#but it looks like a stylistic choice for the tone so lets just say that it is

[melonsharks]

pacifica, mabel + relativity falls with transfem dipper aka losing your sister and discovering you have one all in the same day

my og tweet abt this below

[neferaskingdom]

♡ It's Not You, It's Your Pants | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader [Crack Fic]

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Summary: Girl roasts Charles Leclerc’s tragic pants online, then accidentally crashes into him in Monaco. Cue spilled coffee, fashion rants, and an existential crisis about how her life turned into a Wattpad fanfic in under five minutes.

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A/N: Just a random crack idea I had after seeing Charles' pants on Pinterest.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

check out my other works: Masterlist

The pants in question:

Monaco was as glamorous as your Instagram feed had led you to believe—blue skies, sparkling yachts, and streets that looked like they’d been personally polished by billionaires. You’d come here for a break from your intense fashion studies, soaking up the vibes (and let’s be honest, hoping for a celebrity sighting). And maybe—just maybe—you’d catch a glimpse of a certain F1 driver whose face had become a staple on your social media, along with some questionable fashion choices.

It was your first time here, a small vacation before diving back into the hectic world of fashion school. Your excuse? Inspiration. But honestly, you just wanted to escape to the Côte d'Azur and sip some coffee.

But you weren’t just an F1 fan. You had your own little corner of fame on Instagram. As a fashion student with a decent following, your niche was breaking down and rating celebrity outfits. Recently, you’d gained serious attention for a video where you roasted none other than Charles Leclerc—the beloved racing prince of Monaco—for wearing, and you quote yourself, “blue baggy pants that looked like they were in a fistfight with a bunch of scissors.”

It wasn’t personal; it was business. And the fact that the pants had star-shaped rips in them? Your comment was basically a public service announcement.

“Look at these pants,” you’d said, holding up a screenshot of Charles sporting his, ahem, questionable fashion statement. “I mean, what are we even doing here? Are these pants or a craft project gone wrong? Who looks at a pair of baggy jeans and thinks, ‘You know what’s missing? Giant star-shaped cutouts for maximum confusion!’”

As you strolled through Monte Carlo, cappuccino in hand, you scrolled through the comments on your viral video.

“Not gonna lie, I kinda miss when Charles used to wear those skinny jeans that made him look like a confused hipster.”

“ARE WE JUST NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THE STAR CUTOUTS?!?!”

“I think Charles Leclerc has been taking fashion advice from his 8-year-old self. Stars? Really? Babe, it’s not the 2000s anymore.”

“Not the hero we deserve, but the one we need—thank you for saying what we were all thinking about those pants.”

“Leclerc’s stylist should be fired, immediately.”

You chuckled at one of the memes someone had made—a zoomed-in shot of Charles in his infamous star-cutout pants, captioned: “I’m a star, literally.” Honestly, the internet was undefeated.

Mid-laugh, you rounded a corner, not looking where you were going, and—WHAM—collided with someone solid, causing you to spill your coffee, drop your phone, and let out a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

“Oh my God! I am so, so sorry!” you babbled, fumbling to grab your phone off the ground.

“No problem, really—”

You froze. That voice.

You didn’t need to look up to recognize that slightly accented, velvety smooth tone. The universe had decided today was the day it turned your life into a Wattpad fanfiction.

Charles Leclerc was standing right in front of you.

And not just standing. He was smiling—that damn heart-stopping smile—and then something in his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed slightly as if he was trying to place where he knew you from. You, meanwhile, were contemplating whether it was possible to will yourself into nonexistence through sheer force of embarrassment.

“You’re…” Charles blinked and then a glint of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Wait, you’re the girl from that Instagram video. The one about my pants.”

If your life was a movie, this would be the part where someone hit pause so you could have a full existential crisis. Unfortunately, reality didn’t work like that, and all you could do was stare at him, jaw slack, as your brain tried to reboot.

“I, uh… well…” you stammered, unsure of how to explain to the very person whose fashion choices you’d roasted in front of millions of people that it wasn’t personal.

Charles tilted his head, his smile widening. “You really didn’t like my pants, huh?”

Oh God. This was happening. This was actually happening.

“I mean, it’s not that I didn’t like them…” you began weakly, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were currently being confronted by Charles freaking Leclerc. “It’s just… they were, you know, kind of…” You gestured vaguely toward his legs as if that would somehow help explain your deep-seated hatred for the star-ripped monstrosities.

“Kind of what?” he asked, clearly enjoying watching you squirm.

You took a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. “Okay, look. They were confusing. Like, were they pants? Or was it some weird attempt at turning your legs into a constellation? I couldn’t tell. They had star-shaped rips, Charles. also, why were there so many weird cutouts? Are they… windows? Are your pants ventilated?”

Charles let out a snort, clearly struggling to keep it together. “Ventilated?”

You nodded, gaining momentum now. “Exactly! They look like they’re half-torn on purpose, but not in a cool, grungy way. It’s like someone started cutting them up and then gave up halfway through. And the bagginess? Charles, I don’t even know where to begin. It’s like you bought them two sizes too big, but then tried to fix it by adding rips. And it just… doesn’t work.”

Charles burst out laughing, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to rein in his amusement. “You really think they were that bad?”

You blinked at him, dead serious. “Charles, those pants looked like they got into a fight with a pair of kindergarten scissors and lost.”

He was full-on laughing now, and you felt a small victory in that. At least he wasn’t offended. Although, considering how often people talked about drivers online, he probably had thicker skin than you’d given him credit for.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think anyone would notice the stars,” Charles said between laughs, wiping away a tear from his eye. “But you? You gave them a whole five-minute segment.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I didn’t mean to turn it into an entire rant! It just… it snowballed.”

Charles grinned at you, his expression softening a bit. “No, it was funny. I saw the video. My brothers couldn’t stop laughing. Arthur sent it to me like five times.”

You blinked. “Your brothers… sent you the video?”

“Yep. They even gave the pants a name. They call them ‘the constellation pants’ now.”

You couldn’t help it. You snorted. “You should burn those pants. Like, immediately.”

He looked down at his legs, pretending to think it over. “They’re not that bad.”

“Charles,” you sighed, suddenly feeling a wave of passion wash over you. “Those pants were an abomination. They weren’t just bad—they were like an insult to pants everywhere. Like, what even were they? Baggy, ill-fitting, with random star-shaped rips? Did they start out as pants or was it some kind of tragic attempt at upcycling? Because I swear to God, it looked like a fabric store exploded on your legs.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting you to dive headfirst into a passionate rant about pants, but there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me wrong,” you continued, gesturing wildly. “I’m all for experimental fashion. I love a good risk. But those pants? They looked like you lost a bet to a five-year-old. I’ve seen better craftsmanship at a kids’ summer camp sewing class. They were offensive, Charles. Offensive to pants, offensive to legs, and offensive to anyone with eyes.”

Charles looked back up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Okay, but what’s so wrong with adding a little personality to my wardrobe? Stars are cool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Not when they’re cut out of your pants, they’re not!”

“Fair enough,” he said, still smiling. “But now you’ve got me curious. If I did burn the pants, what would you suggest I wear?”

Was this a trick question? Was he seriously asking you, the random fashion student who insulted him online, for fashion advice? What was your life?

“Well…” you began, mentally assembling an outfit in your head. “For starters, how about something that doesn’t look like it belongs in a bad 2000s boyband? Maybe some slim-fit jeans that actually fit properly. And—oh!—ditch the weird rips. You’re Charles Leclerc, not a rejected *NSYNC member.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by your decisiveness. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’m just saying… you’ve got the face, the career, the whole package. You shouldn’t let the pants drag you down.”

Charles grinned, leaning in slightly. “So, you think I have the whole package?”

Your brain screeched to a halt. Did he just—? Did Charles Leclerc just flirt with you?

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, star boy,” you shot back, smirking despite the fact that your internal monologue was currently having a breakdown. “I’m only here trying to fix your fashion sense.”

Charles chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. And that’s when the next bomb dropped.

“Well then, maybe you can help me shop sometime?” He said it so casually, like he wasn’t currently turning your entire existence upside down with one smooth sentence. I THOUGHT CARLOS WAS THE SMOOTH OPERATOR.

“I—wait, what?” You blinked rapidly, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. “Did you just… ask me to go shopping with you?”

He smiled again, that devastatingly charming smile that should probably come with a warning label. “Yeah. I mean, you clearly have strong opinions about what I wear. Might as well put them to good use.”

Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. This was fine. Everything was fine. You were standing in the middle of Monaco, and Charles Leclerc—your internet crush since forever—was asking you to go shopping with him. Totally normal. Just another Tuesday. Nothing to freak out about.

Yet your inner monologue was screaming, “MY LIFE IS A WATTPAD FANFICTION, WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

“I, uh…” you stammered, trying to process this. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” Charles replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve got to fix my ‘constellation pants’ problem, right? Who better to help me than the girl who went viral for hating them?”

You were pretty sure your brain had short-circuited at this point. But somehow, you managed to respond, your voice steady despite the fact that your insides were doing cartwheels. “I mean… I guess I could do that. If you really want fashion advice.”

Charles nodded, then casually pulled out his phone. “Great. Let me get your number, and we’ll sort something out.”

You stared at him. Was this real life?

He handed you his phone, and you slowly, robotically, typed in your number, still half-expecting to wake up from this fever dream.

After you handed it back, Charles shot you a grin that could probably melt steel. “So… how about lunch tomorrow? We could discuss your fashion intervention plan.”

Your internal monologue was now full-on screaming. WHAT IS THIS LIFE?

“Lunch? Uh… sure?” you replied, feeling like a character in a rom-com who was two seconds away from tripping over their own feet.

“Perfect,” he said, his smile widening. “I’ll text you.”

And just like that, Charles Leclerc—the man whose fashion sense you had ruthlessly destroyed in front of the entire internet—waved goodbye, leaving you standing there in a daze, wondering if you were hallucinating or not.

Your life? Officially. Unreal.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[ohsc]

Imagine Sam with his daughter and she's dressing him up and doing his hair. You know those fairy wings you can wear, her forcing him to wear those and she's wearing a princess dress.

tysm for the request!! i’m a bit rusty so i feel like this kinda sucks and it ended up being much longer than intended lol but i’m loving this verse sm so much more to come :) | juno verse, single dad sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.5k, kid fic, fluff, not proof red, requests open only for juno fics

“Don’t laugh.” Were the first words out of his mouth when he opened the door and saw her stood there.

He had been trying to clean up the apartment when he knew that she was coming over after work — also in an attempt to starve off the giddiness, which hadn’t worked out either — when his daughter had attached herself to his leg and refused to let go until he played with her. Juno, he was convinced, had all of the stubbornness of a Winchester, and he’d rather just give in easily then peel her off of his leg and have a crying toddler and a messy apartment.

Y/N had been visiting more and more over the recent weeks, she had started to work herself into the little routine that he and Juno had been building, and it made him so soft. There hadn’t been somebody that he’d looked forward to seeing like that in a long time.

Her lips were curving upwards as she looked at him, lips pressed together in a clear attempt to not laugh at him. “…you look pretty.”

Juno’s recent game of choice had been dress up, which was honestly just a kinder way of saying she liked to hold him hostage and dress him up until she got bored. His hair was pulled into three pigtails, there were god knows how many butterfly clips up there, and he was pretty sure there were at least two stickers on his face somewhere.

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let her into the apartment. He really tried not to stare as she stepped past, but she really was just so pretty. It would help if he didn’t have Dean in his ear whenever he called telling him that he clearly had a thing for waitresses. “My stylist got bored waiting for you, here.” Sam gently took her jacket from her and hung it up next to his own and Juno’s red coat on the hooks by the door.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not, you look great.” She giggled, a hand reached up with the intention of touching his hair, but the shout of her name from down the hall took both of their attention.

She crouched down just in time to open her arms to the toddler barrelling down the hall towards her, almost slipping on the material of her princess dress in the process which made Sam wince.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She caught Juno in her arms with a tight squeeze, somehow not knocked to the floor. Sam was so immeasurably soft whenever he got to watch her with his daughter, how much she was adored by Juno and how much she adored her back. It was the most important thing to him, that his daughter liked her. And she really did — more than him, he thought sometimes.

“Oh I missed you so much,” she squeezed his toddler once more before pulling back to look at her, smiling as she touched the puffy skirt of her dress. “Oh don’t you look so pretty, Junie? I love your dress.”

“It’s sleeping beauty’s dress,” Juno informed her, smile full of pink chubby cheeks as she soaked up the praise. “Daddy got it for me for my last birthday, when I was three.” She held up three fingers to show her, somehow covered in glitter that Sam could only dread to think was in his hair.

“Well it’s very pretty,” she beamed, gently smoothing over a few wrinkles in the dress. “Are you dressing up daddy to match?”

“No,” she shook her head, tone firm as if it was obvious. “He’s a fairy,” as if she suddenly just remembered what they’d been doing she frowned and let go of Y/N, clumsily stepping around her to grab at Sam’s hand and tugged with far too much strength for her little body. “Daddy, not done.”

Sam sighed, eyes down on her as she tugged on his arm as if she could pull him down the hallway herself. She had turned her big puppy eyes on, the ones he could never really say no to. “I know, Bug, why don’t you let me make Y/N a coffee and then—”

“No,” she whined, tugging harder. “Now.”

The clouds were forming for a tantrum, it had been that way all afternoon, it’s why he’d settled for letting her play dress up in the first place. She always got cranky after pre-school on Mondays. “Baby—”

“It’s okay,” a hand touched his arm and he turned to look at her. “I know where everything is, I can make one. I did interrupt play time.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, ever grateful for how amazing she was with Juno. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed that she had kids of her own. “Really, I’ll make it up—”

“Daddy.” Juno was whining louder, tugging his arm again, and he just let out a breath as he leaned down to scoop her up onto his arms, settling her on his hip.

“Why are you acting up, hm?” Not really annoyed, he knew she couldn’t really help it, he reached his free hand up to tickle at her side until she giggled. Satisfied that he’d successfully worked around a tantrum he led Y/N down the hall with his daughter on his hip, though she already knew the place like the back of her hand. If he wasn’t so nervous he would’ve invited her to stay the night already.

He watched her disappear into the kitchen to make herself a drink before he took Juno back into the living room, and returned to his spot on the floor where he’d been held captive for the past twenty minutes. The floor was littered with hair clips and tiaras and plastic shoes which he’d clean up when she went to bed, but he didn’t really mind the mess if it meant she was happy.

“Daddy,” she was pulling at his hair again, stood on his thighs, only not falling off onto the carpet because of his hands on her sides. He watched her reach for another hair clip, a glittery yellow butterfly, and tried not to wince as he felt it’s teeth scrape against his scalp as she shoved it into place. “Can Y/N play too?”

Juno had been attached to her ever since they’d become friends. It was sweet, endearing really. Aside from himself and Dean, the only other adults she really got to see were her teachers at pre-school. Juno really adored her, clung to her every moment she could. She’d come with Sam to pick Juno up from school once and she’d practically screamed across the playground when she saw her.

“If she wants to, Junie,” he hummed, holding her steady as she leaned to the floor to grab something else. “She had a long day at work, she might be tired.”

“I still play after school.” Her nose scrunched up in a way that made him smile.

“Waitressing is a little different to school, baby. It’s not very fun.”

Juno hummed like she was thinking about it as she scrambled off of his lap to reach into her toy box. “Then she should get a new job,” she settled on, tugging out her pink fairy wings from the crate. “A fun one.”

Sam nodded a little, smiling softly as he murmured, “I agree.”

Little hands pulled at his arm, and he leaned forwards like she’d moved him herself. The elastic loops of the fairy wings were a little small for his shoulders, but he didn’t complain about the tightness of the band as he helped her get them on him, worth it to hear her giggle when it was all done.

“Those look great,” he looked up and watched as Y/N walked into the room, two mugs in her hands, one of which she placed down on the coffee table for him. “You did a really great job, Junie, now he really looks like a fairy.”

The way she was smiling at him was making his face heat up. Jesus, he needed to get a grip.

“Can you play?” Juno clambered off of Sam’s lap again to head over to her, grabbing some butterfly clips from the floor on her way. “Pretty please?”

“Baby, I’m sure she’s probably really tired—”

“It’s okay,” she waved him off with a fond little smile, before she looked back to Juno. “I’ll play if you make a deal with me, sweet girl.”

Juno nodded furiously like it was the most important thing in the world.

“If you promise me that you’ll eat your vegetables with dinner you can dress me up however you like, hm?”

Juno beamed and nodded, her little pinky clunkily hooking around the one that Y/N held up.

Sam met her eyes over Juno’s head, mouthing a thank you that earned him a smile in return. God, he was smitten.

[elmuvahva]

let me talk about leo and donnie’s matching clothes pLEASE

plus a lil bit of mikey and raph near the end :>

so we all know the obvious ones like in ‘repairin’ the baron’ and in ‘man vs sewer’

but i want to talk about the little things hehe. starting with the two mentioned above anyways lmaooo

yes they’re matching but i love the little differences they add on. leo wears a blue undershirt, fully going ride or die with his blue theme, while donnie goes for a white undershirt for a more classic look.

i think that says a lil but about their characters and how they thought to present themselves to april’s mum (who they thought they were meeting). they both wanted to look good hence the stunning matching outfits, but leo also wanted to be himself (hence the blue undershirt), compared to donnie who wanted to appeal to april’s mother (hence the more classic look with the white).

in man vs sewer, they are both wearing the singlet and board short combo, however leo opts for simplicity and ‘laidbackness’ keeping the bare minimum and keeping his shirt loose and untucked. donnie on the other hand goes further and adds the extra decorative shirt to really hammer home the ‘i’m not a useful member of society’ and the holiday/break vibes he’s trying so hard to feel. he also chooses to tuck his shirt in, which i think is just a personal stylistic choice, one which extenuates and shows off the board shorts more and one which mirrors his belt that’s a part of his usual outfit.

now onto snow day :>

at a brief glance it doesn’t seem like they’re matching but you’d be wRONG! they’re wearing the same shoes, pants and scarf, however they choose different jackets and headgear according to their personal tastes (i also wanna point out how donnie’s pants are more boxy/puffy at the bottom to fit with his whole rectangle theme, while leo’s are tucked in firmly, providing a more angular/triangular look).

leo chose a sirius black looking leather jacket bc why wouldn’t he lmaooo. it very much screams leo in the sense of his faceman attitude and his ‘confidence.’ he also chose a beanie which provides a more hippie, laidback and cool vibe.

donnie, ever the nerd, matches his jacket and headwear, as they both have the light purple fluff. donnies jacket is also much more practical and feels like something you’d see skii-ers (how tf do you spell that), hikers and snow-bikers wear. he’s also wearing the ugliest fucking hat /lh that’s reminiscent of what those occupations also wear.

so what we can take away from this is that leo will look cool whatever the weather and donnie will dress for the practicality of the occasion.

now in the clothes dont make the turtle there are A LOT of matching outfits, not just from donnie and leo, for example, in the images above, all the boys are wearing classic black suits with white button downs, however they all style them differently.

i’d also like to note the slight differences on the collars of the suit jackets (leo and donnie’s are matching, mikey’s is more rounded with a lil point and raph’s mirrors his spikes).

they all style their suits differently by using different ties. leo goes for a black and blue striped tie, which i think showcases his sense of style and his playfulness in comparison to raph, who decides to play it safe with a classic one-toned tie.

mikey goes for a cute bowtie bc why wouldn’t he he’s adorable, and it also fits in with him being the youngest and ‘the baby’, as bowties are most commonly worn by kids.

donnie decides to completely forego the tie altogether bc he doesn’t need it, he’s already stunning 😩 lmao but i actually think he’s just really playing into his emotionally unavailable bad boy image.

there’s also these matching monstrosities for god knows what reason

and it’s not super matchy, but raph and leo also both rock the singlet under the open button down shirt (though the colours are swapped and leo pops the collar causes he’s an idiot /aff)

and lastly!! these outfits. now at first glance, you’re probably thinking ‘elva what the fuck are you going on about’ BUT just hear me out!!

they both have ripped aspects to their outfits, leo’s at the shoulders and donnie’s at the waist. it’s obviously not an intentional match but i think they just subconsciously did it :>

they’re also both wearing head accessories, though in totally different styles (leo with his backwards cap to look ‘cool’ while donnie adorns a beanie to complete his LA hipster vibe)

ugh i’ve met the image limit for this post so here’s the link to the post that continues my rambling lolol

[feelingpure]

Fellow Travelers | The Orange Elephant in the Room

Alright, let's talk about it.

For those who've watched the available episodes of FT so far; I'm sure we've all noticed the citrus haze they all seem to be living in.

Especially if you've attempted to edit/GIF any portion of it. The struggle is real and I'm sure has inspired many colouring dilemmas.

And we're all asking "WHY?!".

Now, I'm writing this having not looked up anything about it. So I dunno if anyone responsible has made a formal confession.

One of my initial thoughts around it was; okay... so is this just a 1950s thing? But after watching (and rewatching) episode 2, I feel like it's part of the story in a different way; It's clearly a stylistic choice, yes (I should hope that doesn't just happen by accident). But it also seems to double as a narrative choice.

Putting the rest, with image examples, under a cut because it's kinda long.

Warm vs Cool

The conclusion I've come to is pretty simply, one that we've seen used across media in a lot of movies and shows. Warm tones used to colour scenes that are meant to literally be 'warm'; a loving environment or somewhere where the character(s) feel like they can be themselves. Cool tones used for scenes where it's quite the opposite; a cold hostile environment where the character(s) does not feel welcome. Gradients in between for all the neutral/'greyarea' spaces.

Consider

Cool/neutral outdoor bench scene (with park spies around):

Maybe it's an indoor/outdoor thing? No...

Indoors (even with the mandatory orange lamps nearby) they stay pretty neutral:

Night time/day time thing? No...

Night time vs day time in Tim's apartment:

Compare it to day time neutral alone Tim in the same room before. The difference is that he's with Hawk, out of sight of any would be naysayers.

So yeah, while I am mad about the colouring for giffing needs, I do think what they're doing is pretty neat, and the POC in the show look glorious in the warm tones.

The warm/cool motif is dialled up even more in episode 2, with the contrast of Mary's warm welcoming party and Hawk's cold af family gathering (even though they still have the orange lamps/sconces around, they add nothing to the warmth):

🥺 Ugh, Tim at Mary's party. Might be my favourite part of the episode, alongside the kissing n spooning. Anyway...

The transition of Mary from the same living room where she hosted that party, to the kitchen they were just questioned in:

That transition made me start paying more attention and go back to rewatch previous scenes just for colour themes.

Interestingly Hawk's apartment seems to live in this neutral/warmish space. It was more warm earlier in the episode, especially when they were in the bedroom the morning Tim left his glasses. But in general it's a lot less warm than Tim's apartment when compared; still their skin glows with a hint of tangerine:

Of course, not only the lighting/colouring but their outfit choices say a lot. Tim is usually in the warm browns with his dress, while Hawk pretty much sticks to black, white, grey (hints of a cool toned blues and reds in his ties). This coupled with the differences in their own living space probably reflects a lot about the character and how 'welcoming' they are to others. Idk... or I could just be thinking too much about it.

This is another really interesting transition in episode 2. As Hawk hangs up the phone in that cool toned side room, opens the door to the main room of a gay bar, the warm tones literally seem to absorb him in. Which makes sense, this is obviously a gay friendly place in San Francisco. He doesn't have to try to hide any part of himself, like he probably was still trying to do on that voicemail to Lucy just before.

Now, I could go through and screenshot a load more examples (some scenes with Lucy are interesting, and that lounge/club), but you probably get the gist, you see the pattern. If not before, on your next watch, you'll certainly see it.

This has got longer than intended; I'd be surprised if anyone got this far, I did NOT fully organise my thoughts before I started this, I just began rambling and I feel like it could've been more organised and laid out better. But if you have thoughts about the colouring, I'd really like to see those too. 🤗

[laylawatermelon]

The K-Drama Of It All

Hello! My hyper fixation has (very unhealthily) latched onto this show so I'm gonna be analyzing.

First of all, I am a veteran in these spaces.

Very shy in real life I am an avid observer in all my fandoms but TRUST I know what's up at all times because of it.

This first analysis will be of the phenomenon of how they playing in my face with the classic K-Drama tropes and cinematic choices.

Let us begin.

Now we all agree that The Bear is a cinematic masterpiece right? Right.

I have been consuming media across all mediums since I was a kid.

I quite literally spent most of my life watching behind the scenes, in front of the scenes, and in between the scenes.

I'm also an aspiring filmmaker and screenwriter. As such I analyze stuff I like more.

I try to understand why they are the way they are.

Now that we got all the fluff out of the way let's get down to the nitty gritty.

*stands on soapbox*

Page 1 of 10000 ehem

In this this essay I will -!

Fr tho. Let's look at this from a K-Drama perspective.

I've spent about 10-12/13 years watching them. And luckily got into it during the golden era.

I literally watched She Was Pretty air (among others). Ex, Strong Woman, Descendants of the Sun (never watched; controversy+ bad attention span), School 2013.

So you know I'm (somewhat) of an og.

I'm those shows it's very formulaic.

This can extend to other Asian dramas but I'm going to try to stick to K-Dramas.

For example, the 10 ep rule. Must have a kiss or kiss in that episode. (Before is fine)

Now they're getting a little willy nilly and getting down in the first EP but I can argue they was down bad back then as well. Just more angsty longing looks.

(which tbf Sydcarm does all the time but it's 99% Carm though)

In KDramas there's something common in the cinematography that I'd call the halo of light. Almost all the time there are some form of beauty shots with them beautifully lit where they're together, the way they look at each other etc.

Which ironically they do with these two a lot on the show.

I know the show is gorgeous but you can't just explain away some of the choices.

I have watched and read a lot of discussions so this will be influenced by a lot of people. I will mention when I got the help from (if i can find it).

Now I just want to say I think this.

These following trope have been here since the dawn of K-Drama time.

Enjoy my infodump.

Firstly let's discuss this here:

1. The Meet Cute/Halo Effect

We've all been screaming to the void about the classic meet cute that happens with Carmy's life and him being constantly bombarded with noise and chaos.

Stylistically this wouldn't be a typical formula for K-Dramas as it leans more into Kmovie style (which valid The Bear was originally a movie) I think it's as textbook as it comes.

Now the original script (which I have read) had a story of different tone. Very Chicago and chaotic but still...

In this iteration of the script idk what the actors were on but JAW looked at the script and chemistry test and was like hmm yes.

A dramatic romcom. I see.

For her she's an ambitious woman who has (maybe a tiny crush) admiration for him cause like he's literally who she wants to be.

Young, talented and successful. He's made a name in their industry so of course she wants to work under him.

But he he's playing the male lead in an early K-Drama with the classic *she enters* and it's like the second coming out Christ being lit from behind her.

The classic 'I can't believe I never noticed how beautiful she is' in all dramas (and romcoms honestly).

You can also compare it to the corny slightly funny moments in slow motion when they miss each other/do the angsty look.

Like this.

Good old kdrama tropes.

What's interesting is that in their scene they do the opposite of what a K-Drama would usually do. They cut the music and let it become calm.

You get to breathe and relax and so does he. He feels at peace.

In K-Dramas, osts are a kind of a life line so they would most likely blare it when he has that realization.

And then at every other romantic moment after.

Another way that it could be is by using very like calm music (still the ost but still).

They do use this with having mostly romantic music in their scenes but it's usually quiet and a bit hard to hear or understand (unless you're analyzing like many of the wonderful people on this app).

Now you can argue her warm lighting in each scene from the finale and introduction represents his hope/life/good change being given back to him in the form of her (but if that's not the most romantic thing I ever heard).

Now for the flashback in the panic attack scene you could argue the blue tone he sees her in, as it usually represents some kind of sadness/distance/professionalism in this show, it can also represent his piercing blue eyes remembering her in the only shade they know how.

Good God that color grading is nuts. His eyes *ARE* the color Blue.

Now I want to talk a bit more about shot composition, color grading and color choices.

In a few interviews I've seen and read the editors, directors and others were quite serious about the shots and music they used were very much on purpose.

I mean come on.

Also Announcement from a novel/screenwriter:

EHEM

WE DON'T EVER INCLUDE NOTHING THAT CAN BE MISINTERPRETED IN SCRIPTS!

AND THE DIRECTOR WOULD DEFINITELY CUT IT IF IT WASN'T HOW HE ENVISIONED IT!

(/hj)

The most telling scenes is the beginning of omlette and the end of the episode before it.

The director had chose to show her tattoo that represents loss in a deep blue lighting which was actually in a similar lighting that Carmy and Claire were bathed in afterwards.

The quora search says it means pain, heartbreak, and emotional turmoil.

It also lines up with the rest of the shots with him preparing dinner with Claire and her being alone.

I believe this kind of represents the emotional cheating (?) going on between them as he practically abandoned her (and their child, The Bear).

(which is a wild choice for platonic coworkers)

As I've said before blue lighting is usually representative of sadness, coldness etc.

In the scene personally even without connecting it to shipping or everything the message came clear to me.

Suffocation.

He was quite literally being suffocated as in the last scene her body was on his as he stared in the distance blankly.

Honestly that shot was kind of heartbreaking because it feels like coercion in a warped way.

He feels like he should be happy, he should participate in these acts, he should be doing well.

He's fulfilling his family's wish.

So why isn't he happy?

That's my writer kicking in but that's what I got from it.

🥲 (gimme a sec i gotta cry)

But the same blue tone was used in his panic attack as the camera zoomed in.

Now the ironic part was that they used warm lighting for the scenes with Claire, but it's not that unusual.

Warm lighting has always been used to also represent a time period in the past in addition to good/warm times.

What's ironic is what's literally colored in what should represent good times isn't working.

He's remembering his family in those same tones. The past isn't helping.

But the future does.

Enter Sydney in blue.

Now blue usually represents sadness (or calm) but it's also used in futuristic scenes.

*They benefit from the cold clinical look i guess🤷🏾‍♀️*

Then he becomes calm.

I can also say that their kitchen scenes in early season 2 are blue coded but it has a calm feeling not a distant feeling. It ironically feel warm and calming despite the cool tone.

This appears in a couple other scenes in the show when he's showing her the work done in the early season.

But color wise it's usually warm tones with them as the color kind of transitions in that scene. It's half half.

His view is warm because he thinks she's good with what he did and hers is cold because he ditched her so yeah.

Now shot wise let's discuss because it's a bit obvious.

The staff head mentioned loving close ups to show the characters emotion but also to convey a sense of what's not being said.

An example of his uncertainty with Claire is the car scene. In most of his shots it's extremely close to her and gives off an awkward vibe.

But when you go to her perspective, she's more open and his shots show background and more of his character, also reflecting their relationship with each other,

This persists with the kitchen scene as well.

When I rewatch it it has that same quality. It's a bit more pulled out (obviously as they literally spent the night together so anyone would feel closer) but there's still an awkward/dreamlike feel like when its on her like she's not quite based in reality.

Or in Carmy's self sabotaging view, too good to be true.

In comparison to Sydney, the shots with her are almost always wide and open.

We see it with them as early in season one with the outside scene where he's staring her down and gets her to open up.

You can argue that almost all of their shots are as equals, or in the same frame with an openness that have/represents when they're communicating with each other. (I'm def writing about their communication)

Sydney's character is ironically what a male lead would be like and Carmy would be more of the female archetype.

Which I really appreciate now that I think about it.

The male lead is usually very successful/good at what they do, hesitant to share but when they do you feel it and know it's sincere. They're usually more bumbly with expressing when they're emotional but when they do its like a huge release. And when they love it's very obvious and excessive at times.

In comparison, Carmy is very expressive, sensitive and aware. He's devoted (Claire sorry but you don't quite count) to things he's passionate about, willing to communicate and has traits of sensitivity.

His eyes and body tells what he's feeling almost immediately. (Also JAW is just an incredible actor)

In Kdrama land their roles would be switched. Hell I can argue some American dramas as well.

Back on topic though.

The Halo Effect is there. Like all the time.

To my next point-

2. The She Looks Away, I Look At Her

Now you may argue this is very Disney Rapunzel, all that coded.

You will also be correct.

I am a Disney (more Nick honestly) kid.

This too applies to the K-Drama world nay I would say it originated there (it did not).

Do you know how many shows I can name where the male lead is just hopelessly in awe as he stared at the female lead because she just insulted him and he wants to tell her he loves her in every way.

Ring ring.

I heard The Bear calling. Yeah imma need you to clock out on this gaslighting.

time to fangirl

Look at the gif sets!

But honestly, it's a common way to show that the character cares and wants a person without outright saying it.

You understand the vibes almost instantly.

He likes her. He wants more.

She likes him. She wants more.

3. Matching Clothes

This one is a simple one but we all know how common it is in K-Dramas to have a matching something.

A good example of a recent show is Extraordinary Attorney Woo, and how they almost always matched even if he was in casual clothing and she was in office clothes.

You're supposed to get a telepathy feel from them. Like they're on the same wavelength.

In ships/shows they usually subconsciously brainwash you into details of a relationship by having them wear or have something that reminds you of them.

In wardrobe, clothing is meticulously planned to match characters financial situation and express their personality. The clothes tell the story.

And the story usually is we go together. Real bad.

So yeah, sure in this scene/episode they were more in tune and tandem and as time went on they became more disjointed.

Granted they do work in a place with uniforms but I digress.

And lastly my third point part II-

Same But Different

If this were a kdrama there'd be like 0.00% chance that they WOULDN'T happen.

First they're the main leads so duh, and second the way that they parallel each other is insane.

There are many edits and examples of them directly mirroring each other in certain situations.

Scrubbing the floors when feeling lonely seemingly in the exact same spot, stressing in the freezer, saying stuff at the same time and their weird telepathy and answering each other's - sandwiches (that's what I was gonna say).

(sorry)

And if any of you say work wife I will rage cause let me catch my man laying under a table like that!!!

Sparta!

But for real, yes there's intimacy and friendship and all that but I ain't everr look at my friends of either gender like that.

If did I probably had feelings and just kept em in. And did the Carmy puppy eyes (TM).

And yes we are aware Carmy is emotionally constipated like a coke bottle filled with mentos with a tight cap on and his lack of a social life coupled with his (many) different mental illnesses/difficulties.

So he probably doesn't even recognize or even want to recognize them as such and honestly as a 4 lifer

I'm really sad but I don't think he'll confess in the next season.

I'm making a post about it but I'm also uncertain about it lasting more than three seasons as thematically and the way it was intended to be a movie I feel kind of uncertain.

It can extend to 4 but it was intended and the way it's narratively been flowing its exactly like a 3 act structure just spread out (like butter).

The next season is after the dark of night aka main character loses everything.

This season was fun and games - quite literally him having amusement and such. (Training Arc!!) It ended with his demise I'd say.

Now there's no where to go but up.

I'm not saying that it's impossible, but a 4th season would likely be more aimed toward getting a star or maintaining a star etc and family ties and such.

That'd be most likely when, if any, outwardly romantic contact should happen.

But they might surprise me.

Butt honestly in KDrama land there's no way the set up isn't romantic even if it was just a chef or professional focused show.

I'd say it'd be standard honestly for ones focused on career with a dash of romance.

Ex. Miss Hammurabi (best example)

The Good Doctor (Japanese Version)

There's probably more but I exclusively watch romance so 🤷🏾‍♀️.

In Conclusion,

Yes. They are end game.

I also wanna say how odd it is that this ship is attacked by fans of the show and non fans alike because I've literally grew up in the age of Rise of The Brave Tangled Guardians.

There's nothing more random than that time period.

They all dated each other!

Like my guy there's a Tony the Tiger x Grinch fic and don't even get me started on the Onceler selfcest as different flavors of himself (/j i love stuff like this)!

My point is it's not that unusual for the two leads to be shipped. Same gender or not.

I also have years of teenage brain rot developed from eating movies for breakfast so I know more than you! (/hj) I'm obviously right!

I will be discussing some more of this in length at a later date.

But I rest my case.

I will retreat into my cave until next time.

[davekat-sucks]

Re: the Lost In Translation fanart, it makes an interesting point that is fun to explore (ie how Earth C’s perception of the beta kids is so wildly different from who they truly are and the conflict that creates) but only points out the surface level ways the public that literally worships them are wrong (race and gender), and doesn’t dive deeper into the much more interesting questions it leads to.

That being said, I also feel like the follow-up they did where June says “what do I say to them? I’m not white?” Is an annoyingly literal take on their original depictions. I feel like the hs characters are less white coded (bar a few characters like Dave) and more just Very American because Hussie is Very American.

Someone from a diaspora like me, for example, wouldn’t have much of any immediate indication that I’m Armenian other than my appearance since I’m culturally American (like the hs kids). Am I suddenly lost in translation, just because I don’t speak my father’s mother tongue, or eat dolma every day? Is Jade suddenly not [insert race/ethnicity here] because she talks like an American bc she grew up on the Internet/talking to the other Beta kids? Much like the story being set in 2009 is important in informing the reader of the cultural context, so is the fact that the author is writing culturally American characters regardless of what their intended ethnicity is.

Idk it just seems silly to take an obvious stylistic choice made to save time and use it as an emblem of white washing when 1.all races are valid hc for the kids and 2. Just because a character talks like what you think a white American talks like doesn’t necessarily mean they’re white coded, just American.

Anyways my point is the artist had some good points but ultimately kinda makes a mountain out of a molehill

I wonder if you tell that to the artist, will they block you for it. But I also think it makes some weird implications that they did not address or really think deeply about like how said interpretation came from the Carapacians, literal chess people who have two skin tones. Were the kids only depicted white because the Prospitians won the won, thus Dersites must give in? Don't forget as well that Wayward Vagabond was among them, who revolted against monarchy and his people being part of it. Does that mean Wayward Vagabond was fine letting them depict the people as this? Even if he was """"""""close"""""""" to someone like Dave Strider (who the fuck is John Egbert? Exile? The fuck was that?) Fanarts and interpretations can carry a lot more meaning if one looks deeper. Ex: Making Eridan trans. People will forget the fact said character was killed off in the story. Does that mean they are fine with a trans character dying in the narrative, no matter the reason? What about making Jane fat? Isn't that just validating Caliborn's insults when he kept saying that to make her feel awful? Does that mean the sexist Cherub was right and was all along validating her appearance?

[lobster-tales]

Beat the Daylight

Sequel to Face the Noise, an Arcane Rock Band AU

Rating: M

Chapter 10: The Studio

Summary: The bands make changes for next round | Viktor opens up

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fissurefolk should have been celebrating their victory, but Finn spent the next practice acting like they lost.

“That was sloppy,” he said with a scowl. “Sevika, you were off tempo on the third song. Clean it up.”

She scoffed. “I was only off because Jinx was off.”

“That was on purpose,” Jinx said, twirling her butterfly knife in her hands. “It’s a stylistic choice.”

Viktor added, “There’s actually a word for it: rubato. It means ‘stolen time’.”

“See?” Jinx pointed to him. “I’m a fucking virtuoso.”

Finn interrupted, “You’re a disaster, that’s what you are. You almost crashed into me four times during the set. If you’re going to dance, do it on your side of the stage.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “What’s up your ass, Finn? Did you miss the part where we won?”

“I told you, I have high standards.” He hoisted the guitar strap over his head. “Now get up.” He nodded to Margot, who was working behind the glass of the control room. “Margot printed new chord sheets. We’re going through as many as possible today.”

Hours later, when practice ended, Jinx threw on a big coat and headed to the door, eager to jump in the car with Viktor and escape to her studio together. But a soft voice stopped her.

“Hey.” Margot was leaning against the door frame of the control room. “I feel like we haven’t really hung out in a while. How are you?”

She was so unassuming, but Jinx knew better than to let her guard down. “Good. You?”

“Good. Busy, but good.” Margot considered her. “Where you headed?”

“My studio.”

“Alone?”

Is that what this was about? Jinx picked her answer carefully. “I guess. I think Viktor needed a ride.”

“Right… I’ve noticed you guys ride together. A lot.”

“Yeah, well we both live at the fucking hotel.” Jinx didn’t mean to get so defensive. Her tone had bitten too hard, and Margot sensed that she was hiding something.

Margot was gentle, but firm. “Of course. But it seems like you never just drop him off. You both always get home… late.”

Ohhhhhh. “Ew, we’re not fucking, Margot,” Jinx gagged. “Gross.”

Relief flashed in Margot’s eyes, but she still held her ground. “But you are spending a lot of time together.”

It wasn’t a question, and even if it was, Jinx wouldn’t answer anyway.

Margot cleared her throat. “Look, I’m glad you have a new friend, Jinx, especially considering how busy the rest of us are. But you were the one who suspected Viktor the most, and with good reason. I mean, you were right: it’s too convenient to be a coincidence. That’s why we’re so surprised you’re spending that much time with him.”

We. So Silco did put her up to this. Jinx felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Fishbones was in her studio for surveillance. She knew the glassy stuffed animal eyes had hidden cameras. Silco had been watching them, this entire time. But only in the studio: at least he hadn’t seen her sleep in Viktor’s room. Unless a member of his hotel staff saw her leave Viktor’s room hours later.

Paranoia set her hands to shaking, but she stuffed them into her coat pockets to hide it. She had to calm down. Silco hadn’t approached her yet, which meant that so far, she hadn’t done anything wrong. And if he did confront her…

“Well,” she shrugged. “You know what they say. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer.”

Margot wanted to say more, clearly. She was hard to read sometimes, always towing the line of diplomacy and deceit. But she said simply, “I just want to make sure you’re being careful.”

“Ha!” Good thing the studio was already empty. Lightning flickered along Jinx’s nervous system, eliciting a sudden rage. “That is so fucking rich, Margot.”

She was still, waiting for Jinx’s reaction. “What is?”

“You’re the one who brought me to all those night clubs. How many shots have we done together, Margot? How many lines? You sure didn’t give a shit about my safety when we’d go out partying, and now you want to act all high and mighty now that I’m doing at-home espionage?”

Her expression was… sad, but Jinx couldn’t tell if it was a performative sorrow or not. “I was always in control,” Margot murmured. “You were never in any danger.”

“And I’m not in danger now. I know what I’m doing. And you can stop pretending that you care.”

Margot closed her eyes, breathing deeply. If this was an act, she deserved an award. “I… I’m sorry, Jinx. I do trust you. I know you know what’s really at stake here, and you would never do anything to jeopardize what we stand for.”

An itch of guilt. Jinx was so wrapped up in the band, she kept forgetting about her inheritance, that this whole thing had a higher purpose. So much had changed so quickly. She hadn’t even considered what would happen after the contest. Would Viktor stick around, become one of Silco’s scientists? Would Lux return back home with her swoopy hair boyfriend?

It was too overwhelming to think about now. She had to focus on the present. Viktor was waiting for her in the car, she had a call scheduled with Lux later tonight. She could put off her destiny for another day.

“Good,” Jinx said. “I’ll see you later.”

When she turned away, Margot’s soft voice followed her. “And this might be hard to believe,” she whispered. “But I do care.”

Jinx didn’t respond, just let the studio door close behind her.

                                                       ☆ ☆ ☆                                                        

The first few practices after Progress Day’s debut performance were rough. The tension between Vi and Ezreal hung heavy in the air, and the overall discouragement was affecting their sound quality.

After a few listless rehearsals, Ekko finally put his foot down. “Alright,” he said, addressing everyone. “That’s enough. Let’s get it out in the open. Ez, that was a shitty thing you did.”

Ezreal muttered, “I apologized already.”

Vi scoffed. “That was barely an apology.”

“Well it’s hard to be sincere when you’re attacking me.”

“Well maybe if you respected people’s boundaries, you wouldn’t get attacked.”

Ekko said, “Enough. Ez, apologize. For real this time.”

Ezreal shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. A small nod from Jayce encouraged him, and he said, “Vi, I’m sorry for overstepping your boundaries. I won’t do that again.”

She wasn’t completely satisfied, but still said, “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“Alright, that’s done,” said Ekko. “Next order of business. We tried once, we failed once. So the question is,” He swept his gaze over the room. “What are we going to do about it?”

A few feet shuffled. Lux finally said, “I liked their outfits. They looked more like… well, rockstars. Compared to us. No offense or anything.”

Ekko pointed to her appreciatively. “Yeah, good one. We need more of a look.”

“Agreed,” said Vi, and Jayce nodded.

“Eh, I don’t know,” Ezreal said. “I think our look is more wholesome. Makes us stand out from them.”

“Then what do you suggest we do differently?” Ekko asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Ezreal nodded towards Lux. “I think you should let Lux sing a few songs.”

She gasped as all eyes landed on her. “Wh-what?”

“Come on, babe,” Ezreal prompted. “You have an amazing voice.”

“But- but so does Ekko! And Vi…”

Jayce asked, “Do you want to sing, Lux?”

But Ezreal chimed in, “Of course she does, she’s amazing. You should hear her.”

Vi’s voice was patient. “He didn’t ask you.”

“It’s okay!” Lux said, trying to keep the peace. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind singing, if you’re both okay with that?”

“Sure,” Ekko said. “You mind if we hear a sample?”

The room went quiet. Lux asked permission from everyone’s faces, standing when she felt sure.

La la-la La la-la la-la

She cleared her throat. “S-sorry, I’m not totally warmed up yet.”

“That’s okay,” Jayce said with a grin. “Keep going.”

Lux took a deep breath, and sang,

Gales of song Guide me through the storm

She collected herself, slowly getting into the rhythm of the song.

On the wings of a small, simple melody Words take flight and soar They carry me, a world we'll see Looking for a farewell, I pull the threads A life without you I cannot accept I can't tell that lie, I can't let go

With each line, her confidence increased. Her voice rose and fell, a breathy soprano that could be surprisingly powerful. As the song crescendoed, so did Lux, her eyes closed as she breathed in the music, a smile playing on her lips.

I walk alone, there's more to life I have to know It's just me, lost so far away from home Alone I shut myself in Still the winds howl, they call and their voices lead me Gales of song, guide me through the storm

Her voice rose on the final notes, carrying them effortlessly.

Let the melody lift me hiiiiiiiiiigh, I'll be meeeee

They all just stared at her, mouths agape. Lux squirmed. “Um, was that okay?”

Vi breathed, “What the fuck, Lux.”

The boys made noises of approval. Jayce said, “You’ve been holding out on us, Crownguard.”

“Told ya,” Ez crossed his arms triumphantly.

Ekko was already planning, coming up with different songs for her to sing. “You know, you’d have a good voice for like gothy, ethereal metal. If you’d be down.”

“Metal?” Ez scoffed. “No way. She’s more of a pop-”

“Ezreal,” Vi said. “Respectfully, shut the fuck up.” She locked eyes on Lux, ignoring his shocked indignation. “It’s your voice, Lux. What do you want to sing?”

This time, Lux avoided Ezreal’s gaze, focusing instead on the rest of the bandmates. They gave her the space to speak, and when she understood that she was in full control of the situation, she squared her shoulders and said quickly, “I want to sing gothy, ethereal metal!”

Everyone but Ezreal cheered, though he stopped protesting.

“Alright,” Ekko said, placing a hand on her shoulder in comfort. “We got our gameplan. Let’s get to it.”

                                                       ☆ ☆ ☆                                                        

“That’s right, Ezreal,” Jinx murmured. “She’s mine now. And if you ever want to see your little girlfriend again, then you better forfeit the contest. Your choice.”

Her hand lifted a crude doll with swoopy boy band hair. She did a poor impression of Ezreal. “Noooooo! Well, I guess you win, Jinx. You’re just too smart for me.”

She picked up two dolls: one of Lux, and one of herself. Her Lux voice was lighter, more breathy. “Thank you, Jinx! You’re my hero!” She pressed the dolls together and made a “Mwah!” sound.

Back in her normal tone, imitating herself. “Let’s get outta here, Starlight.”

There was movement at the studio door, followed by Viktor’s amused tone, “Am I interrupting?”

Jinx panicked, scooping the dolls under the counter. “N-no!”

“Interesting strategy,” he noted, taking his seat beside her. “Though, I don’t know how effective it will be in practice.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “It’s just my writing process.”

“I have no doubt,” he chuckled under his breath. “Ah, I don’t envy your situation, pupsik. But at least things seem to be going well?”

“Yeah.” She fidgeted with a dial on the soundboard. The conversation with Margot still haunted her. The last few times she had seen Viktor, Jinx was careful to keep it to just work. Especially under the scrutiny of Fishbone's glassy eyes.

She wondered how much Silco was paying attention. He didn’t care about the dolls: she had run through countless situations with them, hypothetical scenarios. Once, verbatim, he had told her he always skipped through that part of the feed, in an attempt to save her from embarrassment. This time would be the same, without a doubt.

But Viktor was different. She told Margot that she was doing at-home espionage, but that wasn’t really true. If she was supposed to be spying, she was doing a shitty job. She didn’t even know what happened between Viktor and Jayce that caused the fallout.

An idea struck her, something Lux had mentioned last night on the phone. Jinx considered him. “So are you and Jayce, like, broken up broken up?”

“We’re not together right now. Why?”

“Well, I’ve heard… and I know it’s none of my business, but a lot of people are saying that he and Medarda are… dating now.”

“Oh, I know,” Viktor said, unbothered. “They were seeing each other when Jayce and I were still together.”

Jinx started. “Wait. He cheated on you?”

“No! No, we had an open relationship. He and Mel have been involved for about a year now.”

“... Is that why you broke up?”

She could practically see the gears turning in his clockwork brain. “The reason was mostly because of… well, work was putting a big strain on our relationship. We had different ideas of how to improve the company. But I can’t deny that she was… a small part of it.”

Fishbones grinned in the corner of her vision. She did feel a little guilty for investigating, but she was also curious for her own reasons. “Because you were jealous?”

“No, not really,” he said. “I’ve always known Jayce was bisexual, and I never felt negatively towards any of our other opportunities, or even when we shared partners.”

“Ew. TMI, Vik.”

“But,” he continued, “Jayce has always approached men and women differently. With men, and especially in my case, he burns hot but it takes a long time for him to catch feelings. But with women, he falls hard and fast. And of course, Mel was the same. Not that I blame him: she is beautiful, and I’m certain that if I was attracted to women in any capacity, then I would be taken with her too.”

To say Mel Medarda was beautiful was an understatement. She was physically attractive, sure, but she was also elegant, diplomatic. The woman could charm a snake. Even Jinx had her celebrity crush phase, in early middle school when Mel first joined the senate. It was a parasocial relationship, of course, one of Jinx's romantic awakenings. The irony that Mel ended up sponsoring Ekko was not lost on her.

Viktor said, “She’s a busy woman, so he made sure he was available any time she was. And because of that, our schedule began to revolve around her’s.” His voice lowered just slightly. “And our home… she felt that our space was messy and disorganized, which it was, but… it was our space. And she took it upon herself to redecorate. I know she had good intentions, but…”

“... but it didn’t feel like home anymore.”

He didn’t say yes, but his sigh did.

“Did you ever talk to him about it?”

“Why would I? She’s our investor. Hextech wouldn’t exist without her. So instead of confronting him, when I saw an opportunity to step away, I took it.” He seemed to realize his own vulnerability, and shrugged it off. “That’s all.”

Jinx tried to think of what to say. People never really opened up to her. Probably because she was so unpredictable, which was fair. But when she came up with a way to talk to him, it was Vi’s voice that guided her words. “But if he doesn’t know, then how is he supposed to fix it?”

Instead of answering, Viktor said, “Perhaps it’s for the best. Jayce has always been more physically affectionate, more emotional. He deserves someone who can meet his needs, someone who is better off, someone… healthy.”

Jinx had felt that pain so many times before. She had fought it off for years after the accident, that feeling of being a burden to her family, that she was just in the way. They were words that she had accepted from herself thousands of times, but now, hearing Viktor say them, she found them unacceptable. “No,” she said. “That’s not true, Vik. You’re not less valuable just because you’re different.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what’s going through Jayce’s head, man,” she said honestly. “But I know that he cares about you. A lot. I didn’t really get a chance to hang out with you guys before… all this… but I know that the way he looked at you…”

She knew what she felt, it was just a matter of collecting it together into a coherent sentence. “Like, for example, Sky. When she was really down bad for you, she always looked at you differently. It was like… she wasn’t seeing you, the real you. It was like she was seeing the person she wanted you to be. But when Jayce looked at you, Vik, he saw you. Like, no offense, but you’re really fucking weird.”

“Thank you,” he said brightly.

“And when Jayce looked at you, he clearly knew you were really fucking weird. But he also really liked that about you. And I remember…” Her cheeks warmed at the thought. “I remember really envying that.”

The words were coming, too fast. The only person she ever shared these thoughts with was Silco, and even then, it had been years since she last said them out loud. “I always felt like Ekko and Vi wanted me to be a certain way, you know? They had this idea of who I should be, and they didn’t want me to be so weird and intense. But ultimately… That's who I am. And that’s why Silco was such a relief. You know, he accepted me, crazy and all.”

Viktor’s expression had dimmed. Probably because she was rambling, getting off track. “What I’m saying is,” she said. “Don’t just assume that Jayce doesn't like you anymore. Obviously right now isn’t the best time with the contest and everything, but when this is all over, just… talk to him. Maybe he’ll surprise you.” She cracked a grin. “And if he doesn’t, his loss.”

Viktor’s smile was thoughtful. “I’m the older one, shouldn’t I be imparting life lessons to you?”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “I can be emotionally intelligent. Sometimes.”

Viktor said, “I… I don’t know what your situation is exactly, with Vi and Ekko. But I think they could surprise you, too.”

Panic laced itself along her spine, though not as intense as usual when Vi and Ekko were brought up. “No,” she said. “No, I can’t. At least… not right now.”

“That’s fine, pupsik.” Viktor made sure not to overstep. “If you need time, you need time. I know I certainly do.”

She watched as he pulled up the recording software. “What does pupsik mean, by the way? You call me that a lot.”

“Eh, it’s like… baby. Or doll.” At her horrified expression, he said quickly, “It’s different! It’s a term of endearment, that’s all.”

She eyed him suspiciously.

“Really, it’s because of your-,” he indicated her hidden stash of dolls under the counter. “Your um… ‘writing process’.”

Her face flared red. “You know what, let’s-let’s get back to work.”

Viktor played the track they’d been working on, listening and altering the beats. Jinx tried to focus, though it was difficult with Fishbones murmuring in her mind. A weakness to exploit. Well done, Jinx.

[morlock-holmes]

@lynettethemadscientist

"I think the issue with AI art is less the “theft” aspect and more the laziness. I could use an AI program to help me write a niche fanfic. Or I could write it myself, which would require time and effort. It would require me to build skills and have dedication. These are all good things that I *should* be striving for, rather than taking the easy way out. Functionally, using AI programs for creative projects is the same as buying a Hostess cake instead of learning how to bake"

When you say "Write it myself" what do you mean? Type it into a computer? Type it on a typewriter? Write it all out by hand? How would you publish it, would you upload it to AO3? Carefully write the whole thing out in black letter caligraphy? Once you write the first copy would you use mechanical reproduction like a scanner and printer or would you only allow hand copies?

Mind, there's no "right" answer here.

I remember taking a comic book course at the local community college about 15 years ago and one of the students asked about using zip-a-tone.

You know how a bunch of manga uses grayscale:

source

When printed, each of those grays is actually a pattern of tiny dots, which are so small that they create the impression of a large block of gray.

Nowadays, and fifteen-years-ago-a-days, you could just scan your art, and use photoshop's fill tool to make those tones.

But prior to the invention of computer image editing software, artists would buy large sheets of what were essentially tape covered in tiny dots, use an xacto knife to cut them manually into the shape of the artwork, and physically paste them on top of their ink drawings.

One of the students wanted to do that instead of using photoshop, and the teacher went,

"Man, I can't stop you but I hated that stuff, it was awkward to use and stuck to the wrong things and all the little scrap bits would get everywhere. I remember I'd get in the shower and find pieces stuck to my pubes."

Artists are always reaching back. Why do CGI when I could photograph everything on 32mm film and use an optical printer to make the special effects.

Well, because it's really difficult and awkward, and that's your trade-off.

The thing about the ubiquity of computers is that they are draining the physicality out of the art production process. Zipatone, film cameras, pen and ink, caligraphy, gold leaf, sculpture, optical process shots, cutting film with a razor, shooting ink and paint drawings on an oxberry, these are radically different as physical processes; duplicating any of them on the computer consists mainly in using a mouse, a keyboard, and a wacom tablet.

This is not a trivial difference.

Probably Marshall McLuhan would have said something about it.

Text is exponentially easier to produce than imagery. While I was at work today I composed a little scene in my head:

"The strange girl puts her fingers to her lips and lets out a shrill whistle. Suddenly I see a speck in the sky, rapidly growing. It's traveling so fast I can barely make out what it might be.

I've only just had time to brace myself when it crashes into the street in front of me. It's huge, twenty or thirty feet tall, a kind of humanoid robot, or vehicle. It's feet appear to be made out of two monster trucks. Rather than a head, it has what looks to be a long gun, reminiscent of a tank or artillery piece. It has hands, but the fingers of the left one terminate in whirring drill bits, and the fingers of the right terminate in spinning buzzsaws. They make an ungodly racket as the hulking thing slowly steps out of the crater it made when it landed."

It took me about, oh, two minutes to write that description of my OC (It's a Warmain shard, if you play Nobilis) and I am extremely confident that this prose at least reaches the level of "workmanlike". It's good enough. Nobody is going to read it and then make fun of my stylistic choices on youtube. If you read it in a light novel you wouldn't stop and think about how amateurish it was.

Making a workmanlike drawing of the same scene would take me literally days, and I'm not sure that I could do it.

On the other hand, I typed this prompt into the Microsoft CoPilot thing that they put on my roommate's computer.

Hi, can you generate an image, shot from a low angle, of a giant robot standing in the middle of a city and towering over a human figure. The robot is green, has monster trucks for feet, and a tank turret instead of a head. The fingers on the left hand have drills on the end and the fingers on the right hand have buzzsaws on them.

After about 20 seconds it produced several images. Here's the best:

You will notice that it is wildly off from my prompt; of the eight images I generated this is the only one that put truck cabs on the feet. They are the wrong kind of trucks; they appear to be more like cargo trucks than monster trucks, but this guy has Vehicle Voltron/Dairugger feet, that's a non-negotiable detail.

Anyway, that aside, it is also workmanlike in a way that I would find extremely difficult to reproduce even after years spent bashing my head against visual art with little improvement.

One of the big questions is what happens when these tools begin to improve their responsiveness to prompting? Stablediffusion is less user-friendly and I'm much too tired to get it working properly, but it looks like it could come significantly closer to what I actually described, particularly with some inpainting work.

In the dada spirit I decided to make a prompt from looking at the next few posts on my dash and feeding excerpted phrases chosen at random into an AI image generating model...

And then doing it several more times because a certain word you will probably be able to guess swamped basically everything else in the prompt in a way that I found rather boring.

Here is the most successful image, in my opinion:

This, according to many people, is theft. I would challenge anybody to determine, simply from this image, first of all the exact wording of the prompt, and second of all, which visual artists I "stole" from.

Frankly, I find the idea that the above image inherently constitutes "theft", but that fanart and collage do not inherently constitute theft, just facially absurd.

Second, most of these software are artistically muddled; a semi-random string of words produces a homogenized product heavily weighted towards certain words. Certain parts of a prompt will tend to burn so bright that they blot out everything else about your prompt.

For science, and further demonstration of my point, the other images are below the cut.

[decodedlvr]

Hi! I just felt my autistic sense of justice and played tone police in your comments. Sorry about that, but their behavior as a fellow fanfiction writer was not okay. We have an etiquette, and there are some manners you should have when being part of a fandom.

About your fic: I liked it. It's definitely a different take on Steve since the fandom headcanons him mostly hung like a horse, and you wrote his insecurity and emotion well.

Billy and Tommy are dicks—nothing new. It is definitely behavior I can see them have without it being too out of character.

It's a little short and not finalized, which is expected since it's a series, and this is part one, after all. The wording was very good. The emotions came across. We were thrown into the story and got carried along.

Only thing I’d do is use the “keep reading” feature // :readmore: since it's easier for people coming across your story and/or reblogging it! BUT I am aware that that feature is currently a little buggy, so no biggy!

I also don't like people using ‘’ instead of “” but it is a personal peeve of mine and a question of personal taste and stylistic choice, therefore a me problem, not one for you to worry about.

Please don't let yourself get discouraged by this one person lacking manners, and continue writing. You clearly have a vision of where to take this series.

— Love, Lynn

PS: You do NOT have to respond to this. I just wanted to give you some feedback and apologize for spamming in the comments of your fic.

Hi. I appreciate this, you told me your likes and some constructive criticism, even though you weren’t really criticizing me lol. I thought my idea for the storyline for ole stereotypical king Steve, was pretty good imo🤷🏽‍♀️

I make it very apparent that I’m not a writer( so yes I will have flaws) and yes; I do write short thoughts or mini ideas I have and people seem to like it.

I’m sure some people don’t like reading about how Chrissy would be an evil bitch in fics, because she so sweet in the show right? I don’t make characters to be assholes on purpose. I just do what I do, and yes I like Billy and yes I made Billy a dick.. because he is one? I could have made him like so very very evil but I made it pretty basic.

Also, I never really liked (‘ ‘) either but everytime I made people talk (“””) just felt like so many dots to me. I still haven’t figured out what I like better; but I do get why the ‘ ‘ looks odd. The “keep reading” thing is back and forth for me, idk how to make it always say that :/

My blog is small, any like i get makes me wanna make more but I’m just too lazy to go full on haha. And your comments were spot on btw.

Thank you ❣️ and I love your fics btw too

[ajusnice]

a couple of people have asked how i colour shots that have an awful yellow tint, and it was requested by an anon that i make a tutorial today, so... here we are.

this tutorial will detail on how i remove the yellow tint and touch on my basic colouring, and i’ve tried to make it as concise as possible. it’s aimed towards heavily tinted shots, though you’re welcome to also follow along with shots that are more subtle (you might not find step 3 necessary though). please keep in mind that the more in-depth explanations are only applicable to the example shot i used, and when colouring your own, the settings will be different.

tutorial under the cut, please reblog if you can!

first, let’s start off with our shot. i’m using this one from the beginning of the willow music video:

as you can tell, the entire shot has a pretty heavy filter on it, and looks like an absolute pain to gif. but fear not, because we’re going to tackle that soon.

1. basic colouring to start off, i like to do a very basic colouring, which includes using layers like curves, levels, and brightness/contrast. it’s more of a stylistic choice though most gifmakers would say that they’re pretty essential, and i find that using these helps create more definition and contrast:

we haven’t adjusted much except increased the intensity of the blacks, and you might be wondering, “ace, isn’t this bit a little pointless?” well, even though it doesn’t really adjust the colours or remove the tint, i think the gif wouldn’t look as nice without these layers (i’m also just a sucker for contrast).

2. channel mixer immediately after this, i use channel mixer to help reduce the intensity of the yellow tint (note that i am reducing, not removing).

if you’re not sure how to use channel mixer, i highly recommend looking at kate’s tutorial here; it’s not something i’d want to skip learning, because it’s pretty essential for shots that involve heavy tints. nonetheless, i’ll try to explain what i’m doing throughout.

firstly, i went to the blue channel (as yellow and blue are contrast) and increased the green (+37) and blue (+118). i however decreased the red (-12) to try balance it out a little.

it was now a little too red for me, so i went to the red channel and decreased the red (+91).

and finally, i went to the green channel. i knew i wanted to increase the yellow in anticipation of the next step (which will make things less difficult), and similar to what i did with the blue channel, i increased the green (+115) and blue (+15), balancing this by decreasing the red (-7).

as you can tell, the yellow tint is a lot softer, but still pretty obvious. but don’t worry, in the next step, we’ll remove the yellow tint altogether.

3. hue/saturation this has to be my favourite step of the entire process, simply because the result is so satisfying.

without adjusting any of the other colours, go straight to the yellows and remove all the saturation (-100). it may look a little funny or the brightness may not be as you want it, so adjust the lightness accordingly (i adjusted mine to +64). just look at the difference:

after this, you can adjust the other colours. i increased the saturation in master, and adjusted the reds to help with taylor’s skin tone as it was now too pale.

4. finishing touches now that the yellow tint has been removed, you can continue your colouring (if you need to). the adjustment layers i used were brightness/contrast, selective colour, another hue/saturation layer, and exposure; this created a more vibrant and brighter final product.

and voilà!

i hope that this tutorial will help you. if you have any questions, please feel free to send me an ask.

[ezdotjpg]

If this is ok to ask do you have any tips on coloring art? Yours is amazing :)

thank u!! it's always okay to ask me abt art stuff!! I'm gonna assume that by coloring u also mean shading and rendering too. i have a post here explaining some color theory stuff i utilize a lot, so I won't talk abt that on this post. This, uh, got long......

first thing i’ll say is, if you struggle with color, don’t get too down on yourself. it's a deceptively complicated subject. It's easy to look at other people's art and get discouraged by how effortless they make it look, but chances are there was a considerable amount of effort involved. I still struggle with color, constantly. That being said, some stuff that helps me out is:

1. check your value structure. if your piece is turning out muddy or lacking depth, sometimes the problem is not necessarily the hues you've chosen, but that there's not enough contrast between lights and darks. I'll usually check this by throwing a black and white gradient map over everything just to see (this isn't a perfectly accurate way to do it, but it at least gives me the gist).

I was taught to thumbnail in 3 tones- black, white and gray. If your background is black, your midground should be gray and your foreground should be white. or any combination thereof, but the point is that they should contrast. These are general ballparks of what range of values each area should stick to. Here are some examples of ones I did in school (these have a bit more than 3 tones bc I do not follow rules lol):

I don't always thumbnail, but I do keep this concept in mind as I color. Basically, it's about making sure the eye knows where to go. In the case of that link piece, the general gist is, where the sunlight hits is the lightest value, shadows are the darkest, and link is mostly midtones where highlights don't hit. It keeps the focus on link and the flower. Even this piece is a little imperfect with the way the boots start to blend into the tree and dirt bc they're too close in both hue and value, but still.

Obviously, it's not value alone that makes the image work- Link's tunic is maybe a bit too dark in the black and white, blending with the tree, but it stands out in the color version bc it's so violently blue.

2. optical mixing!! basically, it's the way that adjacent colors blend to create a new color. It has a lot of uses in painting, but one of the best examples I can give is this Wayne Thiebaud painting:

Look closely at the edges. Look at the hints of bright red, magenta, blue, and green peeking through where they don't necessarily belong. you don't notice them at first, right? they blend in and aid in the overall light quality of the piece. they add life. they tie the palette together. that's one use of optical mixing! Wayne Thiebaud's paintings in general are great to study for this.

For a less perfect example, here are some places in my own painting where I use this. Look at where I place bright reds, blues, desaturated greens, etc. You can also achieve this effect by setting your background layer to a bright color, and letting it peek through (like an underpainting!) 

Optical mixing is also related to the concept of avoiding overblending. I struggled with this so much lol. It's okay for your shadows and highlights to have hard edges. it's desirable even, because cutting them in the correct shapes can go a long way in describing form. All of this, of course, is a stylistic choice i prefer, and you can apply it however you like

4. make limited, intentional color choices. You don't always need the entire color wheel. Like i've said before, an apple doesn't have to actually be colored true red to read as red. Decide what tone and mood you want your piece to have, pick a general range of colors that reflect that, and try to stay within that range.

Like, this is a silly example lmao, but in this piece, everything is between yellow, orange, and blue-green. saturation and value varies, but the hues generally stay in that ballpark. it keeps things harmonious! if you color picked say, wild's skin, it'd be way too aggressively orange to be a real skin tone. but it works in context, because there's not a more accurate true-to-life color in the palette to compare it to. your brain just accepts it. This lends to the sense of warmth in the piece.

5. In digital painting, don't be ashamed of using gradient maps, overlays, etc. All of the above info can help minimize a reliance on them, but they're still helpful tools! I use them all the time for final tweaks and lighting effects. my personal secret is grabbing a bright yellow or orange, getting a big giant airbrush brush, setting the layer to add/glow (i use clip studio, not sure the photoshop equivalent) and just very lightly painting it in the direction the light is coming from. i'll turn down the opacity if its still too strong even with a light hand, because the add/glow layer can just shoot things to overexposed white really quick. It creates a nice glowy lighting effect :-)

6. this is gonna sound like total garbage, but, just, look at stuff. like, seriously, put on your artist hat in every day life and observe things. take careful note in your mind of what color shadows are, what shape highlights take on different materials, how objects change color when lighting conditions change. do some studies, from real life or from photograph. studies don't have to be perfect- just try to block in basic shapes and colors, and zoom out to check whether it's creating the right overall effect.

hope some of this is helpful!!

[missluckycharms]

These small moments.

Single Dad!Harry and his little love, Honey.

Summary: mornings with Honey are Harrys favourite, small chats with blurry eyes and lazy smiles is what makes him feel closer to his little lady.

A/N: ahhh they’re so 🥺 enjoy !!

Click *** for visuals throughout the story.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff and dad jokes.

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist.

It’s nearly seven in the morning.

The sunrise shining through the windows and casting a bright warm hue onto Harry’s sleeping body in his bed. The white sheets tossed about and his head buried in the pillow, his cheek smushed to up and his lips slightly parted letting out small snores.

The only sound throughout the whole house is the sound of birds chirping about outside and the engines of cars on their way down the roads, the morning rush nearly upon the streets as people make their way to their nine till five jobs. The house has a slight breeze throughout due to Harry always sleeping with his window cracked open, and his door cracked open also to allow honey to walk in when she needed her Papa.

Speaking of the little love, she’s already awake, in her own small pink coloured bed, many pillows around her and her stuffies lined up against the wall, her favourite stuffie in her hand — Pascal from Tangled is her favourite stuffie, she brings him everywhere, even sneaks him into school in her back pack when Harrys not looking. She does this every morning, she lays in bed and talks to her stuffie or just stares at the ceiling, her glow in the dark stars now white and barely noticeable in the bright room, her pink curtains casting a pink hue around the room.

She waits five minutes before she’s hopping out of her bed and padding along towards her door, she pulls it open as it’s only closed a little, allowing enough of a gap for her small body to fit through. She snuggles pascal as she walks, looking around and noticing her Papa must still be asleep, she immediately darts for his room, peeping her curly head in and looking at his sleeping body, his back facing her and his bed messy as usual, but there’s always enough space for her to snuggle up next to him.

She doesn’t wake him, she tip toes towards the side he’s not laying on, throwing pascal up first before she’s hiking herself up on the large bed, a small groan when she has to put more strength into getting up than usual due to her sleepy state. When she’s up, she brushes the curls from her face with a harsh swipe, her blue doe eyes looking at her Papa, his hair messy like hers. She lays down on the pillow, looking at her Papa as she softly taps his cheek and pushes pascal towards him.

“G’morning button” he grumbles when he hears a small giggle, pascal now on his back as her dimples pop out at how ridiculous the man looks with a small green chameleon stuffie on his bare back. He smiles when he hears her hearty laugh, instantly wrapping his tattooed arm around her and squishing her into his chest.

“Papa! Cant see!” She laughs loudly, her small body being caged by her Dad’s broad muscular one, his own laughs filling the room as she peeps her head up at him, a small pout on her lips which causes him to lean down and peck her lips lightly.

“Have a good sleep? Yeah?” He asks when she nods happily, her small hand playing with his cross necklace as he shuts his eyes for a few more minutes, face buried in her chestnut curls as she talks to him and pascal, Harry never knowing which one she’s actually talking to sometimes.

“Papa? Pancakes now?” She asks after another five minutes, her small attention span running out which causes Harry to wake up from resting his eyes, smile back on his face as he turns them over so he’s laying on his back and Honey is sat on his stomach slapping his chest looking at his tattoos — she loves his tattoos or his “paintings” as she calls them.

“Papa, your pearlies are gone” she says disappointed looking to see that her favourite necklace of his which is his Pearl one, is missing. She loves to run her small hands over it, the feeling and look of it making her eyes wide in awe at the beauty of it.

“Should I wear them today?” He asks with a smile, watching as she rubs her eyes a little, slowly waking herself up as she lets out a small yawn, her small pouty lips returning as she babbles on nonsense as Harry tries to tame her hair a little before he has to style it for her today.

“Love your pearlies Papa” she says brightly, laying down on his chest, her curls tickling his chin as he wraps and arm around her back, rubbing small circles on it as she relaxes a little, her small body still trying to wake up as Harry softly kisses her head.

It’s when his alarm rings when the two actually peel themselves from bed, Honey immediately springing up and slapping his phone to turn off the sound, it’s her favourite thing to do for some reason, she always shouts “I did it Papa!” Which makes him laugh and nod kissing her head proudly. They’re both in the kitchen now, the early start allowing them to lounge about in their comfy clothes for awhile while they make breakfast. Harry is only in a pair of grey joggers while Honey sits on the counter, helping him add in flour and sugar to the pancake batter in her baby pink bunny printed silk pyjama set *** the darker complexion of her skin standing out against the pale pink, Harry was overjoyed when he seen she had the same skin tone as her Mum, her darker skin causing her blue eyes to be brighter.

“Wanna help crack an egg button? Need t’be careful though, don’t want crunch pancakes now do we?” He asks with a grin as she pulls a disgusted face shaking her head. Her small palm helps her Papa’s hand crack the egg and she giggles watching it plop down into the dry mixture.

They scarf down their banana pancakes through small chats and giggles, Harry cracking his usual jokes that have Honey giggling loudly as she shovelled her pancakes into her mouth, their faces hurting from laughing by the time they’re up in her bedroom, Harry standing at her drawers, holding up small outfits as Honey sits like the diva she is on her bed, giving him a thumbs down when she doesn’t like an outfit he picks. She’s so stubborn, but she gets that from him.

“I do it Papa!” She says annoyed now, marching over to him as she picks her up with a laugh, her small hands rooting about until she pulls out a white cable knit jumper with a few frills on the sleeves and a baby pink velvet pinafore to go over it. She smiles up at him as he nods, happy with her choice. ***

“Did good button, need to put some tights on you though, getting a bit nippy out” he says as she nods, walking towards her sock drawer and pulling out some white knitted tights with an smile as Harry gives her a thumbs up, causing her to laugh loudly.

“Why Papa shave?” She asks sitting on the sink, her small outfit on her and her brown boots swinging on her feet as she dangles them off the counter beside the sink watching as Harry applies his shaving foam and wets his razor under the water, he’s still shirtless and only in his joggers as Honey watches on — she loves watching him, when he’s shaving his face or when he’s cooking, even when he does something a small as put her DVD in the player, she’s fascinated by him and Harry thinks it’s because he’s all she has, and he doesn’t mind being the centre of her attention as she is his.

“Papa has hair on his face, sometimes it gets itchy when it lets long. You don’t like it sure you don’t, always complaining it tickles when I kiss ya” he says with a laugh, his hand gliding the razor over his face as he inspects himself in the mirror, trying not to nick himself as Honey watches on curiously.

“Yuck! Hate Papas beard, gross!” She says as Harry looks at her, his face shaven and the foam gone, he picks up his curl cream and scrunches it through his hair a little.

“S’not nice to say gross button, remember? Cant say things are gross” he warns her, her small face falling but nodding as she takes the small scolding from her Papa, he rarely scolds her and when he does, he feels guilty but he knows it’s for her own good. Apart from a few slip ups here and there, she’s the most well mannered toddler ever, everyone that meets her complements Harry on his good parenting which means so much to him due to what he’s been through to get to where he is now.

It’s another few minutes before Harry is fully dressed, a baby blue striped grey suit *** on his body and his usual gucci heeled boots that Honey loves the sound of, she instantly perks up at the sound knowing her Papa is near. She claps when he walks out from the bathroom, it’s her new thing, she claps like he’s putting on a fashion show, causing him to strike a pose which causes her to fall back onto the bed in fits of laughter.

“Alright button, hair time!” He says as she widens her eyes, trying to wriggle off his bed and run away. She hates her hair being combed due to her curls being unruly and always tangled on her head. He grabs her and makes monster noises at her, tickling her belly as she screams out a laugh, nearly falling from his arms as he places her down on the counter by the sink, she spins around and watches herself in the mirror.

“What are we going for today Miss Styles?” He asks her like a professional hair stylist, her smile wide as she grabs a pink hair tie with small butterfly clips also, she shows them to him in the mirror as he smiles, taking her hair brush and de tangling spray. He struggles a little but he gets there in the end, her hair tied up in a pony tail and the small butterfly clips all around her head as she smiles brightly at herself.

“Did good job Papa!” She says clapping her hands, seeing how her Dad is improving, he’s been watching tutorials nightly and even trying some on himself as he gets used to braiding and all that stuff for when she starts asking for more complex styles in her curly hair.

He packs her bag and they’re both out the door quickly, he straps her into her booster seat in his black Range Rover, her legs dangling about as she rings and dances to the song on the radio, Harry keeping his eyes on the road but they flicker to hers in the rear view mirror when she speaks to him. Honey loves school, she loves her teacher and she loves making new friends due to her out going personality that she definitely got from her Mum, she could make friends with a tree if she was near one.

She’s holding his hand as he walks her in the gates, the other kids all lining up on their designated class spot on the ground, a yellow circle painted on the tarmac signalling the younger class. The Mums are all there with their kids, the odd few Dads there also but it’s always the Mums who are smiling and speaking to Harry as they watch their kids walk into their classroom, small hands waving as they excitedly march into the school. He doesn’t stay long after she’s gone in, mainly because the Mums have no filter and would publicly flirt with the single Dad even when they have wedding bands on their fingers.

He brushes off all the women, smiling at them as he runs out the gate, hearing them all whisper amongst themselves as they excitedly look on as he pulls away in his expensive car heading towards his work building. Harry feels empty when Honey is gone, he loves mornings with her, just him and her going about their mornings, making breakfast and cracking up at jokes they tell one another back and forth over banana pancakes every morning, some mornings they have cereal if they wake up late and sometimes if they wake up extra early and can’t go back asleep, they get ready and Harry brings her out for breakfast before dropping her off at school.

It’s the little moments with Honey that Harry cherishes, knowing she won’t be his little love for very long, but doesn’t think about that. He lives in the present with her and he loves how they are now, he loves his little lady with all his heart.

[loliwrites]

i watched the northman the other night and alex’s performance was amazing. i couldn’t help but thinking of addi watching it for the first time and being so proud of him. i love the thought of him expecting to dom the hell out of her but she’s so revved up that she just rides him for every inch of his life. he probably even has to grab her face and tell her to calm down because she’s getting so worked up and slipping a bit. 👀

yesssss hunni. What'd you think about the movie as a whole? I have some ✨thoughts✨ on it, and I think all my less than stellar thoughts come from stylistic choices made and not so much that I thought it was a bad movie (it wasn't. It was certainly entertaining).

The beauty and the curse of the Northman premiere was that although she'd get to see Alex's Northman body on screen, he was no longer rocking it. Walking the red carpet, he looked like good ol' Alexander and not monolithic like he had for the filming of it. She'd certainly heard a lot about the movie; particularly the physical and psychological toll it was taking on her own big viking. But upon seeing it on a massive screen, with him looking bigger than ever, she found that she was overwhelmed with desire for him. That's how they get to what transpires that night.

They'd spent two and a half hours, in a dark theater, with Addi watching him huge and meaty as all hell, and him knowing that she's watching him like that. In his head, he thought he'd get total submission from her tonight. Only, they get home and she all but shoves him into the living room. He goes stumbling backwards, grasping for her, but she dodges his advances; hands immediately going for his belt.

"Put your hands on top of your head," she demands.

At first, he's not sure why he complies so readily, but he does. "What do you want me to do?"

She switches her gaze up to him while she pushes his pants and underwear down. "Nothing," keeping his gaze, she starts to sink to her knees, "I don't want you to do anything, Alexander."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip the moment she wraps her lips around him. He looks up at the ceiling, already hating this task... this task of not doing anything, not touching anything. He all but chokes on his breath when he glances back down at her; her head rocking back and forth to get his member deeper into her mouth. Then she flicks her eyes up at him, and with a smirk, she tilts her head backward and lets his shaft slide along her tongue.

“So good, little--” he mutters, lowering his hands from his head to place them to the back of hers.

But the moment she sees the motion, she pulls her mouth off of him. With now just her hand keeping him pleasantly distracted, he groans.

“Hands on your head,”

He shakes his head once, muscles flexing when she gives his tip a gentle suck. “Slugger,”

“Be a good boy and put your hands on your head,”

He growls under his breath but obeys nonetheless, and Addi gets back to more than enthusiastic head. To the point that Alex can’t even look at her. He keeps begging her to slow down... to give him a goddamn second to just catch his breath... but all that succeeds in doing is getting her to take him a little bit more. A bit deeper. He looks at the ceiling again and grits his teeth. She’s on a war path tonight. Made even more evident when Alex moans out, “I’m gonna come, kid,” and instead of allowing him to finish like her ministrations were meant to, she pulls her lips off of him.

Chest heaving, he can’t think of anything to say -- he’s completely dumbfounded. So much so that she pushes on his chest and he stumbles a couple steps backward.

“Take off your shirt and sit down,” she utters while simultaneously stripping herself from her clothes. Usually he likes the act to be done slowly; to revel in the sight of her being freed from her clothes. But her behavior is bussiness-like. Even her tone is matter-of-fact. All he knows is that he’s got a throbbing hard-on and is going to do anything to get a release. Even if that means ebbing with her flow.

No sooner than he’s sat back on the couch, Addi licks her fingers, gives her slit a quick swipe and sits on his lap, sheathing him inside her completely. A guttural moan tears through Alex’s body and he’s only half-aware that while that sort of move would’ve normally warranted a noise (any sort of noise) from Addi, she’s pretty much quiet. His hands migrate to her hips on instinct, but again, she grabs his wrists and tugs them off of her.

She forces his arms out to the side, pinning his wrists to the back of the couch while she lifts herself up off him, then slams her hips back down. “Not so big and tough now, are you, Northman?”

He swallows back another moan and glances up at the tiny woman on top of him. He’s not afraid, but he’s definitely growing more concerned with each of her movements. If she’s enjoying it at all, it’s pretty lost on him. There aren’t any moans, whimpers, screams, etc. coming from her, and her expression... well that doesn’t look anything more than determined. She slams her hips back on his, and the sheer force of it... this angle isn’t the most comfortable for her on a normal night because he’s just a bit too big. A bit too much for her body to take in its entirety. And yet, she’s forcing him balls deep in her and circling her hips with him in her to the hilt. It feels amazing for him. Beyond amazing. If he wasn’t so in his head about what was going on, he probably would’ve already shot his load.

With a particularly rough thrust of her coming down on him, Alex lets out an animalistic growl. He shoots his gaze up to Addi to find that her eyes look sort of glassy. Unfocused. There’s a bit of a sense of autopilot. But he also finds that her eyes are tearing up, and he’s not shocked by that. She’s got to be putting herself in some pain, riding him this hard. It’s when she does it again that he overpowers her hold on his arms.

He reaches up and cradles her head in his hands, forcing her eyes to his. “Hey, hey, kid...” she tries to slam her hips on his again, but Alex follows his hips with hers, making the impact as shallow as possible. “C’mon. Cool it, kid,”

It’s an instantaneous flip of a switch. He sees it. Her eyes focus in on his, her pupils dilate until her iris is barely visible. And as consciousness seeps back into her being, the tears that had been welling up in her eyes start to fall. She whimpers in discomfort and her chest begins heaving, on borderline panic.

Alex places his hands on her ass and lifts her up, off of him. He winces through the clenching of her muscles around him. Once separated, Alex brings her in to his chest. He sets one hand in her hair, stroking gently, while the other stays rooted at her chest, trying to align their breathing. “You’re good, little one,”

“Alexander,” she whimpers and nuzzles herself as close to his body as she can get.

He frowns and presses his lips to the top of her head, “I know.” He tilts his head to the side to look at her, “was that a little painful?” She nods against his chest and lets out another soft whimper. Noticing her breath has mostly evened out, he lowers his hand from her chest to her hips, quickly feeling her entire body tense up. “Can I touch? Make it feel a little better?”

Addi lets out a breathy hmph and nods her head. But Alex isn’t quick to start moving his hand, so she looks up at him. He’s waiting for something a little more substantial answer. She turns her head into the crook of his neck. “You can touch,” she whispers.

Alex kisses the side of her head again and drops his hand to her core; the tip of his middle finger making contact with her swollen bud. Her body jerks into his at first touch before settling in his arms. That’s how she gets off that night; cradled in his arms, their foreheads pressed together. Her whimpers turn into ones of pleasure. And afterwards, she all but scrambles to her knees in front of the couch and begs him to let her finish him off, too. He’s hesitant to allow her but she’s nothing if not persistent. And the more she begs for it, the more he starts to believe that it’ll put her in a better headspace -- to know she’s gotten him to finish and that she’s good enough to do so.

[secondhand-trash]

Put a Ring on It

A/N: I started it with the intention of writing a thirst post but it ended up being 1.7k of pure fluff lmao

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Description: Miya Atsumu had a thing for wearing rings.

Word count: 1772

-

Miya Atsumu had a thing for wearing rings.

Maybe it was how he thought that they made his hands looked bigger, or how the accents never failed to draw even more attention to his slender fingers. Likely, it was just the way how most teenage boys went through a phase of wanting to look stylish and edgy without really bothering to look into having an actual style of their own, resulting in him halting a baggy t-shirt, cargo pants and an unnecessary amount of rings as the peak of men’s fashion. You had your own thoughts on how he was so determined to slip a ring or two into whatever he was wearing whenever he was out of his uniform. You made fun of his sense of fashion none stop, pointing to his bleached hair that has faded from the gold it was supposed to be into a sharp yellow and cheap chunky jewelry as the main culprit.

“You look like a delinquent who smokes cheap cigarettes in parks after school.”

You sniggered when he let out an offended ‘huh’. His chunky silver rings that had obnoxiously prominent carvings on the side brushed dug into the gap between your fingers as he squeezed your hand tighter when he snapped towards your direction. Your free hand, the one that wasn’t in a lock hold by his ring clad one, reached out to brush away his side-swooped bangs. His hair was fried from the boxed bleach he used regularly but as a side perk, the dryness did add to the volume of his hair.

He stood there still as you carefully pushed his hair back, his upper body leaning towards your direction just a little so you didn’t have to struggle to reach him despite his initial protests. You were messing with his hair and he was looking at you, only at you, with his fingers still linked with yours even though you always complained about his rings making it hard for you to hold his hand.

You finally pulled back and your gaze dropped from his bangs to his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when you met his eyes and they were full of you.

You cursed your weak heart for its sudden moment of swooning when he stood back up straight and his ring scratched against the inside of your finger.

You sighed, “You are so lucky you have a nice face so that people will be too caught up to notice how you dressed.”

Atsumu pretended he couldn’t hear the second half of the sentence and decided to focus on how you said he had a nice face instead.

But then you graduated from high school and he slowly started dressing less like a disastrous teenage boy and more like a proper adult. That athlete money did him well and he was finally able to dress the way he wanted to dress without having to turn into a questionable direction because of monetary limits. The baggy pants were gone from his closet, replaced with pants that actually fit his body and elevate things instead of holding back the visual upper hand he was supposed to have because of his physiques. He finally stopped bleaching his own hair after your many years of nagging but you nearly lost your composure when he showed up in front of your door to pick you up with his new hair for the first time.

“I got the stylist to trim my bangs for me,” he said as he ran his hand through the curl sitting at the side of his forehead and you gulped when you realised that his hair was soft enough for fingers to go through them with ease now, “I’m still trying to get used to not having things over my eye.”

“Oh?” you replied, your voice breathy as you tried to calm down your sea of thoughts at the sight of your boyfriend’s new look. 

You were aware that he was good looking, but everything that he was not born with used to be questionable so it balanced things out. Now he was wearing tight-fitted jeans that made his legs look even more toned as if it was even possible, with a white t-shirt that was tugged in loosely. He had a blazer on too, probably because you made him take you somewhere nice in celebration of his first VLeague cheque, but at this point you were almost certain he had that thing on just to drive you insane. 

And his hair, his god damn windswept fluffy no longer bright yellow hair.

“Do you think I should grow it longer?” he asked as he rubbed the tip of his bangs between the pads of his finger. The silver that sat at the bottom of his digits contrasted starkly with the pale gold and it finally dawned upon you that he stopped wearing the cheap rings you used to make fun of him for a while ago. 

Oh dear, now he was actually hot.

“No,” you blurted out, “it looks nicer this way.”

"You think so?” he asked as you forced your legs to move past your door before shutting it behind your back firmly. You had to force yourself to go out before the urge to make him come in could win, or else you would most certainly end up doing things that would make you miss your reservation.

And you had been excited to leech off of his athlete money.

“Yes, yes I do think so,” you said as you grabbed his hand to pull him along with you. 

You groaned in satisfaction when you realised his new rings did not stop you from sliding your fingers between his like the old ones did.

You started having fewer objections towards his choice of accessaries after his general fashion sense shifted for the better. You even started liking the rings after a while, crediting it to him opting for designs with more simplicity. You liked the way the metal was already warm from his heat when he put his hand on your thigh out of nowhere because he was bored, or when he was at the driver’s seat and the pad of his finger drummed against your skin steadily as he waited for the lights to change. The warmth of his hand always brought you security and he was well aware that nothing called your attention to him like it did. You were not even sure if he was aware, but he had a habit of toying with his rings whenever you were neglecting him because you had your attention on something else. The band he was playing with always ended up off his finger and up yours when you were least expecting it, the feeling of his calloused finger holding your hand as he slid it down always managed to call your gaze back to him.

‘What a child,’ you chuckled to yourself when he looked at you innocently like he could not be having any hidden thoughts, his hand still holding onto yours as he held the ring that was too large for your finger from falling down.

So being the child he was, who always couldn’t fathom the thought of letting you leave his side and was equally eager to let the world know he wasn’t leaving yours, it did not surprise you at all when you were tidying up your drawers one day to find a velvet box tugged all the way back into his sock drawer.

You had a feeling it was exactly what you thought it was, and you laughed at the image of him trying to find somewhere to hide it in the house while you were not around.

Of course, leave it up to Miya Atsumu to hide a ring at the back of his sock drawer because he thought it was the one place you wouldn’t look into unless you were left with no choice.

You giggled to yourself and closed the drawer, letting the box stayed right where it was.

You weren’t looking. You wanted to, but you weren’t. Because you knew he would whine to no end if you didn’t look as surprised as he wanted you to be when he finally showed it to you for real.

He still had no clue that you already knew it was coming when he got down on one knee and took the box out of his pocket with shaky hands. He cried when you said yes and you cried when he started crying, even though you had already rehearsed in your head for a million times on how you would say yes ever since you saw the velvet box inside of his sock drawer. 

He was still sobbing when he realised he needed to get up from the ground, wiping his tears away on the sleeve of his very expensive blazer before clumsily taking the ring out of the box to put it on your finger. Miya Atsumu was an ugly crier through and through and you finally admitted to yourself that you were a whipped fool when you still wanted to kiss his stupid face even though his eyes were swollen and he missed your finger a few times before finally getting the ring in.

“Now we match,” he said with a hiccup, laughing but sounding like he was about to break down into another round of tears as soon as the chuckle left his mouth, “you can’t make fun of my rings anymore.”

He was so dumb, and you felt like crying again when he took out an identical ring from his pocket and put it on his own hand. Who the hell does that? You wanted to laugh at him but you couldn’t, because you knew you would start sobbing again if you do that.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, grabbing his hand to steady him because he was shaking and you were sure he might just drop the ring if he kept fidgeting.

He sniffled, grinning ear to ear through his tears when he saw the ring that sat on your finger.

“So?” he said, happily holding your hand in his to look at how perfectly it fits, the rings and your hands, “You can’t get rid of me now, I got the ring to prove it.”

You huffed, but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling when he rubbed his fingers along his engagement ring like he was making sure that it was still there.

You decided that it would be your favourite ring of his until you get to put the wedding band onto his finger yourself.

[tobesolonely]

aura

A/n: Hi everyone! this is a tad bit different from the things i usually write (I think) as i wanted to switch things up a little bit. I’m kinda nervous to post it so pleaseee please let me know your thoughts! As always please enjoy!! thank you to everyone who beta read for me btw :)

summary: witch!y/n can see auras and harry is blue

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N has always been able to easily empathize with others. She could see others' emotional energy— their aura— and this made it easy to know exactly what they were feeling. Not only could she see auras, but she could take away anyone’s emotional turmoil just by touching them.

One of Y/N’s most vivid memories from her childhood was when her best friend came to school one morning in tears over the death of her pet fish. When Y/N leaned in to give her a hug, she felt an overwhelming heaviness overtake her body as soon as they made contact. Upon pulling away from the hug, her friend’s demeanor was completely changed. Instead of being sad over the death of her fish, she was able to instead reflect on all the good times she had with him. Her friend was fine for the rest of the day, but Y/N was left grieving over a fish she never even owned.

Y/N went home that day, confused. How was it that her friend was so easily cheered up just from a hug? Was that all it took for Y/N to make others feel better? If that was the case, she decided she wanted to be a ‘Professional Hugger’ when she grew up. As time went on, Y/N learned that she didn’t even have to hug others to rid them of their mental pain. The slightest touch from her instantly made anyone she came into contact with feel better.

It took a few months for Y/N to realize it was her touch that healed others. Sure, that mental anguish then became hers to carry, but how many people could say they could heal someone just by touching them? If that was the price she had to pay, then so be it. From that point on Y/N made it a point to help anyone she could. 

As Y/N got older and her skill with this power grew, she learned to redirect the painful energy elsewhere so she didn’t always have to sit with it. It worked some of the time, but it was something she was still learning to master. Y/N wasn’t always successful in doing this, though. While whoever Y/N touched went about their day feeling great, she would experience their emotions so intensely that she felt as if she were coming down with a cold. Y/N dealt with it in silence because the way she saw it if she was blessed with this gift, she had to be selfless and put it to good use. Y/N was a firm believer that all the good she put out would come back to her in another life at least ten times over.

It was difficult for Y/N not to touch everyone she saw whose aura reflected sadness, anxiety, or worry. She tried to stick to only doing this to people she knew, but there were some instances where Y/N encountered someone who was just so clearly unhappy that she could not help herself. 

For example, right now. 

Y/N immediately sensed this stranger’s emotional turmoil as soon as they entered the space. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday. Y/N had the longest, most physically demanding day at work and the last thing she wanted to do was go home and cook. Even though she had just gone grocery shopping two days prior, she stopped by her favorite Thai place on the way home. Y/N was in the middle of ordering when their presence quite literally took her breath away, causing her to stumble over her words. 

She turned to look over her shoulder at the person who was so greatly distracting her and locked eyes with the most pitiful looking stranger she’d seen all day. The first thing Y/N noticed about him was his hair. It was unruly, like he had just gotten out of bed. She also noticed how tall he was–– if he had just a couple more inches on him, he would’ve had to crane his neck to enter the establishment. Upon making eye contact with Y/N the man quickly looked down at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs. His aura was a mixture of indigo and dark red when Y/N looked at him. Anger and sensitivity.

“Do you still need a moment?”

The voice of the cashier breaks Y/N out of her analytical thoughts of the stranger standing a few feet behind her. She nods, re-situating her purse on her left shoulder. 

“Uh, please. He can go ahead if he’s ready.” Y/N gestures behind her and the cashier nods, asking the man behind her if he was ready to order yet. He steps up to the front counter, eyes trained on his feet as if he couldn’t walk without watching every step he took. 

His energy was intense and Y/N wasn’t sure how much longer she could ignore it. Something about him was reeling her in— his aura wasn’t looking too bright at the moment, but she could just tell it usually was. She felt compelled to take away his pain, and she hadn’t spoken a single word to him yet. While he was placing his order, Y/N internally debated on whether or not she should “accidentally” graze his arm when they walked past each other. Would that be weird? What if she wasn’t able to redirect his negative energy elsewhere? While she did love to help whenever she could, some people’s emotional baggage was just a little too heavy. She didn’t know him. For all she knew, he could be a killer!

He turns back around once he’s finished ordering and stands by the entrance, out of Y/N’s way. The pair lock eyes again as Y/N makes her way back to the counter to order. Once again, he quickly looked away from her. Y/N’s trying to ignore the annoying nagging feeling she gets when she wants to help someone, but it’s unrelenting. She makes up her mind that once she’s done, she will approach this stranger to get a better read on his emotions. 

“Nice weather we’re having today, isn’t it?” She cringes at her choice of a conversation starter and hopes he doesn’t notice. Y/N folds her hands across her chest, forcing herself not to reach out to him. He nods.

“Lovely.”

The tone of his voice causes Y/N to wince. It was sharp and short. He was clearly not in the mood to converse. Although Y/N knows this, she continues on.

“I love this place. I think I come here at least twice a month–– what’s your go-to order?”

The man turns to fully face Y/N this time, his aura now more red than blue. He was beginning to grow annoyed with her small talk. 

“Green curry and stir-fried vegetables.” He doesn’t ask Y/N for her order, so she takes this as her signal to stop speaking to him. The bell above the door jingles, signaling another persons’ entry. Their aura is shining gold–– Y/N would not have to interfere. 

Y/N moves away from this man, deciding not to speak to him anymore. She was getting better at accepting the fact that no matter how much she wanted to, it was impossible to help everyone. As he collected his food from the front and turned to leave, not sparing Y/N another glance, she silently hoped that whatever was wrong with this man would not last.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry was in a funk. There was no denying it, and he was over feeling so terribly. He hadn’t been feeling like himself for far too long. It seemed like everyone wanted something from him when he had nothing left to give. Jeff had set unrealistic deadlines, his mother was upset with him for not calling enough, and he was exhausted from constantly traveling and waking up in a new time zone. Harry needed a break.

Harry’s mind wandered to the pretty girl in the Thai place. She seemed inquisitive. She was very curious about his go-to order, and she was standing a little too close for his comfort. Harry was surprised when she didn’t ask him for a picture. He wasn’t trying to be cocky, but nearly everyone he met asked him for a picture–– he was Harry Styles. However, it was almost like this girl didn’t know who he was. She didn’t seem starstruck in the slightest.

While Harry was waiting for the light to change, it dawned on him that he may have been a tad bit rude to her. He noticed her happy expression drop when he shut her down, but he didn’t feel like talking. He liked to move from place to place as quickly as he could in the off chance he got recognized and it started circulating on Twitter. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little bad. She was sweet like honey–– or so it seemed. In their brief interaction, she bought him comfort.

Harry wanted to turn back around and go back to the restaurant to check if she was still there. What would be the point, though? She would most likely be long gone by the time he made it back over there, as she did order immediately after him. Harry’s torn out of his thoughts when the cars behind him start honking, and he realizes the light must’ve turned green. He decides not to think about the confrontation anymore. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The world works in mysterious ways. 

Y/N was sure she’d never encounter the grumpy man from her favorite Thai restaurant again but yet here she was in another situation that involved take-out and him. His aura was dark indigo this time. Stress? Isolation? Y/N didn’t know, but she wanted to help him. In her eyes, there was no reason for anyone to be down this badly. She just wanted everyone to be as happy as she (almost) always was! She takes a deep breath before approaching him.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry was absorbed in a text conversation involving his manager and stylist when a sweet, familiar voice interrupts him. 

“I’m okay, thank you. Yourself? Also, we’ve spoken before, I believe.”

She nods, a troubled look on her face. “We have. At the Thai place. How are you, though? Really.”

Harry was beginning to find her a bit strange (but still incredibly gorgeous, even more than he did before now that he got a good look at her face). Why was she so concerned with how he was feeling? Was she going to ask him for a picture or not? As Harry opened his mouth to again tell her he was fine, the desire to tell her how he was really feeling came over him. So he did.

“Honestly? ‘M exhausted. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and my manager wants a lot from me. I think I jus’ need a break.” 

He radiated red. Anxiety? Anger?

“What do you do for work?” Now it was Harry’s turn to wear the troubled look.

“I don’t mean this to be rude, but you’re serious?”

Y/N nods, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. Just as quickly as she touches him she removes her hand, and she’s almost certain he didn’t even feel her touch. She notices him let out a visible sigh of relief, his aura changing from a red to a pale yellow. Optimism. Positivity. This causes her to let out her own sigh of relief. 

“You’re feeling better! That’s great.” Y/N was not able to redirect his negative energy as the restaurant was too crowded and she didn’t want to risk putting it on anyone else, and she was feeling him. He was stressed, overworked, and anxious. Y/N just wanted to go home and nap, no longer in the mood for the food she just ordered.

Harry decided she was definitely odd but in the most endearing way possible. “How do you know I’m feeling better? Wait, am I feeling better?” Y/N watches as he works through his emotions, his aura ranging in color before settling back on pale yellow. 

“Are you?” Y/N knows the answer to this of course, but she wants to hear him say it.

“I think I am. I’ve been feelin’ horrible all week but saying how I felt out loud to you automatically made me feel better. Kind of weird, but I won’t question it. Thank you for asking…,” Harry scrunches his nose, a distasteful expression on his face. “I don’t think ‘ve gotten your name yet.”

Y/N gives him a small, forced smile. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you around, I think.” Before Harry can tell her his name she’s gone.

And she didn’t even grab her food.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N felt like she had been hit by a ton of bricks. How one person could carry around all this emotional baggage was beyond her, but she wanted it gone. Immediately.

There was a spell Y/N kept on hand for times like these. Times when she couldn’t redirect the negative energy before it got to her. Times when it was just too much to carry. Y/N had regretfully done this spell more times than she could count and was an expert at reciting it from memory. The vile was open and ready to capture the negative energy that would shortly be leaving her.

Y/N works quickly to complete the process, unsure of what time her roommate would come barreling through the door. She had caught her doing things she deemed strange one too many times (she thought her roommate almost figured out who she really was when she caught her having a full-on conversation with her cat, Sapphire, once). She was beginning to run out of excuses for her “unusual” behavior. Y/N mutters under her breath, willing the energy to exit her.

She notices right away when it leaves her. She feels lighter— like her usual self again. She guides the energy into the vile and immediately seals it, hurrying into her room to lock it away. Y/N kept a box in her closet that she only opened if she had to. It was her Pandora’s Box, in a way. Nothing bad would be released into the world if she opened the box, but if the viles’ were opened then the bad energy she trapped would be re-released into the world, finding its way back to their original owners.

Y/N feels like she can breathe again once she bolts the box. She hoped that whatever he was doing, wherever this man was, he was still feeling okay. 

Also, for his sake and everyone’s around him, she hoped he got a break.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was on Harry’s mind. 

Something about her was magnetic. He wished he’d gotten more information about her than only her name, but she left him in such a hurry he could hardly process their conversation. Harry felt like a madman! He searched ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ on all social media platforms, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. It was dumb luck that he had ran into her twice in such a short time span, and he hoped good things happened in threes and he would see her again.

He was almost certain that Jeff thought he was losing his mind.

Harry tried explaining his interaction with Y/N first at the Thai food spot and again when he was getting Greek food, but Jeff thought Harry was so sleep deprived he was imagining things. 

“How did you see a beautiful, young woman who didn’t freak out or ask for a picture? Doesn’t make sense. You’re Harry Styles.”

“That’s what I thought!” Harry exclaimed wildly. He holds his phone up. “I’m thinkin’ she really doesn’t know who I am, though. I couldn’t find her on any social media platform. It’s like she’s off the grid or somethin’.”

“No social media at all? A little weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s fitting for her. If you met her then you would understand what I meant,” Harry felt the need to defend this alluring stranger who took away his pain just by listening to him speak. “Look at me, Jeff. Don’t I seem so much better than I was jus’ a few days ago?”

His manager couldn’t deny that Harry’s mood (and attitude) had done a 360. He didn’t complain about being woken up early and he happily consented to do not one, but two interviews.

“I mean, yeah? I guess––”

“Thanks to her!” Harry cuts him off. “I’m telling you. I need to see her again and thank her for whatever she did.”

“How are you going to do that?” 

Harry leaned back against the counter in Jeff’s kitchen, mulling the question over. It was a valid one. How was he going to do that? He already tried to no avail to find her on social media. He hardly knew anything about her. All he knew was her name, that they seemed to have a similar taste in food, and that she went to the Thai spot at least two times a month. 

That was it.

In one last effort to contact Y/N again, Harry planned to go to the Thai food place, pray the cashier who was working when he went in earlier this week was there, and leave his number with her. It was a risky move, probably not the smartest thing he could do, and Jeff would for sure drop him as a client if he knew Harry was doing things like this. Harry didn’t care. Phone numbers could always be changed, and he was desperate. 

If Harry couldn’t contact Y/N, he would wait for her to contact him.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was confused.

She stopped at her favorite Thai food spot (sooner in the month than anticipated, but she had another long day), ordered her usual, and was about to leave when the sweet cashier who was always there insisted she takes the piece of paper with ‘HARRY’ followed by a phone number scrawled on it.

“For me?” Y/N was confused. Something like this had never happened to her before. I mean, does it happen to anyone?

“He insisted,” the cashier warmly responds. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back–– knew you would soon enough.” Y/N’s face flushes at this and she makes a mental note to start cooking more.

“Well…,” Y/N trails off, not sure what to say. “Thank you? I guess I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ve done well.” The cashier’s aura shines pink. Affection. Love.

“You should. Take care!”

Y/N leaves the restaurant with the crumpled piece of paper in her sweaty hands, eager to get home as soon as possible. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something told her not to disregard him. His reaching out was a sign–– and Y/N did not ignore signs.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“She hasn’t called me yet.”

“It’s been five days, Harry. She probably doesn’t eat Thai food every day. I can’t believe you did something so fuckin’ stupid…”

Jeff’s reprimanding fades into the background as Harry drifts off into daydreaming about what it would be like if– when- Y/N finally called him. Would she find him obsessed? What if she thought he was stalking her? Harry decided that when she called, he would immediately clear things up. He’d thank her for her kindness (his trademark) and see how she was doing. She left the Greek food place so abruptly when he last saw her that he was under the impression something was bothering her. Harry wasn’t sure what he could do to help if something was troubling her, but he could at least extend a listening ear to her as she did to him.

“Harry, are you listening?”

“What was that?”

Jeff shakes his head at Harry, an amused expression on his face. “Man, I hope she calls you soon.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The phone rang three times. After the third ring, his gruff voice came through the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

Y/N sharply inhales, suddenly growing nervous. “Is this Harry?” Silence. Y/N was preparing to repeat herself when he spoke again.

“Is this Y/N?”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to be silent. Harry says nothing, awaiting her response. “Well, it is. You sound familiar–– how do we know each other?”

“Now that ’m actually able to talk to you, it sounds a bit silly…” He seems unsure of himself. “Promise y’won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise.”

Y/N says it with such conviction that Harry believes her, and it gives him the confidence he needs to proceed. “I was havin’ a hard time a couple of weeks ago. I was in line to get some falafel and you asked me what was wrong. What was really wrong.” Y/N says nothing, so Harry continues.

“I told you I was exhausted from work ‘nd wanted a break. That’s it, y’know? But I immediately felt better afterward. I’ve actually been feelin’ great ever since. I jus’ wanted to thank you, is all. I know it sounds weird and it’s probably all in m’head but I feel like talkin’ with you was just what I needed.” Harry’s rambling, nerves finally catching up to him. She was gorgeous and he was afraid she would think he was insane. 

“I’m glad to hear you’re still feeling better, Harry. That’s great.” Y/N’s voice is gentle and soft and to Harry, hearing her speak was just as comforting as getting a hug from his mum.

“I’m also really sorry that I was such a dick when you tried talkin’ to me the first time at the Thai spot,'' Harry feels embarrassed, stumbling over his words. “Not sure if you remember but I was just havin’ a shit day. I thought you were gonna ask for a picture and I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything and Harry winces, certain he’s offended her when she starts talking again. 

“That’s okay. I know you were having a bad day.” 

“How did you know I was having a bad day?” Again, Y/N pauses before answering. 

“Well, I didn’t do anything to you for you to be so rude to me. I knew it had to be a problem involving yourself.” Harry notices that Y/N speaks very slowly. It’s as if she considers every word before she speaks. He’s intrigued by her. 

“That is very true.” Y/N doesn’t say anything so Harry takes it as his cue to keep talking. “I’m sorry if me leaving my number at the restaurant creeped you out. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to call me.”

“Not at all. I’ve actually been wondering how you were doing since we had our encounter at the Greek place–– that doesn’t creep you out either, right?”

Y/N was hypnotizing. Harry was infatuated. 

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Course.”

“Why would I want a picture with you?”

Harry had to get to know her.

“Do y’wanna grab coffee sometime?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Something was definitely different about Y/N–– Harry just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. To begin, she truly had absolutely no idea who Harry was. At first, he thought she was just messing with him, but he quickly realized she was being serious. Y/N said she had “heard of” One Direction, but she never listened to the band’s music. Harry supposed that could account for her being unaware as to who he was. Maybe he wasn’t a “household name” like Jeff always said he was. 

Harry was also right about her not having social media. When he asked Y/N why she didn’t use it, she said she preferred to occupy her time with more substantial things. She didn’t elaborate, and Harry didn’t ask. She was however very interested to learn what a big social media following Harry had. He tweeted the word “Do” and they watched as the internet went wild trying to decipher what he meant. He even started trending worldwide for it. It made sense to Y/N after that why Harry was so intent on not taking off his sunglasses and beanie.

Y/N was having a great time analyzing his aura. 

She noticed that whenever someone glanced in their direction, his aura briefly turned red. Anxiety. When Y/N attempted to make a joke, it turned pink (she chose not to analyze that too much). Mainly though, his aura shone that beautiful, pale yellow that Y/N loved to see the most. Harry was doing well. He was happy. Y/N would not have to intervene today.

She couldn’t explain why, but she felt obligated to help him. Even though his energy made her feel so terribly last time, she would’ve still taken away his pain if he was blue without even thinking twice about it. Why was she so drawn to him? Y/N wasn’t sure what it was about Harry that drew her in, but she knew she would do anything to help him. Anything to see him happy.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Harry felt the same way.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N missed Harry terribly.

She wanted to call him–– just a brief conversation to see if he was doing okay. He mentioned when they last saw each other nearly two weeks prior that he was going to be very busy in the coming days, and she wondered if he still was. Harry told Y/N that he loved his job (of course he did!), but being so busy sometimes really hurt him. Not just mentally, but physically as well. 

She longed for him.

Y/N searched through her call list for Harry’s number and immediately tapped it, listening closely as it rang. She was about to end the call in defeat when Harry answered at the last moment.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, under the weather.

“Harry,” Y/N begins. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit and I just wanted to see if all was well. How do you feel?”

“Hi Y/N,” Harry perks up slightly, but he still sounds a bit congested. “‘M not sure if you can tell from m’voice, but I’ve got a cold.”

Although Y/N wishes with every fiber of her being that she could rid Harry of his cold, she cannot. However, she can make sure all is well with his mind. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she pauses for a moment as she usually does, hoping Harry can tell how sincere she’s being on the other end. “How do you feel though? Are you still feeling happy?”

“Jus’ feelin’ not the greatest again. I’ve been stuck in my house with this fuckin’ cold and haven’t seen anyone in days.”

“I can come over.” Y/N doesn’t think twice before offering. If he had to suffer physically, she at least wanted him to feel okay mentally.

“I don’t want to get you sick. It’s okay–”

“I don’t mind, really. I’ll keep you company.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/N’s sure she must’ve creeped him out. They don’t even know each other well and here she was offering to come over to his home and keep him company while he was sick. She’s about to rescind her offer when he lets out a loud sigh.

“My manager might kill me if he finds out I did this… but sure, let me give you my address.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As soon as Harry got off the phone, he sprung into action. His home was a mess. There were crumpled up tissues all over the floor beside his bed, a sink full of dishes, and he’s pretty sure every bathroom in his house was a mess. He opted to not have anyone over to clean up after him as he didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick and man did it show.

He quickly gathered up all the tissues and threw them into the bin in the corner of his bedroom, surveying the rest of the mess before deciding he and Y/N wouldn’t be spending time in there, anyway. He was going to focus on the mess downstairs, instead. He loaded his dishwasher and record time and used disinfectant wipes on every surface he could in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. He then surveyed the bathrooms and cleaned the one with the least amount of mess, closing the doors to the other ones. He would worry about those some other time. 

Harry was nervous to have Y/N over. He was just nervous to be around her in general. He missed her over the past couple of weeks but he opted out of contacting her, terrified that he was a bother. After Harry finished cleaning in record time, it dawned on him that he didn’t really have any food prepared to offer Y/N. If she was coming over to his house just to cheer him up, the least he could do was offer her something to eat. Harry hated doing things like this, but he was desperate. He texted his assistant and asked if they could drop off some food from the Greek place he and Y/N liked, making a mental note to find out what other places she enjoyed eating at for next time.

Y/N gets to his house much sooner than he was anticipating.

He rushes to his front door, looking through the peephole before opening the door. Y/N has a big smile on her face and looks absolutely gorgeous, as she usually does. She has a huge water bottle in one hand and a tote bag with the phases of the moon slung over her shoulder. He’s never seen it before and thinks it’s lovely.

“Hi,” Harry says breathlessly. “Thanks for coming. Uh, come in please.”

Y/N smiles and takes a small step forward, crossing the threshold of Harry’s home. She thought it was incredible–– and rather clean. “What can I do to help?” 

Harry was getting used to Y/N’s straightforward approach to things, so he’s not phased by her question. “Jus’ you bein’ here is great, honestly.”

Y/N can see that Harry’s aura is that deep indigo that she’s not fond of, but she wonders if he can work through it himself before she steps in. “So it’s just your cold that’s got you feeling down? Can we sit down and talk about it?”

“Sure. Also, not sure if you’ve eaten yet or not but I’m gettin’ some food dropped off for us.”

“That sounds great, I haven’t had dinner yet so thank you. Can we sit?” Y/N doesn’t wait for Harry to answer. She makes her way to his plush couch in the adjoining room, walking through the place like she’s been there before. Harry loves it.

“I think I told you the gist of it on the phone earlier,” Harry says, settling onto the couch beside her. He leaves some space in between them since he doesn’t want to risk getting her sick, but he wishes he was closer to her. “I’ve been feelin’ down ‘cause I’ve been stuck in the house with this cold. S’not fun.” Y/N hums in understanding. Harry notices that she reaches out her hand to him slightly and then quickly retracts it, but he doesn’t mention it. Y/N says nothing, just continues looking inquisitively at him. Harry doesn’t feel uncomfortable under her gaze–– he stares back. 

“Something’s making you feel nervous. What is it?”

Harry isn’t surprised that she was able to figure out there was more to what he was feeling than just loneliness. How was he supposed to tell Y/N that she was the reason for his nervousness, though?

“It’s nothing. I promise.”

“I don’t think so.”

Harry scratches the back of his neck nervously. “How are you so good at reading me? S’like you’re inside my brain, Y/N.” He lets out a little chuckle after saying this but quickly stops when he realizes Y/N isn’t laughing along with him.

“You’re just easy to read,” she cooly responds after a second. “Why are you so nervous? Do you have something coming up for work?”

“Not really…” 

“Then what is it? Something going on with someone in your family?” 

Harry was quickly realizing Y/N wouldn’t drop this unless Harry gave her an answer. He silently hopes for the best before answering her. 

“It’s you,” he mumbles, shifting around uncomfortably on his couch. “You make me nervous.” Y/N watches as his aura changes from red and blue to pink, and his cheeks flush slightly. 

“Why do I make you nervous?”

“You just do.”

“Why? Have I done something to hurt you?”

Y/N was so painfully oblivious that it was cute. Harry was quickly realizing that his heart doubled in size every time he talked to her.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” Harry reaches in the pocket of his sweatpants for a tissue, facing away from her while he pauses to blow his nose. “You’re so… you’re jus’ very interesting. Mesmerizing, really.”

Y/N feels her skin heat up at Harry’s compliment. His aura is still shining pink, the brightest pink she’s ever seen since meeting him. She was sad to see there was still quite a bit of indigo and red, though. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

Before Y/N can stop herself, she reaches out to grab Harry’s hand. Immediately she feels his energy transfer to her and without thinking, Y/N flicks her finger out of force of habit. The beautifully potted Pothos that Harry has sitting on his television stand instantly droops, leaves turning brown and wilted. 

Harry’s completely perplexed.

The first thing he notices is that he’s feeling better. Great, even. He feels as good as he felt after the interaction he had with Y/N in the Greek food place all those weeks ago. The next thing he notices is that his gorgeous Pothos, a plant that is nearly impossible to kill, is dead.

And it was all Y/N’s doing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

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