in the hall and I looked up just before the elevator doors closed to see a half-bandaged hand poking out the open doorway of the Armed Detective Agency office. Dazai was holding a thumbs up.

[aph-oklahoma-46]

Transtalia Week 2020 Day 4

Day 4: Not being accepted

@the-transtalia-blog Wow, so this got a little depressing. And very long. So, uh, enjoy me projecting onto David and beating them with the angst baton.

Tennessee = David (Nonbinary person, they/them) Kentucky = Henry (Cis man) North Carolina = Nolan (Cis man) South Carolina = Nora (Cis woman) Missouri = Miles (gnc Cis man) (only mentioned) Virginia = (I don’t actually remember their name, sorry Sybil)(Nonbinary) @hws-germania‘s oc (only briefly mentioned)

TW: Transphobia, including misgendering, deadnaming, invalidation, etc.

Day 4: Not Being Accepted

“So… I was thinking about changing my name.”

Henry looked up from where he had been pulling up bits of grass to braid together and blinked.

“Oh? Do you not like Fiona anymore?”

“I just… It doesn’t feel right. That doesn’t feel like my name.”

“… Ok. What were you thinking of changing it to?” Henry sat the length of braided grass in his lap and leaned back against the tree, waiting for an answer. His red-haired friend had tucked her knees under her chin, hugging them. She had been watching him, seemingly gauging his reaction, but now she looked down and pressed her forehead to her knees.

“Well, I was thinking… I kind of like David.”

Oh? Oh…. Nodding, Henry sat up again. That was really not what he’d expected. “Do, um… Do you want to change anything else?”

Fi- David peeked up from over… his? His arms. Tears had started to gather at the edges, and Henry did not like that at all. He shifted away from the tree, crawling over to David to sit next to his friend. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and rested it on David’s shoulder.

“It’s ok if you do. I like David, too. I like you… even though you definitely cheated on the race over here.”

That got a giggle out of David, and he raised his head and wiped his eyes. “Thanks, Henry. And I did not cheat, I’m just a better rider than you!” David poked Henry in the ribs with a grin. “But, um, yeah… I think there are some other things I wanna change.”

Henry nodded. “Ok. I’ll help, if you want.”

David smiled, and Henry felt warmth come with the grin. He was sincere; he and David had been the best of friends since they were children, and they had always understood that if one of them needed something, the other would do whatever was needed to help. That wasn’t going to change just because he and David might, even if David’s changes might be… bigger than expected.

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

David stood in the parlor and he (that really didn’t feel quite right, but neither did “she,” so…) could feel the eyes directed at him. He was so glad that his siblings weren’t visiting today, so they could have this talk with just the three of them.

Well, four, counting Henry, but he had tucked himself away in the corner as emotional support and was adamantly trying to avoid drawing too much attention to himself. David would have almost found it funny, if they weren’t so nervous; they had learned a long time ago that the Carolinas were not fond of their- his choice of friends.

Hmm… that wasn’t so bad. Can I call myself that, though? I’m just one per-

“What do you want to talk about, Fiona?”

David was shaken from their thoughts. They blinked over at Nora, who was sitting next to her brother and staring at David unblinking. Ever since they were little, David thought that look was creepy. Of course, Nora didn’t mean anything by it, she was just an intense person and when she gave her attention to something, she gave all of her attention to it.

Which was really unpleasant for David right now.

They shifted their weight to their other foot and took a deep breath, before speaking, “Well, first off, I wanna talk about changing my name. I don’t wanna be called Fiona anymore.”

Both Carolinas nodded, and Nolan commented, “Alright. It’s not uncommon for a personification to change his or her name, especially since we live so long. Times change, and things go in and out of fashion.”

“What would you like to change your name to?”

David glanced over to Henry, who was standing in the corner by the door. Henry nodded, and David grasped onto the reassurance that he offered.

“I, uh, I want to be called- I want to be called David, please.”

Both twins blinked. Neither spoke for what felt like hours, but David knew was probably seconds. Then Nolan cleared his throat and said, “David? Well, that is a very good name, but… I’m not sure it’s the best choice.”

Nora added, “Yes. We realize you must be looking for a change, Fiona, but perhaps you should consider a less… drastic change, hm? If you’re looking for a name that is less feminine, Logan is a lovely name for men and women.”

“It is. Are you trying to display your boyish tendencies? We know you were irritated with Madam Willingham for scolding you as a tomboy. She really should… Well, she should mind her own business, if you ask me, but Logan is a fine name for a lady who is not afraid of a little dirt and sweat. Or Riley.”

In spite of how they had prepared for this reaction, David felt themself (themselves? No, that’s not right, there’s only one of me…) deflate a little. In contrast, they could sense Henry bristling behind them. Henry normally was very calm, and it really to some doing to get him riled up, but god, the twins sure were good at it.

I should really say something before he do-

“I really don’t think that is what David meant.”

Nora and Nolan pivoted toward Henry, and David, despite the twisting in their gut, sighed at the thought of having to drag Henry out of another shouting match with their siblings.

“Really? Well, please, what do you think she means?”

Henry opened his mouth for a retort, then closed it again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before responding, “That’s not my place. They can tell you.”

David held his breath at the wording. Nora frowned and Nolan quirked a brow, but neither addressed how Henry had referred to David, so David let out their breath and decided to move on quickly. They wanted this to be over with.

“I, er, well, Henry is right,” they stumbled. “I’m not trying to let people know I’m a tomgirl, or boy or whatever. I… I’m not a tomboy or a tomgirl. I…,” David sighed, and continued, “I don’t want to be called Fiona, and I don’t want to be called a girl anymore. That’s not what I am.”

Again, there was silence, but this time, the twins were much more obviously thrown. David waited for what they would say and prepared for the worst.

“Fi… David,” Nora said. “If you do not want to… be seen as a girl anymore, or if you think you would prefer to act and dress as a man, then… well, Nolan, I think we can work with that.”

“Yes… yes, we’ll go to the tailor tomorrow and see about having some new clothes put together. Just a few outfits, in case you reconsider this, ah… decision.”

“No.” David wasn’t quite aware of speaking.

Nolan hesitated. “No?”

“No. I mean, yes, I would appreciate new clothes, but I don’t want to be seen as a man. I don’t think I am a man. I don’t feel like a man.”

Nora shared a look with her brother before fixing David with a firm look. “We’re not really sure what you mean, then, dear. Are you going to act as a man or a woman, Tennessee?”

A cold feeling gathered in their stomach.

David swallowed.

“Neither. Or both? I am neither. But…” they trailed off at the looks they were receiving from both siblings. Nora always looked unimpressed, even when she was entertained, sometimes. She discovered early on how to garner respect among her peers as a young woman involved in the politics and finance of her state. But even Nolan, who was not particularly warm but was still less severe than his sister, was fixing David with a withering stare.

“Don’t be silly, Fiona. You are not a plant, or a chair, or a rock. You are a young lady, and if, for the moment, you fancy trying your hand at a man’s life, then feel free; we will help, within reason. But do not start running around with some fanciful ideas of… whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“Yes! Why, if-,”

“Do you want to leave, David?”

David almost jumped at the hand on their shoulder. Henry stood next to them, looking directly at them and ignoring Nora and Nolan’s spiel. David just stared at Henry for a full thirty seconds. They hadn’t realized that was an option.

Nora and Nolan were equally dumbfounded by Henry’s interruption. They stared at the pair standing by the door, somewhat shocked at being cut off and very irritated at Henry’s audacity to suggest walking out in the moment.

“Excuse me, but I thi-,”

“I think that you should kiss my ass, but looks like none of us are getting what we wanted, huh? I wasn’t talking to you.” Henry turned back to David and waited for an answer.

David couldn’t walk out in the middle of this. It was rude, and the problem would still be here later. All that walking away would do was postpone the unpleasant.

But David nodded.

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

They didn’t notice they were crying until Henry wiped their face. They were already in Tennessee and had stopped to rest and decide where they were going to go. Henry was sitting next to them by the road and put his arm around their shoulders.

“Um, I really… I’m not gonna say everything is ok, because it isn’t. That, what they said and did, that shouldn’t have happened.” He paused and rubbed his face. David had left with Henry, and before they did, the Carolinas had made it very clear that until David had made up his mind and started “thinking clearly,” neither David nor Henry was welcome in that house. They had also threatened to write to Virginia about how terrible of an influence Henry had been by encouraging their sister to run off and confuse her about her gender and such, but Henry assured David there was little to worry about on that end.

“But, y’know, everything doesn’t have to be ok. Hey, look at me, please?”

David looked up at him and placed a hand on the one Henry had yet to take from their face.

“You’re ok. Ok? And I’m ok. And we’re ok, and that’s what matters right now.”

“Wow,” David laughed, “how very humble of you to add your whole self into that.”

“Well, I mean, if you wanna trot off alone, that’s cool. I’m just stating facts, my friend; I’m doing fine, you’re doing fine, or you will be, and that’s the important part.” Henry grinned. “Besides, are you really gonna tell me I’m not fine? Because let’s face it, I’m pretty fine.”

David rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve spent too much time with Miles.”

Shrugging, Henry stood up and helped David to their feet. He thought for a moment, then suggested, “We could head to his place, speaking of. Him and his older brother will probably be much more welcoming about this than those two d- *ahem* than the twins. Or we could just hang out here, or go to Kentucky, or Virginia, or… I don’t know. It’s your crisis, you choose.”

“Well,” David mused, “I’d rather avoid anywhere the twins will be willing to march into to scold me more, so Miles is probably the only option left at that point. They like him even less than they like you. Speaking of, thank you for not getting into it with them. I’m glad we just left, instead.”

“Hey, if being polite to them will make you happy, then…,” Henry made a pained face and swallowed, “then I will bite my tongue and not tell them where they can stick their fancy fucking teacups.”

Laughing, David shook his head. “Thank you, dear. Alright then, let’s be off.”

[babyflossy]

compromise | y.jh

gif credits to owner

pairing: spy!jeonghan x assassin!reader

summary: when a group of young spies interrupts your hit-list, you have to find a happy medium in the outcome, and they won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.

genre: spy/assassin au

warnings: murder, i don’t think there’s any cursing, also unedited

word count: 2152

being a decorated assassin for one of the most trusted organisations was tough work. you often got called out of your plush bed at odd hours, saying goodbye to your cat before heading off to take care of whatever the big man in charge wanted you to. your company trusted you one hundred per cent, having never failed a job, and always exceeding your expectations, you were their prize possession, which is why you were the prime candidate for the biggest job of the year.

it was vastly different from the other jobs you were put on, it wasn't a company order, but a request from an external source, meaning you would get pid big bucks after you took out the list of targets. the list wasn't long, only five unlucky men added to it. you never stayed in the meetings long enough to know much about them, just their names. it made it easier to see them only as a price tag, rather than a human.

as the targets were high profile people, they were all invited to a party for what you guessed were people they worked with. you didn't care to find out. you had planned for weeks for this one night. you had to get them out of the ballroom without been seen, and not so quickly as to cause suspicion. you had opted to choose some pretty heavy sleeping pills to eliminate the worry of them escaping. it also meant you could move them to a secondary location, giving you time to stage the crime and dump the bodies. no one would know what happened to them, and you were perfectly happy with that.

your perfect plan had one major flaw however, you weren't the only one out for those men. you were informed a few days before the party, not giving you time to reformulate your plan. you were told an intel worker at your company had done extensive research on all the guests, and had found a tiny mistake, which led her to discover the secret identities of thirteen men all set to attend. she traced them to their headquarters, and with a bit more digging, she labelled them spies, seeking information from your targets.

you didn't know enough about the targets to know what information would warrant thirteen highly trained spies to chase them for information. it was good you knew about the blip in the plan, because there was no way they could know about you, meaning if you were perhaps a little more careful, you could be in and out before they realised the men were missing.

that was what you told yourself as you prepared yourself for the evening. you liked these jobs every so often, it gave you a chance to dress up in fancy clothes over the all black outfits you usually worked in. you stood in front of your wardrobe in your penthouse apartment. no matter how unethical your job was it paid fantastically. that's what you reminded yourself as you slipped knives into the inside pockets of your luxury dress. you needed to look the part, you told yourself as you donned the gown, looking in the mirror in satisfaction. it was pale gold and shimmer under the light of the setting sun. it matched perfectly with the stilettos and the clutch bag, concealing a handgun.

with one last look at the briefing you were given, you left the safety of your apartment and were greeted by the chauffeur the company had arranged. he would drive around the building and wait at the back, ready to load the bodies and take you to the secondary location. as it wasn't a company job, there was less pressure on the job, as the only important casualty if it went wrong would be your paycheque.

you got to the venue just as the guests were starting to arrive, stepping out of glossy black cars and being led up the red velvet carpet to the ballroom. you were no different, a young man escorting you from the door of your car all the way up to the room where people were talking among themselves. it didn't take long to locate the targets, spotting some of the spies not long after. you saw their three leaders – seungcheol, jihoon and soonyoung – talking quietly among themselves near the bar. soonyoung caught your eye and you smiled flirtatiously, you couldn't give anything away yet.

you started to move to the targets once you had seen all the spies dotted around, you counted thirteen of them, thrice, to make sure you knew where they all were. it seemed they weren't planning to move in anytime soon as they still talked and laughed among themselves, holding drinks they ignored. you had done that too whilst talking to some guests, you guessed it came with the paranoia of the job.

the first target was easy to single out, he was older than you, and you spotted his ring-free finger as you led him out of the ballroom, claiming you wanted some air after making idle conversation for a few moments. no one noticed his absence as he lay unconscious in a spare room, the key hidden in your shoe.

the second and third targets were relatively easy to move away as well. it was still early and you realised the spies were waiting for the end of the night to move in. they were considerably more drunk than the first man and so moved onto your advances eagerly, disregarding the fact they were both married. you felt bad for their wives as they were tied to chairs, also unconscious.

the fourth man was more difficult to distract. he was a hair away from wasted, swaying on his feet and slurring his words together. you sighed, this wasn't going to be easy. you talked to him for as long as you could without drawing attention to yourself. when you had finally made progress and led him down the hall to his fate, one of the spies noticed they could only see one target.

that same spy saw you leave the ballroom with the last target, leading him to his fate. the psy followed you. you would later find out his name was jeonghan and he hid behind his messy blonde hair as he slinked out the ballroom and silently watched as you slid a key out from one of you expensive heels and pushed him into a room. jeonghan caught the door with the tip of his foot and peered through the gap to see the other four men tied up, heads lolling about. his mouth dropped open slightly, how had you managed to get four targets out of a room with thirteen spies, and not be seen?

"who are you?" he couldn't help the words from falling out his mouth and he stepped into the room, letting the door click closed behind him. you turned around with only mild surprise, your hair falling elegantly down your back. you studied his face, recognising him as one of the spies from the profiles you had been given. he was much more attractive in person. he had plump lips and kind eyes, with hair that fell in delicate waves around his face. his eyes were hidden behind thin metal glasses which made him shockingly unthreatening. his voice was soft and you wondered for a second if you and misidentified him.

"why does it matter to you?" you cocked your head to one side, watching as he tapped the arm of his glasses behind his ear twice and you knew he had signalled for help. you sighed and turned around to face him, "you're not getting these men."

he narrowed his eyes at you, "what do you want with them?"

"they all have massive paycheques on their heads," you added a threatening smile to show you wouldn't give up without a fight, "i'm here to claim them."

you heard the steps behind the door and you could almost feel the group lean against the door. someone stepped on a loose floorboard and it creaked. as the door flew open, you flew your hand up, gun outstretched and poised perfectly at jeonghan's head. the spies poured into the room, their guns trained on you, but you knew they wouldn't shoot. they were young, and you knew they hadn't been spies for long, they wouldn't let a team member die for a mission like this. you reached for the other gun on you, pointing it at the closest spy, you think his name was chan. you heard their grips tighten on their weapons, their concentration fixated on you alone. you smirked as you realised you hit a soft spot. you turned your head to face chan, who seemed calm despite the weapon facing him.

it stayed like this for a moment until they realised you wouldn't give up your targets. seungcheol, he seemed to have the most authority over the group, was the first to crack, holding his hands up and lowering his weapon. your eyes didn't leave chan's as you watched from the corner of your eye, "we just want information, no one has to die."

"no one except for them," you swapped your gaze for seungcheol's, gesturing behind you, "i came here for them, not any of you."

he nodded, and soon, everyone else had lowered their guns, so you did as well, dropping the one facing chan first and turning back to jeonghan, shooting him a sly smile as you tucked it into the sparkling belt of your dress. "can we make a compromise?" seungcheol watched you carefully, the way you calculated your chances of getting out with the men, and without a scratch. you seemed think they weren't good enough and he let out the breath he was holding slowly. he was sure they would all be able to take you, but he didn't want to find out. you had managed to get this far without them noticing, and he didn't want to test your fighting skills.

"i suppose," you looked back to the men in question, you supposed you could let two of them go, you thought back to which ones were worth more and took your pick. "you can have those two," you pointed to the ones you didn't want and turned back around to face the spies, "the other three will be dead in the hour."

seungcheol looked between jihoon and soonyoung, and then joshua and jeonghan, a silent agreement passing between the five of them. he nodded and motioned for some of his boys to take the ones mentioned. "when will they wake up?" it was jeonghan, he had walked over whilst the others untied to the men they would take with them.

"maybe two hours, maybe more. you never really know," you watched as you driver entered the room, looking at the spies before looking at you with a questioning gaze. "take those three to the car, take the ropes off, i'll be out in a moment." he nodded and threw one of the bodies over his broad shoulders whilst you watched, impressed.

"you never told me who you were," his voice was quiet as the last spy left the room, leaving the two of you alone. he seemed to have forgotten you had pointed a gun at his face not five minutes ago, you guessed it happened to him almost as often as it happened to you.

"y/n y/l/n," you smiled up at him, "you can call my company if you ever need help, ask for their prize possession, they'll know who you want." you grinned slightly, waiting for the day they requested your help, it never took long. jeonghan chuckled slightly, looking back to the door where his team members had left through.

"maybe i'll see you 'round? hopefully it won't be when you're pointing a gun at me, though," he smirked down at you and you felt dizzy under the weight of his gaze.

"maybe you will, yoon jeonghan," you turned around and headed for the opposite door to his, your heels tapping softly on the floor before you heard him speak up.

"how do you know my nam–"

the next day, the group of spies saw the brutal crimes on the news. you had slit their throats and left green cloth over their faces, the media and the police working tirelessly to figure out the meaning behind the specific folding technique of them. they said the only suspects were local gangs, no evidence or dna was found at the scene and the spies watched in awe as the police was interviewed, saying all the security cameras within a three block radius had been turned off at 1:23 am, and they were appealing for any information the public would have.

they were left with more questions about the girl they met, and jeonghan replayed what you said to him in his head. you probably knew a lot more about them than you let on, after all.

[gayregis]

Ok i love fashion. I dk fashion. I love doing fantady historical fusions and the fashion on the show deadass kills me SO hard. It doesnt. like. nothing feels good. Theres no clear cultural influence on clothes. In TW3 at least the clothes felt like.. like I could see art and go 'oh i know what influenced that' but it feels so vague and generic in the show???

LEGIT! and it’s such a shame too because they missed so many opportunities through visuals:

it’s definitely beautiful enough. medieval/renaissance (i say renaissance as well, because the continent is more advanced than earth’s europe in the 13th century) has such great beautiful examples of design that can even be quite whimsical to an audience that is unfamiliar with it. 

re: the “it doesn’t feel slavic” argument that i’ve seen on reddit. specifically in regards to the art direction, costume design, and set design, i agree, because there is a lot of beautiful cultures that could serve as wells of inspiration for the art team, but they seemed to ignore it. i’m not anything of an expert or even an amateur, but just googling “medieval polish fashion” gives some good results. there are a lot of beautiful motifs on this page that could easily be incorporated into the witcher’s designs. (in regards to casting, i don’t agree so much with this argument, bc a lot of the arguing about it lacks nuance and voices from poc, but that’s an entirely different post to make!)

they could connect characters. the main issue in MY opinion is that the dressing felt individual to characters and random, meant to just look good or intriguing but not help in telling the story. visuals tell narratives, and outfit and dress are a large aspect of this. if there is not overall motifs that can connect characters to one another, then you’re missing a great opportunity. for an example of what they did right with this, i loved how everyone in cintra had those blue sashes with their three lions on them. (also, it even made me realize as a books fan that the three lions could represent calanthe, pavetta, and ciri… lol). but i do not see any connection between ciri, pavetta, or calanthe’s outfits. this is missing an opportunity to draw a connection between them.

they could create factions and visually represent being “other.” keeping with the previous bullet point, they could extend this opportunity to whole factions. as a base example, the cintrian and nilfgaardian conflict is represented by how they have different armors… but since nilfgaard is a rich and powerful empire, their armor should have reflected this. in more peaceful scenes, they could use historical influences from different regions/nations of europe to demonstrate a difference between different witcher nations. also they could easily represent an “other” by using this faction mentality, kind of like what they did with the dryads’ outfits, because they seem so different than those in human civilizations, but they could have pushed this contrast by making the humans’ outfits to be stylized and man-made with bright colors, decorations, etc.

they could demonstrate character qualities and contrast between characters. geralt dresses in a worn black leather jerkin in the first short story in the books, and carries his sword on his back. dressing in all black (with his white hair and shining eyes) creates this image of a man similar to ideas of death, in my mind - he’s intimidating. he’s also strange for even a swordsman or mercenary, he doesn’t carry his sword like every other man in vizima. and his equipment is worn, yet he does not look old… he obviously has been in many fights. compare this to jaskier, who dresses fancifully and elegantly, with colorful jerkins and lace shirts and a plum bonnet with a feather in it. he obviously is a performer (and also kind of looks like a noble with these fancy get ups, which hints at his backstory that’s only revealed later on!) compare this with yennefer, who although she dresses extremely elegantly and nobly, dresses in all black and white. she is refined, but not gaudy and looking for attention (no offense jaskier… that’s your job!).

they could demonstrate character transitions. ciri dresses like a princess in cintra, but when her life goes up in flames along with the city and everyone she’s known and she goes to train at kaer morhen, she dresses in a shoddily-made leather jerkin sewn together quite shittily. not only does this demonstrate how she has fallen a long way on the social status ladder, but it demonstrates how very much the witchers at kaer morhen want to take care of this child, even if they’re not very good at understanding her and her needs at first. and how much she in turn wants to be like them.

but instead we just got some outlandish bullshit where yennefer wears a cage on her shoulders and a lace mask that she immediately takes off, and nilfgaardian armor that doesn’t look like any kind of armor ever made in history or in the present. costume design is not just meant to draw your eye and have you say, “oh that looks weird,” but to help the story! this is part of the entire reason that a visual adaptation to a book series was wanted!

[shinobi-imagines]

please read my story ㅠㅠ

Hi everyone! It’s been a minute... I don’t really come on Tumblr much anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t write! I just wanted to take the time to plug my new KakaOC fanfic called, The Price of Simplicity (read on fanfiction.net or ao3). 

The story starts in Kakashi’s ANBU days where he meets a civilian named, Tsuru. He finds her incredibly annoying, loud, yet she still draws him in for some reason. Soon, he finds out that Tsuru is terminally ill and is destined to die at a young age. While it is Tsuru could never fully understand the life of a shinobi, Kakashi realizes that the two aren’t so different. 

I would really appreciate it if you guys could read, comment, like, follow, and support my work! I will leave the first chapter under the cut!

The darkest times of Kakashi Hatake’s life were in his youth. The time which many advise you not to waste were tossed in the throes of war for Kakashi. He was bitter. So bitter for so many years and often wondered what the point of living was. However, he swore to himself since he was a little boy that suicide was not an option. Suicide was for cop outs like his father was when the man had left his son that one brutal night. So, Kakashi contemplated to the best way or any acceptable way for a shinobi to die.

By twenty-three, Kakashi was already a well established ninja in Konoha. He had climbed the ranks quickly and by the time he was sixteen, he had already become an ANBU captain. Here he was. Nine years and still an ANBU. Seven years and still a captain. Kakashi had stopped caring for rankings the moment he understood the burden that came with excellence.

“It’s settled then!” his “eternal rival” Gai yelled fiercely. “Kakashi, you’re coming out with us tonight!”

Gai hadn’t changed much in Karachi’s eyes. He was still annoying and much too intense, but Gai was perhaps the only person Kakashi found some comfort in. However, Gai’s attempts to get Kakashi to socialize was starting to get on his nerves.

“Tonight,” Gai continued, “you and I will battle over and over again! We’ll see who the best drinker is! We will see who can get the most girls! We will see-”

“You can stop,” Kakashi denied cooly. “I won’t be going out.”

“I think you misunderstand,” Gai almost growled. “This is no request nor is it a simple invitation. It is a challenge!”

Kakashi sighed. Had he said no to Gai’s demand…well…no wouldn’t have been an acceptable answer. It was Kakashi’s fault in the first place for telling the man he was given a day off the very next day.

Gai had come to visit Kakashi who was getting treated at the hospital for some injuries and a checkup from his previous mission. Although Kakashi hated being in the hospital, it was routine to go and Kakashi liked having routines.

Kakashi let the sounds of Gai drown out as he looked up at the ceiling wondering what he’d gotten into. The two walked down the hall way towards the lobby of the hospital when a girl walked by. Neither of the ninjas noticed her. She was just a patient wearing clothes provided by the hospital. She seemed rather happy and walked with a smile on her face that is until she tripped over seemingly nothing and fell fatefully right in front of two ninjas.

“Are you okay?” Kakashi asked offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m fine!” she replied obviously flustered. She ignored the hand that Kakashi held out and rushed past the two before they could get a glimpse of her face.

“She looked a little young to be in the hospital,” Gai noted out loud.

“Yeah,” Kakashi concurred. “But you never know what happens in someone’s life. Look at me, I come here all the time.”

The bushy browed man merely blinked unsure if Kakashi was being serious or had told a joke.

Night came in almost no time. The sun had gown down and the village lights turned on. There were no kids out on the streets during this hour unless they were trying to sneak into bars to get their first tastes of alcohol with some thrill on the side. Honestly, Kakashi could spot those kids in the farthest corner of the bar from over a mile away without the help of his Sharingan. They were visibly attempting to contain their excitement and attempting to ignore the fact that they stuck out like a sore thumb.He probably didn’t realize that he was glaring at the boys, but Kakashi’s friends surely did.

“Hey,” Asuma called out to Kakashi. “Just let them be. They’re just having fun.”

“Yeah!” Genma jokingly snapped all too stoic man. “The party’s here, Kakashi!”

In Kakashi’s mind, he was thinking about how ungrateful those kids were acting. People like him from a young age put their lives on the line so that people like them could be safe and away from war. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They didn’t know war because people like Kakashi had made it so they wouldn’t need to know war. Finally caving into his friends’ desires, he rejoined the group with a shot of sake which was met with a round of cheers from the other four men.

“Oh, Raido!” Genma drunkenly whispered to his friend sitting beside him. “Look at that lady who just walked in. Isn’t she pretty?”

Genma’s drunk whisper reached everyone’s ears, and certainly at the door was a very pretty woman with blonde hair that looked almost white and a pair of gray eyes. She wore a tight black dress with long lace sleeves and a pair of black heels. Talk immediately began circulating around the bar. Some speculated, she might have been a model although she looked a little short to be a model. Others theorized the girl was an actress, however, no one had seen her in any sort of production before.

Whoever she was, she seemed to be alone. Kakashi noticed that she had the same light of excitement and innocence in her eyes as the underage fellows who thought that they had beat the system. A naive girl at a bar alone only screamed danger. As predicted, a rugged man with a red flush spread across his cheeks approached the woman.

“Do we stop him?” Raido asks the group.

“I don’t know,” Asuma added.

“Did she not come with anyone?” Genma inquired further.

“If no one’s going to to take this chance, then I-” Gai stopped abruptly as Kakashi got up from his seat towards the girl who was clearly about to be harassed.

“Oh,” Asuma said surprised, “I guess even Kakashi can’t resist a beautiful damsel in distress.”

In truth, Kakashi just about had it with being surrounded by such annoying people. He slowly walked over watching as the drunk man flirted with the girl who looked unsure of what to do.

“Are you new here?” the man slurred. “If you are, I’ll buy you a drink and I could show you around the village tonight.”

“Uh,” she stammered, “no. I was actually born and raised here. Also, I don’t drink.”

“Eh? No way. A pretty face like your’s is something no one could forget!”

The stranger leaned closer and placed a hand on the woman’s knee. His face was right beside her ear when a shadow casted over his back. The woman looked up to see Kakashi with a dark glare in his eyes. It honestly frightened her too.

“If you don’t want any trouble,” Kakashi started to advise, “you’ll go back to your seat.”

“And who do you think you-” the man cut himself off as turned around. “K-K-Kakashi-san! What a surprise!”

The woman watched as the man stuttered like a baby before Kakashi.

“P-Please,” he got up and bowed, “excuse me!”

Kakashi glared down the man as he cowered and rushed away bumping into various chairs on his way back. He heard the woman sigh in relief. When he turned his glare to the woman, she jumped. He noticed that all the girl had her table was a cup of water. Kakashi recalled that the woman had claimed that she doesn’t drink.

“Oi,” Kakashi called out to who seemed like the dumbest woman alive, “are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?” she asked taken aback.

“Hey,” Gai rushed over to his friend, “calm down. You have to excuse him, he’s been really tense lately! Let us take you home. You can trust us, we’re noble shinobi of Konoha!”

“You heard me,” Kakashi ignored Gai. “Are you stupid?”

The woman pouted. Gai could see the flames blaring between the two intense stares.

“Well, who are you to interfere in someone else’s business?” she exclaimed in disbelief at the man’s audacity.

Before Gai could mitigate the situation any father, Kakashi and Gai saw the woman’s expression change from one of annoyance to surprise. As if on cue, another woman barged in.

“Tsuru nee-san!” she screamed angrily.

“Oh!” cried out the woman named Tsuru. “If it isn’t my little sister! Fancy seeing you here, Hyo-chan!”

Then a sound like the crack of lightning made the whole bar still. Hyo slapped Tsuru right across her face. This shocked even Kakashi because he was intending on reprimanding the dimwitted girl, however, this other woman with dark hair stepped in.

The two, who had claimed to be sisters, seemed to be related in only subtle ways. While Tsuru’s hair was light and long, Hyo’s hair was dark and short. Tsuru was much prettier than Hyo who’s appearance looked to be no more than average. However, the two had the same pale complexion and the same shade of gray eyes. Both were also rather short.

Another striking difference between the two was the existence of a Konoha hitae-ate around Hyo’s forehead. She wore the standard shinobi outfit. Judging by what he could see, Karachi deducted that Hyo was probably someone who was less invested in how she looked as opposed to her older sister.

“Wait outside for me, nee-san,” Hyo’s voice was quiet and demanding. It sent cold air throughout the silently stunned bar.

Without complaint, the older sister did as she was told.

“Wasn’t that a little too far?” Gai questioned Hyo. “You shouldn’t disrespect those who are older than you.”

Hyo glowered at the bushy browed jonin, “If she were your sister, you’d want to slap some sense into her too. The bitch keeps sneaking out of the hospital.”

For a moment, Kakashi noticed Hyo’s eyes grow grim before returning back to its original intensity.

The hospital? Kakashi realized that Tsuru was the girl he had tried to help up earlier that day.

“But still…” Gai’s voiced trailed off.

“I apologize,” Hyo bowed to the two men. “I hope my sister didn’t cause too much trouble for my seniors. I’ll be going now.”

Once the dark haired girl was gone, Kakashi said, “Gai.”

“Yeah,” Gai started, “I know. That Tsuru girl is the girl from the hospital.”

“Yes, but there’s something more than that.”

“Hm? What might that be?”

“She doesn’t seem to be a ninja, but she sensed her sister coming.”

“You’re right!”

“Oi!” Asuma called out to the two. “If you’re done making a ruckus, come join us for Kings’ Game!”

Gai marched happily back to the table amongst their friends. Kakashi too headed back, but with Tsuru in the back of his mind.

To put the facts together, Tsuru was undeniably beautiful; however, Kakashi had never seen her around before. She probably had some sort of condition that keeps her in the hospital. And it seemed that although she didn’t appear to be a kunoichi like her sister, she showed signs that she was a sensory type ninja which was a rare talent to have and develop. A spy maybe?

In the end, the group of inebriated and rowdy men certainly provided as a much needed distraction for Kakashi. While Kakashi didn’t really laugh or smile that night, he had to admit that he was rather entertained. Perhaps he was too accustomed in reading into things. Things aren’t always as they seem; but as one of Konoha’s elite shinobi he couldn’t help but think of all possible scenarios from the best to the worst.

Nonetheless, Kakashi woke up with a raging hangover the next morning. Probably from all the thinking.