#i have another set in the works for later this week!

[regressionschool]

The corporate boardroom was all polished chrome, sleek wood, and well-dressed professionals sitting attentively as Maya stood before them, flipping through slides on the screen behind her. Her voice was steady, clear, and authoritative, drawing nods and murmurs of approval from several of the senior board members.

“Now, if you look at the Q3 projections,” Maya continued, gesturing to the chart with a steady hand, “you’ll see our growth potential really peaks in the holiday quarter. I’ve adjusted the strategy to—”

She paused, mid-sentence, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. The smallest trickle had just started to soak into the soft fabric of her pull-up, an increasingly familiar feeling. She’d grown used to it during her busy workdays, where stepping out for a break was often the last thing on her mind. And right now, with all eyes on her, the tiny trickle became a small stream, her pull-up warming, swelling subtly, hidden but noticeable to her. Maya took a controlled breath, keeping her composure as her pull-up grew wet.

“The strategy should help us capitalize on current market trends…” She forced herself to keep going, gesturing to the data behind her, even as she felt the soft garment expand against her. Maya kept her voice steady and didn’t skip a beat, but as she scanned the room, she couldn’t help noticing the slight shifting of a few of her colleagues in their seats. Had she caught the faintest whiff of something…? Her confidence rose, just a bit, as she realized she wasn’t the only one there with a little secret.

As Maya continued her presentation, her mind briefly wandered to the board members sitting around the table, each wearing an expression of focused interest, all eyes on her. But one or two of them, the ones in their seats just behind her, seemed slightly uncomfortable. She thought she saw a little wiggle here and there, like they were maybe trying to hide something… and that faint scent in the air made her wonder. She bit her lip, refocusing on her own slide and pushing away any thought of how wet she was becoming. It was, after all, her job to finish the presentation first.

After another fifteen minutes of speaking, Maya wrapped up her final point, ending her presentation with a confident nod. The board members clapped politely, a few exchanging pleased glances with her, clearly impressed.

“Excellent work, Maya,” Mr. Thompson, the CEO, nodded approvingly. “Really stellar. I think you’ve positioned us perfectly for Q4. Let’s talk further about these adjustments next week.”

Maya gave a polite nod, resisting the urge to shift in place as her wet pull-up felt heavy and slightly squishy. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson,” she said, clasping her hands professionally in front of her. “I look forward to it.”

The meeting adjourned, and Maya made her way back to her office to collect her things. By now, her pull-up had cooled against her, and she felt it sag just a bit as she walked. She gave herself a small, confident smile as she slipped into her coat and gathered her laptop, ready to head home to her husband, Evan.

Later that evening, Maya finally relaxed as she closed the front door behind her. She set her things down and called out, “Evan, I’m home!”

Evan appeared around the corner, smiling warmly. “Hey, love. How was the presentation?”

Maya smiled back, letting out a little sigh. “It went well. The board seemed pleased.”

“Of course they were,” he said, giving her a hug and a gentle squeeze. “They’re lucky to have you.”

As they embraced, Evan’s hand slid down her back, landing softly on her waist. He paused, his hand lingering, then gave her a light pat just below the small of her back. His expression shifted into one of quiet curiosity. “Maya… are you wearing…?”

Maya blushed, her eyes meeting his with a knowing sparkle. “Mmhmm,” she said softly, biting her lip playfully. She took a small step back, unbuttoning her coat and letting it fall to the side. As she shimmied out of her skirt, the unmistakable bulge of her soggy pull-up peeked out.

Evan’s eyes lit up with pride and warmth as he took in the sight. “Look at you,” he murmured, reaching out to gently trace the outline of her swollen pull-up. “You were so focused on work that you didn’t even take a break?”

Maya shrugged, chuckling softly. “I didn’t want to miss my flow, and well… I guess it just… happened.” She looked down at herself, then met his gaze with a twinkle in her eye. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t done before.”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with her dedication. “You’re incredible, you know that? All this hard work, not even thinking about a break. No wonder you’re so successful.”

“I wasn’t the only one. You wouldn’t believe how much half the boardroom smelled like… well, like messy diapers by the end of it.” She laughed, giving him a mischievous smile. “I think a few of them weren’t even in pull-ups like I was. Some of them were probably in full-on diapers, and not very fresh ones.”

Evan’s eyes widened with a chuckle. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” she replied with a smile.

He grinned, nodding slowly. “Well, with all that in mind, maybe it’s time you upgrade too?” He leaned forward, his voice low and encouraging. “I mean, if you’re going to keep up with the big dogs, maybe you should be a little more prepared yourself.”

Maya’s blush deepened, but her eyes sparkled with interest. She’d been pushing herself so hard at work, and it was almost freeing, realizing she didn’t have to worry about interruptions just to find the restroom.

“You think I should switch to diapers?” she asked, teasing but clearly interested.

He nodded, his hand sliding to her hip. “Think about it. If you’re wearing a full diaper, you don’t have to think about breaks at all. You could handle the longest meetings without worrying, even if you’re… more than a little wet.” He gave her a gentle, playful pat on her soggy pull-up. “And you’d be a lot more comfortable.

Maya grinned, looking down thoughtfully. “I mean… you’re not wrong,” she said, nodding slowly. “Maybe I should just go for it. If half the boardroom can do it, why shouldn’t I?”

“Exactly,” he said, smiling as he reached out to hold her hand. “If anyone’s earned the convenience, it’s you. “

She chuckled, glancing at him with a sly smile. “And you wouldn’t mind helping me get some? You’d be okay with that?”

Evan’s face lit up, nodding eagerly. “Of course I would. I’d love to see you fully relax like that. You’re already amazing at your job—now you’d have all the freedom you need, no matter how long those days get.”

Maya’s smile softened, and she gave his hand a squeeze, feeling a deep sense of comfort at the idea. “Then… let’s do it. Let’s get me some diapers.”

The decision felt surprisingly easy.

Soggy and not sorry about it

[demonsslayersstuff]

Seeing You (AOT Men x Fem Reader)

Description: Here are some head canons and drabbles about how some of the Attack on Titan men react to seeing you naked for the first time.

Warnings: Nudity, suggestive content, smut for some characters (warnings will be placed individually), fluff.

A/N: Slowly working through my end of year list. I wanted to post twice this week, but honestly November is such a busy month for me. Stayed tuned for the Giyuu fic, that's next on my list. Enjoy!

Erwin Smith:

Erwin would 100% be a respectful partner, but for some reason I feel like the first time he see's you naked would be purely accidental

Being a captain or squad leader, I could see you being in your office and you accidently spill your tea or something and you need to change your clothes. Thinking no one would enter without knocking, you strip to change

Only for Erwin to come barging into your room wanting to discuss an urgent matter with you and the one time he doesn't knock is in this moment

Erwin would be sooo embarrassed, like face shocked and then turning red before he immediately whips around and apologizes before leaving you to finish changing. Feels horrid and never enters your office without knocking ever again

"Fuck", you hiss as the hot liquid hits your uniform, not only staining your shirt, but your pants as well. You thank your foresight, knowing you always kept a few extra uniforms and clothes in your office for this very situation. After removing your ODM gear, you being to strip off your clothes. That's when you realize the tea you had spilled managed to soak your bra as well. Without a second thought, you remove it as well, wanting to have a full set of fresh clothes. The moment your bra hits the floor is the moment you office door flings open. You immediately lock eyes with Erwin Smith; Commander of the Scouts Regiment, your partner, and soon to be dead man. "Captain there's something I want-", he begins, but the words die in his throat as his baby blue eyes take in your nearly nude body. Panic sets in about three seconds later and he turns around, quickly slamming the door shut, keeping his back turned to give you some privacy. "I'm so, so sorry", he says, stuttering. You put your clean clothes on as fast as you can. "I'm good sir", you tell him as you begin to put the ODM gear back on. "Listen-" Erwin starts, but you cut him off. "It's ok darling. No one else saw and we are in a relationship, at some point you are going to see me naked", you say, giving him a soft smile. However you next words turn darker, "Next time knock, the last thing I need is to flash the entire Regiment", your smile fading. "It won't happen again", Erwin says, clearing his throat uncomfortably, before moving to lay the papers he'd brought with him on your desk. The two of you fall back into work mode quickly, though Erwin wants nothing more than to you see you naked again, under very different circumstances.

Levi Ackerman: Slight Smut

The first time Levi sees you naked, is probably the first time y'all are having sex or at least during a heavy make out session. With Levi its more of a planned thing

When your relationship gets to the that step, Levi is excited and terrified at the same time. He's not scared at seeing you naked, he is scared of fucking up a big moment

Levi would savor this moment with you. He is in no rush and wants to map out and explore every inch and curvature of your body

Once he finally sees you fully exposed, he's is going to make sure you feel beautiful and wanted. This will be something that Levi keeps ingrained in the back of his mind for the rest of his life.

"It's ok Levi, you can take it off", you murmur, looking down at your partner, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. Levi takes a steadying breath. "Are absolutely sure you want this?", he questions again. You move your hands on top of his, helping to ease his tremble. "I'm ready, I want this, I want you", you tell him, voice sincere. Without another word, Levi is quick to take off your shirt, followed to by unclasping of your bra and soon, other than your panties, Levi is looking at your nude body. His eyes rake over you, catching your plump breasts, noting the various scars that you'd gotten from years with the Scouts. He feels his dick harden, you were beautiful. "Gorgeous", he lets out, as his body over lay yours, his own clothes joining yours on the floor. His lips attach to your neck, before he gingerly cups your left boob in his hand, testing the waters. You sigh with pleasure, "I'm not made of glass love, touch me", you moan out. His hands become bolder, feeling every inch of your skin and when he finally gets the courage to slip off your panties, his breath catches in his throat. His steely blue eyes capture yours, "I'm gonna take care of you, don't worry", he tells you, voice gruff from the desire that is pulsating through to his body. And as his fingers slip into your slick inner walls, you knew this was going to be long night.

Jean Kristien:

I see this happening two ways. The first is during a heated make out session and yall throw caution to the wind. The second is accidentally, like if you got injured or he walked into the wrong room

If it’s purely accidental, Jean would be an embarrassed hot mess. His face would as red as a tomato, mumbling an apology before walking into the wall (lol)

If it’s during a more intimate situation, he’d get your permission first, but once it’s given you’re in for it. There’s no stopping him, especially now that the two of you are taking that step

Jean would definitely make sure that you felt comfortable and ready. Even if it was an accident, he’d go out of the way to apologize nicely for his mistake. He doesn’t want to do anything to hurt you

You hiss in pain as you slip your shirt and bra off your upper body. Your injury was in an odd place on your back, making treating it alone difficult. Thus, you sneaked off to an old storage closet, getting some privacy. You groan as you peeled the bandage off, getting ready to put a fresh dressing and ointment on the wound. Just as you were getting ready to apply the paste, the door swung open and in came Jean. You both freeze, staring at each other, you did not expect to get disrupted here. As Jean’s eyes move down, he comes to the realization that you had no clothes on your upper body. His cheeks flushed a brilliant red and he immediately turned around, quickly moving to leave with a quick apology. “Wait”, you shout. Jean pauses for a second. “I’m sorry to ask, but could you please help me with this?”, you ask meekly. You hear an intake of breath, “Are you sure?”, he asks cautiously. “Yes, I know we just started dating, but I’d rather you do it”, you tell him. The door clicks shut softly. “Turn around, I’ll do my best too ah, to uh, not make you..uhm uncomfortable”, Jean stutters out. Once your back is to him, he turns around. Taking the bandage and ointment he works quickly, wrapping you up. “You can get dressed now”, he mumbles, voice barely visible. “Thanks”, you say but groan when you move to put your clothes back on. “Let me help”, Jean states, moving to help. You feel the softness of his finger tips as the brush against your back and shoulders. The feeling making your body warm. “Jean”, you say softly and turn around to look at him. He raises his eyebrows at your face. “Kiss me”, you murmur. He doesn’t hesitate, lips finding yours with ease. Maybe you wouldn’t be leaving the storage closet for some time.

Eren Jaeger: (Reader is bit dominant here) Suggestive Content

With Eren this I feel like is going to be “accidental”, or basically he’s going to claim it was an accident, but he actual does it on purpose (only if yall are in a relationship, he is not gonna do it in a creepy manner)

For some reason I see him as someone who’d steal your towel or purposely spill something on you, forcing you to change or what not. Again he’s only going to this for his partner.

However you catch onto his plan pretty quickly and two can play at this game. You’ll get back at him by teasing him or withholding things like kisses until he relents and apologizes

Eventually this becomes a little tradition for the two of you. Whether it’s him stealing your towel or you accidentally splashing water on him. The two of you enjoy goofing off this way as it leads to some other fun activities

You gasp as the cool liquid comes into contact with your shirt. “I’m so sorry”, you hear Eren exclaim as you take stock of what had happened. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and tripped and now you’re all wet”, he continues, voice innocent enough, but something tells you there’s more to this story. Your eyes narrow as you catch his cheeks flushing red. “Come with me so we can get you a spare shirt”, Eren says, grabbing your arm and pulling you along the hall. Once the two of you are safely in his room do you speak. “You know if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked”, you tell him with a slight glare already knowing what that whole situation was about. You had caught Jean and Connie’s snickering on your way out as well as Connie’s not so subtle thumbs up. You see the guilty expression on his face before he has time to make up a story. You sigh, grabbing the spare shirt from his hands before pushing him to the door. “Wait, wait”, he says, tone rushed. “What?”, you ask briskly, wanting nothing more than to get out of this wet shirt. “I’m sorry ok, that wasn’t fair to you”, Eren says, apologizing, regretting his immature actions. “I accept your apology. But next time just ask, don’t act like a two year old”, you tell him. Knowing his apology was sincere, you decided to just take your shirt and bra off for him. You hear his intake of breath as his eyes scan your chest, lingering on your breasts. You step closer, hand reaching down to grasp his pants. “Your turn”, you say with a smirk. Eren complies rather quickly, and before you know it heated desires take over, leaving the two of you completely bare for the other. “Touch me”, you whimper and soon his hands are all your body, lips finding yours. Needless to say the two of you did not make it back to finish lunch.

Armin Artlet: (Slight Smut)

Similar to Levi, he’s not going to see you naked until the two of you are good and ready to make your relationship more physical

He’s a quite nervous the first time, fingers trembling, panicking on the inside. However Armin is still going to treat you well; he’s going to make you feel beautiful and loved

Once the nerves pass, Armin is on cloud nine. He’d never thought someone could feel/ taste this heavenly. He doesn’t want you to put your clothes back on, preferring to keep you naked beside him

Going forward, Armin is going to find any opportunity to have your clothes off your body. Whether it’s bathing together, cuddling, or having sex. The poor boy can get enough of you.

Armin takes a steadying breath as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt; his nerves getting the best of him. “It’s ok love, I want this”, you remind him softly. “Ok”, he huffs out before slowly pulling your shirt off your body. You hear him gasp as shirt falls to the floor, nearly forgotten as Armin’s eyes rake over your nearly nude body. “Breathtaking”, he murmurs, before tentatively moving his hands to cup your breast gently. You sigh with pleasure at the contact. “Can I..erm..may I kiss it?”, Armin questions with a stutter. “Please”, you whine out, wanting noting more than his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. A few seconds later your desires are met, and you moan as he sucks your boob into his mouth, his hand fondling the other. His tongue swirls your nipple and you clench your thighs together, trying to create a bit of resistance where you ached so desperately for him. He lifts his head up a moment, catching your movements. “Let me touch you baby”, he says, voice gruff, a new found courage growing within him. “Ok”, you say, nearly inaudible. Armin’s fingers part your underwear, before they find your nearly soaked entrance. His lips connect with your nipple as his digit slips inside you with ease, the pleasure sending shock waves through your body. Tonight was going to be a special night for the both of you.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Rating: SFW Type: Longford, multi-chapter, Ford Pines x reader Word count: 7339  Tags: Fluff (lots), no pronouns used, Ford being silly, housekeeper!Reader My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Ch.1 here In which a simple expedition with Ford goes increasingly sideways and you learn more than enough about thermodynamics to last you a lifetime.

This chapter: Ford shows off in the woods and you get to muse lyrical about him while you tag along.

“Just for the record,” Ford says as he leads you along a narrow path into the treeline. “My brother is right.”

Stepping carefully over a fallen log, you glance up at him and frown, confused at his meaning. “How so?”

Ford watches you from the corner of his eye as he walks, a tiny smirk ghosting across his mouth. “Technically, I am experimenting on you….”

Oh shit. Your stomach somersaults nervously. Just how much of that conversation did he overhear….?

“He was just kidding around,” you hurry to clarify, attempting to brush Ford’s comments off with a weak laugh. “I'm not-!”

“Oh, so you don't enjoy being my test subject?” Ford asks, and much to your surprise, he seems to be fighting a teasing grin. “You wound me.”

You’re so taken off guard by his unexpected ribbing that you almost trip over your own feet.

Though Ford has his own wicked, dry sense of humour hidden underneath his many layers, it isn’t often that he dares to be so outright playful with you.

You’ve had your moments with one another, no matter how rare, and though you’re not the strangers you had been at the beginning of your job, it’s still always a surprise when he acts so impish around you.

From the moment you’d come on board, it had been crystal clear that Stan was the social butterfly out of the two. Even with his occasionally grumpy demeanour, the man is capable of bantering over absolutely anything, of spinning a yarn about the stupidest of things on the spot like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him. He’s joked with you plenty of times before that he’d been the twin to soak up all the charisma in the womb while Ford had gotten everything else and for the most part, he isn’t entirely wrong.

In areas of a more extroverted nature, you’ve noticed that Ford lacks his brother’s (sterling) silver tongue, for the most part.

Not necessarily because he can’t don it himself but more because, although you think it would pain him to admit his shortcomings, he seems to struggle with such things.

Ford is stiff around people he isn’t accustomed to and the best of his communication skills generally extend to a very specific set of circumstances. He isn’t completely incapable of interacting with other people outside of his own bubble. He just…. Isn’t the best at it.

You often overhear him laughing and messing around with the kids or, when they’re not bickering, his brother. Their conversations flow easily and, although Stan has suggested that might not have always been the case, Ford is naturally more relaxed around them. He can let his guard down.

It’s understandable. They’re his family and his safety net. For Ford, interacting with them is much easier than interacting with a stranger and he knows his audience when he talks to them. He knows what to expect and he can comfortably risk being more open with them.

But, in Stan’s words, Ford is still adjusting to returning home, both physically and socially, and he struggles to extend that grace to others.

Your initial meeting with him had been…. Tumultuous, to say the least.

Your second week on the job, you’d wandered into Ford’s study in order to clean it, only to find yourself shoved face-first into the wall barely seconds later, your body forced flat against the panelling and one arm twisted painfully up behind your back while Ford had barked orders to his family about ‘dealing with intruders’ and ‘fetching the crossbow’.

It hadn't been until Stan had come careening down the hallway, shouting his head off at his brother and swiftly negotiated your release, that Ford had seen fit to let you go.

To his credit, Ford had offered several apologies (though only after he had chastised you for entering without knocking) and so far, it's never happened since.

But from that point onwards, getting more than a single word out of Ford had been downright impossible for the first couple of months in your time with the Pines.

Elusive, severe and not particularly interested in being any less of either when it came to you, Ford had avoided you like the plague. Whether out of embarrassment or pride at your less-than-stellar introduction, or something else entirely, he hadn’t made much of an effort to try again and so you’d barely had the opportunity to say a word to him to rectify it.

Where the kids were desperate to interrogate you about your life or your time in town, and where Stan was pleased to have someone new to pick on, Ford had oscillated between staying hidden within the confines of his own private space, blinkered to your existence, and behaving like his own miniature storm, sweeping in and out of the house with the purpose of a man possessed.

And when he had shown his face, on the rare occasion he chose to step foot outside of his study or his lab, he’d been brusque and far too caught up in his tasks to deign you, the newcomer, with any sort of acknowledgement.

Admittedly, you’d been left disappointed.

Ford had caught your attention immediately (how could he not?) and his lack of reciprocity had only served to increase your interest. Yet any tiny moment you’d seized to see if things might change, be it passing one another in the hallway or being roped into joining the kid’s games, had only gone down like a lead balloon.

When the two of you had been left alone, Ford had been even worse: Switching from his severity to being skittish or dismissive each time you’d attempted to strike up polite conversation and even so much as a simple 'hello' had been enough to make him freeze up.

Right up until he’d almost burnt the skin clean off of his hand one dull Tuesday evening, that is.

On silent feet, he’d flown through the kitchen doorway at the exact same time you’d been passing through it yourself, colliding solidly with you and sending the lukewarm mug of coffee in your hands flying, its contents tumbling to the floor.

The mug had been flung halfway across the room, shattering on the stone tiles underfoot, and the only reason you hadn’t joined it on the floor had been thanks to an artful dodge Ford had thrown in at the last second in order to avoid knocking you flat on your ass.

Before you’d had the chance to say anything, he had dashed for the sink, swearing profusely and clutching his right forearm, and after a few moments of watching him flap about, your brain had recovered in its shock and you’d sprung into action to help him.

As it had turned out, Ford had apparently been doing some spring cleaning that evening and while carrying what he presumed to be an empty jar, a small amount of liquid (which you’d later learned to be aged sulphuric acid) had seeped through a crack in its glass and immediately eaten into the thin skin of his palm.

With him lacking in dexterity, you had slapped on the cold tap and forced his hand underneath it immediately, instructing him to stay still until told differently while you’d wracked your brains to remember your high school science safety classes.

“You didn’t spill it anywhere else, did you?” You’d asked, alarmed.

“What am I, an idiot?” Ford had scoffed.

“Says the man moving chemicals without gloves,” had been your curt reply, and Ford had quietened down a little after that.

The burn hadn’t been too bad, thankfully. Nothing more than a pink, dime sized mark had been left by the time you’d let him take his hand out from underneath the stream and even though he’d protested that he’d be perfectly fine with just a band-aid, you’d forced him to sit at the kitchen table and allow you to give him some actual first aid.

Half an hour and a roll of bandages later, and Ford had managed to hold his first proper conversation with you.

Granted, most of it had been on the topics of various sciences and such, but it had been a conversation all the same and you’d been secretly thrilled to have it.

He had even helped you to clean up the mess on the floor, too.

The next time he’d seen you in passing, Ford had offered you a curt nod and a small, wary smile. A miniscule improvement upon being ignored or run away from, and just enough to raise your hopes that he might not entirely hate your existence.

And, like the erosion of his own epidermis, a new part of Ford had been exposed to you over time.

Ford had (very, very slowly) come around to the idea of having you in the house, and with each passing day, he’d warmed up to you some more.

Passing nods turned into stiff little 'hellos' in response to your own greetings, and those 'hellos' into 'how are you’s', and before your eyes, the impenetrable ice around him had melted away to expose someone much more human and something far less enigmatic than the front he’d put forward to begin with.

The revelation of his genuine personality had only served to change your natural curiosity over him into something closer to a childish crush and from that point on, you’d been toast. Hopelessly smitten toast.

And although he still struggles depending on his mood, the six months in particular have seen real growth: Ford has been more amenable to chatting with you about his work and even though he keeps you at arms length from the depths of his scientific endeavours, even though he’s still hard to get a read on some days, he’s far less aloof for the most part and every now and then he’ll take a cheeky shot at you when you least expect it.

It always knocks you off balance.

When you’ve recovered from your shock and your brain catches up to your mouth, you find a lame comeback to throw his way:

“I’m not a mouse, you know,” you tell him, primly.

“Of course not,” replies Ford, rather fondly. “Mice are rarely such good company.”

You meet his eyes in surprise and for a second, you share a look with him that you’re not quite sure how to decipher. There’s something warm in his gaze. It’s not unwelcome.

The moment is fleeting and almost instantly, Ford looks away and clears his throat. His strides extend until he’s practically power-walking ahead of you along the forest’s path, his back to you and his voice hardened again as he slips back into the familiar, commanding personality you’re much more accustomed to.

“Dipper tells me you’ve never been into the forests properly before, correct?” He asks, hands clasped behind his back as he walks briskly.

You trot along to catch up with him a little, shaking off the odd feeling. “Correct.”

Ford nods. “Then allow me to give you a run down of how things work out here,” he says, and abruptly, you realise you’re about to witness one of the first special circumstances in which Ford’s communication skills make a rare appearance:

When he takes charge.

Ford snatches control of the reins during any situation that (in his opinion) requires a clear leader and it’s as intimidating a trait as it is admirable.

According to Stan, he’s gotten better at being slightly less militant around the kids, but old habits die hard and you’ve seen him turn on this persona plenty of times before.

Part of you often wonders if it’s a symptom of his time in the portal. If he’d been all alone, thrust head first into (what you can only imagine to be) exceptionally dangerous situations, he’s probably learnt to lean on it for survival.

The other part of you knows full well that Ford is a smart guy anyway. Of course he takes charge when he’s the authority on the subject.

Sometimes, however, you have a suspicion it might be reactive: You’ve noticed that he has a tendency to smother his awkwardness with that bossiness at times. He tries to hide it and make the change seem casual, but it’s obvious when you look a little closer that he’s attempting to claw back his footing and come out on top again. A defence mechanism of sorts.

Telling others what to do comes naturally to him and he can often rely on it a little too heavily sometimes. It can make him come off as a bit of an asshole (see: very much like an asshole) and it’s taken some time to get used to, but you do your best not to take it too personally.

Unless he’s being particularly obnoxious, it’s easier to let him get on with it than it is to fight him. You’ve tried before and it hasn’t gone well.

“Rule number one,” says Ford, holding back a low hanging branch to allow you room to duck underneath it. “Stay close to me and don’t wander off. There are things out here that are much worse than your average predator and they’re not fond of disturbances, trust me.”

Ford’s tone holds gravity; undoubtedly he’s speaking from a place of practised experience with that exact scenario.

“Rule number two: You do what I say, without question. Don’t hesitate. If I tell you to run, you move like there’s fire at your heels. If I tell you to stay still, you turn to stone. Understood?”

“Understood,” you assure him.

Though you should be annoyed by how overbearing he is, you find yourself quite taken by seeing him out in the field like this.

It’s a new environment in every way for you and for all that you’ve heard about his adventuring and disciplined nature from Dipper, it’s quite something to behold.

“And rule number three,” he says, shooting you a coy grin over his shoulder. “Is to have fun. This is your fledgling expedition after all and the first time is always the most exhilarating. Don’t forget to enjoy yourself.”

His smile is contagious.

Ford's initial assurance that the trip to the mushroom patch would take you both little more than an hour dies an early death.

He's comfortably confident, as he so often is, that the weather will hold out long enough to allow you both some time to sightsee on the way and despite your anxiety about getting lost or dry drowning before you can even reach the place, you find yourself unable to talk him out of it.

Not because if you put your foot down he'd ignore your wishes, but because it is just so damn hard not to be charmed by Ford's demeanour when he gets all excited about adventuring.

He’s clearly delighted to have an opportunity to put on a display for someone other than Dipper, no matter how much he refutes his brother’s claims of doing so, and you’re more than willing to give him the floor to do it.

Wariness aside, it’s not like you’re not curious about all of the things lurking in these woods. The concept of cryptids and monsters being real is as thrilling as it is terrifying and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t at least hoped Ford might take you out with him one day.

Stanley had informed you that his brother was a scientist with particularly unique specialisms right at the start of your employment, that his areas of interest weren’t exactly what most would consider ‘normal’, and you’d been intrigued by it immediately.

You know that Ford has an extensive lab beneath the lodge and although you’re rarely granted access, he’s allowed you to deliver him coffee once or twice since he’s become a little more comfortable with your presence.

The place is huge, but Ford is a private person and even when you’ve expressed interest in touring it to see his work in more detail, he’s always assured you of its dangers and kept you (quite disappointingly) at arm’s length from the practical aspect of it all.

Which makes today a dream come true.

As he strides through the chilly, grey forest with you in tow, Ford sheds some of his sharper, more authoritarian attitude as soon as he starts to pick out things he thinks you might find interesting.

One of the other ways in which Ford can communicate well, and by far your favourite, is when he's excited. Usually it's about science; perhaps something special shows up in his test results or maybe he discovers a new species of creature, but whatever it is, it's enough to blow the lid off of his usually stoic self and expose the big, curious kid that he carries close to his heart.

He can’t resist the urge to go into detail about his finds and to flex his disgustingly impressive intelligence on those around him.

Stan insists it’s simply because his brother is a geek who likes to show that off to anyone who will listen, and while that isn’t entirely untrue, Ford is absolutely a clever clogs with tendency to be pompous about it, it’s still exceptionally endearing to watch him get so eager about things.

Ford will get a familiar glint in his eye, shove his glasses up his strong nose, and then launch into a spiel about some of the most complex topics you've never even heard of, talking a mile a minute and waving his hands around all of the place as he explains all of it to anyone who will listen.

You're no mathematician, nor a high IQ scientist, and everything he talks about is well above your intelligence level, but when Ford gets like that you just can't look away from him.

Having been prohibited from his lab (and sometimes even his study, for reasons he never clarifies), you’re always ecstatic to hear about what he’s found or whatever he’s spent his week working on, and being privy to his joy offers a rush that not even the most potent of drugs could beat.

The first forty minutes of your walk together is mostly made up of you watching Ford dart on and off the path, scraping things from trees and narrating his work.

The sun’s rays are dull and watery, reduced to a shitty grey by the time it sneaks its way down through the clouds and canopy over your heads, but even its miserable tint can’t take away the shine that Ford gives off.

As you progress through the woods, Ford fills you in on every piece of flora that the two of you pass, pointing out their colours and attributes, and informing you which flowers make nice bouquets and which ones will kill every member of your household when they bloom.

He explains the discrepancies between moss and lichen on the trees, and goes into detail about his favourite types of each one. It’s so sweet that it makes your teeth ache and admittedly you’re not paying much attention to whatever it is that he’s showcasing for you, despite your polite displays of pretending to.

You’re too busy watching him, taking in the way his eyes light up and his silvery hair glitters each time a glimpse of sunlight makes it down to the forest floor. The way his lopsided grin makes his crow’s feet crinkle more on one side and his dimples pronounce amongst his slight stubble.

He’s truly a sight to behold.

Being as unfit as you are, however, it’s challenging enough to keep up with him physically, let alone mentally. Every time he pauses to point at something, you just about reach his side before he darts off again, always moving a step ahead to ensure he maximises his time in the outdoors.

Rule number one might be stay close, but he’s not too fussed about making that easy for you.

Every now and then, though, Ford slows down just enough to return to you, reappearing with something clasped between his big hands like an overenthusiastically happy dog bringing you a stick in its mouth. The first couple of times had been to show you some different types of plant life or tree bark, but this time is different.

This time, he waits for you to catch up to his side before he nods to a large, plum coloured bush that rises up above your head a little way. Its leaves are long and slender, and they almost look like hearts.

Their faces are marred with silvery, chevron-shaped markings that curve over and reach down to the tips of each one, and the leaves are so dense that you can't see inside no matter how to crane your neck.

You look up at Ford, who is practically puffed out with how much he's enjoying himself, and he puts a finger to his lips before leaning down closer to you.

“This is a form of persicaria microcephala, sometimes referred to as Red Dragon.” Ford says, voice hushed. “They’re not native to this country, you’ll find them primarily in China or Britain, but we’ve got a few bushels dotted about around here.”

Unsure as to why he feels the need to whisper the fact to you, you simply nod.

“But,” Ford continues, clearly picking up on your silent confusion. “Ours is more literal than the stuff you’ll find abroad or in cheap garden centres….”

Careful not to be too rough, Ford slowly pries open an area of the bush with a practised touch and nods for you to peer inside.

You're a little wary at first; you're not in the habit of sticking your nose into wild things in a town like this, yet you know Ford isn't going to set you up to land in harm's way on purpose. You trust him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Cautiously, you lean up to peer into the small clearing he's made and feel your mouth drop open.

On the thin stems inside the plant, there are at least a dozen little creatures nesting. They're all about as long as your pinky finger and initially, you assume them to be lizards.

Each one is a varying shade of purpley-red, some darker, some closer to a pinkish hue, and they're so well camouflaged against their setting that it’s a bit difficult to make them out at first.

That is, until one of them stands up from its perch and stretches, cat-like, with a yawn. It unfurls gossamer wings that flutter like a bee’s and hops from one branch to another, aided by them, before settling back down again.

They’re dragons. Teeny little honest-to-god fucking dragons.

You look back at Ford, aware that your expression suggests that your eyes appear are about to fall out of your head, and whisper as loudly as you dare: “Are you serious?”

Ford, who looks exceptionally pleased with himself, nods again. “We call them Dragon Flies, for obvious reasons. Dipper coined the name. Lovely, aren’t they?”

They really are. Dragons are up there at the top of your list of Really Fucking Cool Stuff as far as you’re concerned, and for all the weirdness in Gravity Falls, you can’t say you thought such creatures to be among it. The notion seems too fantastical. Yet, here they are, tiny and utterly adorable in all their glory.

It’s enough to take your breath away.

“I love dragons,” you whisper, grinning through the leaves at them. “They’re my favourites.”

“I know,” says Ford, and in your surprise, you whip your head back around to meet his eye.

He seems a little taken aback by his own words too, like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud, and a redness blooms on the tops of his cheekbones.

“That is,” he clears his throat softly. “I overheard you talking to the children earlier this week about them and I remembered on the way that we’d pass by here, so I just…. Thought you might like to see.”

You can only barely remember the conversation yourself. Dipper had been sitting at the dinner table, sketching furiously in his notebook whilst Mabel had given random, rapid fire requests to help him practise his speed for field work illustrations, and Dipper had offered you an opportunity to try one when you’d passed through to fetch some water.

Obviously, your answer had been 'dragon' and Dipper had scratched out a shockingly good diagram of one in under thirty seconds. It had been incredibly impressive and he had even given you the sketch. It’s still folded up in your bag at home.

You don’t recall seeing Ford during it, though….. Damn his alley-cat footing.

Still, that means he remembers your off-hand comment from so long ago despite not even being part of the conversation, and it makes your chest burn with appreciation that he’d put two and two together like this, just to show you something you might find fun.

You laugh softly under your breath, restraining the happiness that surges through you so that you don’t frighten the Dragon Flies, and Ford’s nervous expression melts into a lopsided smile of his own once he realises you’re happy with his offering.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, with as much meaning as you can heap into two words.

Ford shrugs one shoulder, his attempted nonchalance overwritten by delight. “You’re welcome,” he says softly. “They’re quite friendly, too. I was a little concerned they might be a risk for forest fires in the summer months but they don’t appear to actually breathe fire. The most I’ve seen them do is burp a few sparks and even then that’s rare. Fairly even-tempered creatures, it seems.”

One of the Dragon Flies turns to glance at you over its shoulder, giving you a disinterested, lazy look as though to illustrate Ford’s point, and your smile grows even more.

After a few more moments of silent, avid observation, Ford carefully lowers the leaves again. “I’m afraid we’ll have to keep moving if we want to avoid the rain today,” he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But I’d be happy to bring you back another time. I can even help you handle one, if you’d like.”

As much as you’d love to stay, you know he’s right. You’re already behind schedule. Plus, a second opportunity to hang out means more time to spend alone with him and if today is anything to go by so far, you’ll be thrilled to do it all again.

“That would be incredible, Doctor Pines, thank you.” You smile, stepping away to follow his lead. “If you wouldn’t mind then I’d love to.”

Ford chuckles as he starts off again down the path with you in tow. “My dear, it would be my pleasure.”

Quite suddenly, the forest doesn’t feel as chilly as it has done for most of your walk. Ford’s words warm you up from toe to tip and you’re very grateful that he’s too busy marching along to look at you. If he turned to face you, he would undoubtedly catch the big, stupid grin that’s eating up half your face.

My dear.

My dear.

You’ve heard him call Mabel the same thing plenty of times before. Ford isn’t one for terms of endearment except when it comes to the kids and although you’ve heard him refer to her with several, he’s only ever referred to you by your name.

Up until now, that is.

He’s probably just being nice and playing along with the excitement, yet it rolls off his tongue so casually that it makes your stomach flip-flop.

If accompanying him on a miniature quest is going to result in things like this then you wonder if maybe the next time you cook, you ought to leave your ingredients out overnight for Waddles to pick at as he sees fit…..

The rest of the walk to the patch is amicably quiet, bar Ford's occasional quips about some more interesting things he spots. You’re both content to simply absorb one another’s presence as you move through the forest floor together.

It isn’t long after you leave the Dragon Flies that the wind begins to pick up.

It forces its way through the canopy of fir trees overhead and makes their branches ripple and thrash as it chases through them, tearing out fresh leaves and strewing them across the damp mud under your feet.

The grey clouds above aren't as easily pushed aside, though. If anything, they knit together as if to defend the sky from the gales and their density, combined with the thick trees, only makes it even darker.

Visibility in the forest becomes less and less, and by the time you make it to the patch, Ford swings the heavy pack off of his shoulder and fishes two camping flashlights out from within. He flicks both of them on and hands one to you.

“Just to be safe,” he says. “I don’t want you to trip.”

You thank him and swing the beam around to illuminate the tiny clusters of mushrooms sticking up through the dirt. The clearing they sit in isn't much more than ten feet by ten, the edges lined with bushes and a few gnarly old trees whose roots leech out through the grass in search of sustenance. It’s a quaint little break from the dense trees.

Under any other circumstances, it would look pretty. The place is picturesque and you can imagine sitting down here to eat a picnic and enjoy the view, but right now all you want to do is dig up your dinner and get home to safety.

The weather is ticking quickly over from ominous to outright worrying.

“Let's start there,” Ford says, voice slightly raised so that you can hear him over a sudden, particularly strong gust of wind.

He flicks his torch beam across yours and settles the light on where you're already looking.

“The last batch I picked were from this area so it'll be safest to start here,” he says, coming to your side and dropping into a squat to inspect the scattering of fungi that dot the ground.

Ford lays his torch by his left foot before dumping the backpack beside it. He rifles through the bag until he pulls out a small plastic tub, popping off the lid and putting it beside his other foot.

Keeping your torch as steady as you can so that you can both see what you’re doing, you kneel in the grass beside him and watch as he gently digs his fingers into the cool, damp soil, and breaks off a single mushroom.

The stem is thick and long, and it curves upward until it blooms outward like a tiny, flowery trumpet. The lip of the cap curls underneath just slightly and it has a rich, jewel-pink hue that fades halfway down the trunk to an off-white.

When Ford turns it over in the beam of your light, it glitters slightly, as though it has some form of iridescent quality.

“It’s almost too pretty to eat,” you say, admiring it with quiet awe. “I feel bad for just disturbing it, let alone putting it in a pie.”

Ford chuckles, dropping it into the container. “Don’t worry, plenty more where this one came from. Ready to get your hands dirty?”

“Always, Doctor Pines.” You grin.

Ford matches your expression and you find a suitable angle with your light before you begin to help him unearth more of the things. They don’t appear to go very deep into the ground and the earth is moist enough that it barely takes much effort to get ahold of their stems.

The two of you work in silence. You're sure Ford would be happy to chat but the wind is making such a racket as it passes through the trees that it would be hard to have a conversation at a normal level, and it feels rude to shout at one another in a place as peaceful as this.

The whole place is silent whenever the gusts die down, almost unnervingly so, and you're sure you'll only disturb whatever wildlife is hanging around if you invite Ford into another lecturing session.

You're almost done excavating the mushrooms when you feel the first fat, freezing droplet of rain hit the base of your exposed neck. You've been expecting the rain, of course, but the coldness takes you by surprise and instinctively, you snap a hand up to where it lands, sitting back on your knees and breaking your focus on the dirt to look at your surroundings again.

It's then that your gaze lands on a shadowy figure, standing just at the edge of the clearing and off to the side of a tree.

The appearance is so unexpected that it instantly makes you jump.

For a terrifying few seconds, you forget Ford's presence at your side and your heart feels like it's about to burst through your chest. What if it’s a monster? What if it’s one of the horrible beasts the kids always talk about and now it’s going to tear you to pieces and eat you alive and-

Instinctively, you snap your torch beam up and shine it across the clearing to illuminate the newcomer.

The light lands on the form of a big, broad, red stag.

He's got to be at least four feet tall at the shoulder and the impressive set of antlers on his head must boost that height to nearly six. His body is covered in thick, mahogany coloured fur that's matted at the ends and slowly darkening under the drops of fresh rain.

Definitely not a monster.

You let out a sigh of relief.

Strangely, he doesn't flee when your light hits his face. He stands stock still and blinks back at you with black eyes, nostrils flaring as he puffs out a cloud of foggy breath.

Ford huffs at the loss of light and looks toward you. “I can't see anythi-!”

You shush him, pointing forwards to the deer, and although he seems annoyed at being told to be quiet, he looks at where you direct his attention.

The deer doesn't move.

Ford laughs under his breath. “Cervus elaphus, “ he says quietly. “Just a red deer. Now, if you wouldn't mind putting the light back so I can-”

“It's just staring at us…..” You say, interrupting him again.

The stag still hasn't broken eye contact with you and a feeling of unease settles in your stomach.

Deer are easily frightened, even a flash of bright light would normally be enough to send one running. It's not even close to rutting season, when you might expect to encounter one in a bad mood, and yet this one doesn't even turn its head away.

“Yes, well,” says Ford. “They do tend to do that.”

You know he wants to go back to nabbing the last of the mushrooms. There's an edge in his voice that only ever comes on when he gets a little pissed off about something. You've heard it enough times to recognise it, and yet….. You don't want to do what he's asking. Not yet, anyway.

The stag blinks and huffs another hot breath. Its shoulder shudders reflexively, likely out of irritation from the rain drops that are starting to fall readily now, and he stomps his hoof into the dirt with a wet thump!

You flick the torch further along him to check out his entire body and as expected, he really is just a regular deer, if a very beautiful one. It's not often that you get to see something so majestic up close and having moved here from the city, it's a pleasure to witness. Just like with the Dragon Flies, nature has a way of taking your breath away whether out of admirable wonder or sudden panic.

“He's beautiful,” you mutter.

Even after so long in this town, it’s still a pleasure to see a sight like this. There are no deer in the cities and moving out here has brought with it not just a plethora of new, supernatural creatures, but also an opportunity to reconnect with the old, natural ones, too.

The stag lowers his head until he nearly looks like he's bowing and then flicks it away. Raindrops fly off each point of his antlers as he does it once and then again, each time punctuated by a stomp of his foot.

Is he….. Shooing you off?

It snorts again, moving as if to step closer, and Ford sighs.

“Not the brightest of creatures and hardly the most interesting thing in a place like this. They're ten a penny out here,” he says, clambering to his feet with a groan. Under his breath, you catch him mutter: “Unlike, say, the literal dragons I showed you.”

He sounds a little peeved that you’re admiring such a simple creature in comparison to his own unique reveal and you have to bite down on a smile to hide your amusement.

He seems borderline jealous that your interest has wandered to something so…. Normal.

“Off you go now!” He claps his hands once, hoping to dissuade it from moving further into the clearing but the stag motions again with its head, ignoring Ford's rejection.

Ford frowns. He seems confused by its refusal and again he attempts to encourage it to move on, this time by stepping closer, but the stag remains resolute.

It holds its head up high and refuses to budge, its eyes never drifting from Ford.

Something feels off. Like he’s trying to communicate with you both, playing charades with horns instead of hands.

“I… Think he wants us to leave,” you say quietly.

His presence has gone from being peacefully pretty to setting your teeth on edge.

Gathering up the plastic tub full of mushrooms and keeping your movements slow and cautious so as not to spook the stag into panicking, you pack away your things.

You've collected more than enough fungi for both cooking and experimentation now, and the rain is falling steadily now. You'll both be soaked before long and you're about ready to get out of here anyway. The stag is just an easy excuse.

Ford glances down at you, brow raised. “I didn't know you spoke deer.”

Quite chivalrously, he offers you a hand to help you to your feet and you take it. His touch is warm, if a little gritty with dirt, and his palms are rough from the callouses that come with his hard-labour lifestyle.

You try not to notice how nice his hand feels in yours.

“You've no idea how far my talents extend, Doctor Pines,” you say dryly, ignoring the way your knees scream with effort after spending so long glued to the cold ground. “I’ll have you know that I'm fluent in Cervus quidvis.”

“Quodvis,” Ford corrects automatically.

“I’m fluent in know-it-all, too,” you add, rolling your eyes. “Now get the rucksack and let’s do what he says before we get any more drenched.”

Ford looks down at you, caught somewhere between being affronted and laughing at your quip. “I’d have thought twice about bringing you along if I knew you were going to be this bossy,” He smirks, half-serious.

“Takes one to know one,” you retort, struggling to stifle a smile of your own.

You give the stag a small wave (which does make Ford laugh) and lower your light so that you can tuck the tub into a side pocket of the rucksack.

“Sorry for bothering you, buddy,” you tell the stag, who doesn’t even blink.

You can feel Ford’s eyes on you and although you know he probably thinks you’re mad for trying to converse with the thing, you feel compelled to let it know that you mean it no harm.

Maybe it’s paranoia or maybe you really are going insane, but it feels important to do. The uneasy feeling still hasn’t passed and if talking to the local wildlife makes you feel better then you’re not afraid to be judged for it.

It seems to be appeased by your reaction, whether it's the apology that does it or the fact that you're clearly moving on, and the stag gives one last snort before it launches off into the bushes again.

The sound of its galloping hoofbeats is swallowed by more wind and you wince against the chill it brings with it. Alone it’s bad enough but being even the slightest bit damp only enhances the feeling.

You suppress a shiver.

Before you leave, once he has the backpack over his shoulder again, Ford reaches into his back pocket and procures a little bag of what look to be shiny stones. They glint, even in the dark, and he empties them out onto the dirt where the mushrooms had been.

“Thank you!” He says aloud to nobody in particular, and then he pockets the bag again.

It’s your turn to look at him like he’s lost his mind and Ford catches the expression.

“For the fairies. They like shiny things,” he explains, like it’s obvious. It probably is to him. “If you take something from the forest, you always give something back. Otherwise the next time you come back they’ll make your life a nightmare, trust me.”

“You’re talking to fairies but I’m weird for talking to the deer?” You scoff, following after him as he starts back towards the way you came in.

“I never said you were weird,” Ford says, checking what looks to be his wristwatch before he guides you back towards the correct path out of the clearing. “I said I didn’t know that you could speak to them.”

‘Didn’t know’? That implies it is, in fact, a possibility to communicate with deer, doesn’t it?

“Wait…. Are you being serious?” You ask, curiosity piqued. “Is that possible?”

If the existence of all the creepy, beyond-natural things Ford has warned you about are real, and you know that they are, then is it really that much of a stretch to consider there might be some weird, hidden language the common deer speaks? Or perhaps some kind of thing that might allow you to do that?

If that is the case then you absolutely must know how to do it. It might not come in useful in everyday life but it would certainly be novel. Deer are privy to all sorts of secret goings on in the forest and you’re sure they’d be a great source of gossip.

Ford shrugs one shoulder as he walks beside you, smirking enigmatically.

Excitement surges through your gut.

“No way, are you serious?” you say earnestly, trotting alongside him. “Will you teach me? You have to teach me. Imagine all the stuff I could ask….”

Ford raises a brow. “Such as….?”

“God, I don't know….. I mean for one thing, what's it like being a deer? What kind of stuff have you seen? What's the-” You cut yourself off abruptly when you catch the look on Ford's face that he's been trying to hide in the collar of his trenchcoat.

He's very blatantly fighting laughter.

You deflate instantly.

“Oh, you asshole,” you huff, swatting at his arm. “There's no such thing, is there?”

Ford breaks finally, laughing the same deep, gravelly laugh that you've grown so fond of over the past year.

“I'm sorry,” he says, breathless with mirth. “Forgive me, you just seemed so invested, I couldn’t help myself.”

You can’t stop yourself from laughing along. You want to be more annoyed at his teasing, but if you’re honest it’s really quite nice to be teased by him. He’s clearly in a playful mood today and you’re elated that you get to be the main recipient of his prodding. You suppose it's fair game for him to give as good as he gets.

“I am serious about the fairies, though,” Ford adds after a moment. “They've quite the set of teeth on them.”

Teeth?

“Noted.”

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[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT and a partner with White Coat Syndrome

Requested? Yes! 

Genre: comfort, angst

White Coat Syndrome: when your blood pressure is higher at the doctor’s office and normal at home, usually caused by the stress and anxiety of being in a clinical setting. 

Some of these won't specifically address the hypertension, but rather the feelings about going to the doctor or not feeling heard while there. Be careful reading if you're sensitive about that sort of thing.

Seungcheol

When you say you might just cancel your annual check up, he gives you a perplexed look. It’s a wellness visit, why wouldn’t you go? When you tell him you always get a lecture about your high blood pressure and no doctor will ever listen to you when you just say you’re stressed, expect a few questions. Did you feel stressed before you made the appointment? What makes you so stressed at the doctor’s office? Maybe you should find another doctor? You shrug it off and think that’s the end of it. But the day of the appointment, you’re surprised to find he’s late for work, casually sitting in the kitchen. “I’m going with you,” he says simply, keys in his hand. Your heart’s so full that he’d abandon his busy schedule to accompany you for such a silly thing that your blood pressure reading isn’t as bad as it normally is there.

Jeonghan

Say you have a chronic issue that has you in and out of the doctor’s office with some regularity. Expect that he’s noticed the way your mood fluctuates around those appointments. But he won’t say anything because he doesn’t want to add to your stress, and he knows there are limitations for what he can do to help when it comes to a chronic condition. So it’s a common occurrence for you to come home from an appointment and be surprised to find him at home starting dinner. “Go take a bath,” he’ll demand. You know better than to not listen because he might just run a tub of water and dump you in it, clothes and all. Later, between the warm bath and meal and being wrapped in a warm blanket on the couch, you don't even remember the anxiety that had such a tight hold on you earlier today.

Joshua

He’s sooo sneaky. He recognizes the pattern to your stress, but you don’t seem to. So, he pitches a new craft for the two of you to do together - bullet journaling. It’s got three purposes in his mind. The one you’re aware of is that it’s a fun little activity for you guys to do together. But it serves as a destresser AND evidence of your stress all in one, because he’s insisted that you guys track your moods in a cute little chart, among many other things. After a few months, he’ll show you his ‘discovery’ - you predictably mark that you're stressed in the days before your appointments and the day of. He just wants the light bulb to go off for you so he can address your anxiety directly. 

Jun

He comes home at a blessedly normal time today, excited to hang out and have dinner with you. He’s been looking forward to it all day and nearly crawls out of his own skin when he finds you crying on the couch. That’s right, he thinks, you took the afternoon off for an appointment. He’s all over you because he’s really thinking the worst, wondering what kind of bad news you’ve gotten today. You sigh and just tell him you don't feel like you’re being listened to at your appointments. You gesture to the new medication on the coffee table, saying that you really don’t think you need it. He doesn’t have to hear much to insist that you get a second opinion. He’s already googling doctors in the area with high ratings. You have a long list to go through tomorrow, but you’re touched that he listened and did something about it. 

Hoshi

I kind of see this starting out much like Jun’s situation did. His baby is crying and he’s thinking the worst!!! But you just say the doctor’s office stresses you out and now you’re dreading going back for a follow-up in a couple weeks. He thinks, Okay, I can fix this!!! Despite the long day he’s had, he’s making you dinner and rubbing your feet and coddling you. Eventually, you aren’t even crying because of stress but because of how overwhelmed you are with the energy and passion he puts into caring for you while you're down. You’ll push him away and say he should take care of himself too because he’s probably had a long day, but he’ll stubbornly cling. No way, this is his therapy too!!

Wonwoo

Raises an eyebrow when you guys have progressed in your relationship enough for him to see what kind of medications you’re taking. “Blood pressure medicine?” He’ll ask quizzically. You’re young, and you’re normally so laidback that it doesn’t really make sense to him. When you say that your reading is always high when you go to the doctor, he won’t say anything right away. But a couple days later he’ll come home with a little blood pressure machine and ask you to humor him. He’s careful to get plenty of data over the course of a couple weeks before he hands you a sheet and all but demands that you go to the doctor to tell them you don’t need to be on this medication, because you’re actually reading low at home. You’ll give him a big blank stare in the moment, but will be overjoyed to be off the medication a week later. You won’t be doubting Wonwoo’s methods again.

Woozi

He helps by… not explicitly helping. Hear me out, okay!! He’s not nosy about your business as long as you try to keep him in the loop to the extent that you’re comfortable with. So he waits for you to come to him if you need him. He knows you have some anxiety about the doctor’s appointment you have today and half expects you to just go straight home and relax for the rest of the day. But there’s a meek knock on his studio door in the afternoon and you let yourself in and he kind of has heart palpitations. You came to see him!! He thinks. “Don’t mind me,” you’ll say, “I just want to hang out here for a while before going home.” He’ll roll his eyes like he’s annoyed, but he’s opening his arms for you to sit in his lap while he works. He’ll let you cling without breathing a word about it as long as you want to if it makes you feel better. 

DK

This one is dramatic, but it’s because it’s Seokmin, okay?? Say you’re on medication for high blood pressure and haven’t even thought anything about telling him about it. You normally feel fine (outside of the doctor’s office, that is), and it just… hasn’t come up. You’re spending the day at home with him and you’ve just offered to go fix some lunch, but you don’t make it. You wake up on the carpet with Seokmin hovering over you with panicked eyes. “You fainted, why didn't you tell me you didn’t feel well?” He’ll scold. He takes your health and safety seriously (they all do, really), so he’ll insist putting you in the car to take you to the hospital. You’re so out of it that you don’t really have any energy to argue. At the hospital, the nurse and doctor give you a look when they glance between your medication list and your blood pressure readings. They send you home and tell you to discontinue your blood pressure medication and recommend a mental health professional instead to manage anxiety. Best believe Seokmin’s making you follow through with THAT appointment. 

Mingyu

Did you think he was going to let you go alone? Did you think he was going to let you drive yourself and add to the stress? Did you think he wasn’t going to sit in the exam room with you and glare menacingly at the doctor like a big scary guard dog? He’s insistent and you’re running late, so you let him do all of this. He’s the epitome of over-protective the moment you tell him you’re nervous and don’t really want to go. Has no qualms about getting up and dragging you out of the room if you try to tell the doctor you’re just stressed HERE and they don’t listen. It’s like a switch is flipped by the time you’re in the car because he’s all sweet and soft and telling you that he’ll help you find a doctor that will actually listen. 

Minghao

 You have an afternoon appointment and he’s been watching you pace since approximately 5am. You’ve done all the normal chores by 7am and have moved on to some of the more infrequent chores, like dusting the tops of the kitchen cabinets and ceiling fans and deep cleaning the fridge. He can’t stand to watch you spiral anymore by about 9am and makes you sit down for a cup of tea with him. He holds your hand across the table and asks what the deal is. Does NOT expect the flood of tears that come but handles it with grace. When you sniffle about how nervous you are and how much worse it will be when you get to the office, he offers to help you meditate for a bit. You look skeptical, and he gets that maybe it’s not as helpful for you as it is for him, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already cleared his schedule to go with you anyway.

Seungkwan

You’re sick and absolutely refuse to go to the doctor. He’ll raise an eyebrow at the sea of tissues around you as you cough through your argument. “Fine, have it your way,” he’ll say - for now. If you get any worse, he won’t give you a lot of choices. So you get a constant stream of teas and soups and medicine during the day, and later that night while he’s cuddling you back to health, he’ll ask the serious questions about your avoidance. He doesn’t want to pressure you to go to the the general practitioner that you’re so anxious about seeing, but he does recommend tackling the anxiety individually and encourages you to seek some professional help for it. He’ll even go with you, he insists. You’re so touched that he actually listened that you let him schedule an appointment the next day.

Vernon

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again because I will die on this hill. He’s not as aloof as he seems!! He’s noticed the pattern to your anxiety but hasn’t said anything about it because he isn’t sure it will help. So he does the little things like planning for a quiet night in on your appointment days to work down some of the anxiety, complete with take-out, a bunch of blankets, and a bad comedy. But this time, you lament about how the appointment went, movie totally forgotten. You’re worked up again about it asking Vernon what you should do and why no doctor will listen to you. He thinks it might be rhetorical, but he gently recommends going to a counselor or psychiatrist because they might be able to help manage the anxiety you're feeling. You blink at him with a little ‘oh’, feeling kind of silly that you’ve never thought of it. He doesn’t let you feel silly for long, because he’ll clear his schedule to go with you any day if there’s a chance it will help you feel better.

Chan

Bless his heart, you might have to spell it out for him. Does not understand the bad mood you’re in after your appointment and thinks he might have done something. You huff, “No, you haven’t done anything. I just hate going to the doctor. It kills my mood.” He refuses to let you apologize for your bad mood after that. Can’t relate necessarily, but does his best to understand you and what you need from him. Expect to be smothered with affection today, but he’s already thinking of a mental checklist for things he needs to do before, during, and after your next appointment. He’s not sure he can solve all of your problems, but he can absolutely be someone you can depend on.

[fanficmemes]

*looking all 11,213 of you in the eyes* guys I need this to be a safe space for silly people bc I’m turning into a clown

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

The Many Illustrators of A Tale of Two Cities 11: Harry Furniss (1/2)

These speak for themselves.

This week's set is a particularly iconic one - at long last, we've arrived at Harry Furniss's illustrations for the 1910 Charles Dickens Library edition of A Tale of Two Cities!

1 / 2 || 2 / 2

Furniss created hundreds of illustrations for this series, which was meant as a centennial celebration of Dickens's birth. For A Tale of Two Cities in particular, he made 32! In this post, we'll be looking at the first 19.

Also, a note for the full set, just as a heads-up: A few of the Internet Archive versions - which are the primary source used here - were cropped, so I edited in the missing pieces using (if I remember correctly) these versions from HathiTrust.

There really isn't much more to say concerning these thorough, thoughtful illustrations - I waited patiently to begin to work on posts for them until I found quality versions that would do them justice, and I'm so delighted to finally have done so. Without further ado, enjoy!

See you soon for Part 2!

& the standard endnote for all posts in this series:

This post is intended to act as the start of a forum on the given illustrator, so if anyone has anything to add - requests to see certain drawings in higher definition (since Tumblr compresses images), corrections to factual errors, sources for better-quality versions of the illustrations, further reading, fun facts, any questions, or just general commentary - simply do so on this post, be it in a comment/tags or the replies!💫

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 3

"Life Less Frightening" by Rise Against

[ambersky0319]

🙃

[frankbelloriley]

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job, and heaven knows, I have to use this new job to look for a better job.

[olessan]

I love the fact that I can work as hard as I can manage with a broken tooth and a dying tooth (one on each side, I've been chewing on the cavity for a year) and I still cannot save even $10 towards getting dental treatment (2 impacted wisdom teeth, + tooth broken off under the gum, + bad cavity) because I barely make enough to cover my food and board and the insane energy bill

[hannie-dul-set]

hi i'll get to a few more blurbs after my event tomorrow mwa.

[toastingpencils37]

Hopefully I will finish the Pilots and the Mini-Movies tonight on my rewatch. But don't be surprised if I somehow don't.

[episodeoftv]

Damn I can’t believe you didn’t have mad men: 4.07 the suitcase! It’s considered one of the best episodes of television like ever, and I’m not even normally a fan of dramas lol

Ah I know the feeling there are so many episodes that I realized I missed like a week after I started the tournament!

[serendipitous-mage]

@lynns-art-blog 😘🥰

[mortalityplays]

talking about impenetrable accents/dialect just reminded me. when I was in Milan a couple of years back I was staying in this little rathole hotel and I had the biggest fucking migraine, so I was like non c'è problema I'll just go buy painkillers. of course every pharmacy on the map in a three block radius was closed, so my stupid ass just starts wandering around trying to figure out on the fly if you can get OTC from supermarkets in italy.

I walk into this little everything store (to my foreign eyes the kind of place that back home could sell you a bunch of carrots, a 6-pack of beer, pantyhose, bleach and a screwdriver set) and I see some household basics in the back but not what I need. with the confidence of a person who is only in the city for 3 days because he got bored and packed a bag and booked the cheapest flight available the week before (<= MENTAL ILLNESS), I was like no worries I know some italian, I can just ask.

I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the counter, and I'm like Ciao, hai il paracetamolo? And the guy is like che, and I'm like paracetamolo. Per la mia testa. And he's like che?

This is where I would have said 'aspirina' except I can't take aspirin for medical reasons, or 'antidolorifico' except I don't know that word and I've got no phone data for google translate and also I'm stupid. So in my fucked up leith-glasgow-italian accent I'm like paaa-ra-cetta-mollll-ooo. He's like ohhh bene, bene, and he calls another guy out of the back and asks him to go get something. Other guy then walks out of the store into the street, and before I can be like hey, che la fuck, he comes back and hands me a huge bundle of herbs.

At this point I'm like okay this entire interaction has been a bust, but these guys have been very nice and patient and they're both smiling happily at me because they've been of service, so I'm like ahh perfetto, grazie, pay them a couple of euros and leave.

EVENTUALLY I find a pharmacy that's open, and my head is fucking killing me, and my phone still isn't connecting, and now I have this small shrubbery poking out of my coat pocket, so I don't even bother looking around the shelves. I just walk straight to the counter and I'm like uhh ciao, scusi. And hearing my nightmare of an accent the guy answers in english and I'm like thank christ, do you please have paracetamol. Not aspirin, I can't take aspirin. And he's like yeah yeah hold on, goes into the back, comes out with what I need.

Only when he comes out he gives me this look, and then he starts laughing. And then he pretends he's not laughing and rings me up and I pay, and as I'm leaving I can see him losing it. But I don't care, my head is going to explode, I'm going back to the rathole to close the blinds and fall comatose for four hours.

When I get back to my hotel room I take off my coat and remember the huge bouquet of herbs in my pocket. They smell amazing, and I'm like I'm pretty sure this is parsley in which case I can just get some tomatoes and mozzarella later and make it work. but since I have no idea what that interaction was, I want to make sure. I bring out my phone to get a visual reference of what parsley leaves look like, and because I was using it for google translate earlier I put 'parsley' in the wrong box like a dope and translate it to italian.

prezzemolo

I wish I could have been the pharmacist in the moment he looked at my tired pissed off anglophone ass, heard me say 'paracetamol' in my fucked up accent, and turned around saw what was in my pocket. I'd have lost my shit too.

[kingofcomedy]

anyone else desperate to keep it together lately?